Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1889-11-14
cONcTTTsT0N

am alone in the library. The casket OF
scintillating jewels left in my keeping Is
before me, showing by its ancient, exquisite
" designed cover that il is an heirloom of
years. A fair, sweet face comes floating
back TO me from the checkered past for
beloved recognition, and hear rich, full
voice saying: Thrice blessed are they
who are true to the last. / shut my eyes
and bow my head in my hands in silent
spirit communion, for realize that Lady
Percival is near.
AS / sit wrapped in the society OF
sweet memories | can see in the dim
distance the ivy-wreathed gables and
weather stained facade of grand, grim-vis-
aged Marlborough Hall, aud the heavenly
influence Of Lady Percval goes. The two
can not affiliate even in day-dreams. A
restless, sad feeling comes over me, and
Peggy Clarkson in her white cap and snowy
vandyke stands before me, reading my
thoughts with those great blue eyes of hers,
and hear her say cam Oill niver see me
darlint, the young misthress, agin."
A dark oaken staircase rises out Of the
shadows of a deep, wide, silent hall, and I
fancy l see q shadowy form, and hear,
stealthily coming down the ancient steps,
soft footballs, and | shudder to think that
perhaps the master Of Heatherleigh Is near
feel in my soul that Sir Rupert is not
pleased, that If he could he would send
curses dire and dreadful on the son of the
disinherited for presuming to aspire to his
daughters hand.
A sigh Of relief comes as | realize, too,
that the disinherited have outlved and out
witted all the maledictlve plans and fats
OF the proud, jealous ancestors; that the
new house OF the Percivals will spring
grandly from the ruins of the old, and that
those counted the very least in the proud,
old English family have lived TO be the
greatest, but on this side the sea,
Something rouses me from my vision.
Oh it is Maggie fitting hither and thither,
intent on putting things to rights prepare
tory to settling down into the old, quiet
groove OF two in one house.
Oh yes, and ! gaze out Of the window
toward the sea, showing little blue riffs
through the trees, as catch glimpses of the
shore from where sit. can hear the rest
less surge OF the waters, but they only sing
deep bass to-day TO the march OF the
world.
Out there Is the little garden Of lilies
where year ago Miriam used 10 walk back
and forth, soprowful and slow paced in her
gown of craze, with her great sad, re-
proachful eyes wandering over its beauty In
joyless, silent way. Her face used 10 rival
the wilderness Of the pure, satiny blossoms
that shed their fragrance around her In
vain, and the dark shadows of evening WED
In their somberness with the sweep OF her
robes as she wandered slowly about listen
ing to the sad, hopeless story told her by
moaning waves of the sea.
But to-day and the summer breeze fresh
from the booming pillows breathes through
the merry air paan OF joyful praise TO
Him, who in His own good time maketh
all things we'll And the flowers, sweet
Tipped and fragrant, nod gaily in acqui-
escence as II TO say: 1--WE have seen her,
we have seen her, and felt the magic sweep
OF her bridal robes. She who used TO drop
tears of the deepest anguish on our heads,
and breathe hopeless prayers low TO the
passing winds, smiled on US today, smiled
as an angel smiles, and has swept by on
the arm OF him whom she loves. We are
glad, we are glad"
And the roses and lilies mingle In sweet
confusion as the wind kisses them beneath
the skies Of June.
Across the world he followed her." sighs
voice from the summer choir, reversing
Tennyson's day dream, aud clasp my hands
impulsively, murmuring; God bless the
bridegroom and his bridep'
THE END.