Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1892-06-09

| Lduy maven was always VelYet-Sn00 neT-
! self, while the carpets were velvet piled;
| and gathering her rustling train in her
| hand, her ladyship went nOiselessly down
the stairs, and found Florence's letter, adj
! dressed, as she had feared, TO her obnoX-
| ious cousin, Philip Darlington, lying I'M
| derneath one of her own epistles. She re-
| fiected for moment, and then remounted
| the stairs, but returned few minutes Ia
| ter with letter in her hand, also address,
! ed to Philip Carrington-the writing SIM
! liar to Florence's bold scrawl-containing
no love-words, but only wine importers
list placed in plain envelope.
! The ruse was still incomplete. The real
| letter was taken, and Lady Raven soon
| possessed herself of the contents, the
harmlessness Of which rather relieved her
fears; but it was better suppressed, she
| thought. Another letter was written, her
| bell was rung, and the foOtman summoned;
and he was told to take it with the other
| in the hall, without delay to the post-she
wished them dispatched by the evening
mail.
| Florence who was on the qui yive, lis
| tened too, and was relieved to hear the
Hother letter. in the hall referred to. Hers
was safe then and gone. In few days at
| farthest a crumb to satisfy her hunger must
reach her. She would know if her cousin
| considered the scauty faith between them
| broken-if he held her still in respect or
| contempt. Nevertheless her conscience
told her that Philip might we'll be angered
at the leyity of her letter after their last
| parting; but if his anger found vent in
| words, at least they must give her relief.
| For his pain she cared little.
The days passed YEARLY, even though
| splendid toilets were donned three times
each day, and Miss Worthingon's beauty
was constant theme, and her destinations
| acknowledged afresh after her years seclu-
sion. Once again Lord Harcourt Vernon
was unremitting in his devotion and his
| intentions were patent to the world, and
| to Miss Worthington herself perfectly in
| telligible. A week passed, during which no
| letter had arrived from Philip Darlington
merely few lines from Maud, accepting
| FlOrence's excuse that overwhelming en-
| gagements had prevented her from driving
| to Fulham. At last suspense became I'M
| bearable, and, prompted by her good or
| evil fairy, she wrote promising to see them
at Fuiham three days later, vt the time
she knew they would all be at home. The
test was painful one, but she thought it
| ordinarily might be conclusive.
| Lady Raven could raise no objection
her niece had been wonderfully moderate
in her desire to revisit her cousins; her
| only suggestion now was that they might
| drive thither together. Lady Raven would
remain in the carriage or enter the house
| as Florence liked. But the latter little
| cared; her only aim was to see Philip, to
| read what his eyes told her, to relieve the
| intolerable craving of her heart, which
| she had repressed so long that it now
| gained complete ascendency over her. She
was sure to see him, she told herself; he
would be less able to resist the temptation
| of another meeting than she herself. But
| she little knew him.
Philip, having sought and pleaded for
| her love, had accepted his rejection; this
| she again had vaguely Withdrawn, and
then bound him to silence and banished
him, till it might please her sudden caprice
to recall him. 1t was humiliation enough
for any man, and Philip Darlington was
| no humble lover Her letter too was an
| insult, if she regarded it in the right light.
| The letter Of ordinary cold friendship to
| the man she had vaguely promised to mar
ry, whom she had bound to silence, and
| whom she yet Informed she would love to
! the last day Of her life, could by reasonable
| people be looked on in no other light.
lie knew she was no faint-hearted fright
ened girl, poWerless to control her own will
or assert her own freedom. He knew too
well that, act as she might, she was utter
ly beyond cOerciOn; and he had not
shadow of hope left. In his heart he firm
ly believed that her old engagement to
Lord Harcourt Vernon had always re-
manned unbroken, and that she had only
gratifed her caprice by indulging in a
passing fancy for himself Or was he mis-
<taken, and did she choose to wreck her
happiness for caste, to live in a splendid
mansion, to ride in a coroneted carriage?
If it was so his pride at least should equal
hers. She had blighted his happiness, and
had robbed his life of much of its bright
ness. But, after all, he could bear it; he
would never faint under such a BURDEN
He would work with more unflagging en-
ergy to WOO forgetfulness. Miss Worthipg-
ton had perhaps scattered a few gray haivs
amid his wavy brown ones; but it mattered
little. He tried to force himself to believe
that time would heal his pain.
The reception of Florence's letter at
Fulham had been very different from what
she had expected. Her aunt and cousins
imagined that it had been written simply
to prepare them for the probable arrival of
Lady Raven, so that her ladyship's nerves
might not be shocked by finding them in
| any confusion and their drawing-room not
ready to receive her; and they laughed a
little at the idea. They did not dream
that it had been intended to give Philip
notice of her coming, so that he would be
certain to remain at home. 1t had per-
fectly contrary effect to the one desired
He most carefully planned to avoid her.
If the temptation again to see her was
great, his powers of resistance were still
greater His mother and Ethel wondered
at his absence, but Maud guessed the rea-
son.
Vainly did Miss Worthington remain un-
til the last moment possible in the old
drawing-room, where so many happy hours
had been passed. The piano was open.
just as in the old happy times when Philip
had fingered near her while she sang. The
pain of being once again amid all the ia
miliar objects, and yet now so far from
them seemed intolerable. Florence'S doubts
were soon dispersed by Maud telling her
she thought pointedly-that her brother
had declared his intention of not return
ing home until night. Miss Worthington
knew her fate then; ard Lady Ravens
fears were again set at rest. She began to
think now that Florence might be allowed
almost any amount of intercourse with her
cousins unmatched, and that all her terri
BILE fears must have been groundless.
Miss WorthinCton drove home with an
aching heart and white set face. She
knew now that the past year was dream,
from which she had just Awakened; but
the awakening was intoerable pain. While
she thought it in her power to see Philip
again, and that he would grasp her hand
but too eagerly did she choose to extend it,
she could bear his absence and silence; but