Litchfield enquirer., 1881-09-01
queen! he'd say, laughing so as you might
 hear him a mile off. My poor husband was


 hear him mile off My poor husband was
 alive then, and we were well to do." I Here Hetty, ever watchful of her mothers ! moods and fancies, cried out that Jack was | coming down the street, and that he had a posy.in his coat. So he had; and hardly I know which was brighter and more bonnie. the young fellows face or the posy of Summer
 flowers at his breast. '*" l He was sailor, every inch of him, strongly
 built. sunbur ned, curly locked, dark-eyed. 1 He had ringing'happy laugh, and was fond
 of watercresses and niarnialade indeed, he complimented me on both articles, Mrs. Dea- con having explained that they were my con-
 tributions to the entertainment. '- l But what struck me about him most was his
 marvelously tender, gentle ways to his cousin
 Hetty. She, on her part, seemed more silent than usual; bat the beautiful Madonna face | was all alight with quiet radiance-a calm and restful joy-a look as if she were forever saying to herself. "He is here here beside me, l" I like bird singing sweet song of content over and over again. s~1tf~ :! The cousins went to church together, and staid with Mrs. Deacon meanwhile, listening 1 with quiet yet keen attention to "reminiscences 1 of bygone days-of Jacks boyhood-of Hetty's glrlhood st"~ "5s e--tt
 Jack was the orphan son of MT. Deacons only sister, and was never grudged nothing no | formant with certain air of pride in the late Mir. Deacon's generosity toward hls wife's | kin. Jack had not been unmindful of these bene- l fits received, and when the evil days came many welcome bit of help did he send to his more than mother. fSls ''. .HFe3~.I
 ''Never forgetting Hetty,' added Mrs. Dea- con, complacentiy.a A 'sHe's main fond of Het- ty, is Jack, l lcan tellyou."
 l :n I, H. gentle defiance, and the dim eyes were turned to me with a sort of wistful hope that might make some further comment. But had none l to make. " ,atl. ] read the mothers hopes and fears; I read my dear girls heart but kept silence. s' The evening was warm and still; from the far distance came the sound of. church bells peang; from somewhere near at hand the l sound of an organ and of hymn singing. Mrs. Deacon had talleh into doze, and as I sat there waiting for the cousins to come home, mist came oyer my eyes, something rose in my threat and tried to choke me, and voice in my heart cried cried out: ''Oh, Hetty, Hetty- l what can do for, my dearie ?"
 The Summer was at it's height. In Western London the great folks were setting themselves ] to think where they should go for their Au- l tumn outing We folk at the East End just I had to make the best of things, and be grate- ! full for small~ mercies such as water-carts to lay the dust, and the peripatetic ce-vender with his truck and little tumblers of lemon and strawberry. ~.
 had got to know Cousin Jack quite we'll by this time l was able to read 'between the lines" in my dear girls heart story. l Hetty was very dear to her sailor cousin dear, as things weak and helpless are apt to be dear to the strong dearer because of her af- fiction; sacred in his eyes, as suffering child is sacred to all of us who know the beau. ty of tenderness and pity. Hetty was all this to her::cousin Jack, but nothing more. Of what Jack was to Hetty cannot speak
 dared not try to gage it at the time. 1 put | the thought of it from me. as we weput aside thing we dare not look upon-that is, for a time., ..... ..t.. v.. The day came when had to take my cour- age by both hands, and face all the cruel truth; fer the young sailor took great fancy to me, though was little old woman with a Quakerish cap and shabby gown. Not only SO, but he opened his heart to me.
 We were walking side by side in the park, where everything looked parched and dried up with the baking heat when Jack first told me that after the voyage upon which he was just about to start, he was going to be mar | ried.
 "I hope Aunt Ann and Hetty won't take it unkind that 1 haven't told them all about it from the first," he said, doubtfully; but, to say the truth, Miss Heath, find it a difficult thing to tell. want them to be quite sure that shall never be any different to them; that shall always be the same Cousin Jack l am so afraid they will fancy-aIl kinds of things"
 Fl don't think they will fancy anything that is not true,' put in, perhaps with more l warmth than wisdom.
 Do you mean to say you think SO meanly of me as 10 suppose shall forget those two dear, gentle women, just because | have home and wife of my own?"
 | "No," said, looking up into his brave and bonnie face-''No, you will not forget them, but, it cannot be the same-it never is." r We paced mp and down and talked together long while after this It was dust and gray when we went in, to my own lohely room, Jack to supper with Ms Deacon and Hetty | Once alone, l sat down in the dark, united my bonnet strings and flung them back. unfasten- ed my shawl and let it fall over my chair. 1 was stif1ing-choking felt like the yer. lest coward that ever drew breath 1 1 had task before me from which shrank with every nerve of my poor little shriveled | body-the hardest task that had ever been set | me yet to wound cruelty the one creature I | loved on earth. | The womanly pride and self-respect of sister-woman is dear to any woman worth the name. Jack must not tell this thing to Hetty. l The girls secret was safe so far. 1t should be 1 my work to keep it so. s.~ B.. ra.-. It was the following night. Hetty had come | to pay me visit. had been listening to the account of grand historical picture in which she was to figure. a. ....s | 1aAb bo. Ib kl> | shadowy with the coming of the Summer night, which was but picture done in grays at it's deepest, and had no black shades at r all s.s..=..a < .r3sr. | let it's misty blue gray veil fall on my 1 girls sweet face before told my sorry tale, l before redeemed the pledge made to my own l heart the night before. e3 <...... | She played up to my hand herself. You and Jack had a long talk last night, Patience" .s Z, .,.-at.s 4. :, "Yes Sit down here in this low chair by my knee while tell you what it was all l about s,.e.. s. -.,s.s...f e"a. l Hetty was between the window and me. The perfect profile showed like silhouette against the dusty gloom outside. .s-t .,-l l 'We were talking about you.'
 l. The silhouette was turned away from me. Hetty's voice was faint and breathless se as1 About me?" a as tef. te.f,,5fsg ,t4,.es a ! es.s JaCh Wss IeiHng me aDOuG you when you were little girl-how he used to carry you about; how dearly he loved you 'i.' :, My task was ever even harder than thought it would be. dare not touch Hetty's hands-those meek hands-long, slender helpful, folded in her lap, for my own were cold and trembling.
 \ "He was very, very good to me, always" Y ''Yesii and I am sure he always will be- He told me last night that he felt you had more g mans tenderness than any other woman coudhave." H,t.itt A ts .Becausee I am-different to other wo- ''Yes; set apart, as it were; sacred; doom. ed to certain extent to stand alone in the word, without those nearer ties-''
 '.He meant that onght never to marry ?" |r l could not see Hettys face. I saw the