Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1873-09-04

IL III HIS uafk velvet shooting
JACKET, and muddy leathern CATERS, and
Win The pale shadow of irretrievable re-
morse on his handsome face; and the tall,
peau'liui girl sitting with bent golden
head ana clasped white hands before him.
win the scarlet freight kissing her fair,
round arms, and lurking in the Shimmerv
folds OF her white dress.
Gan any OF you tell me the le1rth of
time comprised in one minute9 Sixtv
seconds? No, rather six hundred. #
seemed double that time to me that 7
stood longing for Helen to speak, longino
to say something myself and vet unahle
to find single word between horror at
the story and pity for the man who told
IT, 1t was Ducie himself who broke that
terrible silence at last His voice had
been harsh and determined before: now
IL sounded sad, weary, almost appeal
ing
That is ALL | never told anyone be-
tore. l don't think / could act in the
same way again; but God knows; only
you see cannot hear other men con
demned while | remember-n He
broke on with sort of gasp and added,
hurriedly, Il wish to Heaven | had never
needed to tell you; for of course | know
what you think of me now.o
He looked at Helen; but she never
raised her eyes; and l answered,
quickly
g wish you had not, Ducie; there was
no occasion. But | am very sorry for
you-trom my soul | am, old fellow"
would have given him my hand; but
though he said, Thank you, Fred" as if
he meant it, his eyes never left Helen's
face. She had never moved or looked up
once since he began. | feel sure now
that she knew from the commencement
that he was speaking of HIMSELF but it
was only when he said, was the man, !"
that her face, which had been white to
the lips, flushed scarlet, as though the
threatened blow had fallen; and such a
look came over it-a look of pain unut-
terable, Of bitter shame, of unconquerable
disgust; a look which but to see once in
the face of the woman we love might well
make the voice break and the heart sink
as Ducies did then
1t was still there when he ceased to
speak, and she rose up, calm and cold as
if nothing had been said which could call
for comment from her, and, simply OBJ
serving that it must be time to prepare for
dinner, left the room without a glance to-
ward either of us.
| strobe after her, meaning to call her
back and ask her to say kind word to
Ducie; but she put out her hand with an
imploring gesture, and turning her face
away, ran up stairs.
When | returned slowly and awkward
ly to the library, Ducie had also left it by
another door. | was not sorry.
We all met at dinner as if nothing vas
amiss. Mary Jackson and | were, | think
rather more lively than usual and even
Tom made himself 50 pleasant to Cis
Devereux that my dear old father said it
did him good TO hear such chatter of
voices. Ducie was very silent, it is true
and Helen's face was cOlOrless as a Guern-
sey daisy; but she spoke and even smiled
whenever appealed to: and none but my
self remarked, that when Ducie held the
door open for the ladies, after dinner, she
drew the silken folds of her dress to-
gether, and passed him without g glance,
as something too foul for notice His
face was whittier than hers when he sat
down again.
Next day we parted. | was busy all
| the morning over farming accounts, and
did not know Ducie was going till the
dOg-cart was at the door and he came IN
to bid me good-by. Then [ saw he was
much agitated, and urged him to stay,
using Helen's name. His lips quivered,
Il have already seen your cousin
Good-by, Fred, and thank you for all
your kindness"
Five minutes later he was gone. / said
nothing, but | went to look for Miss
Helen, and found her mOping away in the
| library, with face like a ghost and red
rims to her eyes.
She mumbled something about a head
ache | waived the remark lCftilv, and
taxed her with having refused my friend.
She Redeemed like rose, and said haugh-
tily she had done no such thing. He had
not the presumption to ask her
presumption :" quoth l, land to ask a
little vixen! All. well, you have sent
him away; and, what's more, you will
never see him again"
At this she paIed and painted q little :;
then flushed up again and answered:
"Oh! yes, we shall, and quite as soon
as we want him, dare say. Oh! how
can you care for him?-the cruel, bastard
ly-Oh.-"
This made me angry, for 1 don't like
hitting man when he's down; and the
vision of poor Ducie's handsome face,
with the haggard, beaten look on it, as he
shook his head to all my hospitable hopes
Of soon seeing him again, rather haunted
me. So | set myself to bully Helen by
way of retaliation, told her she was a
proud, self-1ighteous girl, who did not de
serve to be loved at all that she had like
ly SEPT a fine young man to the bad; that
she had no right to judge anybody; that
Ducie had acted a towards part two
years ago; he had taken a herO's last
night; that | doubted very much whether
she would have had the courage to stand
up and blacken herself forever in the
eyes of anyone she loved; that | couldn't,
and that it was Drawer and nObler deed
than saving ten mems lives.
Would you believe it? In the middle
of my abuse she suddenly burst into
tears, and, instead of quarreling with me,
throws herself into my arms, and sobs
out
ooh, Fred. so it was. Oh! / never
thought of that; and I told him-I told
him-Oh, DEAR oh, dear!"
"What did you tell him?"
a told him | never wished to see him
again, because he could never do any
thing brave enough to blot out the mem
ory of that dreadful, dreadful day"
"And what did he say?"
"He said, You never SHALL Oh, Fred,
Fred what shall [ dC?"
"Do? Write and tell him you are very
sorry, and ask him to come back again !"
"a piece of sensible advice at which
Miss Helen springs up dashes away her
tears, and says, Indignantly, "Ihank you,
Fred, have not quite lost my selfrespect
! vat oven if vour friend has lost his" and