Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1895-03-28
(E{!;f!eg,tt 28EI1(liirpe

| SVer nave learned I he TRUTH I tl,em-
Die 10 think of it. I sho ii never, of
myself nave spoken again. No man
eoald, who had been told what | had
: = III" now was to suppose there could
Ne any explanation, Because, you see,
sie was always so truthful -
!, ohe IS the most truthful child in
! Inc world. . cried granny. interrupting
MN; but think no woman living but
lie
Nor man. either,' said Bellenden,
IN spirits 20 laugh. 'She has but to
oW"lt was one, to be forgiven every
thing"
I'VE shall meet, then, ere very
long, said the old lady, giving him
her hand.
"''Within afew days, trust"
"And : at Inchmarew?"
AT lnchmareW.'
Granny said that evening that she
had really had a pleasant day, and was
not in the least fatigued nor would
she go so early to ted. alleging that
she liked the cool eventide to sit and
think in: and, accordingly she .1ad her
chalr brought out and placed in the
balcony, although the china pots and
DAISIES were gone, and there she sat
silent and smiling little to the won
der OF some one else, who was in any,
thing but smiling mood.
! All through the preceding week
the temperature in Geraldine's veins
had been steadily going down: every
morning she had arisen cooler and
calmer, and more and more ready to be
persuaded and reasoned with. had
there been anybody at hand to reason
and persuade.
But the prudent grandmother had
seen all and held her tongue.
She had forecast swift repentance;
bat she had also prophesied return
! OF the tantrums were the repentance
work its own end; and, therefore, al
! though it had been no easy thing to
do. she ad put u curb not only on her
! speech, ut on her actions, and, had
J by word and act carried out the will Of
i her yolng tyrant.
| Perhaps Geraldine had almost hoped
to be re mOnstrated With, and perhaps.
had she been so, she might have given
way: but granny, with a chuckle, had
! gone on with her pre- operations.
| The child needed a lesson: and to
give her her heaG at this crisis and
let her hang herself on her own rope
| as it we're. was incontestably the best
! thing to be done; and therefore, al
! though the ''poor dear" really sacri-
! feed self and could not but heave sigh
as she looked round upon the still at
tractive scene. the busy parks and
streets, and cards upon her plate and
+ mantlepiece. while in the background
she had but a rueful vision of Inch
marew Castle, cold and solitary, and
with the covers only just whipped Off
| in the state-roo Is still she held
travelY to the lole she had laid down
| for herself; and the only thing she had
| line which had arrested his departure,
and brought him to her side at the
| first convenient opportunity.
Now she could afford to sit and smile
on her balcony.
Dear old SOUL she found fault with
nothing not even with the rain on the
| Argyllshire hill tops, although it fell
in waterspouts on the first evening OF
their return to their Highland home.
Dismal as was the outlook from nor
bedroom window, where she stood
awhile to gaze upon the dreary mlsts
hanging overhead, and the leaden
waste of waters beneath she scarcely
| seemed to notice it. One previous in
curry had satisfied her: she had learned
that the summer boat was running,
the boat which touched every even
ING at their pier, and that had been
enough. ya@Ea
On the other hand, poor little Ger
aldine was miserable down to the very
tips OF her fingers, and shivered and
shuddered, and protested herself alb
jectly penitent for bringing her grand
mother back in such an evil hour she
had almost said to such an evil place.
Inchmarew had never before seemed
desolate and dreary. She could not
have believed it had she been told,
that she could ever have looked
upon the loved homo of her childhood
with such an ungraciOus eye. The
very servants saw that she was unre-
sponsive and out of spirits and fancied
she had grown fine and scornful.
This miserable, miserable rain, y
she moaned, show gloomy, how de-
plorable, it all looks. And yet [ never
! I Taught at Aunt Charlotte when she
warned me that it woald be so. l for
got to tell you, dear, how indignant
Aunt Charlotte was with me for run
ming away when [ went to say my
Good bye' to her. She said l need not
have made myself une sy; that none
of them would ever have troubled me;
and that at least the unfortunate af-
fair might have been allowed to die
out of itself. [ got away as soon as
could, and left my love for Ethel and
Alicia. They will not come here this
autumn that is one thing. On, it is
someth ng to feel have done with the
Raymonds and Aunt Maria, and all OF
them for the present; that
can breathe freely, and not be in ago
MES lest I sho Id meet them as every
! turning of a street; but still-but
! still--'' and she drew long, weary,
despairing breath.
| Now the curious thing was, that IN
exact proportion as the grandchlld, S
spirits sank did those of tie grand
/ mother rise.
She prattled and gossiped, inquired
about this and that, spread about the
/ little novelties for the rooms which
- ia ao,,,irad in OndOn: arranged