Litchfield enquirer., 1877-12-27
THAT FIGHT.

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 sIisette Lisette do not go! oh, donot goi such an hour such a night r
 The girls voice ceased, and to the darkness of the mufied earth deeper darkness seemed added by the dying of her tones. There was no sound abroad. No light came from the va cant blackness overhead. No ray helped the eye to an idea of distance. There was no means of determining any object outside the limits of touch. The doorstep upon which the speaker stood, the door -jambs which she grasped aa she leaned forward into the formless void, were all for which she had the evidence of her senses. She knew her younger sister Lisette had passed through that door. She knew that door openedon short garden path terminating at gate on a long, bleak, straight road that ran across a desolate moor. She knew that for miles on either sidenO habitation of man, no-tree no tall shrub, was visible by day. At each side of the road deep drain Lay mute, stagnant. The drains had been dug to afford materials for making the road, and the waters of the moor had crept stealthily into them, and silently filled them up, and crouched ten feet deep, ready to aeize aPeua his.a uhn in tho dark might scale the low dyke and seek to gain the lasoi waste Marion knew all this, and more
 She knew that upon the morning of this day message had come saying that John Maine would call to see Lsette that night John Maine and Lisette were lovers. John Maine had made loveto Lisette for year six months ago all had been settled. But somehow of late, Lsette was sad and John Maine came rarely, and did not stay long, and sent messages but seldom. Something was wrong. Isette did not complain. She said there was something strange about John, but that he was as kind kinder to her than ever; he seemed, however, uneasy, and absent minded, and changed 1; foll fVNa manner rather than toward her. And of this matter Marion could learn no more.
 Marion thought good deal. She thought An, my poor Lsette my own, my only sister Lisette it willk her if anything goes wrong, for she has deep, wild, passionate nature. Few suspect that-she is so quiet, so still 30 absent minded in her eyes. But she loves John Maine. She loves him 30 much that life is a skylark's song, but he the sun. She loves him so that the obscure waters lying out there on either side of the road through the sheer black would be the Lethe of her despair. That Marion thought.
 Why had he not come It was close to mid night, after eleven some time. She and Lsette had sat up in the back of the house waiting. Their mother, and old Jane the house maid, and old Tom the gardner, had gone to bed early. Oh, why had he not come could it be he was tiring of Lisette could that beI
 She turned her head from right to left in the direction of the clefts or stagnant water, and shuddered.
 The village of Barrowleigh, where John Maine lived, was only four miles distant down that road. They both, she and Lisette, had often seen him a'mile of as he came toward them waving his hat, or his handkerchief, or both. Oh, how Lisette's face would brighten when she saw him How her dark eyes would light up How her pale cheek would flush ]! How her hands would relax on anything she held, her hat or flower, letting it fall to the ground How she would bend forward her neck and seem to listen for his voice with her ears, with her hungry eyes, with her parted lips! And how quickly and softly her breath would comeI But when once he was near and could see, she changed. She became her old, calm self again, and only for strange, deep, under -trill in her voice, and certain wonder ful lengthening out of syllables until they ac- quired new and deeper meanings, he might have been old Tom the gardener. @a%
 Once in the dusk when the two sisters had been talking of him, and Marion had said something about her being too cold, slle had arisen and flung up her arms and then drawn them swiftly across her bosom and held them fast, whispering;
 My love my love my love If you only knew how wild am about you ? If you only knew how my heart aches when you are not here! how my very soul seems dull with ex- cess of pleasure when you are by l"
 $. Then she had sat down and asked Marion, ssWhat did say ? Some nonsense, no doubt Don't mind my nonsense, Marion. Let us go out into the air.
 And after that Marion stood in kind of fear of Lisette, and let her be. ~ky-- .zfE afs5grye-
 Lisette was now gone out into that awful night, at that wild hour. She had offered her company, but Lisette would not hear of it. Li- sette had said: ,@. 2-A ; 'If do not hear his footstep when have gone mile, shall return. The walk will do me good, shall sleep better after it. !"
 , But there is no chance of his coming, of his being on the road at such an hour" a."
 There is something horrible in the air, am suffocating and must walk. Wait up for me, and have light-this dark is hideous." 2. No one ever came by that road after daylight was gone except those for the Moor House, so that Marion felt none of the ordinary uneasi- ness such design might cause.