Litchfield enquirer., 1876-07-13
50 had rou. I remember. !"

anyhow. he had. We'll he was declaiming something from Schiller. when suddenly he heard an unmistakable laugh-a very pleasant, musical langh-and looking up, he saw- "A girl, of course" 'sWrong for once. He saw two girls 2 $'Al the same. knew we should get to s0ms girl or girls before long" Ns.Nicseir too, and very beautiful; sqmieaaH dressed; citizens daughters-that sort of thing. Got into talk with this fell low. Were as friendly and sweet and modest as dear little German girls only can be, or used to be in those days. The fellOw talked a good deal, too. They were interested in England and his stud ies. and % on One of them had lovely eyes. Went away, of course. Fellow vent there, next morning.
 They came again"
 'swrong, sir. They didn't. He was sorry. Bnt they came. the morning after. 7 s-Oh, cOnfound 1t that all comes to the same thing. They came anyhow"
 They did. Acquaintance grew and grew. They would sit on the grass and talk for an hour at a time-they three. " -s4l9ays ti8ree?''
 '.n1ays-at first"
 'sTh0ngit so.'
 .'L.ike . gooi fellow, let me get on my ovn way. Or you tell me the story, if yon know all about it."
 Well, almost think I could. The regular sort of thing, I suppose-the fel- low you knew fell in love with the girl ~ho had the eyes. and. for some reason or other, she couldn't marry him, and they were miserable, or she did marry him, and they were happy. Can't be anything else. VvanH hn only difference"
 R1nndelI laughed rather gloomy sort of langh. ''In this case it was didn't mar rv," he said; ''but we may as well go res nl,srly through with the story, as we have begun it It's not quite so commonplace as you suppose. Well. these girls came very regularly in the mornings, and same times they even arranged to meet th64el ldw of evenings-on rare occasions, though Once there was sort of satur- naliau masquerade in the open air in the gardens of old SchIoss. and the girls gave tue fellow hint that they were to be there. and h0 Y they were to be dressed, aud he founi them out. She was dressed like a Swiss peasant girl-bodice and sleeves, short skirts, you know"
 "Yes-silver spoon in the hair, liberal display of ankles. Go on."
 My friend looked grim at my levity. and | felt bound to excuse myself by saying that. as didn't personally know the fel- low who was the hero of this romance, I might be forgiven if spoke too lightly of his idols ankles.
 ROtiHdell vent on: 'It was the queer est sort of thing, the meetings of these three-the three always, until just the end. There really wasn't any love-mak- ing in particular, although the fellow gre~ at last to be madly in love with the girl with the eyes. She called herself DorOthea; the other was Meta. They were cousins. they said, daughters of worthy trades-people who supplied things to the Schloas. They used to talk about books. The girls were particularly interested in English novels and poetry and art, and don't know what all. The poor fellow was contoundedly happy. And. do you know, l think studious and poetic young fellows of that age are wonderfully pure. This fellow wasn't any better than any of the rest of us. but, by love his love for her was as pure as the love of woman. , ''Did she fall in love with him ?"
 "Well, it came out in this sort of way: He was rather good-looking young fel- low then. though perhaps you wouldn't think so now-fellows change so-and he was full of poetry and passion. and that sort of stuff, just at that age when a man would be delighted to give his life for 8 woman. We'll, sir, one morning, she had little flower in her hand; and as they were parting, she held it in an uncertain sort of way, as if she were going to offer it to him. He extended hiaEhand; the flower dropped; he reached down for it; she reached down for it: their hands just touched one moment, one single moment by love as short as thls puff of smoke; and when she looked up her face was all crimson; and then she turned away; and she knew as we'll as heaven does that the fellow was in love with her, and he knew that she loved him"
 Roundell paused in his story The even- ing was deepening down, the skies were purpling. and the Thames was assuming a sad and melancholy hue. The faint rip. pie of the water was heard more and more clearly. My friend looked out of the win. dow. and seemed to enjoy the quiet beau ty of the scene.
 "Well, bat the rest of the story, Roun. dell,"I said.
 ''The rest of the story? I don't know that it isn't all over."
 ''Oh. come now, there must be little more" fr
 'sYes. a little; but think it might have been better, somehow, if it had ended there."
 Anyhow, it didn't; so go on."
 "Wel, the fellow didn't see either oi the girls, next day. or the next But, the third day, they came; and Dorothea was very sweet and melancholy, and the other one, Meta, was rather distant in manner, the fellow thought, and seemed frighten. ed somehow. They didn't stay long: Meta seemed wild to get away; but when they were going. Dorothea gave her hand to- to the fellow, you know, and put into it a tiny scrap of paper"
 'Yes. tiny scrap of paper. It had a few words written on 1t. Of course he didn't read it until he was safe out of the range of everybody's eyes. Then he read it. It only asked him to meet her af. ter dusk, in the old place, that evening. Of course he went. He waited a long time, wondering, and in agony lest some confounded stroller should come .that way. The place was as free and open tc any one who pleased as that bank of the Thames there, but it was just out of tho regular track of promenaders and loung CTS, and, thanks to the routine tendencies of the human mind, not creature evel did come that way but the poor fellow and these girls. So he waited for an hour and at last she came. She was almost ou of breath, and frightened; said she haG great difficulty in getting away, but tha. she was resolved, come what would, to ses him alone-for the last time"
 ''For the last timer"
 ''Those were her words, and her firm sad face showed that t-she meant what she said She told him that she and hel companion had been doing 8 very foolisl thing. and running terrible risk, ant they trusted to his honor as an Enghsl gentleman to help them out of the fix b, just keeping their secret and forgetting al about them. She was awfully in earnest no afectation. no coquetrY; brave an, firm, but with the flash of tear now an, then in her beautiful eyes. She told tn, fellow that she was the cousin and com Danit,ni of. khes snrincesa who yras t,, ,narr