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

/ finishing up under the mistletoe and
getting past it as near as they can.
| Mrs. Randolph is easily the prettiest
woman there, and is getting a little
excited with her compliments and the
set of cotillion favors she is receiving.
but her husband becomes distinctly
bored with it all. The continual noise
and excitement has got in his nerves
and he wanders away to the deserted
library for little quiet and repose.
Then in the ample lap of big chair
near the fire he has smoked half a
cigar and finally dropped asleep.
His slumbers have not lasted long,
for he is soon disturbed by the sound
of voices raised in earnest converse
ton.
1t is very high backed chair in
which he is sitting, and it is turned
towards the fire, so that he is quite
concealed from the others. The muir
muir of their voices comes confusedly
to his ears at first, and then he is
! reused completely by the sound of his
own name and he realizes that it is
Tom Cary and Dick Townsend, and
that they are talking about his wife
Il tell you, Cary, that is an awfully
nice woman, and if 1 am not mistaken
as straight as she is beautiful for
Heavens sake take people as you find
them, and stop bothering."
Il thank you for none of your ad
vice, Dick. l know what I am about.
| q RI hAr fir ho
has played me for all l am worth, cold
hearted little mink, and she shall pay
me for it!'
What about her husband?"
''Randolph-pooh! I am not afraid
of him. He wouldn's say boo to
goose. He didn't want her to dance;
but she's going to. She winds him
around her little finger
Tom" said Townsend, you're a
fool; but rarely as much of a one as
you are this time. Randolph's the
right sort every time; he INDUCES his
wife and trusts her, too. That's natu-
raj; but he'll look after her. never
fear; and any one who tries to inter-
fere will get the worst of it, mark my
words"
Nothing of the sort Look here,
Dick. I'll prove to you that 1 know
what I'm talking about. You know
she's going to dance tomorrow night,
and you know that little tea-house in
the terrace next the river?"
yes; well?"
well, l am going to ask Mrs Ran
dolph to meet me there after the
tableaux. [ shall speak to her while
we are on the stage in the tableaux
preceding the dance, and if she con-
sents I shall ask her to drop a rose
at the end of the dance You will be
there and will see if she does it. It is
only a lark, but it will prove my point
She is a coquette, I tell you, of the
worst sort; no heart only wants to be
admired. Why, I've done everything
fer that woman! Made her the fash
ion, got her invited here, and she
expects it all for nothing Not if j
know it. She shall pay me for her
tricks before l am done with her,
Very well. I'll watch her; but she'll
drop no rose, and you'll wait your love
alone, like Mariana in the moated
grange. I'll come and comfort you
Randolph listened quite quietly to
all this, holding his breath and clinch-
ing his hands on the arms of his
chair.
For her sake-for her sake" he
kept saying to himself between his
teeth, and thus kept silent until they
had gone and he was left alone. Then
up and down the room, little by little
he thought it out.
Il trust her." he said to himself,
and 1 will try her, and take care Of
her at any cost. My poor darling, may
the lesson not be too, hard a one.
wilB wait and see''
Eleven O'clock Christmas night.
The house is a blaze of light. At one
end of the hall giant Xmas tree has
glimmered and shcne and borne it's
fruit of lights and gifts for young and
old. At the other end a. stage has been
erected wreathed in holly and Xmas
greens. Mrs. Robinson in her best vel
vet and diamonds occupies q front
seat.
Down in front are Tom Cary and
Dick Townsend, both of them watch
full, one eager and defiant, the other
curious and cynical but behind them
and to the right, where he can see
them and still be in full view of the
stage, stands John Randolph with his
heart in his mouth. He, too, is watch
ing Suddenly the curtain goes, up
There is a hush and then a murmur
Through falling snow a. snow maiden
glldes- She is crowned in red roses
and there are roses in her hands, and
! her gown is soft as clouds and. snow
| lakes. Like a snowflake she dances,
surely nothing was ever half so grace
I'LL, so dainty, so poetic as that dance
John Randolph looks at his wife, the
love of his youth and manhood, and
prays that he may trust her as he al
ways has. The dance comes to an
end. She holds her roses. still; not
one has dropped. He looks at Cary,
who is watching her eagerly, intensely.
The snow still falls upon his snow
maiden. Pure as the snow, as the
the snowa' he whispers to his beating
heart. The curtain begins to descend,
when, Oh, no! but yes! All, yes. Oh
God! yes. With little frightened
! glance at Cary his wife has dronnnd