Litchfield enquirer., 1877-04-05
WHOLE NO. 2s5s.

there; he heard them climb the ladder
 and batter about in the loft overhead. then
 come down again, and the voice-not so
 merry now-repeat the assurance of find
 ing the truant, and a sudden desire enter
 cd his brain to spring upon her and choke
 her. It would not be the first time he
 had done such deed, but her perfect au-
 dacity seemed to paralyze him, and again
 she passed hIm all unconscious. He saw
 her pause in the doorway, dimly outlined
 against the sky, and then disappear down | "Ef she ain't the pluckiest unr' he
 growled, as he crept from behind the car
 riage. Hanged of she ain't ghost or
 snthin." And with this peculiar comment on Mrs. Cuthbert's bravery. ho. shook him. self and made his way out of the barn
 with sidelong gait. as if he was used Co
 sinking in and out of pieces.
 | Mrs. Cuthbere meanwhile sped on Co the house, her steps hastened by the idea
 that her husband might be there-per-
 haps he had slipped out of the barn while
 she was up in the loft, or perhaps he had not gone into the barn at all.
 Alas for her hopes! The sitting.room
 was empty. and just as she had left It.
 Not despairing yet, she snatched up the
 lamp.an determined to search the house.
 From room to. room she went, calling up. on George. and looking into every closet and behind and under every article of furniture, but not glimpse of her hus-
 band gladdened her eyes, and as last she sat down by the baby's cradle and burst into tears.
 ''Oh, how can he be so cruelr' she sobbed, ''and for such c little thing He
 might have known was only in fun; but
 maybe he's only in fun himself, and will come in soon."
 | Cheered by this last reflection, she trOtted briskly down stairs, stirred the fire into blaze, and stood watching it, too fdgety to settle to her sewing again. The wood famed nolsily, then Rlowed a silent red, then crumbled and fell, an un. tidy, dreary mass of whitened ashes and dying embers, and still her husband did not come.
 The clock struck nine, and Mrs. Cuth- bert looked at it reproachfully, as if it was the time-piece's fault that it was so late. l Where was her husband? Perhaps he was wandering about in the dark, unable to find the house. Why hadn't she thought of Shat beforep She would put lamp in every room.
 And in few minutes lights were twink ling from all the windows, giving the ht- l tie cottage quite a gay and festive air. Who could have guessed that lonely wo- man and a sleeping child were it's sole occupants? Not the dark figure with the ugly face, doubled up under the lilac bushes that bordered the gravel path. AS the hours wore on, another dark fiV. 1 ure joined the one of the ugly face, and was greeted with an oath upon his laxi- ness, and the information that something was up, that the first chance was ''spiIed" and they would have to clay to awhile" and then both the dark figures. with many curse and shiver, crouched Co. gether, biding their time. Poor Mrs. Cuthbert, as the night crepk on, wandered from window t0 window. with the vague feeling that if she Oould not see her husband from one, she might from another. Sometimes she stood at tue door, listening intently, and coniur- ing every breath of wind into the lonRed for footsteps, her heart dying within her at each fresh disappointment. She must have walked miles in that small house; the baby waxed restless, and she was up many times to replace the coverings that the sturdy little legs had thrown of in climbing the invisible mountain that e child is always ascending in it's sleep.
 The clock struck one. How like the voice of fate it sounded! It was not at all the cheering ting that, when the sun was shining, had announced the dinner hour that day.
 A distant dog parked, and Mrs. Cuth- bert rushed to the door; she had resumed her sewing to keep herself from going dis tracted, and she still clasped it in her hand. What & black black nightl and how cold the wind was! Hark! she was certain she heard voices by the gate. Yes; she did. Just then the baby began to cry, and only stopping to call back: 'Tn a moment, darhng." she plunged down the walk.
 All was silent; there was no one there. She stood with her hand upon the gate . few seconds, looking eagerly up the road, and then walked slowly back to the house.
 As the front door closed, the lilac bush by the gate quivered, ,and two dark figures crawled from under it.
 When Mrs. Cuthbert laid the baby in his cradle, after singing him back to the invisible mo Intalns, the clock struck two, and Mrs. Cuthbert looked hopelessness in the face.
 George was never coming home, she decided. It was no use watching; he was never coming home any more. Then, as the next gust of wind sent twig rattling on the gravel, she was at the window, sEraining her eyes as she had been doing all the evening.
 How strange every faL.iliar object in whitely, and the sitting-room looked 90 uncanny, with the tea-table spread, and the hands of the clock marking the small hours. An unreasonable moth went bang ing about the csiling with what sounded a tremendous noiserln that dead silence, and the fire refused point blank to be cheerful, despite the armfuIs of wood piled on it. q s
 How the hours draggedl She seemed to have lived years since she heard those footsteps on the porch. Why had she been such fool?
 It was five o'clock now, the roosters far and near began to herald the approach of dawn The sky turned from black to gray,. and whitish smudge in the east announced the rising of the glorious sun.
 Mrs. Cuthbert put out the lights and went to the front door. A drizzIing rain has set in, and-t damp raw air made her shudder. She went back to the sit- ting-room, and, in a dreary, mechanical kind of way, lit the fire there and in the kitCRen; Cnen brought DaDy 00Wn etaikB, washed and dressed him as usual,a and pus him on the floor to play while she pGe- pared his bread aud milk.
 But baby was not destined to get his breakfast just yet, for at that moment fight step was heard in the entry, and all young man walked into the room. The bread and milk were dropped any where, and Mrs. Cuthbert flung herself 'obbing. crying and begging hia pardon III in breath.
 ''I'll never do it again. Won't you for give me, George ?" -
 Forgive what ? I haven't anything to orgive," said the astonished George.
 "Oh, yes you have. I know it WIS lreadfully wicked of me;but I'll never do t again" ..-...-
 What on earth is the matter ?"
 ,, Wont you forgive me ?" was all Mrs. Juthbert's answer. ..