Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1886-12-16
CHATTER V.

rlOI6uCO, dlUGE DOId HIS 16lU u6I,
sits motionless at her window. She has
thrown open the easement, and now
the sleeves of her dressing-goWn fall
ing back from her bare rounded arms
leans out so that the descending night
deWs fall like a benson upon her burn
ing brow.
She is wrapped in melancholy; her
whole soul is burdened with thoughts
| and regrets almost too heavy for her to
| support. She is haraSSed and per-
picked on all sides, and her heart is
sore for the loss of the love she once
had deemed her own.
The moonbeams cling like a halo
round her lovely head, her hair falls in
luXuriant shower about her should
ers; her plaintiYe face is raised from
earth, her eyes look heavenWard, as
though seeking hope and comfort
there.
The night is still, almost to oppres-
siveness. The birds have long since
ceased their song; the wind hardly
stirs the foliage Of the stately trees.
The perfume waited upward from the
sleeping garden floats past her and
mingleS with her scented tresses. No
sound comes to mar the serenity or the
night, all is calm and silent as the
grave.
Yet, bark, what is this? A footstep
on the gravel path below arOuSeS her
attention. For the first time since Do
ra's departure she moves, and, turning
her head, chances in the direction Of
the sound.
Bareheaded, and walking with his
hands clasped behind him as though
absorbed in deep thought, Sir Adrian
comes slowly over the SWard until he
stands beneath her window. Here he
pauses, as though almost unconscious
brought him to standStill where he
would most desire to be.
The moon, spreading it's brilliance
all around, permits Florence to see
that his face is grave and thoughtful,
and-yeS, as she gaZeS even closer, she
can see that it is full of pain and vain
longing.
What is rendering him unhappy on
this night Of all others, when the wo-
man she believes he loves has been his
willing companion for so many hours,
when doubtless she has given him
proofs Of her preference for him above
all men?
Suddenly lifting his head, Sir Adrian
becomes conscious of the face in the
window above, and a thrill rushes
uIIl DIS u0 lCCOSu1L0S UIlO lU1U
of the woman he loves.
The scene is so calm. SO hallOWed, so
full of romance, that both their hearts
beat madly for awhile. They are alone;
any one still awake within the house is
far distant.
Never has she appeared so spiritual,
so true and tender; so full of sweetness
that is almost unearthly. All pride
seems to have gone from her, and in it's
place only q gentle melancholy reigns:
she looks SO far removed from him, sit
ting there in the purity of her white
robes, that, at first, he heSitateS to ad-
dress her. To the excited imagination,
she is like an angel resting on it's way
to the realms above.
At last, however, his heart cOmpell-
ing him, he speaks aloud.
Florence, you still awake, when all
the world is sleeping?"
His name falling from his lips touch
es a chord in her breast, and wakes her
to passionate life.
you too" she says in a whisper that
reaches his strained ears. There seems
to her a subtle joy in the thought thai
they two of all the household are
awake, are here talking together alone
in the pale light of the moon.
Yet she is wrong in imagining that
no others are up in the house. as his
next words tell her.
at is not a matter Of wonder in nv
case" he responds; "a few fellows are
still in the smOking-room. 1t is early,
you know-nOt yet three. But you
why are you keeping lonely vigil like
this?"
"The moon tempted me to the win
dow" answers Florence. See how
calm she looks riding maieStically up
there. See"-stretching out her bare
white arm until the beams fall full up
on it, and seem to change it to purest
marble-"does it not make one feel as
if all the world were being bathed in
its subdued glOW%
A pale tremulous smile Widens her
lips. Sir Adrian, plucking a tall pale
lily growing near him, filings it upward
with such an eager aim that it alights
upon her windoW-sill. She sees it. Her
fingers close upon it.
Fit emblem of its poSSessor." saws
Adrian softly, and rather unsteadily.
do you know of what you remind me.
sitting there in your white robes? A
medieval saint cut in stone-a pure an
gel, too good, too IA above all earthly
passion to enter into it, or understand
it, and the grief that must ever attend
upon it,"
To be continued.
Would Like to Liberate Some.