Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1885-03-06
NEXT MY HEART.

GOODNESS, greenery and shade. vases
Of flowers stood in the open windows,
blossomIng vines wreathed over the
yerapdas, and the interior, with its
moss colored carpets, its white cur
tains, and the light chairs and sofas
Of bamboo and cane, was sight most
refreshing to eyes that had been WearI-
ed all day long with the dust OF travel
or the binding glare Of city blocks
and streets.
At her dressing table, in front
upper room, sat Lizzie Hazeldean, the
mistress Of the pretty cottage and wife
OF the rising young lawyer oil Spruce
street.
young lawyer" he was called by
his friends Of the same age, ard by
the newspaper reporters who had oc-
casion TO speak of him. Yet he was
two and forty year # age, and success
had but just beg to grow acquainted
with his name.
And Lizzie-bright, gypsyish, dark
eyed Lizzie-who had been a beauty
and belle in her young days-in her
young days l-alasl she began to own
to herself dong after other women
had said il Of her, mind YOU, that
she was growing old. The young
days were left behind forever, and
Lizzie, though she still kept her bright
cheeks, and sparkling eyes, and agile
step, Lizzie was 40 years of age on
this very day when we first behold
her.
She sal ri her glass, half hiding her
face behind her clasped hands. She
no longer had desire to look into
that too faithful mirror. Only this
very afternoon it had revealed most
unwclcome truth To her. There on
each side of her rounded temples, she
had discovered a narrow path OF white
among the ietty tresses OF which she
had so long been proud. A gray HAIR
here and there had not mattered here
tofore. She had pulled them out half
seriously, half laughingly, whenever
she had happened to see them. But
now, not 'ten, but hundred nay,
IA thousand seemed to leone to their
funeral" In year or so, at this rate,
the whole, soft glossy mass would
have lost its brilliant black-another
wear, at most, and then she would be
quite an old woman, with hair as
whdc rs her own grandmother's had
bGenl
She Lizzie IIazicdean - an cold
lady, "A gray-no, whlte-haIred
woman
Could il be possible! Her heart
was young M ever! When she play
ed with little Lizzie ON the lawn, at
ball, or battledoor and shuttlecOck, 1t
was hard to- say which most enjoyed
The game, she, or the child OF years.
She could walk as far and as fast as
in her elrlhood, She could oversee
her household affairs Us well as ever.
But the white hair was there before
her, ever repeating its terrible lesson
CT Growing old, growing old
IL was nearl" tea time. She could
hear little Lizzie talking, on the lawn,
10 her pet kitten and her doll about
the "hmo for papa to come, and what
would papa bring them when he
came. Downstairs in the kitchen,
and IN the dining room, below her
chamber, she heard the ring and tnllle
of glass, and silver and china, and
knew that the servant was doing her
DPSL lO nave ever LHlliS lIl pi''' w
fore the master arrived.
Vet she sat still before her mirror,
wiping away n tear now and then, and
choking back sob. OF what use
we've all the arts of the toilet now?
How long would Walter love her
after she was old and gray2
Suddenly there was wild cry of
delight from the lawn, and Bridget be
gan to fly tomd fro in her dominion
more swiftly than ever.
Had Walter Gomez IL was full half
An hour before his usual time.
Lizzie sprang to the window, screen
cd herself from observation behind
the curtain, and peeped out.
Eyes, there was her husband tossing
his child in the air, looking cool and
handsome in his white linen suit and
dark blue tie, while little Lizzie was
like fairy in her white muslin dress
and rose colored ribbons, and the band
of roses that fastened back her long,
dark curls.
But who was that beside them,
smiling ut the excited child, and talk
ing to Walter in such low, sweet
toneS2
a tall. elegant womans, slender, up
right and graceful, clad i'll perfection
of a Partisan walking toilet, with a
fluffy cloud of golden hair shadowing
her low, white forehead, beneath the
ponuct of lace and tulle.
Mrs. Ilazledean gazed at the un
welcome visitor in establishment and
horror, as she recognized her at
last.
Mildred Pontifex, of all women in
the world Mildred pontifex, the
blonde beauty of Philadelphia, the
great heiress, who, as Dame Rumor
had once whispered, would gladly, in
her girlhood. have thrown herself and
her hundreds of thousands of dollars
Mt the feet of her cousin, Walter
Hazledean!
Oh, horror korrorl And the house
lust about to receive its second sum-
mer cleaning-the guest chamber
with its carpet taken up and ITS
curtains taken down, in preparation
for the woman who was TO come on
the morrow to scrub and to purify;
the cid bread and fruit for Tea, &C,
cording to Walters simple tastes; the
impossibility of adding anything more
except cold meat and salad, which
there was scarcely time to prepare;
her own unfinished toilet, when the
kitchen and pantry demanded her
presence on the instant, if the credit of
her tea-table was to ee saved her eyes
still red from tears, and that hateful,
hateful stripe of gray hair on either
side of her temples. while blonde hair
seldom change its hue-all these
troubles masSed themselves together
in one vast heap in poor Mrs. Hazel
deans mind, driving her nearly
distracted, as her husband knocked at
her bedroom door.
1--WE have an unexpected guest to
tea, darling" he said in low tone,
for she had not unlocked the door.
ION the boat ! met Miss Pontifex-
my cousin Mildred, you know, my
dear. She is going TO Hyde Park on
avisit, and her luggage is there by
this time. But l persuaded her TO
stop few hours with us and take tea,
ana afterward you and l will see her
to Hyde Park by the 9 o'clock train,
if you like, love-"
Mrs. HazledeaA listened TO this
agreeable programme in silence, COM
mandipg herself at its end sufficiently
TO say.
Very well, Walter. l am not
"a,