The New Bloomfield, Pa. times. (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1877-188?, 1878-11-19

me once 10 keep our secret until i gave
you leave to speak. Give me that
promise anew, Amy"
She did so-promising never to divulge
the secret of their marriage until her
husband gave her leave.
So Fred Elliot was banished from his
fathers house, because he had married
wife and left that wife, all unknown
and unsuspected, to change and soften
his fathers heart.
The first time she ventured to speak
of Fred, her uncle silenced her most
peremptorily.
forbid you to name him in my
presence. Let that subject be avoided
between us, once and for all. If you
are dutiful you shall supply his place, as
will endeavor to fill your fathers; but
never speak that name"
She obeyed with heavy heart there
was no choice for her but to obey, at
present. Her uncle grew much attached
to her. Secretly and silently he grieved
sorely for his only son, and inwardly
cursed the ambitious pride that had led
to their estrangement, though outward
ly he appeared hard and cold. His hair,
that had been as black as jet, turned
gray, and worn and anxious look be-
came habitual with him; To Amy he
turned for comfort in his hearts hidden
and unspoken desolation.
She was his sweet and patience COM
panion always; reading, playing, sing
ing to him-Fred's favorite airs and
songs. 1t was the only way in which
she dared plead for him to his fathers
heart She took charge of his home
comforts too, as they had not been cared
for since his wife died long ago. Both
uncle and niece shrank from society,
but in the house, and in long, solitary
walks and drives, they were almost in
separable.
One day he said to her:
" You are a daughter to me, indeed. l
shall leave all my wealth to you"
She shrank away, and cried out at
that off her guard for minute:
"Oh, no, no, mol 1 could not accept
it. 1t is-it belongs to--another!r ~ And
then stood trembling, with her eyes
cast down.
Mr.. Elliot frowned heavily.
6 1t belongs to me, to do with as L
will; and l choose to give it to you, not
to-one that has disgraced me.n
She gathered courage. With crimson
face and heaving bosom and fearful
eyes, she cried.
oh, do not say so, uncle Fred will
never disgrace you he is too good, too
noble.n
He interrupted her:
Do you know what his goodness and
nobleness has brought him to know
he writes to you sometimes. He is-my
son is-at work as bookkeeper in fac
tory in Connecticut,at salary of twelve
dollars per week. How long do you
think it will be before he can support a
wife on that ?" Then pausing sudden
ly, as he marked her glowing cheeks and
troubled, heaving breast thought oc-
Cured to him. He uttered an exclama-
ton of comprehension and regret, and
putting his arm around her drew her
towards him.
Amy, my child, did you know that
Fred was married ?"
Her heart beat until it nearly stified
her. What question would come next 4?
Yes, uncle" she faltered, with white
trembling lips.
He noted her emotion and mistook its
cause. Filled with a great regret and
pity, he drew her to his breast, so that
she hid her face against his shoulder.
My child, my own, sweet girl, be
candid with me; speak to me as you
would to your own father. Did you
love Fred with more than q Cousins
love ?"
The question was so unexpected, so
altogether different from what she had
dreaded, that it took her by SURPRISE
All her love for her young husband, all
her grief for his long absence (he had
been gone six months), the painful
thought that she had driven him from
his home-these, and another keen anx-
iety that gnawed her heart in silence,
overcame her now, and found utterance
in the cry that left her lips.
GO loved him better than my life -
better than my life !" she cried, and fell
weeping on her uncle's breast.
He caressed and soothed her.
" Alas ~ he cried. " If he had only
married you, how happy we might all
L,