Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1891-05-21

meditating further bloodshed?
A moment surcharged with thrilling sus-
pense goes by, and then, not Ryan or the
cook, but much more perplexing vision
comes slowly into the room.
1t is very radiant vision, though it is
clothed in mourning garments, full of grace
and beauty. Very shy, with parted lips,
and brilliant, frightened eyes, but perfect
as an opening flower.
Is it child or woman? is the first ques-
ton that strikes Miss Penelope As for Miss
Priscilla, she is too surprised for thought of
any kind, too lost in admiration of the little,
gracious, uncertain figure, with its deep blue
eyes glancing up at her with a half-terrified
yet trusting expression, to give away to
speech of any kind.
She is slight, and slim as hazel wand.
Her hair is nut-brown, with red gold tinge
running through it. Her nose is adorable,
if slightly tilted: her mouth is a red, red
rose sad but sweet, and full of purpose.
Her eyes are large and expressive, but touch
ed, like her lips, with suspicion of melan-
choly that renders them only degree more
sweet and earnest.
There is a spirituality about her, a calm,
peace that shines out of these dark Irish
eyes, and rests upon her perfect lips, as it
were lingering breath of the heaven from
whence she Came.
She stands now, hesitating little, with
her hands loosely clasped--brOwn little
hands, but beautifully shaped. Indeed, all
her skin owes more of its cOlOTing to PhP-
bus Apollo than nature intended. She draws
her breath somewhat quickly. and then, as
though anxious to get through the trOubIOuS
task assigned her, Says, neryously, in low,
sweet voice.
II am Monica"
AS she says this, she chances entreatingly
from one old lady to the other, with some
trouble i'll her great eyes, and some tears.
Then all at once her lips trelnble to a smile,
and soft light breaks upon her face.
You are Aunt PRISCILLA she says, turn
ing to Miss Blake; Il know you by your
dark eyes, and by your pretty harp
At the sound of her voice the two old
ladies wake from their abstraction.
Eyes, yes, it is your aunt Priscilla" says
Miss Penelope, eagerly, with a sudden
pleased smile. Had the compliment been
made to herself she could not possibly have
appeared more delighted, and certainly
would not have betrayed her satisfaction SO
openly. Her hair" she says, was always
beautiful"
AS for Miss Priscilla, she is smiling too,
but in Shamefaced fashion, and is blush
ing warm pretty crimson, such as a girl of
seventeen might be guilty of, listening to a
first word of love.
She takes MOnica'S right hand in hers and
pats it softly; and Miss Penelope takes her
left; and then the two old ladies stoop for
| ward, and, one after the other, kiss the pale,
girlish cheek, and with the kiss take her at
| once and forever into their very hearts.
But surely, dear child, you did come
! o1x
| ing to remembrance the fact that there
ought to be two other BereSfOrdS some
where.
mo; Terence and Katherine are with
me-
But where, my dear?"
well, l think they are standing on the
mat, just outside the door," says Monica,
blushing and laughing; and then she says,
rather louder, Terry and Kit, you may
| come in now. 1t is all right"
AS to what was evidently supposed not to
be 'all right up to tiiis, the Misses Blake
have no time to decide upon before fresh
| nephew and niece present themselves to
their view. They come in quite gayly,-
| treasured, no doubt, by Monica'S tone,
| Terence, a tall slim lad of about sixteen, and
little girl somewhat like Monica, but more
| restless in features, and even a degree more
pallid.
MY dear children, why didn't you come
in before?" says Miss Priscilla, aghast at
the inhospitable thought that they had been
shivering with needless nervousness in the
hall for the last five minutes.
''They said they wouldn't come in unit.
paved the way for them, " says Monica, with
| a slight shrug of her shoulders that is trick
of hers. They always put everything upon
CHI LII cEo1NJ e
call it."
II am afraid you must have pictured us
as ogres," says Miss Priscilla, which idea
strikes the old ladies as such delicious
| flight of fancy that they laugh outright, and
| look at each other with intense enjoyment
! of their little joke.
''Well, of course we couldn't tell what you
would be like" says Monica, gravely. 'You
might have been people likely to impress
| one with awe; but as it Is This is Ter
ry," laying her hand upon her brothers
arm; land this is Kit She is really RATHER
inc, you know, but no one ever calls her by
so long name. She isn't worth it,"
AT this the three Beresfords laugh among
/ themselves, as children WILL at time-worn
| fun knowing no fatigue; after which Kath-
crime and Terence are embraced and made
much of by their new-found relatives, and
freely commented upon.
But ever and anon the eyes of both old
ladies wander thoughtfully, admiringly, to
where the lisSOme Monica stands, like a
pale, pensive lily.
But how have you managed to be here so
soon?' asks Miss Priscilla when the i'm
prOmptu luncheon, improvised by the start
led Timothy, has come to an end. The chill
dren were all hungry, and have eaten a
great deal, ard have talked more. Indeed,
| though Miss Priscilla has been dying to ask
this question for long time, it has been
| impossible for her to do so, as there has not
| been so much as comma in the converse
| ton for the last hour.
| The BereSfOrdS are like so many clocks
wound up. and bound to go for a certain
| time whether they like it or not; and ap-
| parently, they do like it. Now they have
run down a little, Terence being exhausted
after his last laughing attack, and Kit wrap
ped in contemplation of an old-fashiOned
| hair brooch that is fastening an equally old
fashioned piece of priceless lace that adorns
Miss Priscilla's throat.
1--WE came by the wrong train," says Ter
ry. 1--WE generally do. Ever since we left
| the South Of France-where we were stay
ing with the Bohuns, you know, on our way
llS1S-NC nave DCeII HiSSlllS Oul lCtIIlS IlS III
and left, and turning up at all sorts of uneX-
pected places. Haven't we, Kit|'
You have" says Kit, with suspicious en-
phasis. You have such pretty trick of
rushing into the first train you see, without
ever asking any one where it is going. No
wonder we always turned up at the wrong
! end"
"YOu'Ue pretty trick of putting every
thing down on other peoples shoulders"