The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1867-12-19

the two sat down to take counsel together on
the affairs of the house.
About the meals, sir?" said Mrs. Goldstraw.
Have a large or small number to provide
forp
'If I can carry out q certain old-fashioned
plan OF mine," replied Mr.. Wilding, you will
have a large number TO provide for. ] am a
lonely single man, Mrs. Goldstraw; and hope
to live with all the persons in my employment
as If they were members OF my family. Until
that time comes, you will only have me, aud
the new partner whom expect Immediately, to
provide for. What my partners habits may be,
/ cannot yet say. But may describe myself as
a man of regular hours, with an invarabie appe-
lite that you may depend upon to an ounce"
"About breakfast, sir ?n asked Mrs. Goldstraw.
"Is there anything particular-W
She hesitated, and left the sentence unfn-
ished. Her eyes turned slowly away from her
master, and looked towards the chimney-pece.
If she had been a less excellent and experienced
housekeeper, Mr.. Wilding might have fancied
that her attention was beginning to wander at
the very outset of the interview.
Eight o'clock Is my breakfast hour" he re-
sumed. 1T is one of my virtues 10 be never
tired OF broiled bacon and it is one of my vices
to be habitually suspicious OF the freshness of
eggs" Mrs. GOGstraw looked back at him,
still little divided between her masters Chin
ney.piece and her master. 81 take tea," Mr..
Wilding went on; "ahd l am perhaps rather
nervous and fdgety about drinking 1t within
certain time alter it is made. If my tea stands
too long,
He hesitated, on his side, and left the sentence
unfinished. If he had not been engaged in dis
himself as his breakfast, Mrs. Goldstraw might
have fancied that his attention was beginning
to wander at the very outset of the interview.
"It your tea stands too long, Sir ~ said the
housekeeper, politely taking up her masters lost
thread.
''If my tea stands too longn repeated the wine
merchant mechanically. his mind getting fur
ther and further away from his breakfast, and
his eyes fixing themselves more and more in
qunlngly on his hOusekeepers face. "If my
tea Dear, dear me- Mrs. Goldstraw! what IS
tone that
me OF? 1t strikes me even more strongly to day
than it did when l saw you yesterday. What
can it ?n
What can it be % repeated Mrs. Goldstraw.
She said the words, evidently thinking, while
she spoke them, of something else. The wine
merchant, still looking at her inquiringly, ob.
chimney piece once more. They fixed on the
portrait of his mother, which hung there, and
looked at it with that slight contraction of the
brow which accompanies scarcely conscious
effort of memory. Mr.. Wilding remarked
MY late dear mother, when she was five and
twenty
Mrs. Goldstraw thanked him with a move
ment OF the head for being at the pains to ex-
plain the picture, and said with cleared brow,
that it was the portrait of very beautiful lady.
Mr.. Widng, falling back into his former per-
peXity, tried once more to recover that lost
recollection, associated so closely, and yet so
undlscoverably, with his new housekeeper's
voice and manner.
Excuse my asking you question which has
nothing to do with me or my breakfast" he
said. MAY L inquire if you have ever occu-
pied any other situation than the situation of
housekeeperY Y
"oh, yes, sir: Ibegan life as one of the nurses
at the Founding"
pushing back his chair. "By Heaven! Their
manner is the manner You remind me of!n
In an astonished look at him, Mrs. Goldstraw
changed color, checked herself, turned her eyes
upon the ground, and sat still aud silent.
what is the matter ?" asked Mr.. Wilding.
''Do understand that you were in the Found
Certainly. lam not ashamed to own it.n
'Under the name you now bearW
"Under the name OF Walter WIlding." ,
"'And the LADY," Mrs. Goldstraw stopped
short, with look at the portrait which was now
unmistaksbly look of alarm.
You mean my mother" interrupted MIR.
''Your-mother,n repeated the housekeeper,
little constrainedly, removed you from the
Foundling9 At what age, sir
cat between eleven and twelve years old
It's quite romantic adventure, Mrs. Gold
II He told the story of the lady having spoken
! to him while he sat at dinner with the other
boys in the Founding, and of all that had fol-
lowed in his innocently communicative way.
! "My poor mother could never have discovered
! me, ;" he added, ''f she had not met with one of
the matrons who pitIed her. The matron con.
! sented to touch the boy whose name was
/ Walter Wilding' as she went round the dinner
tables-and SO my mother discovered me again,
after having parted from me as an infant at the
| Founding doors.n
| At those words Mrs. Goldstraw's hand, resting
on the table, dropped helplessly into her lap.
! She sat, looking at her new master, with face
| that had turned deadly pale, and with eyes that
/ expressed an unutterable dIsmay.
What does this mean 7" asked the wine mer-
! chant. "Stop ~ he cried. ''Is there something
else in the past time which ought to associate
! with you? l remember my mother telling me
! OF another person at the Founding, to whose
! kindness she owed debt of gratitude. When
she first parted with me, as an infant, one of the
nurses informed her of the name that had been
given 10 me in the institution. You were that
nurse ~
"God forgive me, sir-I was that nurse /"
''God forgive you ?"
"We had better get back, sir (if may make
so bold as to say SOY to my duties in the house"
said Mrs Goldstraw. Your breakfast hour is
eight. Do you lunch, or dine, In the middle OF
the day p
The excessive pinkness which Mr.. Bintrey had
noticed in his clients face began to appear there
once more. Mr.. Wilding put his hand to bis
head, and mastered some momentary confusion
in that quarter before he spoke again.
''Mrs. Godstraw," he said, 'you are conceal
ing something from me J"
The housekeepes obstinately repeated, "Please
| 10 favor me, sir, by saying whether you lunch,
or dine, in the middle of the dayW
81 don't know what do in the middle OF the
day. / can't enter into my household affairs,
Mrs. Goldstraw, till know why you regret an
spoke of gratefully TO the end of her life. You
are not doing me a service by your silence. You
are agitating me, you are alarming me, you are
bringing on the singing in my head"
His hand went up to bis head again, and the
pink in his face deepened by a shade or two.
''Ips hard, sir. on just entering your service" F"
said the housekeeper, ''to say what may cost me
A.. II 10 nbots