The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1892-06-11
Called To Account,

i
Merton as she said these words.
This epistle belongs to you, believe,
since 1t is in your handwriting. picked 1t
up In the hall. As it began with my name
read the first two lines, but soon discovered
from the tenor of 1t that 1t WAS not addressed
to me, but, / conclude, to your sister. / inn
mediately closed 1t then, for am above read
Ing that which is not mine. hold the per-
son who reads or opens letters addressed to
another in the utmost contempt. Take your
letter."
My curious eye could not resist seeing tho
first two lines as my aunt reached across to
hand the letter to its owner.
DEAR BETTs,--I am not sleeping at my
pos5 OF duty am in Ipossessionof OF the heart
lclosed my eyes with sensation of faint
sickness.
My aunt addressed herself to Miss Merton.
You foolish girl" she said in bitter ac-
cents, syou may be capable of winning
hearts for an idle hour, but you could not re-
tain Them No one could live in the house
with you and not see through you. l read
you from the first"
Grace Merton turned pale with that inner
rage which is so dangerous and deadly.
1bu pIl sue CiIcu, WIFI i
fierce glance, ''how dare you open my desk?"
Miss Merton," exclaimed, no longer
able to keep my temper calmly under con-
troll, my aunt is woman of honor, who
acts up to the advice she gives. have lived
with her from a child, and never knew her
guilty of shabby or mean action. beg you
will at once quit this house, and never dare
return to It,"
4 Sha tyljHpI or}ct ha II foo
cat-like tread, she cast upon me one linger-
Ing gaze of concentrated anger, and, without
utterng one word, closed the door.
In about half an hours time heard her
leave the house. Thus lost my friend, but
not great enough to lure away from me.
AS heard the hall door close on her, l
drew breath of relief--I felt that the house
was at last free of the viper
My aunt sat herself down beside me and
placed her hand Oh my arm, with the same
peculiar tirmness whicl, was her habit when
ever she had something serious to say to me-
"Chid," she said, looking pcnctratingly
lntomy face, 'was my warning to You an
Idle fancy? Did Inot strive to save you from
this9"
"Yes, aunt" replied. "you were correct
In your Judgment of Grace; but she has not
proved my rival as you predicted, for"
| Bernard came to my rescue, seeing my con-
fusion.
mo, aunt, Gertrude is not to be rivalled
| by such q person as that" he cried, taking
my hand, "nor is our love lcsScned in the
least"
My aunt shook her head prophetically.
"You are not out of the wood yet, my
dears," she said, with heavy sigh: there
Is no end to the trail of the serpent"
"But aunt, she has gone"
| At that moment Il ring was audible at tho
hall door.
at is only the servants bell" cried, in
answer to my aunt's ''husll," and we resunl-
ed our conversation.
'vrhat girl has the face of an angel and the
heart of a demon" my aunt said after
pause, during which she had been looking
intently AZ the clock over the mantelpIece.
"The face of al angel when the mask is
drawn over it," replied my lover. "But did
you ever see face so altered as hers became
short time back. l cannot forget that aw-
full glance she cast upon Gertrude rs she
closed the door. The look was q volume,
yet her white lips did not open. She is a
dangerous woman to trtle with, am con-
vinced of that"
"Oh, let us forget her. want to bury her
very memory" l replied, with a shuddcr.
"Shall we have n little musc?"
l rose to the instrument, and commenced
nnc of Bccthoven,s sonntas. only cared
for classical music. and Demands taste was
like nv own.
Inst in the midst of If heard the hall-foor
.lose. / looked out of the window. and saw
Grace Merton walking lurriedly away. n
dark veil over her face,
"What on earth has that woman come back
forI, cried, "It must have been she who
rango
II will ask the scryant.n NV aunt replied.
and she laid her hand upon the bell which
was almost Immediately answered
.AIary who was that who rang inst nowp,
.Niss Merton. ma'am. She came back for
her music, which she left upstairs"
.Hermusic," echoed. s.Why, she never
brought any-l am positive of that"
"She came back TO listen to what we had
10 saw no doubt" said Bernard.
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'ouples oelis'' III
Ofeaiii OIL young peopie' "ii''C hite.er II
they are but idle dreams after all, so long as
they afford you present happiness, present
bliss? Is not life itself long continued
dream? Time enough to awake when the
spring has passed and the summer sun set.
Sweet dreams which only visit us once in
lifetime, unreal foolish as they be, what
halo of glory they shed across our path,
scenting the very air we breathe with per
fumes like an earthly garden of Eden, and
obscuring the shadows of future ills, which,
without them, would force their grim outline
before our vision even in the springtide of
hopefulness.
Why not dream on-hazy, misty as your
dreams may bcp Time enough to awake to
stern, cruel reality when the hoar frost of
winter has checked your buoyant spirit and
printed furrows on your brow. Few can in
dulge in blissful, Joyous dreams when time
has bleached their locks and enfeebled their
steps,
But even then the sweet summer of their
youth has its pleasing memories, although
they may have traycrscd a dreary wilderness
since and have felt the keenncss of the reap
ers's scythe at every step they took.
Oh, If we could for one short hour dream