Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1889-12-05

| at these kind words, and he saw the
tears trlckle between her white fingers.
! He began to wonder. and to feel uneasy.
! But the brave girl shook off her tears
and manned herself, if we may use such
an expression.
Then. sir" said she. slowly and en-
| phatcally, though quietly, did you not
! think it strange that [ should say to my
father, i don't know He asked me
! before you all, Are you wife, Twice
| | said to my father-tO him | thought
you account for that, sir?"
| The Colonel replied, Il was so unable
| to account for it that [ took Julia Cliff
| fOrd's opinion on it directly, as we were
going home"
And what did she say?"
"Oh, she said it was plain enough.
| The fellow had forbidden you to own
| the marriage, and you were an obedient
wife; and, like women in general, strong
against other people, but weak against
| one"
$50 that is a woman's reading of wo-
man." said Grace. "She will sacrifice
her honor, and her fathers respect. and
| court the worlds contempt, and sully
herself for life, to suit the convenience
of husband for few hours. My love
| is great. but it is not slaYiSh or silly.
| Do you think, sir, that | doubted for
one moment Walter Clifford would own
me when he came home and heard what
worthy of my love as to leave me under
that stigma? Hardly. Then why should
| blacken Mrs. Walter Clifford for an
afternoon, just to be unblackened at
night"
"This is good sense, said the Colonel,
"and the thing is a mystery. Can you
solve it?"
you may be sure can, and-woe is
me-I must"
She hung her head, and her hands
worked c0nvulsively.
"Sir," said she, after a pause, sup
pose l could not tell the truth to all
| those people without subjecting the
man [ loved-an | love him now dear
er than ever-to terrible punishment
for mere folly done years ago, which
has now become something much worse
than folly-but how? Through his I'M
happy love for mel"
These are dark words" said the Colo
mel. "HOw am [ to understand them?"
Dark as they are" said Grace, edo
they not explain my conduct in That bit
ter trial better than Julia Clifford's
guesses do, better than anything that
has occurred since?"
Mrs. Walter Clifford" said the Colo
mel, with a certain awe, "I see there is
something very grave here, and that it
affects my son. [ begin to know you.
You waited till he was out of danger;
but now you do me the honorto confide
something to me which the world will
man and soldier. Ihave faced cavalry.
and can face the truth. What is it?"
Colonel Clifford" said Grace, tremb-
ling like leaf, "the truth will cut you
to the heart, and will most likely kill
me. Now that | have gone so far, you
may well say, Tell it me; but the words
once past my lips can never be recalled.
Oh, what shall [ do? What shall Ido?"
The struggle OverpoWered her, and
almost for the first time in her life she
turned half faint and yet hysterical; and
such was her condition that the brave
Colonel was downright alarmed, and
rang hastily for his people. He COM
mltted her to the charge of Mrs. Milton.
1t seemed cruel to demand any further
explanation from her just then; so brave
a girl. who had gone so far with him,
would be sure to tell him sooner or
later. Meantime he sat sombre and
agitated, oppressed by a strange sense
of awe and mystery, and vague misgiv-
ing. While he brooded thus, a footman
brought him card upon SalYer: "The
Reverend Alleyn Meredith" "Do /
know this gentleman?" said the Colo
mel.
I think not. sir" said the footman.
What is he like?"
Like benefited clergyman, sir"
Colonel Clifford was not in the humor
for company; but it was not his habit
to say not athOme when he was at home;
and being magistrate, he never knew,
when a stranger sent in his card, that it
might not be his duty to see him: so he
told the footman to say, "That he was
in point of fact engaged, but was at this
gentleman's service for few minutes"
The footman retired, and promptly
uShered in a clergyman who seemed the
model of an archdeacOn or wealthy
rector. Sleek and plump, without cor
pulence, neat boots, clothes black and
glossy, WaiStcOat up to the throat, neat
black gloves, snowy tie, a face shaven
like an egg, hair and eyebrows grizzled,
cheeks rubicund, but not empurpled, as
one who drank only his pint of port,
but drank it seven days in the week.
Nevertheless. between you and us,
this sleek, rosy parsonage, archdeacon
or rural dean down to the ground, was
Leonard Monckton, padded to the nine,
and tinted as artistically as any canvas
in the world.
The first visit Monckton had paid to
this nelghbOrhOOd was to the mine. He
knew that was a DANGEROUS visit so he