The New Bloomfield, Pa. times. (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1877-188?, 1878-07-30

disappears, every shadow of hope had
left his heart.
Willis Boynton had been the inmate
Of Mr.. Maynard's home since his tenth
year, and he was now twenty-five. He
was born In South Carolina, hut his father
dying, he was sent to Mr.. Maynard,
relative, and one who had loved the
dead man dearly. Though partly edu-
Gated in the North, he did not lose the
fiery nature that had been born In him.
He had, however, for the sake of his
child.love, crushed his wild impulses and
and subdued his inperious nature.
He possessed u small fortune that en-
abled him to realize his ambition to be n
successful lawyer, and when anxiety and
the loss of hope made 1t incumbent on
him, to travel, His father was Col.
Boynton, u man greatly esteemed for
his wealth and social position, in South
Carolina, and he was extremely proud
OF his lineage, though both father and
mother were dead, and he had held no
correspondence with the other members
of the family. Mr.. Maynard, for the
sake of his friend, had always treated
him as u son, and, immersed as he was
in business, did not see the change that
had gradually come over his house
hold.
Willis Boynton did not meet Florence
again until the next morning at the
breakfast-ta Then she saw what one
brief night of agony can accomplish.
The face of her lover was as white as
death, and bore the stamp of immeasur-
able sorrow. But he had wrestled with
his anguish and partly conquered 1t, His
greeting was subdued and manly, but he
never once, if he could help it, looked
toward Florence. In vain she strove to
read his countenance = he gave her no
opportunity.
For several evenings he absented him
self and whenever he met Florence, his
manner was cool, though kind. Yet he
seemed strangely pre-occupied, and more
than once Florence caught his glance
resting upon her face with an expression
she did not like; but, as he seemed to
have given her up at last, she waited
patiently.
Meantime the stranger, who was to
have stayed but a few days, yet fingered.
Sometimes Florence met him, and the
meeting always made her happier. At
length he ventured to call, and spent an
evening at Mr.. Maynard's. The old
gentleman was delighted with his mod
esty and requirements. Like the rector,
he pronounced him at once the most
agreeable man he had met, and looked
at Florence searchingly as he said so.-
She could not conceal the sparkle of her
eye, or the quick blush that lightenedu up
her whole face, and whatever her father
might have thought, he kept it to him
self.
For many evenings the stranger came,
and at last, having taken board at the
hotel, he seemed likely to settle for the
winter. Now Florence had full oppor-
tunity to pity and sympathize with VIII.
lis Boynton. With the whole strength
of her heart, its slumbering emotions at
length fairly and thoroughly reused, she
loved Gilbert Arlington. 1t was strange,
she acknowledged to herself-it was per-
haps unmaidenly, but it was also un-
avoidable. She could not help it. If he
had never spoken to her one word of
affection, she would still have loved
right on-if he had left her forever, his
image would still have been forever up
permost in her heart of hearts.
One evening when Gilbert was pres
ent Willis came in. He looked haggard
and unhappy, as he always did of late.
He did not try to master his passion by
noble resolve, or manly patience. The
sentiment he cherished was fast chang
ing to revenge. If he could not wed
Florence, no one else should, if it laid
in his power. Florence was singing as
he entered. Unconsciously her joyous
tones took on a sadness, the atmosphere
seemed clouded--it would not ring as
before with the sweet vibrations of her
voice.
Willis cast scowling glance that was
not observed toward the twain. Gilbert
bent liked one privileged over the musi-
clan, carefully turned the pages, and
seemed entirely absorbed in the voice of
the singer and his too pleasant occupa-
ton. 1t was the place, the delightful
duty that had been his, Willis thought,
bitterly, and in his deep-set eyes gleam-
the fires of vengeful disappointment =
Under his arm he held book. which be