Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1890-01-23

Sometimes too hot the eye OF heaven
shines. To-day proves it. Terrible is the
strength of the rays that Old Soils Ringing
broadcast upon the simmering earth. The
tennis players have given In to 1t, have
flung their rackets to the winds and them
selves into garden chairs, or else prone up
on the shaved lawn under the acaclas, ac-
cording to their sex.
Two of them, however, have wandered
rather far from the acacias, and the tea
tables, and the tent where better things
than tea can be had for the asking. They
have wandered into a little green space,
shut out from noisy world by rows and
rows of hedges, all beech on the north and
south, and heavy rhododendrons on the
two other sides. 1t is little dream of
piece, entered by one opening only, and
That through the beeches.
"A sort of Arcadia, isn't it?" says Mr..
Brooke, glancing up at his companion
from his longing position upon the grass
at her feet.
NO" said she with a little frown. She
makes a charming picture, sitting, here In
the sunshine, next the old sundial with
her hat lying on the ground beside her,
and the glinting rays from the glowing
heavens throwing golden light into her
fine brown hair. Her eyes were blue, and
Just at this moment a little angry; the
mouth too, so prone to laughter as rule.
has grown mutinOus. Half child, half
woman, she has not yet learned the more
delicate shades of sOciety's colors, and lets
her thoughts lie openly upon her lovely
face.
You are hard to please, said he, his
eyes on her. As a rule, his eyes are sell
dom anywhere else.
'Well, you are not, > returns she,
promptly.
From afar the thrum, thrum, thrum of
a banjo comes to Them breaking a still
ness that is almost oppressive.
That's the unkindest cut of all?" says
Mr.. Brooke, placidly Its rather a cut
at Miss Morland, too, isn't it? | presume
you allude to my engagement to her.
''You presume very wrongly then. |
was not thinking of Miss Morland She
ought to please. She is rich young, hand
some 3"
And handsome, =" persistently.
is she? Oh, yes, of course she is. A
perfect Juno. Too perfect a Juno, per-
haps"
You shouldn't sneer at her" says the
girl gravely.
4 know that, and that's why | do it, =
says he. ''It is so difficult to resist temp
tation, and to do the wrong things is al
ways so pleasant" He is talking idly,
scarcely knowing what he says, his mind
full of her; full of the knowledge that he
loves her-her only, and with all the pas
sion of his nature, and that he is engaged
to be married to another woman.
A handsome woman, the daughter and
heiress of a cotton merchant-whqt her
own class would call fine girl, tall
with light eyes, and lighter hair, and dis
tinctly underlined She had met George
Brooke some months ago at the house of a
mutual friend, and being filed with a
strong desire to rise out of her cotton sur
roundings, had given him very cleverly to
understand that she was willing to accept
him should he choose to accept her fortune
which was enormous In exchange for the
old title that must come to him ON the
death of his uncle, Lord Farnham. A beg
gary title-no penny of money coming with
it, as the uncle let the nephew know as
often as opportunity occurred. There had
been bad blood between Lord Farnham
and his second brother, George Brooke's
father. and Farnham was not a man to
forget. He swore he would visit the sin
of tie father upon the son, and sooner than
leave it to hospital AS for the old name
and the keeping up of it, let it go to the
devil. Young George would inherit that
IN spite of him, but it should prove barren
honor to him.
George took no steps to assuage his
uncle's wrath, but he thought good deal
of the time when he should be Lord Farm
ham with only 500 pounds year to back
his title He had shirked the idea of
marrying for money, but when Miss Nor
land, with her undeniably golden charms,
flung herself at his head, he permitted
himself to argue the question with himself.
Many a fellow, he told himself, had done
it before. 1t was fair exchange His
title for her money. He was heart-whole.
He would not do her or any other woman
any wrong in marrying her He would
think about it-he hesitated and finally
was lost.
Miss Morland accepted him calmly, was
little vulgar over her money, let it be
known that she thought it pity that the
present Lord Farnham was In such re-
markably robust health for so old man;
and said she would not like to be married
until the coming autumn. 1t was then
November. George, glad of respite, did
aot press for an earlier day, circum-
APP under his new chains with marvellous
courage. He was not In love with any
one, so they did not gall him. Then came
day when both he and Miss MorIand
were asked down to stay for month at
the Shirleys, and there he met Dorothy
Dsne
A little slender maiden with big, gray
eyes, and hair that rippled all over her
white forehead A rather out-at-elbows
little maiden, whose best frock was mus
lin, and whose only ornaments were roses
The Shirleys-a young couple, adored her,
and would have her stay with them as
often as her father. would let her
come to them. She had been taken for
eible possession of by them from the
month that saw George Brooke there and
his fancee, with most disastrous results.
George Brooke fell madly in love with her
and she loved him.
1t has gone so far with them, indeed,
that though no words has yet been spoken.
each knows the others heart. and Sitting
here. to-day, in this little dangerously
lonely retreat, a sense of passionate protest
against the fate that is dividing them is
thrilling through every tone
1--WE ought to 60 back, says Miss Dene
presently, in rather changed tone She
had been a little offended, perhaps, by The
frivolity of his answer.
''Oh, not yet, surely. We have been
here so short time; and to get away
from Shirley's banjo, if only for a minute
or two, is so intense relief. )"
1T is more than minute or two,