Litchfield enquirer., 1881-07-07

the matter, Vane ?" he asked aloud II never saw you look so glum." ...4.-
 'I never felt so glum before, Steve. Pm a
 gone coon.' as~ 5ia sT
 Will you translate?" .a aAe-ar 1 s'I'm in love- s.-s4=....
 "For the first timer"
 "Yes, to anything like this extent Look
 here, Langton, must tell somebody or burst.
 Let me tell you.
 Langton dropped his hand on the young 1 mems shoulder
 "You young huff! Asif didn't know all
 about it l"
 Vane stared his companion smiled. 1 "Weli, it saves me the trouble of telling you
 and you the bore of listening You're good
 fellow Langten, and you've been very kind to
 me. What would you advise me to do? Lady
 Matilda knows it, I swear. She cut me dead
 this afternoon and Elsie came into dinner
 looking like ghost 1; so suppose she has
 been having bad quarter of an hour, too.
 You see, I'm only younger son. The gov- 1 ernor won't stand penny more than three
 hundred year, and get another three from l the office. can't marry Elsie on that. Her l mother won't hear of it. I suppose she's l right. It's hard to ask girl to give up a life
 of ease and comfort to live, and perhaps rear
 a family, on six hundred a year. If Lady
 Matilda were another sort of woman, she | might make things straight for us. But that's l past hoping for. must give her up, old man,
 and get out of this. I've got enough coin to
 buy an axe, and get a passage to Canada; and I'll go there and live it down. But it's hard
 lines" he said, with break in his voice. ''It's l had lines"
 "Keep up your heart, my bey," It turned Langton touched by the young mans artless
 expressions of grief. ::'It's bad but might be
 worse. If the girl loves you, it won't matter
 to her if you have six hundred a year or sixty
 thousand And If she doesn't mind, why
 should you? There are better chances on the
 cards than Canada, anyway. Hang on and
 watch, that's my advice, since you ask 1 it.''
 One by one the guests wandered back to the I Hall, and distributed themselves over the car l peted dessert of the grea: drawing room, while
 the ladies officiated at the piano. Miss Elsie
 being warmly pressed to sing, begged to be
 excused; and Roderick, after several vain en- deavors to get within conversation distance of
 his inamorata-each attempt being cleverly l frustrated by Lady Matilda-wandered off to
 smoke sadly contemplatlve cigar, and muse | upon her manifold perfectiops and hls own unworthiness. .- l Lady Matilda, buried in the downy depths
 of an armchair, her eyes apparently exploring vacancy, but in reality keenly watching the ] movements of Langton. waited with feline | patience. She was too wise woman to med l dle actively in the matter and court another rebluff but Langton s affectation of indiffer- ence had by no means blinded her to the true l state of the case, and she hoped still. Elsie l sat apart, beside the window, half in and half | out of the flood of moonlight which partially 1 lit the drawing. room. But Langton, with the | exception of few phrases, of course, did not | trouble her with his conversation, and pres- ently retired quietly, leaving Bertha at the | piano.
 He sat at the window of his room, and look | ed out over the mooa.hooded park, past the l thin ribbon of silver which marked the course
 of the river, past the rich-leaved trees that | stood like islands of shadow in sea of light. l He was looking beyond them into his own fu- | ture. He was calmer now, and could look at it quietly, in spite of the terrible gusts of pas | sion that still shook him for a moment, and 1 passed, leaving the calm deeper. So far he | had done we'll and was satisfied with himself 1 upon the whole, as he had a right to be- The 1 prime temptation of his life wasovercome, and | his passion had made him false neither to love nor friendship
 The calm beauty of the night seemed to draw him from the house out into the alley in 1 which he had had heard the condolences of the 1 lovelorn Roderic. He could not pass the spot without something of tremor. His hopes 1 lay buried under that grassy mound, and | great wave of some nameless emotion, made l up of love and sorrow aud hopeless hope, rose in his soul. And before it sank again he saw before him something that sent thelblood from his face-Roderc and Elsie, dimly visible in the shade at the turoing of the alley. He slip ped back into the darkness with curse on his lips, and something very like a prayer in his heart. Some blind feeling that his trial was being made unnecessarily bitter crossed his mind. The voices reached him. where he stood, too low for the words they uttered to be understood; and then another sound, unmis- l takable in the silence of tue night, faint as it
 was A white figure fnttered by him, lost in the shadow, and Vane's step went slowly crunching the grass in the distance.
 Langton left the spot with hurried unequal steps, and walked rapidly across the park in the direction of the river. When he came to I its blanks he turned and walked with it's cur rent. Before he had gone mile the sound of the falling of distant waters met his ears, and psesently he came to the spot at which the bed of the river suddenly made sheer de scent of some twenty feet He stood at the brink, looking down at the foaming caIdron into which the water rushed with roar and clang like the shouting of an army. Some vague thought that in that furious hell of war ring waters he might find the peace denied to him elsewhere crossed him as he gazed. But Stephen Langton was not of the stuff whereof suicides are made. .ga D. +af
 'The towards remedy" he muttered, as he turned away. Mot that not that! He continued his stroll along the edge of the basin until his further progress was barred by the trees that ran to the edge, intertwined breast-high with bramble and brushwood, and which served to mark the bounds of his steps, hal yxoc hn nhnuf or,f fho edge of the fall, on the very spot on which he had stood ten minutes before He drew nearer to it with silent steps, something too hideous to be called hope growing in his heart as he advanced. The figure moved, and he saw the moonlight full upon it's face It was Roderick Vane. With shout that rang high above the tumult-of the fall, he rushed down the bank. Vane was on his feet and met the shock. 1aH5 M s. -s& .fEi gs
 a'Langtonl Good, what are you de- ing ?" ..z.... ..s,s..s...... a...s He held his arms about his victim, and res olutey thrust him back, foot by foot, until they stood upon the edge. With all the tenac- ity of despair tEe supple youngster clung about him, holding on with hands and teeth in a last struggle for dear life :; but Langton loosed his grip, and drove him with a cruel blow over the brink. One stiaing gurgling cry, and his body struck the water The mur- derer knelt upon tbe turf, and looked down into the foam. Was it fancy, or did he indeed see the white face looking up at him through the surges ? fl What matter? The appeal was voiceless, and could be heard by no man save himself
 The horror of the place was so strong upon him that he ran like hunted hare across the park, straight for the house. He slipped in unpreceived. and mounted the stairs His dress was torn and diserdered, and his cheek was bleeding. He must not be seen so. He hastily changed his dress, stanched the slight scratchs and then, pale but calm, descended to the drawing-room.
 The guests were grouped in the centre of the room, evidently under the influence of some strong emotion of surprise or wonder. As he entered, his sister broke through them, and came towards him, her neck acce in her