The New Bloomfield, Pa. times. (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1877-188?, 1877-11-20

her presence.
l might have spared my strategy
The calm, proud, sweet face gave no
recognition of any impertinence. L
doubt if she saw the stylish figure in the
showy morning-wrapper that faced her.
Mr.. Deane was speaking to her, and
caught the sound of her voice, so soft
and mellow, not pitched in that high
shrill key so usual and so disagreeable,
but musical and flowing, reminding one
of summer birds and the sweet sounds
of nature. Such a still, sweet face-the
slow smiles lighting the limpid eyes be-
fore they dimpled the cheeks-so full of
repose, but thrilling in its hint of latent
power, dark and clear in its coloring, no
brilliancy, except in the sweet lips that
were crimson as the autumn leaf-heavy
braids of black hair lying on the tenn
Piles and outlining the low perfect fore
head "A face out of a picture, such as
looks at you from the canvas of the
early masters, who painted saints and
Madonnas "a face too beautiful for
earth, but not happy enough for heaven,
having lingering sorrow that dis
turbed its perfect sweetness an eager
ness and repressed vehemence of nature,
that flashed out now and then in waves
of delicate color over the smooth skin,
or shone, diamond bright, in the large
beautiful eyes.
Miss Vascour went out and in among
us reticent and proud, but gentle, and
most grateful for any courtesy; a whole
winter passed before any of us knew
her. One day-it was the last of Feb
ruary-I came home early, and going up
stairs, saw that Miss Vascour's door was
ajar.
"Won't you come in ?' She looked
out, a morning brightness sufusing her
face.
went, of course. 1t was pleasant to
be distinguished, and 1 knew that no
one in the house, except the maid and
landlady, had ever seen the inside of
Miss Vascour's room.
"You look happy" 1 said.
c. am, have had news from home
that makes me glad"
looked about me. The room was
like her-quiet, harmonious, with Just
gleam of splendor. There was no clut-
ter of 6VOuterie, none of the fashiona-
BILE littering of mantel, and tables, and
whatnots with small articles, which
makes modern parlor look like toy
shop. There were good many books "a
landscape of Turner's, a lithograped
Madonna, and one or two plaster casts
from some real statue. Then there was
a single rose in the window, in luXuri-
ant bloom, pot of hyacinths, that satu-
rated the room with their pungent sweet
ness, and a vine of English ivy about
window, framing it in verdure, making
it look like an opening into green sum-
mer gardens, instead of the cold winter
landscape which lay outside the walls.
Miss Vascour took up her work again.
1t was little velvet sack, which l had
noticed was beginning to look frayed
about the edges and defaced along the
seams, but under her enchanting fingers
it was undergoing transformation into
acharming basque.
Poor but proud, you see,n she said,
smiling, as l looked at her work.
"Then you are poor!" L said, absent
ly.
She laughed gayIy.
Did you think that day governess
went out teaching for recreation" ?"
8" But I should think the governess
salary would make you independent" +" 1
ventured to say.
" All ! if you only knew what deal
of duty it does-what vast extent OF
surface it is spread over"
1 began to see how it was.
"And what was the pleasant news
/ from home ?n L asked.
A bright smile swept away the sober.
ness which had come over her face
6 Sister Isabel is going to be married,
and l shall be wanted at home for the
wedding in June" she answered.
+" How many are there besides Isa
bel ?''
johnny, who is in college; Maud, {
five-year-old baby and mother ?''
1t was a needless question. Her eyes
swan instantly.
" Father was minister" she sobbed
:" He died last winter-you did not guess
it, because we were too poor for me t.
wear mourning"
/ OWNED the rest of the orphans story
picked up the velvet basque which