Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1897-12-23

all from Nina-all written to Guido
while he was in Rome, some of them
bearing the dates of the very days
when she had feigned to love meme
her newly accepted husband One
very amorous epistle had been written
ON the self-same evening she had
plighted her troth to me! Letters burn
ing and tender, full of the most pas
sionate protestations of fidelity, over
flowing with the sweetest terms of
endearment; with such a ring of
truth and love throughout them that
surely it was no wonder that Guido's
suspicious were all unawakened, and
that he had reason to believe himself
safe in his fools paradise. One pas
sage in this poetical and romantic cor
respondence fixed my attention.; it
ran thus:
why do you write so much of mar
riage to me, Guido milo? 1t seems to
my mind that all the joy of loving will
| be taken from us when once the hard
world knows of our passion. If you
| become my husband you will as
suredly cease to be my lover, and that
would break my heart. All, my best
beloved! I desire you to be my lover
always, as you were when Fabio
! lived-why bring commonplace mat
rimony into the heaven of such pas
sion as ours?"
| studied these words attentively.
Of course I understood their drift. She
IoI ;oI 10 u, he
dead man. She had wanted to marry
me, and. yet retain Guido for her lonely
hours, as t'her lover always!" Such
a pretty, ingenious plan it was! No
thief, no murderer, ever laid more
cunning schemes than she; but the
For such a woman as this, law says,
Divorce her-that is your best
remedy" Divorce her! Let the criminal
go scot-free! Others may do it
that choose have different ideas O
justice!
Tying up the packet Of letters again,
with their sickening perfume and thei
blood-stained edges, I drew out the
last graciously worded missive I had
received from Nina Of course I
heard from her every day-she was a
most faithful correspondent! The sam
affectionate expressions characterized
her letters to me as those that had
deluded her dead lover-with this DIFF
ference, that whereas she inveighed
much against the prosiness of mar
riage to Guido, to me she drew tn
most touching pictures of her desc
late condition; how lonely she had fel
since her dear husbands" death, how
rejoiced she was to think that she was
soon again to be happy wife-the
wife of one so noble, so true, so de-
voted as I was! She had left the con-
vent and was now at home-when
should she have the happiness of well
coming me, her best-beloved Cesare
back to Naples? She certainly deserved
some credit for artistic lying; I could
not understand how she managed it
SO we'll. Almost I admired her skill, |
as one sometimes admires a cool
headed burglar, who has more skill,
cunning, and pluck than his comrades. !
I thought with triumph that though
the wording of Ferrari's will enabled
her to secure all other letters she
might have written to him, this one
little packet Of documentary evidence
was more than sufficient for my pur
poses. And I resolved to retain it in
me to use it against her.
And how about D'Avencourt's
friendly advice concerning the matri-
monial knot? GA man should not walk
on the edge Of precipice with his
eyes shut" Very true. But if his
eyes are open, and he has his enemy
by the throat, the edge Of precipice is
a convenient position for hauling that
enemy down to death in a quiet way,
that the world need know nothing Of!
So 'or the present I preferred the
precipice to walking on level ground.
I rose from my seat near the Punto
d. Angelo. 1t was growing late in the
afternoon. From the little church be-
low me soft bells rang out the Ange-
LUIS, and with them chimed in a solemn
and harsher sound from the turret
Of the Monte Vergine. I lifted my hat
with the customary reverence, and
stood listening, with my feet deep in
the grass and scented thyme, and
more than once glanced I'D at the
height whereon the venerable sane
tuary held it's pest. like some lonely
old god of memory brooding over van
ished years. There, according to ira
dition, was once celebrated the wor-
ship Of the many-breasted Cybele:
down that very slope of grass dotted
with violets had rushed the bowling,
naked priests beating their discordant
drums and shrieking their laments
for the loss Of Atys, the beautiful
youth, their goddess's paramour. In
fidelity again! in this ancient
legend, what did Cybele care for old
Saturn, whose wife she was? Nothing,
less than nothing!-and her adorers
worshipped not her chastity, but her
faithlessness; it is the way of the
world to this day!
The bells ceased ringing; I descend
ed the hill and returned homewarn
through a shady valley, full of the
odor of pines and. bogmyrtle. On
reaching the gate OF the Signora
Months humble yet picturesque dwell
ing, I heard the sound of laughter
and clapping hands, and looking in the
direction of the orchard, l saw Vim
cenZo hard at work, his shirt-sleeves