The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1871-07-04


for, having brought letter from Lionel
himself, she must of course know them.
Mrs. Wharton-this Mrs. Wharton de-
clared distinctly, and with some emphasis,
that she did know the Mastertons well, and
that the letter she brought had been writ
ten by Mr.. Masterton, of course. Who
else could it have been written by?
She expressed herself plainly enough, but
Chester Vale did not feel altogether salts
fed that she had told the whole truth,
though he could not for the life of him con-
ceive why she should withhold any part
of it,
Mrs. Wharton, Chester Vale's house
keeper, would have looked much younger
and prettier if it had not been for the dis
figuring caps she wore which come quite
over her face and covered her hair COM
pletely. She had an unusually young,
fresh face, and really fine figure for a
woman of her years and sorrows. Her
dress was of the most sombre description,
and her manner quiet, her eyes nearly al
ways downcast. These were enough of
themselves to establish the fact that she
must at some period of her life have been a
remarkably beautiful woman. They were
large, dark and lustrous still, beyond any
that Chester Vale had ever seen, and if by
chance he encountered them-which rarely
happened-he was vaguely conscious of a
curious thrill all through him that he could
in no way account for. Mrs. Wharton was
not talkative, but what she said, she said
well, and in a voice that effected Chester
Vale very much as her eyes did. She was
retiring and sedate, wore glasses most Of
the time, and did not seem to be very anx-
ious to sit with Mr.. Vale when he request
ed her Of an evening to do so.
Chester Vale was a good-looking though
somewhat elderly bachelor-rich, too-and
ethere were plenty of pretty girls in the vii
lage who would have gladly entertained
him to the best of their ability as many
evenings in the week as he chose. But he
did not choose.
He seemed to like book better at his
own bachelor fireside, or even fragmen-
tary chat with Mrs. Wharton, who spoke
mostly in monosyllables, and evidently felt
i'll at ease in conversation with him.
She kept his house, though as it had
mover been kept since the lifetime of his
mother. Such order neatness and decorum
had not reigned there for some time.
The servants, who had proved refractory
hauopd u,aaaura Yndar oil ofbar ,u,la faIl
gently into their places now, and the whole
domestic machinery moved smoothly.
"Mrs. Wharton" said Chester Vale,
one evening, as he finished the perusal of
letter he had just received, ''will you be
good enough to see that room is put in
entire readiness for a guest whom expect
tomorrow? and, you must pardon me for
reminding you Of matter which / dare
say you have heard enough about already.
Il is Mr.. Masterton whom am expec-
ting tomorrow, and he declares quite en-
phatically in his letter that he knows but
one Mrs. Wharton, and that you cannot
be that one. / suspect that he is coming
more to see you, indeed, than me. He is
of an inquisitive turn, and it is the first
visit he ever vouchsafed me-"
Mrs. Wharton had certainly grown pale
while he talked, and her knitting lay idly
upon her knee, as though her fingers were
too tremulous to display their usual swift
ness in its management
Mr.. Chester looked puzzled.
"I beg to assure you," he went on, "my
dear madam, that have done or said moth
ing whatever to encourage this inquisitorial
trip of Mr.. Masterton's. l don't care
whether you're Mrs. Wharton or not, you're
my house keeper, and am sure never
had so good q one in my life, and, though
l confess to some natural curiosity rs to
what Mr.. Masterton will say, don't care
q straw beyond that. AS l said before,
, you're good housekeeper, that's enough
for me-"
Mrs. Wharton gathered up her knitting,
and rose to leave the room. She had not
spoken before, but now she said, quietly:
"Mr. Masterton will scarcely deny to my
face that he knows me we'll"
Chester Vale looked after her as she
quilted the room, with a more puzzled ex-
preston than ever, saying to himself;
"It's queer affair any way. She's not
a woman any one would easily forget-and
Masterton least of all. Halo, what's
this ~ .s
He stopped and took from the floor near
where Mrs. Wharton had been sitting, a
, portmonnaie. A dainty little thing it was