Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1891-11-19
CHAPTER II.

DARRELL COURT is PRISON TO ME !"
1t was beautiful May day, bright with
fresh spring loneliness. The leaves were
springing fresh and green from the trees; the
hedges were all abloom with pink hawthorn
the chestnut trees were all in flower; the gold
of the laburnum, the purple of the lilac the
white of the fair acacia trees, and the deli
cate green of the stately elms and lines gave
beautiful variety of color. The grass was
dotted with a hundred wiId-fowers; great
clusters of yellow buttercups looked in the
distance like the upspreading of the sea OF
gold: the violets perfumed the air, bluebells
stirred IN the sweet spring breeze, and the
birds sang out loudly and jubilantly.
Ii one spot looked more lovely than anoth-
er on this bright May day, it was Darrell
Court for it stood where the sun shone
brightest, in one Of the most romantic and
picturesque hooks of England-the part Of
Woodshire bordering on the sea.
The mansion and estates stood on gently
rising ground; chain of purple hills stretch.
ed away into the far distance; then came the
pretty town of Audleigh Royal, the Aud
leigh Woods, and the broad, deepriver Darte.
The bank Of the river formed the boundary
of the Darrell estates, a rich and magnificent
w
and wood seemed to meet. The park was
rich in its stately trees and herds of deer; and
not far from the house was a fir-woOd-an
aromatic Odorous tir-woOd, which led to the
very shores of the smiling southern sea.
By night and by day the grand music OF
nature was heard in perfection at Darrell
Court. Sometimes it was the roll of the wind
across the hills, OF the beat of angry waves
on the shore, or the wild melody of the storm
among the pine trees, or the full chorus of a
thousand feathered SOngsterS. The court it
self was one of the most picturesque of man
slOns. 1t did not belong to any one order OF
style of architecture-there was nothing stiff
or formal about it-but it looked in that
bright May sunshine noble editice, with its
square towers covered with elinging ivy,
gray turrets, and large arched windows.
Did the sun ever shine upon such a combi.
nation of colOrs? The spray of the fountains
glttered in the air, the numerous balconies
were filled with flowers; wherever it was
possible for flower to take root, one had
been placed to grow-purple wistarias, sad,
solemn paSSiOn-iOWerS, roses of every hue.
The Star-like jeSSamine and scarlet creepers
gave to the walls of the old mansion a vivid
glow Of color; gold and purple enriched the
gardens, heavy white lilies breathed faintest
perfume. The spot looked very Eden.
The grand front entrance consisted of a
large gothic porch, which was reached by a
broad flight of steps, adorned with white
marble vases filled with flowers; the first ter
race was Immediately below, and terrace lee
from terrace down to the grand old gardens,
where sweetest blossoms grew.
There was an Old-world air about the place
something patrician, quiet, reserved. II
was no vulgar haunt for vulgar crowds; il
was not a show place; and the master Of it
Sir Oswald Darrell, as he stood upon the ter
race, looked in keeping with its surround
ings.
There was disting,te air about Sir OS-
wald, an Old-fashioned courtly dignity, which
never for one moment left him. He was
thoroughly well bred; he had not two sets Oh
mannerS-0ne for the world, and one fol
private life; he was always the same, meas
ured in speech, noble in his grave condescen
sion. No man ever more thoroughly deServ-
ed the name of ariStOcrat; he was delicate
and faStidiOuS, with profound and deeply
rooted dislike for all that was ill-breG vulgar
or mean.
Even in his dress Sir Oswald was remark
able; the supertine white linen, the diamond
studs and sleeve links, the rare jewels that
cleaned on his fingers struck the atten-
ton; and, as he took from his pocket richly
engraved golden snuff box and tapped it with
the ends of his delicate white fingers, there
stood revealed a thorough aristocrat-the
ideal of ali English patrician gentleman.
Sir Oswald walked round the stately ter
races and gardens.
Il do not see her." he said to himself; ''yet
most certainly Frampton told me she was
here"
Then, with his gold-headed cane in hand
Sir Oswald descended to the gardens. He
was evidently in search of some one. Meet
ing one of the gardeners, who stood, hat II
hand, as he passed by, Sir Oswald asked:
Have you seen Miss Darrell in the gar
dens?"
81 saw Miss Darrell in the fernery some
five minutes since, Sir Oswald was the
reply.
Sir Oswald drew from his pocket a very
fine white handkerchief and diffused ar
agreeable Odor of millefieurS around him; thu
gardener had been near the stables, and Sil
Oswald was fastidious.
A short walk brought him to the fernery,
an exquisite combination of rock and rustic
work, arched by dainty green roof, and
made musical by the ripple of a little water
fall. Sir Oswald looked in cautiously, evi
IDENTITY rather in dread of what he might find
there; then his eyes fell upon something, and
he said:
Pauline, are you there?
A rich, clear, musical voice answered:
Eyes, | am here, uncle"
my DEAR" continued Sir Oswald, hall
timidly, not advancing step farther into the
grotto. may ask what you are doingT
Certainly, uncle" was the cheerful reply
''you may ask by all means. The difficulty
is to answer: for L am really doing nothing,
and do not know how to describe moth
ing"
why did you come hither"' he asked.
ITO DREAM" replied the musical voice. 81
think the sound OF falling water is the sweet
est music in the world. | came here TO Ell
JOY it, and to dream over it"
Sir Oswald looked very uncomfortable.
considering. Pauline, how much you
have been neglected. do you not think you
might spend your time more prOftably-in
educating yourself. for eXample@
This is educating myself. am teachin-