Litchfield enquirer., 1880-02-12

l quickly to the other side, placing myself be- 1 tween Paul and him, for no reason at which
 my fears could guess.
 Il hardly remember" answered sullenly {;
 ''so many people notice the child. and speak ! to him." -l s-a* t6
 ''Ah we'll! It was in Kensington Gardens, | over there.'
 'Very likely" sf
 The man twisted his moustaches, and looked l down at me attentively. My hard grim face was turned away, my eyes were steady and keeping the path before me we'll in view but
 was watching him, for all this. 1.-The gentleman who was with me is cele- brated artist, and would be glad to sketch that boy, to introduce him into an historical pie | ture, the likeness to the character which he wishes to portray being very striking. Do 1 you think the parents would object, if--" ] am sure they would object" said, in- | terrupting him.
 ''Money would be no consideration. and l one or two sittings would be sufficient. One sketch in the child's own home might do, even."
 ''The parents would not like anything of l the kind, and increased my pace, but the speaker did the same I had grown terribly | afraid of his persistence; 1 knew nothing of
 art or artists, and did not understand what he was saying, or believe in hum. I saw in all this only an excuse, and this was strange You cannot possibly know'' he urged
 land perhaps few pounds to the father. if poor"
 'His father is very proud"
 There is nothing derogatory in-'' Good day."
 ''Will you allow me to inquire for myself 1? Will you give me the address?" l "No," 1 answered blutly. -...- "9ou are a very obstinate woman, am
 sorry to see. My friend has been two years
 searching for face like that to copy" he con- | tinued; land 1 have been searching with him.
 It is hard to lose chance. If you only un-
 derstood art. my good woman. you would l sympathize with our pursuit. It is so slight a favor; and coming from so great an artis as | my friend, 1t is a compliment, l solemnly as- | sure you" .......
 'l do not understand. Good day." ''lf five pounds, now, to you-?'' 1 "Let me alone. have nothing more to say to you" turned and faced him, rigid and fierce at last, and he qualled at my fixed stare | raised his hat, as to lady born, turned on his heel and went away.
 did not take the child straight home; was sure he would watch me: 1 was sure he
 made up his mind to find out where lived
 crossed and recrossed the roads l lost my self in maze of turnings near the Chelsea v, fear of watchers; 1 turned the corners of the | streets in haste, and then waited for my spies i;
 but was not followed, or they who followed were too cunning for me.
 | reached home unperceived, thought, and my mistress scolded me for being away SO | long. My excuse was not ready one, and was received in silence. 1 feared to tell the l truth lest should render her more nervous l than myself, or she should suspect that was growing mad. Presently 1 began to think I | was too full of fancies to be completely sane i; l for the autumn passed on to winter, and still
 the man was on my mind, and the dark gilt tering eyes shone out in the darkness of my dreams IS though l were to be haunted by
 them till my dying day. It is not unlikely 1 that my mind was strained at this period; was unsettled; the picture of the oncoming 1 trouble of my master and mistress was not pleasant to contemplate. The master had
 grown dull and thoughtful, and wore a moody look that was difficult to chase away and the mistress my dear young mistress seemed fad
 ing slowly from this world. They both look
 ed at me curiously, and felt that they would
 broach the subject presently again of my dis
 mlssal from their service. 1 was one too
 many-I knew that. and 8 serious item in
 their expenses, even with my hands open to help them, and shut against any money for my | willing work
 It came as I expected; it was like death
 warrant {! In November I received notice to
 leave them I was told must go, with many tears from the weak wife; 1 was even urged to go at once, as better for all, and less pain ful to me- It was explained that it was i'm possible they could afford any longer to keep me, and it was not just to themselves to do so.
 ''I will go then," I said, after one or two vain remonstrances, and feeling that all re- monstrances were vain. They had made up their minds now, and could not beg too long although my heart was breaking.
 I've shall never forget your kindness, Mar tha," said the wife
 And we hope one day to be able to repay it," added the husband. ... ......s.-
 'Io have you back again with us presently, when the good times come for us, as they come to most folk who have the patience to wait" said Mrs Mayfed, ,4 Tr
 Il will pray for the good times, then,". I an- swered. ''l know shall not be liked in any other situation." sn .F
 You will not be long out of service We are able to give you an excellent character, Martha, said Mir. Mayfield land good ser wants are scarce commodities, the papers say"
 did not answer him. I did not under stand why he was almost in high spirits at my going away, as if 1 had been weight upon his mind, and my absence would remove it.
 ''l may call and see the chid?" 1 asked, turning to my mistress. Il could not live and not see little Paul"
 There was a strange hesitation here that struck me-that bewildered me. The hus bands tace shadowed and his brow contract ed as though l had insulted him by the ap- peal, and Mrs, May6eld drew long breath and stared at me.
 Certainly, Martha" she said, however, ''as often as you please"
 Mir. Mayfeld said not a word: he took up book and feigned to be absorbed in it's peru sal and 1 went away discoutented and sus-. picious woman, and Heaven knows why. Perhaps was going mad, and they had seen the sy nptoms and had grown afraid of me. That was the only solution to it all, which I could guess at, and was like mad woman when it came to saying goodbye to little Paul.
 broke down utterly I wept, and raved, and scared the child away from me by my ex- travagance of grief, instead of feeling his arms round my neck, and hls kisses on my worn,
 wet cheeks. It was only two days after had gone that the mother told me he was fretting for his Martha and the boys grief was cori- fort to me, though grieved with him. Be- fore the week was out had seen little Paul twice early in the next week was there once more. F. | had obtained no new situation; had not tried. had settled down in street close to theirs, and there it was likely should remain until my last penny was spent. Itold them this, and offered to work for them when they liked, and go back to my own room to my meals; but they would not listen to any proposition of the kind. It was putting too cruel an obligation on them, Mrs. Mayfield said and she was sure that she was strong enough to do without a servant g Then came another '.cut' for me I was not to call too frequently. I unsettled the boy; ] he could think of nothing else but my visits and the little presents which 1 brought him. It.would be much the better plan to keep away for a fortnight. or three weeks, they thought. .t3 -sfs t.a:ss 5
 "Very well,'' I said again; if can keep away, I will. But did not think, mistress. you would ever say as much to me-