Bradford reporter. [volume] (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, 1861-02-21

little looking after. They can't be expected
to take so much interest in ones affairs as
ones own relations-her comments did not give
me much uneasiness however
| went home one day little earlier than
usual. / thought a little quiet chat with
my housekeeper over the diningroom fire
would not be unpleasant | had begun already
TO take altogether more interest in her than
was prepared to acknowledge to myself /
pictured, as | hurried home, the cheerful room,
the table handsomely laid, and Mrs Smith, in
her neat, quiet dress, sitting with book or
work. waiting for dinner to be brought us. As
| reached my own door, however, | found it
open, and in the hall were three children of
varying ages, taking most affectionate fare
we'll os my housekeeper. | had never cared
enough for any one before to experience such
an emotion as jealousy, but l think no other
word would adequately describe my feelings as
l walked into the parlor and shut the door,
Presently Mrs. Smith made her appearance.
"I am sorry" she began.
" Not at ali madam
ooh, but l am | remember your stipula,
tions about the children, perfectly l surely
did not intend they should annoy you | pre-
snmed you would have no objections to their
coming sometimes in your absence, and I like
to see them as often as [ can, but they shall
not be here again at any hour when you are
likely to come home"
She must have thought me an ungracous
boOr for | grOwled out merely:
" No matter-uO matter at ALL"
l was in an i'll humor The pleasant anti
cipations with which | had hurried home had
not been realized. Moreover | suspected
was becoming too much interested in my house
keeper to like to be reminded that others had
stronger claims upon her That evening | sat
on one side of the bright Gre-Mrs. Smith on
the other | abbOr furnaces it is one of my
whims | loved, when | was boy, to make
pictures in the FIRE, and the habit and | had
time; | was watching in the embers two little
boats sailing side by side. At length | asked
abruptly:
What was Mr. Smiths business, madam
A merchant. He was in a dry goods firm
and able to give US every luxury until he died"
So that was it. He had failed ard died.
and left her all those children to support.
looked in the fire again. The boats had drift
ed far apart and were sailing down fame
ColOred river
He on one sde-she on the other"
Perhaps l could have stood the children,
il it weren't for thinking she had loved some
body else. She'd be looking back all the
while comparing me with No. l."
"Sir ?"
Ny voice had attracted Mrs Smiths atten-
ton from her book, but she had evidently not
understood what | said, and was looking up
iuquiringly. ThGuk fortune for that. laugh
ed little nervously, imagine.
Nothing-I was not speaking to you; |
think l was talking in my sleep"
She looked down again, and | watched her
instead of the fire. She was pretty-prettier
than | had given her credit for at first There
was a delicate peach blossom on her cheek, an
innocent, almost childish expression to her
face Well, cheek and expression were moth
ing to me. | got up and went discousolately
to bed.
The next day my sister in law came to see
me. AS usual she had plenty of suggestions
to make to Mrs Smith, which that lady re-
Ceived in silence, but with a peculiar twinkle
in her eyes At length Mrs. Bishop followed
me into my library.
"Weu, Sandie," she remarked, seating her
self, since you do not seem disposed to fulfil
my prediction, and marry your hOusekeeper, |
suppose | may speak freely. | have thought
from the first that she was a very artful woman.
| have no doubt that when she came here she
meant to marry you She is very attentive
now, but of course she has her own motive If
any trial should come you would find out who
your true friends are"
Mrs. Bishop was right in this, for the trial
did come and l saw who my true friend was,
my own friend.
| was taken i'll early in the spring. My
sickness came on suddenly | was attacked
with severe headache and sharp pains in my
back. The first two days Mrs. Bishop spent
in assiduous care Of me; though, to confess the
truth, her attentions were unwelcOme, and |
would far rather have been abandoned to the
tender mercies of my housekeeper, who rarely
came into the room when my sister-in-law was
there The third morning my physician pro-
nounced my disease smallpox. Even in that
moment of terror | looked at Eliza Bishop
Her face paed and | could see her hand
shake She spoke in a trembling voice.
"I wish | could stay with you, Sandie |
wish | could. If it was only for myself, |
would; but my children !"
81 would not have you stay" l answered.
/" | would not have you stay for worlds. l
trust you have not endangered yourself. Good
bye, sister Eliza"
She went out of the room, aud turned to
Mrs Smith, who was standing near.
" Now you must 90 also. The doctor will
find some one to nurse me, and you, TOO, must
look ont for your children"
81 must look out for you, sir ; my duty is
here now. Live or die, | shall stay with you
while you need me.
The little woman'S voice was firm, and her
eyes shone with clear, resolute light had
not thought she possessed so much resolute
will and courage