The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1890-02-06

npaEN. An unu6H0aDIc pFtSpOtlincnl
of impending trouble filled her with
sadness. 1t could not be the coming
Of this handsome wife, with her sweet
courteous, loving manner, she thought.
She was old. a daughter would be an
addition to her home. Yet she tossed
wearily on her pillow at night-she
who had always slept SO well; and
could not read or sew as she had done.
Somehow she felt all was not well, and
never could be again in this world for
her.
In spite of this, she took her pearls
from the worn case of blue velvet, in
which they had been hidden for years,
and sent them in 4 shimmering nest of
white satin, to MY Daughter soon to
be-" who answered with loving thanks.
The wedding-day was fixed. The
wedding guests, old friends of Mrs.
Gilbert, who said to each other that
they accepted for her sake, were bidden,
and even the flowers ordered.
The happy pair were to have a week
at the house on the hill, ,and then ''come
home
Meanwhile, the two dogs, Uno and
Ino, were to be baniShed. The village
people were afraid of them, and they
were to be taken away during the time
of the wedding to an old house in the
suburbs, where dog-fancier lived.
Your mother shudders at their very
sight Madame Vinton had said to her
betrothed husband; land / no longer
need such fierce protectors. L am not
to be lone woman any more. l will
sell the dogs if any one can be found
to buy them"
And the day before the wedding. she
with her own hands, led them to their
new home, and knelt before them and
talked to them as though they were
human beings, bidding them be good
and obey their new master.
Only one night more" said Squire
Gilbert as he took his beautiful brides
hands in his. .'Only one night more,
dearest. Tomorrow you are mln9."
He kissed her and turned away,
turned back to kiss her hands over and
over again, fingered still, very 10th to
90, until at last she playfully drew to
the door, saying that she never allowed
him to remain SO late, and that he must
go home; and he went down the garden
path.
1t was past eleven O'Clock, The full
moon shone overhead casting the
shadows of the bare wintry shrubbery
in dark outlines Gu the white paths.
The iron gate, SET deep in the stone
wall, looked like jet against snow, in
contrast with the smooth road without.
A screech owl in the grove near by
uttered its melancholy who! who! who!
aud the lover looked back at his lady's
house regretfully. 1t seemed SO lonely
a spot to leave her in.
Stepping back, he looked up at the
windows, where Il light now shone, and
ran against some in the road, who utter
ed a foreign oath and struck at him.
Squire Gilbert turned, his hand in
voluntarily going to his pistol-belt; and
the stranger, on whose toes he had
trodden, followed the motion with his
eyes.
Excuse me- he said, with strong
French accent. You came out of this
honse in such a hurry, at this late hour,
l believed you were, perhaps, a thief.
Pardon"
1T is my place to beg pardon said
the squire, whom the very accent of
his beloved ones native language mol
lifted. II myself fancied might have
met some dangerous person. [ hope |
did not hurt YOU"
.'Oh. no. said the other II was
only startled II little A thousand par.
dons.n And he passed on. The squire
! also went his way.
After a few steps he looked back.
The stranger seemed to have vanished
| mysteriously into the earth. But it
seemed to Squire Gilbert that he never
should forget his long, hooked nose,
his pointed chin, the narrow eyes. set
close together. the straight line of his
small mouth, and the intense blacknesS
OF his hair and moustache-a very
Mephistopheles in modern costume.
On the morrow, bright and early, the
household was astir. The bridegroom
dressed in his new garments; his mother
in her elegant gray satin and point
lace. But just rs the moment came
| for the carriage to be called. messen-
ger from the house on the hill came to
the door in violent haste.
That morning, when the servants
awoke, they found the hall-door open,
and their lady gone. She had not re-
turned. Her clothing had not been
taken. Her wedding-dress was ready
to put on; but her jewel-cases were all
unlocked and empty, as was the tiny
ornamental safe in which she kept her
money.
The wedding company was coming
in; the lady had not returned; no one
| knew what to do.
Words cannot describe the conster-
nation of the squire. He hurried to
cd, irt nd
as described. He sent for the police,
| for detectives from the nearest city.
He searched frantically far and near,
fearing to find his love lying dead in
some part of her garden, or the woods
near by. 1t was many, many days be-
fore he gave up his hopeless wander
ings.
He only thought of accident. 1t
seemed plain to others that she had left
| the place of her own free will, having
some unknown motive. At last the
squire himself declared that if Madame
Vinton had met with violence. her body
must have been found; but he still felt
perfect faith in her, and, in his miser-
able love and longing, clung to the re-
newed hope that it gave him to believe
her still alive. He took possession of
| the house on the hill. dismissed the
servants, and went thither to live alone.
''She will return some day" he said,
land she shall find me there waiting
4 for her
And, despite his mothers tears, never
unheeded before, he clung to his resolu-
| ton.
One man only waited upon him, an
old and faithful servant; but one day
he sent to the dog-fancier to reclaim
| the blood-houuds, and Uno and Ino, led
in leash came eagerly up the village
street, about noon, one windy March
| day.
They dashed into the house wild with
| JOY. They fawned on Squire Gilbert,
| whom they had learned to love. They
searched everywhere for Madame Vim
| ton. and at last went down to their old
/ baunfS in tine Garden LONGING for