Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1878-10-13

Melford," she continued hastily, Z must now
trouble you to escort me home. We shall be
| late as it is. Miss Maynard" she added, 1--WE
shall, am sure, very shortly be the best of
| friends. Mr.. Maynard"
The speaker broke off aud hurriedlY seized
my fathers hand. Arthur Melford took leave
of me, and bowed respectfully to my parent,
| who eyed him sternly, and in another moment
both Miss Sanders and Arther were gone.
| That evening and my father sat at home
in silence It was evident that he had some
! thing to say, but was nervous how to begin;
while, for my own part, the surprise of the
unexpected meeting at the bazaar afforded
me ample food for reflection and conjecture.
Presently my father said:
"Florence, you were no doubt a little aston
! ished at our meeting with Miss sanderson,
whom unit to-day you had probably never
seen. Ahem-FlorenceL-
"The lady was stranger to me until this
! afternoon papa" | replied, neryously for
dreaded lest may father Should have discovered
something respecting my acquaintance with
| Arthur Melford.
| THAT lady, Florence" continued my father,
| in ahesitating voice-'that lady is shortly-is
| in fact to become-"
"a very great friend of mine So she said
herself and am sure / shall be very happy"
| l broke in.
Ismiled as spoke. could not, for the life
1
| what was termed sharp girl, and quickly
jumped at conclusion. | knew as well as
| possible what would be the end of my fathers
sentence, and therefore, Womanlike, to in
crease his confusion, interrupted him.
II am sure she will become a great friend Of
yours, darling" resumed my father: "but that
was not precisely what I was going to say.
That lady, Miss Sanders, will shorty-ahem!
very shortly, become"
"There papa, stuck again! Come out with it;
| l know all abont it," l cried, with merry
laugh s.gl :, > . ),
my father, 81 need perhaps say nothing more.
| But, Floy, love, to be serious moment, Miss
Sanderson is to become my wife"
That solemn word "wifesobcred me direct
| ly. Miss Sanderscn my fathers wife! What
| flood of wild, incoherent thoughts passed
my mind as those simple words rang in my ear
| Who was Miss Sanderson? How longed to
be able to read her character at glance, to
| analyze the very virtue and f. ling of the
woman who Was to supply the place of my
dead mother. 1t was useless to try to think
quietly on the matter-equally useless to talk
to my farmer about it then. must wait until
/ could reflect more calmly, and then / might
| be able to determine whether my father was
to be congratulated or the step he was abb
to take, or ptied fo his folly.
| In the course OF day or two learned that
my father had been introduced 10 Miss San
! derson at the house of bachelor friend at
| lslingtOn The introduction had been made,
found out, with view of matrimony My ia
| ther had told his old chum, MIR Fordyce, that
he wanted wife; that iovial old bachelor had
instantly mentioned the daugeter of the Hack
ney schoolmaster, as a fitting bride for my
father, and the latter was graciously pleased
to approve of the selection, and thus was the
affair brought about.
My father was the very soul of hanor. AL
though man of business, he was not man of
the world Even as a young man he had new
er sought its pleasures A quiet evening at
home, rubber at whist a new book, were to
| him never falling sources of noYmont, and
| have often thought that a man pos. essed of
his quiet tastes and habits is to be enyied by
| his fellows. Was it strange, therefore, that
should feel anxious about the character of
Miss Sanderson? Was it singular that l asked
; myself over and over again, "Will she make
my father happyw
Miss Sanderson's appearance and manners
were certainly suggestive OF the most amiable
disposition. She was about six. and twenty;
but certain staid demeanor, combined with
| quiet, yet perfect and exceedingly graceful
and self-possession, would haye excused the
| supposi ion that she was thirty. Her features
were good, and her smile was of the sweetest
She was well educated too, and possessed of
much literary and artistic taste. She was
cheerful but never frivolous; indeed her
many good qualities seemed SO evenly bal
anced that could scarcely wonder at my fa-
ther being riveted, facinated by them And
yet my heart did not warm toward Miss San
ders"n. l did not feel that l could love
her; and as l became aware Oft wondered
at my GOODNESS, the more especially as was
oollged to own to myself that had any one
asked me my opinion of her who was to be-
come my fathers wife, should have felt
bound to give favorable one.
1t was abont fortnight after the day first
became aware of my fathers acquaintance
with Miss Slanderson, that the servant placed
letter in my hand at breakfast time. The
superscription was in the hand of Arthur Mel
ford At tremblingly opened the missive.
l knew my fathers scrutlniZing glance was
re ting upon me-
"Do not be nervous Florence" said he: "the
letter Is | presume from Arthur Melford. I
expected you would hear from him by this
mornings posts he has probably written to
ask you to see him this day. You have my
full permission to dOso."
My father resumedh his Times. was speech
less with amazement. l read my letter; it
was from Arthur single brief sentence,
asking me to meet him in one of the parks.
Papa" said when had somewhat recov-
cred my equanimty," you know, then, that
Arthur Melford is a friend of mine?'
II have been aware of the fact for some
time Florence" he replied, dryly.
did not say anything more to my father
on the subject. At the appointed hour I met
Arthur Melford. He looked very pale, but
there was good deal ofresolution expressed
in his countenance. There was evidently
something on his mind.
Florence, dearest" he said, gravely, II have
| asked you to meet me here this morning to say
good by, and, Florence, must ask you to for
give me for what said to you few days
since, and also forget the words that told you
| of my love-"
looked in the face of Arthur Melford; it
We're troubled, anxious look, that gave me
pain.
"But, Arthur" said I, "why is this?' Do
you mean--"
II mean, Flor :nce," interrupted Arthur
Melford, "that am very poor man. AS
such, had no business to ask you to love me;
it was cruel for me, it was ungenerous. But
meant to persevere and try and win a better
position in the world. / shall still persevere
| shall still plod on-cheerily, l trust and,
Florence, the knowledge that am not wholly
Indifferent to you will give me courage and
hope" ),
cease to love you: but tell me, has my father
had anything to do with this chanye?"
| Mo, not exactly" he replied, evasively.
| Then ills Miss Sanderson," l said; cit is
she who"
.'Hush, Florence. hush-not word" said
Arthur, gently,
The hot blood mounted to my cheek, as I
| fancied had got at the truth. I became abb
sorbed in one Of those sudden fits of thought