Litchfield enquirer., 1881-02-03

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 the first felt painful interest in him, having heard that he was the last person to whom her mothers murderer had spoken. pofeibbih
 hat induced you to notice that man so particularly ?" she asked one day, when be had told her that he had been very near hay ing quarrel with Bechouard. Had you any notion that he was murderer l"b eUci,p9 &
 'I neither knew nor guessed anything about him, but his face was strange and hor. riblea1 Curiosity and fear attracted me tow. ards him, He had upturned seyes-the eyes of dead man, ,--white eyes." And. Stach- owitch shuddered as he spoke. .,,;,.r,,... o,.,,,
 A"Whfte eyes" 1" repeated Marie with sur prises What do you meaff9 1T knew the man. he had wicked grey eyss--I think see them now. w.",i,...,a..-1,.., .,,,r t,i batagf,,ra,
 Stachowitch made D, no reply, and turned the conversation into another channel In few minutes Vic0mtesdel Drieux; was 'ahnouhced. ae cast not very friendly look towards the Russian, said few. words to his cousin. and then sat down near Madame de BaudY at whose house, for the last few months, he had been in the habit of meeting Stachowitehi al most daily. ,. This latter. for whom time pass ed quickly whenever he could talk with Marie, became suddenly aware that he had paid an unconscionably long visit, and took his leave ct once. From Madame de Baudys he came straight to my house, and l had to listen for the hundredth time to the recital of the first chapter of his love for Marie. If did not al- ways lend very attentive ear, at any rate heard him with friendly, sympathy. And thus it was that became his dearest friend, from whom he was constantly seeking advice and encouragement. 97'' " ''-.'t
 ''Take heart, said, "all IS going on we'll. You are timid, d,---that's all You seem to cx pect that the girl is to declare her feelings of her own accord. It is asking too much. l cannot understand your hesitation. For what your sister has told you, you have reason 10 feel sure that Madame de Balidy does not ob- ject to your paying your, addresses to her niece. Indeed, any looker.on can see as much as that. If she did would she allow you to see Mademoiselle de Massiuex every day, and talk to her as much as you please2 The aunt is on your side. That of itself is capital card in your hand. Your rival, Drieux, in- spires me with no apprehension. He is a charming fellow, admit; but he does not realise the ideal which the poetical heart of your beloved has, doubtless. formed for itself have noticed that she is always joking with M. de Drieux, and that, with him she never launches into one of those grand philosophical subjects which, strangely and comically enough. form the favourite theme of conver- sation between true and virtuous lovers. Drieux tells his pretty cousin many amusing stories, and l have no doubt that she finds time pass very pleasatly in his company. She learns from him what plays are being acted, who are the best dressed women in Paris, and the name of the favourite for the Grand Prix de Paris All this is very useful knowledge for young lady who hopes to be at the head of salon of her own before many winters have gone b.; ; but it is the subject that inter- ests her, not the teller. If her aunt would but allow her to read the Figaro, she would find in it ample compensation for the loss of her cousins conversation. Drieux succeeds in making Mademoiselie~ de 'Massieux laugh very often. That's an excellent sign for you, for man who makes 8 young girl laugh is not dangerous rival. He may be successful with older women, but never with young girl. In very young people love does net manifest itself under smiling aspect. Love, in their case, is 8 sentimental comedy, which must be played very seriously. For the more mature spectator, who has gone through it all, and who, alas will never go through It again, there is something at once Imaginable and touching Tn such seriousness, We'll! you and Mademoiselle de Massieux are both quite per- feet in your lovers parts. She tells you of her passion for flowers she plays Chopin's music for you,-for Drieux she playe waltzes and lastly, have heard her describe to you. with gentle melancholy, her moonlight walks under the old trees of the park at Massieux All this is as 1t should be, and the charming girl will, have no doubt, be some day an ex- cellent mistress of a well-ordered household. You, on your part, recommend good books to her you read verses to her, and you lead her out on the balcony to make her admire the 2 oriu0s consultations of the hefirmament---Orien Cassiopeia, and Ursa Major This is as inno. cent as it is instructive, and it serves to im- bue her with profound admiration for your boundless knowledge You teach her the elements of geology; she does not understand but she listens with scrupulous attention 4ou explain to her the beauties of Murillo, the deep and hidden meaning of Don Qnixote; you are ready to initiate her into the music of Wagner or the philosophy of Kant. All this, as said, is just as it ought to be. Go on, my young friend you are in the right way. Take heart, and ask for the hand of Mademoiselle de Masseux: you will obtain 1t, l warrant you"
 Poor fellow! He listened to these and sim liar speeches with every wish to believe what said, but could not induce him to follow my advice. Something he would not tell me weighed upon his heart, and prevented bis putting an end to the doubts which tormented him. :. fF.t.t > !-,1 t-s. s
 One evening, after long silence, Stacho- witch asked me suddenly whether, in my opinion, 6 man who had not long to live was justified in marrying.
 , The question took me by surprise. I got up, and standing in front of him, examined him attentively. He had grown thin; he looked ill and weary, and there was an unu- sual brig ghtness in his eyes, which wandered .restlessly from one object to another. 'f
 ''Stachowitch, you grieve me, said in fatberly tone Come now, man, look me full in the face" ....
 His wild look gave place at once to serene and friendly expression. - ''.4
 You look like kind and venerable grand father" he sad ''it does me good to look at you"
 could not help laughing "You do me too much honour, and 1 do ask as much as that. l am your senior by nearly fifteen years, 1t is true; but that IS no good reason for speaking of me as & grandfather. But never mind me; let us speak of yourself. Why not? Do you fancy you are going to die What does it all mean? This is really push ing eecentricity too far. Even your love af fords no excuse. And pray what will it please you to die of?-of heart disease, or of consumption? Any other illness, suppose, you would not think sufficiently poetical What do yoE complain of" 5tti 3'F Il do not complain. ."",s, ,..i f..tt.4et .5z
 ''Then why did you ask me that absurd question as to whether man who was soon to die had right to niarry?" s37t s'" '|f'7''t /
 ''I an wretched Nobody knows, nobody can suspect, how much suffer-"
 He spoke with sorrowful resignation, star ing fixedy at the fire which was burning it, the grate. saw tears gather slowly under his eyelids, and trickle silently down his wan cheeks. I laid my two hands on Iiis shoulders, and this time spoke seriously; 4-e..g.s r.
 You are a malatle imagta6ire, my dear Stachowitch. Yours Is not an exceptional case, and certainly not one that is considered incurable by the fac.'ty. Promise me to see a doctor"
 He shook hs head. s @ s'. # essl *t I "What good can doctor do me ?" a3
 sMors. than you fancy and must insist upon yoH consulting one. You have reposed confidence in me, and am your friend. This imposes duties upon me which am ready to fulfil and gives me privileges which mean fn pyQrriaa T0 ot0 A,.n