The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1874-06-16

to one-of the marble pillars which supper
ted the verandah, the other reaching down
to pluck some of the early summer roses
that clambered in wild profusion to the
very roof. There was something so .un-
studied and natural in her position, every
movement was SO full of grace, that the
most Indifferent eye could but have remark
ed and been charmed by it.
"Did you ever see such beautiful rosesP'
she said, turning toward a lady who stood
regarding her little way of, "look, Mrs.
Dexter-such lovely color"
"They are earlier than they were last
year, are they not" said Mrs. Dexter,
taking the flowers which she offered
"oh, this is such nice spring, every
thing is growing SO fast-who knows" she
added, laughing in her pretty, quiet way,
"but may be coaxed into growing my
self"
She was such little fairy of thing, and
had such a charming, womanly way with
it all, that it lent an indescribable charm to
every look and word Nellie had been un-
like most children all her life. Some vague
remembrance of carly sorrow lay like a
shadow about her. and the solitude in
which the latter years of her childhood had
been spent, without playmates of her own
age to teach her the unrestrained gayety
which is one Of the usual characteristics of
that season of life, had naturally given her
a quaint, sedate manner, which at times
lightened into bursts of glee and merri-
ment, that made the old house ring as if a
whole nest Of summer birds had flown
through it.
After the death of her adopted father,
and the days of excitement and grief which
succeeded, Nellie had been very ill for
weeks and weeks they watched over the
couch where she lay consumed by fever,
neither recognizing or addressing any one
about her, but with an incoherent cry upon
her lips for the sister, from whom she had
been so mysteriously separated, and the
kind parent who had loved her with an
entire fondness seldom bestowed by real
father upon his child.
When life and consciousness came back,
and she began slowly to recover from that
terrible fever-dream, and after oblivion, the
events which had previously transpired
seemed only like strange vision. She
comprehended that Mr.. Lennox was dead,
and when she again asked for her sister,
they told her that she was not cold and
buried like her dear father, but as much
lost to her as if the grave indeed separated
them. With the singular instinct which
children possess, she questioned no more,
unable to understand what those mystic
rious words might be intended to convey,
but confident that she only brought pain
to those around her by the mention of her
sisters name, and therefore forbearing to
allude TO it,
| MIR. James had brought her back to that
old house where her early years had been
spent, and there she dwelt in its beautiful
seclusion, tenderly guarded, and fondly
loved by those in whose care she had been
placed. She had warm, ahectionate
heart, which clung to all who evinced any
signs of attachment for her, and SO she
glided ON through her childhood shielded
from care or pain, every wish gratifed, and
every desire granted, till her life seemed
bright and joyous as that of some beauti-
full princess in the fairy tales which were her
chief delight during those years
Mr.. James came at regular intervals to
visit her, often during the summer season
making his residence there for whole
weeks together, and Nellie perhaps loved
him more unrestrainedly than any living
creature had done for years.
To her he changed in his whole manner
whether evon the ice about his heart
.hawed beneath her smile, or because he
desired to strengthen by every possible
means his influence over her. it would have
been impossible to tell, but certainly in
her presence he evinced more softness and
sympathizing kindness than one would
have believed to belong to his nature.
\ "These red roses, Nellie was saying to
her govemess, "are the flowers that my
guardian likes best'-she always pronoun-
ced the words "my guardian" with sort
of emphatic, absolute sense of her own
right to claim him entirely. Perhaps he
will come in day or two to see me-"
"If not, you can easily send the roses to
him, Nellie" replied Mrs. Dexter, she
will be pleased with that"
''Yes, he likes me to remember him, he
says so. Hark ! hear horses-can that
be Mr. James?''