Litchfield enquirer., 1876-03-09

moments flew, until she heard the other inmates of then house retiring to their
 rooms.g Interrupted in her musings by
 these sounds, she gave last look at her
 treasures, placed the fresh lilies in water.
 and prepared hersen to. retire. After
 breakfast. the next morning, sbe took her
 hat and went to her favorite retreat, re-
 solved to spend the long morning there,
 and bury all traces of agitation before she
 met the family again. She had not been
 there long, when she became aware that
 some one was approaehings Trusting to
 the seclusion. of her r.trtat ard
 the fact that its existence was not much
 known, she hoped to remain undiscovered
 until Mir. Maynard stood before her
 ,."Good-morning Miss Eastman,' he
 said, Tn his usual cold tones. "You have
 q charming little retreat here-may I come Tn ?" ......-
 Certainly" said she, though feeling
 that this was the severest trial of all It
 was here that he had told his love, and during all the years of their happiness, they had been accustomed to meet each other in this place. It was here, too, that he left her in anger. The scene of life's greatest joy and bitterest grief bitter sweet" indeed were the memones cluster ing about it. She compelled herself to meet him calmly in other places, but for an instant she doubted her power to do so here. It was only for an instant. He had entered and thrown himself into the only remaining seat, and was Iazily watch ing her, while she embroidered chatting gaily in the meanwhile, of scenes in for elgn lands. sit +..-.s..--. ..gf --t-- x. Suddenly he exclaimed after short silence
 "Miss Eastman, does this remind you of any other time ?"
 She answered that it dlT not, and it did.
 Why not ?" he said.
 Because, in the other time of which you speak, everything was SO different, that it is very hard to persuade myself that aoe were ever here before. It does remind me of it; because it matters not how entirely one may have passed away from ones life and memory, there are times when trifing things remind us that we have somewhere, sometime, seen or known such ones."
 'It IS then as feared, that our past and are so entirely, so wholly forgotten by you. that neither can enter into or form part your life again ?''
 '"Listen to me, MT. Maynard, and will answer you. Over five years ago, you left me, ..angry--gave me no chance to justify nyself-said you 'kne,o' had ceased to love.you, and was then engaged to some one else. But it is useless to repeat your words; doubtless, you can yourself recall them T could houA j-st;G~l ----.ls, even in your jealous eyes, but you did not give me the least opportunity: only, with cold goodbye, you left me. never knew where you went. until since your return. I loved you madly; and for many months. life's heavy burden seemed more than could bear; then my brother grew suddenly worse, and watching be- side his bedside, forgot, in a measure, my own grief. Harry died; and in few weeks after, mother followed; then was indeed alone. A severe illness, brought on by weary days, and nights of watch ing, took me to tee. brink of the cold. dark stream; and in all the weary days since I've tried to learn why my aimless, oYless life was given back to me. In these hours of loneliness, when had mo- where to turn and my heart seemed dead, perhaps might have remembered. and clnng to you, had you left one straw for me to cling tosa fond look, or goodbye kiss, or pressure of the hand as if it was painlng you to go-but there was nothing for love to build on, and finally hope died"
 He had listened calmly to her hurried. eager, almost angry words aud so perfect had been her sslf-controI, 80 well had she hidden the undying love, vearning to assert itself--that. closely as he watched her, he was deceived, He did not know how her heart was smarting and bleeding. from the' wounds her own words caused, nor how she was yearning for one word of love from him. His an- swer was that of the man he was. Re- her loving, trusting nature feeling keenly the truth and justice of her words-he threw much of the old tender ness into his voice, as he recalled the hap py past. He counted 1ife's' pleasures once more, as he pictured them, when love for her-ife for his beautiful Belle. was to be all his life. Humbly he &C., knowledged his errors and mistakes end begged her to forgive them. He told of the weary years in foreign land; of dis appointments; and how at last, with ach- ing, homesick heart. he turned his steps homeward. only to learn that he had no home. ''In that last hour of anguish, when came fromsthe grave of dear ones, and met you, oh Ma Belle, if you could have known. one-aaif the joy felt; if you could have realized my longing to meet you, some of the old love would have re- turned to your heart. and prompted you to meet me-not as stranger-but at least as friend How the. wanderers heart would have blessed you,. had you only acknowledged our former acquaint- ance; but seeing the position you took. I could do no more than assent. In the weeks since then, I've tried to act my part; but remembering that yesterday was your birthday. and feeling keenly the dreariness of life apart from you, could no longer restrain the desire to see if I still had any power to move you. Lilies the chosen flowers of our engagement seemed to me proper peace-ofering. /
 OALI> IL R