The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1871-06-06
THE MISER'S REQUEST.

to the figure eight the snug red curtains
shut out the rain and darkness of the
March night, and the fire snapped and
cracked behind the red-hot bars of the
little CRATE, in a most cosy and comforta-
BILE sort of way, casting rosy shine into
the thoughtful brown eyes that were ira
eng castles and coronets in the brightly
burning Goals.
For Philip Acre was, for once, indulg-
ing himself in the dangerous fascination
of day-dream.
If were only rich !" he pondered
to himself. "Ah, if Then goodbye to
all these musty old law-books; goodbye
to mended boots, and turned coats, and
all the ways and means that turn a mans
life into wretched bondage Wouldn't
revel in new books, and delicious paint
lngs, and high-stcpping horses Wouldn't
buy set of jewels for Edith-not pale
pearls, or sickly emeralds, but diamonds
to blaze like links of fire upon her royal
throat Wouldn't What nonsense Pm
talking, thought" he cried suddenly, to
himself. {" Phil Acre, hold your tongue.
did suppose you were fellow of more
sense. Here you are, neither rich nor
distinguished, but simple law student,
while Edith Wyllis is as far above your
moon-struck aspirations as the Queen of
Night herself! She loves me though
she will wait-and the time may one day
come If only DIR. Wyllis was not so dis
trustful of fellow However, l must
learn to prove myself worthy of the sweet
est prize that ever--Halloo come in,
there, whoever you are"
1t was only the serving-mad Of the
lodging-house, carrying letter in the
corner ofher apron, between her finger
and thumb.
Please, sir, the postman has just left
it,"
"All right, Katy. Now, then" he
added, as the door closed behind Katy's
substantial back, "let's see what my un-
known correspondent has to say. A
black seal, eh ? Not having any relations
to lose, am not alarmed at the prognos-
tic"
He broke the seal, and glanced leisurely
over the short, business-like communica-
tion contained within, with face varied
from incredulous surprise to sudden glad
ness
Am | dreaming?" he murmured
rubbing his eyes, and shaking himself, as
if to insure complete possession of his
senses. "No, Pm wide awake, and in
my right mind it is no delusion-no
part Of my waking visions But who
would ever suppose that old Thomas Nor
tin whom | haven't seen since J. was a
boy of sixteen, and picked him out of the
river half dead between cramp and fright
would die and leave me all his money
Why, I'm not theshadow of relation but
then | never heard that the old man had
kith or kin, so l can't imagine any harm
in taking advantage Of his odd freak
Rich-am | really to be rich /? Is my
Aladdin vision to be an actual fact ? Oh,
Edith, Edith ~
lie clasped both his hands over his
eyes, sick and giddy with the thought
that the lovely far-off star of his alteration
would be brought near to him at last by
the magnet gold. All those years of pa
tient waiting were to be bridged over by
the strange old miser's bequest; he might
claim Edith now,
How full of heart-sunshine were the
weeks that fitted over the head of the ac-
cepted lover-brightened by Edith's
smile-made beautiful by the soft radi-.
ance of Edith's love. There was only one
alloying shadow-the almost impercepti-
bic touch of distrust and suspicion with
which stern old DIR. Wyllis regarded his
future son-in-law. All he feared to
trust his only child to the keeping of any
man who had not been proved in the fiery
furnace of trial.
1t was precisely week before the day
appointed for the wedding, and the soft
lights, veied by shades of ground glass,
were just lighted in DIR. Wyllis's draw
ing-room where Edith sat among her
white roses and heliotropes, working bit
Of cambric ruffiing, and singing to her
self. She was slender beautiful girl,
with violet eyes, blue-veined forehead,
and glossy, abundant curls of that pale
gold that old painters love to portray.
I" / wonder if Mortin place is so love-
ly?" she said to a silver-haired lady who
sat opposite. Philip is going to take
me there, when we return from our we'd
ding tour, aunty he says it is the sweet
est place poets fancy can devise, with
fountains and strawberries, and delicious
copses. Oh, shall we not be happy
there %
She started up, with a bright, sudden
blush for even while the words were