Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1895-11-07

You will deem me very trouble
some, l fear" she said, hastily, before
he could speak himself, 'sbut-but you
must forgive me when | tell you that
| am SO uneasy, 50 very anxious on
my grandmother'S account. | know
no peace-I cannot rest she Went on,
growing a little incoherent as she
stood there with Herman. Il want
you to do a Kindness for ME. Will
you summon a doctor from Stillbor-
ough? 1 would not trouble yOu. Mr..
MerryWeather-oh! believe me-" cried
the girl, piteously, ''if l were better
acquainted than I am with the neigh
bOrhOOd and its resources"
He was looking down with intense
feeling upon the sweet white face
which had grown so ineXpressibly
dear to him, noting with aching heart
the changes in it, the tragic sadness
of the beautiful eyes and mouth.
Yes, she was changed-had grown
whittier, thinner. 1t was, then. as he
had feared all along. She could not
thrive in-contend against-the Oppres-
sive air of Oldfriars. Like a rare and
delicate plant, she had begun to droop
already And so watching her, he
l0nged with a longing that was hard
indeed to overcome, to take her then
and there in those strong, true arms
of his, and cheer her with the dear
head pill0Hed upon his b.e3st. Well,
he was a fool and a dreamer for his
pains, he told hi1"self contamptuouSlv.
How amused she would be, nOtWirh-
standing her sorrow, could she but
divine what was passing through his
mind!
eff it would afford you the slight
est satisfaction" he said, kindly,
crushing down his love with the
might of an iron will, ''to consult a
physician OH the subject Of Lady Pen
rith's maIady, 1 will go myself to
Stillborough and request Doctor Dixie
to call here tomorrow. He has fire.
quenty seen Lady Penrith in days
gone by. He knows her case we'll"
''Thank YOU returned Alicia,
eagerly. at would give me much re-
lief-I should feel so grateful to you
if / could really speak with this Doe
tor Dixie. / want to know-to find
out
She stopped.
"Yes?" questioned Herman.
"It is that-that | want to know
how much longer my grandmother is
likely to live. Do you think yourself
that she will last much longer, Mr..
Merrywea ther?"
Herman looked troubled. The pain
full inquiry was so straightforward
so direct-in any other woman, he
said to himself, it would have been
unfeeling.
'tShe is Old" he began reluctantly
cher life has been so full of care
that
''That you think it impossible for
her to go on living in her present
state? You believe her to be dying
then?" interrupted the girl, fever
ishly.
Eyes" he grave1y said, II do
swell, I am glad of it, cried Alicia,
with strange fervor. cit is better so"
adding in haste, ''Thank you once
more, Mr.. Merryweather. l shall look
for Doctor Dixie tomorrow"
She had turned the next moment,
and was walking quickly away. 1t
was not wise to trespass unnecess ar-
lily upon Herman's precious time, she
decided-to say nothing of that other
folly of loving to be near him merely
for the sake Of that sense of sweet
content which such nearness afforded
her
Merryweather gazed wistfully after
the slender figure of Sir Rugs young
daughter, until the ivied buttress Of
q dilapidated out-building took her
from his Jealous sight.
II cannot quite understand her." he
unused, his head bent his hand on his
short brown beard. ''She puzzles me
sorely at times. Oh! if but the power
were mine to dispel the gloom from
her life, her days should be sunshine
to their close"
The early summer moon shone clear
and cold that night-or rather during
the small hours of the following day.
* =
AT one o'clock or thereabouts the pale
Queen of Night was at her best.
Alicia PeGrIth awoke somewhat
suddenly to hear the sound of a voice.
a moaning. outside her chamber door
Alicia listened breathlessly: her heart
beat aloud against her side Foot
steps had passed the vicinity of her
room-the voice was now dying away
in the distance.
trembling not a little. aid found her
dressing -gowT; and slippers. Fling
ing back the dark veil of her beauti-
full hair, she peeped cautiously forth
into the corridor.
AT the end of that broad oak pass
age was Lady Penrith, standing
there motionlass by a long uncovered
window, the moonlight streaming
around her. She looked like a figure
of stone in her straight white drap
cry, to which the rays of the ghOstly
moon had lent such an unearthly col
oring. Mrs. Ounce, in grotesque dis
habille, was with her mistress, mold
ing out to her a warm WOODEN shawl,
and dumbly entreating the poor iuiy
to return to the bed she had left.
Alicia, choking down the cry of dis
may which rose to her lips, ran noise
leSsly toward her grandmother. The
girl had not anticipated this calamity