New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1878-10-23
was about to pass on with my father, when
q m indasc HE slrlorise he stnnned short

QanuS WIFI ueT warmly .sShlu lie Slduy INSTABILITY
became agitated; she colored very deeply and
trembled violently as she greeted my father
Arthur Melford seemed as much astOnished
as myself.
ssIt is Miss Sanderson, the daue liter Of my
employer, the schoolmaster," he whispered.
My father cast hasty and suspicious
gla ce toward IS. Could he have heard Ar
thurs words?
Florence, love-" said my father, 'allow me
to introduce you to Miss sanderson, a friend
OF mine, cannot say an old friend but who is
shortly to be''
'sHush!n interrupted Miss Sanderson "Mr
Melford" she continued hastily, Il must now
trouble you to escort me home. We shall be
late as it is. Miss Maynard" she added, eve
shall, l am sure, very shortly be the best Of
friends. Mr. Maynard
The speaker broke off and 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,
seen. Ahem-Florence!-n
''The lady was a stranger to me until this
afternoon, papa" Ireplied, neryously, for
dreaded lest may father should have discovered
something respecting my acquaintance with
Arthur Melford
That lady, Florence" continued my father,
in fact to become"
IA very great friend of mine. So she said
herself and am sure [ shall be very happy"
broke in.
Ismiled as spoke. T could not, for the life
of me have restrained that smile. l was
what was termed sharp girl, and quickly
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 great friend of
yours, darling" resumed my father: "but that
was not precisely what I was going to say.
That lady, Miss Sanders, will shortly-ahem!
very shortly, become"
'trhere papa, stuck again Come out with it;
know all abont it," cried, with a merry
laugh.
s'Then since you are so well informed said
my father, II need perhaps say nothing more.
But, Floy, love, to be serious a moment, Miss
Sanderson is to become nv wife"
That solemn word wife 'sobered me direct
ly. Miss Sanderson 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 falling of the
woman who was to supply the place of my
dead mother. It was useless to try to think
quietly on the matter-equally useless to talk
to my farther about it then. must wait until
I could reflect more calmly. and then might
be able to determine whether my father was
to be congratulated or the step he was about
to take, or pitied fo- his folly.
In the course of a day or two I learned that
my father had been introduced to Miss San
derson at the house of a bachelor friend at
Islington. The introduction had been made,
found out, with view of matrimony. My ia
Their 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 a man of
the world. Even as young man he had new
er sought it's pleasures. A quiet evening at
home, a rubber at whist, a new book, were to
him never falling sources of enjoyment, and I
have often thought that a man possessed 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 asked
myself over and over again, "Will she make
my father happv?'
Miss Sanderson's appearance and manners
were certainly suggestive of the most amiable
disposition. She was about six-and-twenty;
but a certain staid demeanor, combined with
a quiet, yet perfect and exceedingly graceful
and self-possession, would haye excused the
suppose 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 pever frivolous; indeed her
many good qualities seemed so evenly bal
anced that could scarcely wonder at my ia
ther being riveted, facinated by them. And
yet my heart did not warm toward Miss San
dersOn I did not feel that I could love
her; and as became aware of it, I wondered
at my GOODNESS, the more especially as was
obliged 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 a fortnight after the day first
became aware of my fathers acquaintance
with Miss slanderson, that the servant placed
letter in my hand, at hbreakfast time. The
superscription was in the hand of Arthur Mel
ford. At tremblingly opened the missive.
l knew my fathers scrutlnizlng 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 post,and he has probably written to
ask you to see him this day. You have my
full permission to do So"
My father resumed his Times. Twas speech
less with amazement. 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 equanimity," you know, then, that
Arthur MelfOrd is a friend of mine 9'
81 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 [ met