Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1885-04-16
THE BRIDAL ROBE.

The midsummer sun hung nigh IN the
heavens-the air was sweet with newly
cut grass, when Andrew North came
whistling up to the ancient well and
drew draught of cold water in the old
bucket.
He was q tall, handsome young fell
low, with a silky black beard and a
complexion of rich, healthy brown. 1t
was difficult to imagine how he ever
came to be related to the sour old wo-
man who was peeling harvest apples for
pies on the doorstep.
.'Well, mother" said the young man
cheerily, chow goes it?''
The Widow North heaved borean
sigh.
s'My dear, said she, ''this is a world
of change and sorrow"
''Well, mother, and what has hap
pened now?'
Il was down to the store this morn
;ng," said Mrs. North, ''buying a skein
of carpet thread and two eight-ounce
papers of tacls, and / had to wait for
the change till the young gal that run
the telegraph machine had writ out the
message. And | couldn't help seein' it
over her shoulder; it was from a young
Cleveland.
Hush, mothern' said Andrew North,
reddenng to the roots of his hair.
Dom tell me any more. It is not for
Us to examine into Mrs. CIeveland's
private affairs.
But it is my bounden duty to tell
you this, Andrew, > said the old lady.
mo young woman has any business to
deceive a man as Fanny is deceiving
you. The bridal robe is finished, was
what the young man telegraphed.
Come and see it at Oncen Don't look
so struck of heap added Mrs. North
''Oh, Andrew; | never did put very
much confidence in Fanny from the
first moment | set my eyes on her Yes,
you may depend upon it, she is going
to be married right off, and to some
young man in the military business.
But the last words of the old lady's
lugubriOus sentence were lost in the
ears of herson, as hestrode away under
the apple trees toward the bayfield,
Poor Andrew" she sighed. I'm
afraid he'll take il hard. But | never
did think it right for widow to marry
again.
And Andrew! Very different were
his thoughts Us he stood out in the mid
die Of the level field where perfumed
waves Of butter-cups, daisies, and de-
lcious grass followed the sweep of the
mercilesS blade.
i don't believe it!'' he said aloud as
he examined the edge of his scythe, not
knowing whether it was sharp OF dull.
4 can't believe it. Fanny is not a wo-
man who And yet, what fool |
ami" Suddenly fiinging down the
Scythe.) is there a. woman in the
world who is free from deceit? And,
after all, we have never been formally
engaged. / loved her and | was idiot
enough to believe that she loved me.
The old lady meanwhile went around
among her friends relating the horrible
story of the photographic message" I'M
der solemn promise of secrecy, and in
twenty-fOur hours everybody in Linden
vile knew all about it-that Mrs.
Cleveland, the pretty young artist who
had taken wild Rose Cottage" was
to be married very soon, and that the
bridal dress was already completed at a
fashionable emporium in New York.
Fanny Cleveland was entirely ignor-
flowed about her, and all that surprised
her was the unusual absence from her
side of Andrew North, the stalwart
young farmer, whom she had learned
to regard with tenderer feeling than that
of indifference.
Mrs. Cleveland was of the fair Saxon
type of beauty-rosy-che and sun
ny-haired, with blue eyes, and a dimple
in her chin-and as she walked down
toward the railway station with trim
little bag on her arm, she seemed
scarcely day over Is, although in very
truth she was three and twenty. And,
as fate would have it, the very first per-
son she met at the station was Andrew
North himself He bowed constrain-
edly.
''Oh, Andrew" she cried, ''are you
going to New York;"
EYES," be said.
Il am going to the city ALSO" said
Fanny.
Yes" he said coldly. pray allow
me to congratulate you"
upon what?'
upon your approaching marriage,