The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1872-01-09

What is it you wish to find, my dear p
her mother asked, kindly "Can assist
you ?''
"I think not, mother. ! borrowed
book of friend yesterday, translation of
German fairy tales, which thought would
please Myrtle; but she did not seem inclined
to read it, and l want to return it uninjur-
ed. l do hope she has not taken it to
school,"
Both continued searching for few min
utes, and suddenly Mrs. Gray drew gay
colored book, still attractive, though some
what time-worn, from tiny basket cradle
where Myrtle kept her doll. She opened
the volume mechanically, as though struck
suddenly dumb, and stood staring at a
name on the hy-leaf. Then she gave
cry and, white and faint, she tottered into
q chair.
For the love of Heaven, child where
did you get that book ?" she asked turn
ing pallid, troubled face upon her daugh-
ter.
Amber, with her glove half on, stood
wondering and mystified (; but, like the SEN
sible, truth-loving girl she was, she decid-
ed to attempt no further concealment.
"Don't be angry, dear mother, and l
will tell you all about it. l borrowed that
book of Mr.. Morris Vanstone. He and l
have become acquainted, and are really
excellent friends. l go to read to him
ctn,. Il AI~.A
some children's books in the library; per-
haps they once belonged to his daughter.
What ails you, mother? you are pale and
faint. Do try and accustom yourself to
the idea of my earning livelihood wherever
fate may lead and indeed never had so
pleasant situation before"
Child, child, you will drive me crazy I!
You have gone into the very den of the
lion. o Amber, do not, pray you, go
there any more. had rather starve ~
Her daughter would have been more sur
prised had she been less used to her moth
er's moods Sometimes the girl seemed on
the brink of discovering the secret. of the
shadow that darkened the life, and threat
end at times to destroy the mind, of her
idolized parent.
"Mother," she said, softly, 'be calm and
reasonable, entreat you. Doubtless you
have heard of Mr.. Vanstone, as he is prov
erbial for being an unmitigated tyrant, and
you probably fear that he may wound my
pride in some unkind way. But, mother,
people wrong him. He is simply broken
hearted old man, on whom the years lie
heavily and he feels his lonely, childless
life is too bitter to be borne. If he has
sinned, he has also suffered. In his long
ing for human sympathy, shall refuse to
aid, God helping me, in guiding him into
the light, after which he giopcs blindly ?
Indeed, mother, he would grieve sorely
were to leave him now."
Tears were in the soft blue eyes of Mrs.
Gray as she listened to her daughters earn
est appeal, and the hard unrelentng look
went slowly out of her face, leaving it qui-
eter than before.
"You are right, my darling" she said,
softly /; p" far be it from me to withhold you
from your selfimposed duty. You have a
great work before you"
Walking down the street Amber lit upon
every possible conjecture but the true one.
Life is so full of paper walls. Opening the
book she held in her hand, expecting to
find the name that had so excited her
mother, she read, written there on the fly
leaf-Helen Esta brooks Vanstone.
The name puzzled her anew. 1t was so
familiar, yet so utterly strange. "This
book must have belonged no Mr.. Van
stones daughter in her childhood East
abrooks All, now know what makes il
so familiar; mothers maiden namo was
Esther Brools-so at least she always said
but father disliked the given name, and
always called her Nellie"
1t was no use wondering she could not
solve the mystery. 81 will not try" she
said at last "mother evidently wishes
her past to remain buried out of sight
forever. know that father was never very
tender to any of us, and that we were never
either happy or comfortable while he lived
| shall never ask mother how she came to
marry man so evidently her inferior. Hen
sorrows shall be sacred to her children"
The weeks wore on into December, and
still Amber Gray went daily to her new
friend. She found herself walking slower
than was usually her way, the afternoon
before Christmas, lured by dazzling temp,
tations in the store windows. She stopped
here and there to admire and sometimes
cOyet Turning slowly axvav aha sa;d