Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1874-02-05
Tt can be helDed if

| cross and bear it to the end. 1 can bear
| it better if I am away from all that can
remind me of the old days. l shall not
come home till l have outgrown even the
memory Of them"
THAT memory was your dearest
treasure when l left you for that short
week, Isabel"
Eyes, but you forgot that the world was
made in a week. 1t is long enough for
moths to corrupt, or thieves to break
through and steal our greatest treasure.
DO not speak lightly Of week" she said,
with a wOful smile that had better have
been a sob.
Isabel, you break my heart" I cried
out.
"DoI? Then you will be in the fash
! ion. Women's hearts were made to be
| broken. The crack comes late to some
and early to others. | had long pro-
batiOn. but it came at last all the same y
She went away across the sea next day
with all her flock, but the dregs of her
bitterness staid with me. | had believed
in her, and been disappointed; it is not an
uncommon experience between lovers
and am assured that the sensation IS
very uncomfortable. There must have
been leaves on leaves folded away in her
| character, that | had never found or sus-
pected, to account for the savage change
| in woman who had been "all womanly.'
It injured my digestion and disturbed
my Steep; for it forced me to take to
| pieces all my pet theories about women,
and make them over again.
! Her infrequent letters told nothing of
| her real life; they were full of glittering
! generalities about pictures and cathedrals
! and now and then a bitter Jest on the hOl-
! IOwness of life.
Married happiness seemed to provoke
her to special wrath. The trail of the
/ serpent was over all her thoughts. When
! | pressed her about her own health, she
wrote, 81 am always we'll enough to bear
my burdens, such as they are. Nothing
| can kill woman, you know"
! But one or two travellers who saw her
at Heidelberg (where she had fixed her
self, to be near her brothers, who were
! in the university brought word that she
was white and wan, and only the shadow
of her former self.
81 have been bored to death lately"
she wrote once, with the devotion of
| Cousin George and his new wife They
may be called vagabOnds, having no visi-
BILE means of support; but love is to be
| food and drink and lodging, to say moth
! ing of clothes. The deluded woman
! thinks she has power to keep him always
at her feet, and it would not surprise me
at all if he were already, in his heart, a
! little weary of her. Women are so easily
| deceived that I wonder men have taken
so much pleasure in doing it through all
| ages. begin to favor the French Gus
| tom of selecting wives and husbands for
ones children, instead of leaving them
| 70 thai n no
ant matter of their lives. The only OBJ
lection lies in one Of old Fuller'S nut
shells: 'Tis to be feared that they who
marry where they do not love, will love
where they do not marry but people
will do that any way, and, after all, love
is only the right side of grief"
When George Deane and his "deluded
wife" came home l charged them, on
their honor, to give me a true and unvar-
nished account of Mrs. Deane's condition
of body and mind. They had been so
rapt up in one another, that they had not
seen much change in her as to manner
but they had somehow got it into their
foolish heads that she had not lived hap
PLY with her husband, as she would
never talk of him even to her children. [
speedily disabused their minds Of that
notion, for, as [ have said before, Isabel
and her husband had never ceased to live
in their honeymoon till his death.
| Isabel had been abroad five years when
she sent me a golden curl of her daugh-
ter's hair, braided with iron-gray, which
| she insisted was her own. | sat twisting
it about my finger with my heart full of
rebellion against the evil fate that had
taken her clean out of my sphere, when [
had counted on double share of her So
ciety for the rest Of my life.
"This is the conclusion of the whole
NATTER" | said to myself, for want of
anybody else to say it to. BLESSED be
those who expect nothing, for they will
not be disappointed"
And on that instant the postman, dart
ing up the steps in the rain, held up let
ter to my window. 1t was very thin
letter, and held only these words:
MISS DENNIsoN: If you will come round to the
Russell street lntirmary as soon as possible after
| receiving this note. you may do some good, and
greatly obEge, yours truly,
MARIA STONE, Matron of Infirmary.
Doing good in hospitals had never
been my forte, and | was morally certain
that l had never laid eyes on a woman OF
the name of Maria Stone
Besides all this, it rained as if it were
the first day of another deluge, and most
likely the letter was meant for another
Miss DennisOn; Dennison being CON-
mon name, and the prefix Miss cOmmoner
still, and growing more so.
am ashamed to say that [ hes1tated
some minutes, with myrubber shoes in my
hand; but curiosity, rather than benevO-
lence, finally carried the day, and / went
forth, on long, wet walk to Russell
street.
"Are you Miss Dennison ?" said a
woman, who seemed to be waiting to let
me into the infrmary.
eyes"
"Miss Eleanor Dennison?
eyes"
"Then you are the lady wanted"
1t was comfort in my soaked condition
to hear even that, though | put no faith
in it.
| was led through room containing
seven or eight beds, all occupied by con-
valescent patients, into a small one, so
dark that | could not distinguish anything
for a moment
us she hereH I heard woman's voice
ask family, and, guided by the sound, [
saw woman lying on a narrow bed,
propped up with pillows.
81 am Miss Dennison," | said, "but l
am very wet, and may give you chill"
at don't matter" she returned, after
waiting for a prolonged coughlng-ht to
pass. Nothing can hurt me, and must
say quickly what 1 have to say"
Even then l felt certain impotence
that l had been dragged out on such q
day, to hear the dying confession of a