The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1871-07-25
Intercepted Letters.

TNHE fields were turning brown; the pit
Il iless wind was stripping the trees of
their gay dresses, one melancholy robin
piped plaintively from the tall elm at the
foot of the garden. The whole world was
putting on sackcloth and ashes, it seemed
to Syl, as she stood at the garden gate bid
ding Stephen Lawrence good-by.
at will only be for little WHILE" he
said, looking tenderly down into the tear
brimmed eyes. "Before you begin to
think of spring, shall come backbone
back to claim my wife Syl, darling, be
true to me, whatever they say, whatever
happens ~
81 will, answered Syl.
"I will," she murmured, over and over
again to herself, watching him until the
turn in the road hid him from her sight,
"whatever happens, whatever they say''
"They" meant her mother and Aunt
Jane ; Aunt Jane, especially. The sitting
room door was ajar, and Syl heard her
voice as she went into the house.
"You have been very imprudent to al
low her to go with him so much, Susan,"
she said 81 never had any opinion of
these city young men that come along as
sure as the summer does, to turn all the
girls heads and artists are always poor as
church mice, everybody knows. AS for
the notion he has got into Sylvia's head
that she has wonderful talent for draw
ing, it is all sheer nonsense, of course
She's got no money to pay to learn, and if
she had, and could be great artist, she
couldn't make so much money as she'll
have when she is Derrick Hurst's wife,
without the trouble of earning it. For my
part, l am very glad that dreadful smooth
spoken Mr.. Stephen Lawrence is going
away, and hope Sylvia has got little
common sense left, and wont insist upon
writing to him. We must get her safely
married to Derrick Hurst before Christ
mas ! But am sure / don't know where
her wedding outfit is to come from. Oh,
that we should have come TO such poverty ~
Syl didn't care to hear any more. She
stole softly up stairs to her room, and shut
the door to put out the sound Of the voices
down stairs that it made her almost frantic
to hear. 1t was not that she cared so much
for what Aunt Jane said, for she was al.
ways sure to have something to worry and
complain about the slightest thing would
do. Syl remembered, wondering when she
was a very little girl, what Aunt Jane
would do when she got to heaven, where
there would be nothing to fret about Ant
that was before she had any real trouble
Now she wore Widows weeds, and there
were traces of suffering in her face. Six
years before her husband had gone to Cali
forna to seek his fortune. He was sue
cessful even beyond h is expectations, ant
in year started for home with money
enough, so he wrote, to make them all in
dependent for life. But he never reached
home. He was seen at Allston, town on
ly ten miles distant, on stormy winter
night, and he was never seen again. ii,
seemed TO drop out of existence complete
ly, then, leaving not the shadow Of q trace
behind while at home they waited ant
watched for him in vain. The road iron
Allston was long and lonely, to be sure
and he was a careless man, and might hav
boosted of the money he was carrying
home, but robbers were very uncommon
there, and nobody had seen any stranger
about. His disappearance created grea
excitement for a time, and then was forgot
ten, as such things are, except by his wifi
and sister--Syl's mother-who waited ant
watched, and caught their breath at tn
sound of every footstep, in the long, drear
nights and days, and grew sick at heart a
the suspense settled down into certaint
that he would never come and yet, nc
quite certainty, for even now a sudde
knock at the door, or letter in an ur