Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1889-10-31

But the best part of the visit there to re
come we received from the matronly look
| ing English lady in charge.
$50 glad to have you come" she said
| smoothing out her apron Of blue and white
checked linen and handing us each chair
while she talked
| In five minutes time felt perfectly ''a
| home" at Spring Brook, so named from {
| clear, gushing fountain bubbling down oVel
messy powders near the house.
eli ham so very busy hin the kitchen
ladies', hand ii you wouldn't mind to--tt
sit with me there, why, Hi could wish
with you TO much better hadyantage," sht
said, after little, with britle Of her heaC
| and a scst of apolagizing smile.
Certainly we would sit with her there
and forthwith we sat and enjoyed her so
liability while she baked and finished to
turn her bread and a couple of spring
| chickens meant for us. She kept no help
30 she found it necessary TO be at the helm
company or no company. And such 1
| bright genial hostess one hardly ever
meets as did the honors Of Spring Brood
| farm.
And now, how pleasant the recollection
of those sunny hours chatted away beneath
the weather-beaten gables of the pleasant
deep Widowed kitchen. | can almost see
myself rocking softly to and fro in the old
fashioned rush-botton rocker, and listening
to Mrs. Grey's kindly voice, or fancy my
self cuddled up in the deep chintz-coveret
armchair by the window, watching h0i
busy with her work
But that Is, too among the past, and the
twilight settling over the downs over there
and the dark, restless waters beyond, re
mind me that it is evening once more in the
suburban Hastings.
The great arms of the windmill look very
distant and hazy, like unto ghost in the
air; and hear few rocks chatlering, and
perhaps Quarreling, in the Gins at the back
Of the cottage Gladys vii seen light the
lamps, and then win feel obliged to go in
doors and leave the twilight; mysterious
and indistinct as it is, how love it 1t puts
me In mind of Joaquin Miller's rest, por-
trayed in his excellent poem, "The Rest OF
the Grave"
There Gladys has lighted up the chande-
lier in the rosebud of a parlor, and the soft
light from the coiored globes falls over o
piece of statnary fair as Undine, and slants
like halo through the glass doors this side.
And can see from where sit, here In the
delicious, shadowy night, cousin fitting
about the room, and note the sweep of her
crimson gown. She Is trying to be glad and
happy tonight, for am 10 start for home
tomorrow, and she does not desire to leave
any unpleasant impressiou on memory. l
know she is heartsick, however, and un-
derstand her assembling.
My luggage is ready for an early start;
Miriams picture is nicely packed for a safe
transport, and Allan Rercival's letter TO her
is safe in the bottom of my trunk. The
Stanleys, with whom l came over, are
back to Ecclesbourne and will be ready to-
morrow, so there is nothing left for me to
do than to join them.
lam loath to part with Gladys also, and
do my share of assembling and for the
same reason. | am so anxious to present
Miriam with her much-desired portrait,
however, and to place IN her hand the cous-
inly-lover-like, venture-epistle, that my
separation from my Cousins CHEEKY COM
pany will not seem so bitter.
But, after all, | mind me with pang that
it is those left behind that ever feel most
sorrowful at parting.
shall go in now and Gladys and viii
sing "Auld Lang Syne' together once, more,
as we had planned, before ! must go. j
fancy we shall see the words through mists
before we get half way through the song,
and perhaps break down and finish the rest
in tears.
'sRough sea-" SAID the captain, and l seek
my cabin Miss Stanley, pale as death,
seeks hers also; by this time she is prone
on her cot wishing for every thil.-- but death
and an unruly digestive apparatus. l am
lucky; / am not disturbed by the rolling OF
the ship, but / chose rather TO tumble about
alone, if l must, than to fall sprawling on
deck or trip up a fellow passenger in trying
to keep my equilibrium.
While | sit here on the side-of my trunk
am thinking of two faces left behind me
on England's sunny shores. One is the
face of Cousin Gladys, of course, as she
babe me good bye, with hot tears trickling
down her white cheek 1t is memory that
brings a lump into my throat and a sinking
down of the heart.
The other face is that of Allan Percival.
met him on my way to the wharf, and he
walked with me down to the pier. "You
are off now," he said, and his face was
something TO see.
A strange, yearning, hopeful expression
lighted up those beautiful eyes as he gave
me his hand in last goodbye And |
knew that he at least was glad to see me
go. Why's Because part. perhaps the
whole, of his life-happiness depended on the
message was to deliver.
Sometimes l half believed that Miriam
will put this message in the CRATE and shut
her heart against all the advances of the
light of love. 1t would, doubtless, be just
like her to NOPE out her existence sorrow
ing for those that need it not.
have had letters from her in my alb
sence, and judge from their tone she is
very homesick to see me, and to get her por-
trait 81 have Arthur's and the baby's
picture hung up in my room," she wrote,
"where the s1nset can linger over the be-
loved faces, and yet lack one more face to
make up my trio"
Well, she need not wait long. But the
sea grows. calmer; the heavy, threatening
clouds arc breaking away aud the sunlight
Is glinting through / go on deck. wonder
If this sudden change TO fair weather is a
forerunncr of happy change in Miriam
How wish with all my heart, as / cling to
the railng-for the ship sdll rocks like q
cradle-tha might be the happy medium
of bringing both these friendless orphans
together in grand reunion of love- fancy
can do this by diplomacy, somehow. Well,
wait; we shall see if it be possible.