The Bedford gazette. [volume] (Bedford, Pa.) 1805-current, 1869-11-25
alk, she eame suddenly face TO face

keep my promise to Mr.. Herbert. |
shall ask, some one else"
''Dear me, Miss, couldn't now pos
sibly. I'lI go tomorrow and get the
things, if can get the time" Barba-
ra said, in a cross voice, and hurry
ing on; but while Eloise looked in
puzzled fright after her, she
glanced back through the bushes and
smiled, and shook her fore-f finger at
her warningly. And the next mo-
ment Eloise saw her step father saun-
tering slowly up the walk.
He stopped a moment to speak to
Barbara, and then turned off towards
the house.
That evening, as Eloise sat in an
easy-chair upon the verandah, Barbara
came and and laid some late roses on
her lap; but as she did SO, she pressed
a bit of paper into the little thin hand
that hung over the arm of the chair.
Mechanically the child's fingers clos
ed upon it and when she was sure no
one was looking, she read it. 1t said,
"Be patient, and you will not be sorry.
Destroy this" Surely Barbara could
not write like that. The heart of the
sad child thrilled almost painfully, as
she remembered acho used to make
just such delicate clear letters as those,
and she turned her face to the wall
with whispered cry of Oh, imam
map
A week went on. One day Mr.. Her
bert was summoned suddenly city
ward, and in the course of the forenoon,
the woman who usually attended upon
Eloise, a stranger hired for that pur-
pose, having partaken some fine fruit
Nurse Barby brought her, was taken
so i'll that she was compelled to so to
her chamber.
Then Nurse Barby came to Floise,
and while she pretended to dress her
pretty curl5, asked her if she could
bear to hear a bit of good news. The
tears came into Eloise's eyes.
"How can any news be good to me
now. nurse?" she asked reproachfully.
"But if-if the news was that some
body whom you love was not-not-
Lie back in your chair, and be still as
death, or l will never tell you, Miss.
It's as much as my life is worth to do
what I'm doing.
81 will be still if you speak quick.
But suffer so, Barby," she pouted,
clasping her little hands on her bosom.
"WeIl, then, Miss, your mamma is
not-not-"
"Not dead? oh, Barby! oh, dear
Barby, is it true ?" And the child
looked for moment so like flower
that a suddea burst of sunshine has
stricken down, that Barby'a heart mis-
gave her.
"You wouldn't tell me story, Bar
by-I know you wouldn't. Kiss me,
Barby, if it's true" And Barby kiss
ed her. Then she said:
"You must hurry and get well now,
dear for mamma isin great trouble, and
there is no onet to help her but you and
me, and Pm only old Barby, you
know. No one would believe me-"
"When can | see her, Barby?" the
child asked.
"There's no telling that, no knowing
it," she said doubtfuIly. "You must
get we'll aud then we must watch our
chance"
"What made him tell me that she
was"
"He wants your mamma to make a
will and leave him allthe money away
from you, deary aud now he's made
everybody believe she's dead, he can
keep her shut up till she does it, he
thinks"
"Where is she nurse 2"
"f;;ot so far-but you mustn't ask SO
many questions now; and don't you
look too happy, there's darling, or
the master will suspect u.s."
The weeks moved by slowly to this
anxious little heart.
"lie's a fox, that he is" said Barbara
toherself, "and We'll never match him
if we don't look wild"
Her welcome face dawned on Eloise
once more at dead of night. As she
hurriedly dressed her, she whispered {:
81 put something in the masters
wine to make him sleep sound, but /
didn't dare to make it strong, for fear
he should suspect and the t'toher one
has got beau"
The "t'other one" was her poor
mothers keeper, as EIoise learned in
time. Now, without explanation, she
was whirled away by Barby, noiseless-
ly though, as watt of thistle-down,
down this passage, up that, of the
great rambling old house until they
came to portion which had long fall
len into disuse, partly because of some
ancient superstition such as often lin
gers about such old houses.
In an inner room of this wing, f
loise found the wan shadow Of the
mother her poor little heart had ached
for so long. To describe the mingled
ecstacy and pain of that necessarily
brief meeting would be impossible
here. Confined to her bed by an ill
ness that was lingering and painful,
but not likely to terminate fatally for
years perhaps, Mrs, Herbert, whom
her unprincipled husband had given
out as dead, was completely in his
power, so far as her personal liberty
was concerned; but she had up to this
time remained firm in her opposition
L :-to xtrin