The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1870-12-06

Isl iio OOiOSO J1O lllOll-
ey his father II leave him ~
The old clock behind the kitchen-door
had just struck ten, solitary cricket chirp-
ed shrilly under the hearthstone, and the
moonlight lay like shivered rain of pearl
on the kitchen-floor.
Come, child, it is time to lock up and
60 to bed," said Miss Agnew, rousing Mabel
Martin from a areverie, into which she had
unconsciously fallen, with her head against
the cool morning-glory leaves. And Mabel
obeyed, glad that the moonlight was scarce
ly bright enough to disclose the deep Grim
son of her checks, and the smile that hover
ed around her lips.
"Mabel -
She was sitting in The semi-luminous
gloom by her easement windows, half an
hour afterward, when the voice rose up to
her ears from the garden below.
g Is it you, james,"
eyes. Come down minute the
moonlight is SO delicious here under the
trees It's shame not to enjoy it p
She was about to obey his summons,
when the whisper once more sounded close
beneath the window:
"Not yet, Mabel. Wait few minutes.
Aunt Hetty is going her usual lround among
the lilac bushes and quince-trees, in search
of burglars, suppose and she would over
whelm us with all sorts of unearthly stories
about the evil effects of night-air, and dew
and moonlight Wait !"
Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed away,
and Mabel stood by The window still listen
ing, with her little scarf around hers hould-
ers, and the roses yet glowing softly in her
cheeks.
Then there was a rustic in, the dewy
honey-suckles beneath, and James Mont
clair called out, in a low tone:
The coast is clear at last, little Mable.
Come down."
The moonlight shone full on his face as
she joined him i'll the garden-path, under
the spreading bows of the old trees.
"James," she exclaimed, "what are you
laughing at?"
"Was l laughing, little wild-fower
Nonsense it's all your imagination p
'But, James, you are shaking all over y
"Ague and fever, perhaps. It's the
damp night-air, light of my soul Come,
sit down here on the old gray stone, and
tell me once more the sweetest story that
you love me, Mabel !" The fair head droop
ed, the hand trembled on his arm.
Z" am so unworthy Of you, James p
sis the star unworthy of the dim human
lamp upon which it's clear light fall Is the
sunshine unworthy of the earth which pines
for its sweet influences? Mabel you must
not talk SO Now, listen to me, Pet and
will convince you that you are wrong from
beginning to end in all this morbid humili
typ
1t was nearly midnight, when james
Montclair bade Mabel adieu at the garden
gate, and strobe across the fields to the
village, half mile or so distant. AnG
Mabel, returning up the box-bordered patti
softly turned the handle of the door.
1t was locked Miss Agnew had evident
| ly made the tour of the house after Mabel's
exit, and, unconscious of her absence, had
locked and bolted the premises as securely
as bolt, chain and bar could do the business
Little Mabel's heart stood still. Hel
cheeks paled as she stood there. What
was she to do? What would Miss Agnev
say to her, if she knew she had been ou
sweethearting" in the moonlight, contrary
to all rules and regulations duly enacted ant
enforced in the spinsters's little kingdom
Mabel was no Joan of Arc, no maid 0
Saragossa- dared not face Miss Agnew
as long as there was any other loophole o
escape open to her. ~
"Pll just run home to fathers" sh
thought. "It's not so far, and can &c
back in the morning before Miss Agne,
misses me-"
But, alas Ia femme propose Of Die