Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1878-03-07

be reality? What if Gordon Frazer
were still in existence? | thrust the
thought from me as [ should thrust
temptation. ~ will help you in any
way I can, my darling" I said: but
come IN now; the night air is chilling,
and you are giving way to feverish
fancies."
mo" she said, it is no fancy"
Drawing herself up YEARLY, she turned
without looking at me, and followed
her down the terrace and across the
marble court of the old palace which
was our home ia Genoa. | watched
her glide, stately and pale and quiet, up
the broad white staircase.
1t was months before she recovered
from the brain fever in which she aWoke
next morning such awful months, du-
ring which we often feared the worst.
Yet when they were over, and she was
among us again, paler, stately, more
fragile, but still her own beautiful self,
selfpossessed as usual, [ was almost
thankful for the terrible illness, which
proved that her cry and wild words on
the terrace were but warnings Of coming
illness, the mere wandering of brain
diseased
The Roman season was nearly over,
yet Rome was full-full of English
sightsteers, like ourselves full of Amer
leans, on rapid flight across Europe
of Eastern prelates, in flowing Eastern
robes, with Olive-hued Eastern faces of
eager-faced French ladies, and solemn
eyed peasants from lonely villages on
the Campagna, and of Italians from
city and from plain; for it was Easter
time. We were only waiting until the
conclusion of the festivities to set out
until now felt half the meaning of that
word. When we got home Mary and [
would be married. | should give up
wandering, and settle down into a coun-
try gentleman. [ thought with pang
Of self-reproach Of the grand old home
which called me master, shut up in
desolate state since my dear father
died. How fair young mistress would
brighten and beautify the old rooms. [
could see it all noW-the oaken hall
with its quaint old pictures spring
sunshine pouring in at the open door,
relocated sportsmen grouped under
the beeches, horns ringing from the
copses. children playing under the
shadow Of the avenue of limes-the
loveliness of joyous life, where for so
long had been the silence left by death.
1t was a sunny dream of Monochrome
in fair England-into which [ had
fallen standing there upon the Pin
clan, under the deep dark blue of Ro-
man night.
Below lay the city, its narrow streets,
dimly mysterious, no light visible in
their tall houses; the fountain muir
INJURED its sweet monotOnous music in
the Piazzi di Spagna the wide white
marble steps cleaned along the hill
side tall palmtrees cast weird shadows
across the graveled walks nightingales
answered each other in low, ricn thrills
Of song, echoing from tree to tree,
through whispering palms and odorous
night flowers. Beside me, bold and
silent, was the woman whose charmfuI
spell woke within me this new sweet
longing for Monochrome musical with
the soft rustling of women's garments ;
with the tender voices of little chill
dren. [ suppose such a dream and
such a longing come to all men at
some time of their lives it came to
me that night as | stood above tie city
of vanquished glories, of dead and
buried dreams.
1t did not last long. Suddenly
above the city roofs cross of silvery
light shone out against the sky. The
illumination of st. Peters had begun.
Above the winding, narrow streets,
above palace roofs, above palm and
cypress, above triumphal arch and
moldering temple, over the palace of
the Caesars, over capitol and forum, the
silvery cross shOne glad, triumphant );
and from it the light spread from Win
dow to window, from pillar to pillar, till
the vast pile was one glory, changing
rapidly from soft, silvery radiance into
glow of golden fire.
i" 1t was worth coming to see was it
not, Mary?
Maryw A strangers voice echoed
her name; and, instead of answering
my question, she sprang with low cry
from my side and laid her head upon a
strangers breast. Did you not get my
letters? / have been looking every
where for you," | heard him say.
She did not answer, nor raise her
head as if at last she had found her
rest.
You are not alone here?" he went
on. Who are you with? ?"
Then with culver as of pain, she
raised herself, and looked from me to
him with beseeching eyes and trembling
clasped hands.
Before she spoke-for even in all the
agony Of my crushed-out hopes, my
love for her bore down all other feel
ings, and | tried to save her from the
pain of telling me what [ already
knew said "You have found an
older friend than [ am, Mary. Shall
| leave him to take you to Mrs. We're
kerr"
AN older friend" he repeated. "By
Jove! [ should think So
Then raising his hat, he shook hands
with me as [ turned away.
[ turned into the darkness, but not
before [ had seen that until now I had
never known her, my love, my prom
ised wife. I had known a beautiful
statue, not the beautiful woman, who,
with eyes appraised to his, stood in the
subdued light looking uD to Gordon
Frazer. All the GOODNESS, all the stately
calm had gone, fallen from her as
mantle falls-a mantle which had hid
den the fullness of her loneliness, and
had concealed from me a tender grace
and beauty had never till now beheld.
L have never seen her since.
Some time afterwards [ met a friend
who had seen a good deal of the Fra
zers. He was loud in admiration of