Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1891-05-21
ONIC
Above STORY OF MODERN DAYS
By the Autlor of Mona Scotlly," dc
cused" &C., &c.
CHAPTER I.

On the happy, careless ones that the end of
all things is at hand. The roses knock their
fragrant buds against the windOwpanes,
calling attention to their dainty sweetness
The pigeons coo amorously upon the sills
outside, and even thrust their pretty heads
into the breakfast-room, demanding plain
lively their daily crumbs, but no one heeds
A deadly silence has fallen upon this room
1t Moyne, albeit life is fully represented
here, and two eyes, in which the light of
youth is quenched, are looking anxiously in
10 two other eyes that have also seen the
best and the sweetest of their days.
Hopelessly the golden roses scattered their
petals. In vain the white and tawny birds
entreat backsheesh. To no purpose does the
elderly clock count out its numbers. The
urn is Kissing angrily, the two cups of tea
30 carefully prepared are growing cold. So
are the crisp little hot cakes, so is the
No! by the bye, it isn't! Honey can't
What chance / was near giving the re-
viewers
One bird, growing annoyed at the prolong-
ed quiet, flies from the open window to the
back of Miss Penelope's chair, and settles
there with an indignant f1utter and sup
pressed but angry note. This small sugges-
tiOn Of living world destroys the spell that
for the last few minutes has been connect
ing the brain with dead one.
Miss Penelope, raising her head gives
words to her thoughts.
Poor, poor Katherine ~ she says, gently
smoothing out the letter that lies upon her
knee. "How her happiness was wrecked |!
and what sad ending there has been to
everything! Her children coming home to
us, fatherleSS-mOtherleSS Dear child What
life hers has been! 1t is quite twenty years
ago now, and yet it all seems to me as fresh
as yesterday"
''She shouldn't haye taken things so easily;
she should have asserted herself at the Time"
says Miss Priscilla, whose voice is always
note sharper than her sisters.
ut requires a great deal of thought and
and great deal of moral courage to assert
ones self when man has behaved abomin-
nably to One,-haS in fact, jjIted one" says
Miss Penelope, bringing out the awful word
with little shudder and shake Of her
gentle head, that sets two pale lavender rib
bonS in her cap swaying mildly to and fro.
'Why was she so fatally silent about ev-
erything, except the one bare fact of his re-
fuSal, at the last moment to marry her,
without assigning any cause for his base de-
sertiOn? Why didn't she open her whole
heart to me? | wasn't afraid of the man ~
says Miss Priscilla, with such terrible energy
and such a warike front as might well have
daunted ''Hte man. or indeed any man,
could he have seen her. "She should have
mburdened her poor bruised spirit to me-
who il my mother was not hers, and if L
was many years her senior-had at least a
sisters love for her"
"a true love" says Miss Penelope, with
another sigh
INSTEAD of which," regretfully, ''she hid
all hcr SORROWS in her own bosom, and no
doubt wept and pinned for the miscreant in
secret"
Poor soulm says Miss Penelope, pro-
fOuldly affected by this dismal picture.
Tears born of tenderness spring to her eyes.
''Do you remember Priscilla, how she re-
fused to show his letter, wishing, suppose,
even then to spare him."
Il forget nothingr' with some acerbity.
soften, when saying my prayers, / have
wished | could forget him, but | can't, so l
have to go on being uncharitable and in SIM
if indeed sin it be to harden ones heart
against q bad man"
"Do you remember, too, my dear Priscilla,
how she refused to go to church the Sunday
after she received his coldbloOded miSsive
telling her he wished his engagement at an
end? l often wonder in what language he
could have c0uChed such ScandalOuS de-
sire; but she tore the letter up. Dear dear
1t might have happened to-day, it is all so
clear to me-"
"Too clear" says Miss Priscilla.
al recolIect, too" says Miss Penelope,
leaning her elbows on the table, pushing her
untasted tea rom her, and warming to the
dismal memory, chow she would not come
down to dinner on that eventful evening,
though we had red-currant tart she was so
fond of, and how | took her up some myself
and knocked at her door and entreated her
to open to me and to eat some of it. There
was whipped cream on it; she was very fond
of cream, too"
"And she refused to open the dOor?" ask
ed Miss Priscilla, with the satisfied air of
one who has often heard thethrilling recital
before yet was never tired of it.
absolutely so l laid the plate on little
table outside her door. Some hours after
ward, going up to bed l saw the plate was
gone her door slightly ajar. Stealing into
her room on tiptoe, saw she was sleeping
peacefully, and that she had eaten the red
currant tart felt so happy then. Poor
dear child how fond she was of that tart!'
''She liked everything that had sugar in
It," says Miss Priscilla, mournfully.
at was only natural. Sweets to the
sweet" says Miss Penelope, letting one lit
tie white jeweed hand fall slowly, sadly
upon the other.
There is a heightened pause.
Presently, STOPPING slightly toward her
sister, Miss Penelope says, in mysterious
Whisper
II wonder, my dear Priscilla, 1Uhy she
married James BereSford month after
ward
''Who can read the human heart? Per
hapS it was pride drove her into that mar
riage,-a desire to show George Desmond
how lightly she treated his desertiOn of her.
And James was handsome young fellow,
whereas George was"
''Ugly," says Miss Penelope, with quite
an amazing amount of vicious satisfaction,
for her.
"Strikingly So" says Miss Priscilla, ac-
quieScing most agreeably. But then the
Desmond estates mean half the county; and
we used to think he was the soul of honor
ut was our fathers expressed desire up
on his death-bed that Katherine should mar
ny him."
'Yes, yes; a desire to be held sacred y
And Katherine gave her promise to our dy
ing parent. Nothing" says Miss Priscilla,
in a solemn tone, should induce any one tc
break such an oath. | have often said so tC
the dear child But she appeared not only
willing, but anxious to marry George Des
mond. His was the tratorous mind"
Il dare say he has had his own punish,
ment," says Miss Penelope, mildly.
Il hope So" says Miss Priscilla, sternly
Then, with return to sadness, Twenty
years ago it is and now she has been
twelve-month dead and in her quiet grave
"Oh, don't, my dear PRISCILLA says Miss
Penelope, in broken voice, burying hel
face in her pocket-handkerchief.
"Ahl well, we'll, we had better look to the