Litchfield enquirer., 1876-06-22

Clem S got so she pays her way Tn helpln Ketury, but Jim's dead loss-an eat'n' no work to boy O thet age, besides caountin OF 8 sight O trouble from him yet"
 This recital attracted Ashford's notice | still further to Clemence. He gave her books (for she knew her uncle's limited library by heart), taught her songs, and l helped her plant new flower beds, hitherto the sole poetry of her life. And through the summer the pines kept up their eter- nal murmur, unheeded now by Clemence, who dreamed not yet of time when their dark green m0notony should be to her a visible. audible weariness. l September was nearly over when Ash ford, half respectfully, left the place where l his light-hearted boyhood seemed to have come back to him. His healthy sunburn and elastic spirits were sources of un- speakable triumph to the physician, who had seen him last the image of istless- ness and easRui.
 During his varied life of travel and pleasure for the next few years these country recollections had nearly faded from Ashford's mind, until something oc- cured to bring them freshly up once more. This was nothing less than an at. tack of hls old enemy, to which the former | state of mind that made the additional burden of large property, consequent on the death of an uncle, seem the ''unkind- est cut of all'
 But, as has been said, the height of the malady brought the remembrance of it's panacea. ''Ihat little New England vil- lage cured me once, he thought. "Whz not again? fancy am being civilized to death."
 Then he pictured the probable changes at the farm house. These five years had perhaps transformed Clemence into an awkward, red-haired young woman, with a native accent, and mind filled with such festivities as he remembered at the village -''bees," "quiltings," and the like. "Heaven forbid" he prayed, with shud- der at the image conjured up, "the met amorphosis of that sweet-voiced little thing into Hillburn belle!''
 Late in June once more a vine-shaded porch might have furnished genre paint CT with subject; a pretty girl sewing, while handsome young man read to her, and lazy cat slept at her feet, all under a golden green canopy of swinging wood. 1 bine. No wonder the sun seemed loath to leave the soft flushed cheeks, the brown curls shot with auburn, the gray eyes deepening under close dark lashes! And no wonder that George Bond, looking up occasionally at Clemence Burton, is so evi- dently of the suns way of thinking!
 This tableau was duly appreciated by it's sole spectator, who paused a moment at the gate before its actors were aware of his approach. Then a sudden start makes George Bond lay aside his book. The girls fair face has gained pinker flush as the fair haired, tawny- -mustached gen. | tleman comes up the path, and Clemence has no ears for reading now.
 ''Pardon my intrusion" said the un- known. lifting his hat with grace for | which George Bond could have scalped | him, ''but is not this the house where MT. Zabdiel Burton lived some years ago?" 'And where he lives still" laughed the girl. "Why, MT. Ashford, don't you l know me? 1 knew you directly" "What! Clemence -or Miss Burton, must call you now?-is it possible you ! have so grown out of my recollection? To veterans like me of course time brings few 1 changes: but l confess I should not have | dreamed that you were little Clemence Burton-though I might have known you | by your eyes"
 For the gray eyes wore still the far-off look of childhood, despite the smile with | which she answered.:
 "Oh, no one thinks of calling me Miss | Burton.' I'm still only 'Clem.'"
 And George Bond, transformed into Monsieur De Trop, with the most amiable feelings toward the new conner, betook himself elsewhere.
 After all, was not his five years absence dream? Or had time utterly stood still in Hillburn? Ashford almost fancied he might have awakened from morning rev. erie among the pines in that past Ummer, and that all the succeeding events were simply creations of his idle brain, so little change was visible in the worthy Phile- mon and Baucis. But then he looked at Clemence!
 "Wouldn't a known CIem, would yer, MT. Ashford?" said the farmer. ''Would- nt a thought she'd shot up into sech smart, good lookin' gal, with all tle fel- lers arter her? George Bond, 'Tury's nevy from Minnesoty, he's mos genelly raoun, the haouse, n 'tain't for his Aunt Ketury," with concluding chuckle that sent the blood to Clemences cheeks, and made his listener reciprocate in full Ike tury's nevy's" sentiments.
 Life slipped wonderfully soon into it's old grooves, particularly after one fine morning had beheld George Bond esa route for 'Minnesoty," his manly heart heavy with the thought of what he left behind him, and the memory of that interrupted tete-G-tete under the woodbine.
 eff could only go to a concertw sigh ed Clemence, from the depths of one of Ashford's papers. which contained glow ing eulogy of Madame, prima donna then electrifying America. 'Oh, hoa0 I wish I might hear her!" with kind of hopeless fervor.
 Nothing is easier," reioined Ashford. ''She sings in Boston on the twenty-first, and we will attend her opening concert"
 By that ''art of putting things" prov erbial among his friends, Ashford was en- abled to execute the most impracticable designs. So now he carried by storm the fortress of Aunt 'Tury's scruples, until it was arranged that Clemences wish should be gratified in few days visit to his I cousin, Mrs. Gregory, who would exercise a general supervision over her.
 The girls first impression of the concert was confusion of color, light, ,and sound, crash of orchestra, with wild, sweet vio- lins wandering in and out, and finally the voice that swayed her as a strong wind bends the meadow grasses-now low, pa- thetic, in it's minor, now rising to the full trlumph-of p@an. Then suddenly, while she listened in that highly wrought mood peculiar to the musical Temperament. as the sight of the great Florentine's mighty work awoke in Guido Reni the knowledge of his own genius. so now arose within this little country glrl the consciousness of her power. the secret of the thirst that had possessed her
 'Iike plants and vines that never saw the sun,
 But dream of him, and guess where he may be,
 And do their best to climb and get to him. And now that her sun had risen, the gray eyes in its light grew satisfied.
 Ashford, looking at her, was struck by | the girls beauty as she sat in ecstasy, her l cheeks two roses, delicate, yet vivid, her lips parted. her whole face luminous. her | hair glorifed by waves of floating light. | And possibly Clemence was not the only | one to whom that evening brought rev. elation.