Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1886-09-20

y
ter, it is true, but not wholly dependent
on my profession for a lodging and
crust; besides, Desiree, darling, Fdo not
mean to be always briefless barrister
| have gone through the usual cram
ming, my father is ambitious for me,
and-who knows?- perhaps some day
l may rise to eminence. 0, don't
blight my future"
He opened his arms as though he
would clasp her to his throbbing heart
and keep her forever, for all time. But
the next moment he had checked him
self, his hands dropped heavily to his
side; for there was no answering love
in Desiree's face, only stony, fixed
stare.
"How handsome he isn' the girl could
not but think. The perfect face and the
form of splendid manhood were his O,
what a thousand pities he had none OF
this worlds wealth! Had he been only
moderately rich Desiree LIE Strange
would have suffered him to take her
small hand in his broad palm, and they
would have been eventually married,
and, like the legends of nursery days,
lived happily ever after. But Desiree
lie Strange did not see fit so to do. II
could not marry poor man" she said,
softly but firmly. "a barrister's career
is so full of disappointments and strug-
giles; Jane and Muriel have their grand
mothers little fortune, which makes
them in measure independent. have
nothing"
''Only your beautiful face-your sov.
ing, gentle hearth he whispered tender.
ly. But she broke in with:
30, do not say any more. The kind.
est thing you can do is to forget me.
have never cared for you-never! For
give me if have seemed to encourage
you"
Forgive you?" he passionately ejacu.
lated, and the genuine misery in his
voice went TO her heart Forgive you!'
he repeated in hoarse, low tone, his
face at white heat, the words coming
through his lips like set iron. IF ]
could promise you riches, would you
care for me then, Desiree LIE Strange?
Answer me truly"
"If you were rich as a merchant
prince or Indian nabob | would not
marry your she cried with startling
vehemence, but her voice trembled at
the close of the sentence as though the
heart were denying what the lips ut
tered.
With sad smile he turned from her
and looked down into the waters that
were no longer gold or crimson flecked.
Desiree instinctlvely moved away.
She felt she had no strength to prolong
the scene.
Presently thick rain-drops fell with a
melancholy. monotonous thud on the
tangle of fallen leaves; but Daniel Wes-
sells did not move.
Long after Desiree's footsteps had
died away in the lane he remained
standing where she had abruptly left
him, with his arms folded over the old
stone bridge. thereby unconsciously
crushing a wealth of beautiful lichens
and fairy fronds.
Down into the angry, frothy waters
he gazed fixedly, paying no heed TO the
rain-drops, which fell more heavily
every moment.
The shortest way from the common to
the vicarage was by following the beat
en- path on the outskirts of Bramble
Hall, and along here Desiree hurried,
while the sad autumn rain battered
dismally around on the slenderly-robed
trees, on the wilted harebells, on the
dying bracken. The wind piped shril-
ly through the reeds and rushes flank
ing the river and whistled mournfully
midst the underground in low, sad
notes.
A restless deer peeped shyly over the
palings at her; a pheasant whirred in
the dark trees above her head. From
the far depth of the woodland sounded
the solitary "tap-tap" of a lonely wood
pecker and the half-muiiied bay of
deep-mouthed hound. The world seem
ed suddenly TO have grown for Desiree
very cherries. very eerie.
Years passed on, bringing no mer-
chant prince, no Indian nabob, no
wealthy cotton spinner to the feet of
Desiree LIE Strange; cruel years, rob-
bing her of kith aud kin, drifting her
from home to home, always with stran-
gers. A melancholy shadow, a ghost of
the bright, lovely Desiree lie Strange,
was this world-weary woman-this wo-
man who was so thoroughly changed in
all but name that the girls who envied
her in her dazzling youth and the men
who rayed about her passed her by
without smile of recognition.
Uninteresting days crawling laggard-
ly one after the other; how sick she was
Of the drudgery-the thankless office of
teaching! But she could not starve--
she dared not die; and, though life had
been one miserable mistake from the
beginning, and all her brightest hopes
had been crushed, she plodded on at