Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1898-01-06


Ewell stmmoning them at once to Dover.
But the utmost speed they could COM
mand only brought them TO the bedside Of
a corpse. And whether Lady EweH had
taken an overdose of choral by accident
or design remained mystery that day
and ever afterward.
CHAPTER XVIII.
It was more than twelve months since
the events related in the last chapter had
occurred.
The body of the beautiful Lady Ewell
was lying at rest in the vault of her fore
fathers. Lady Otto st. Blase had taken
up a permanent abode in Paris, and Cap
tain Dorsay had never been heard of
since the day Of Lenas DEATH
June was once more shedding its wealth
Of scent and sound and color over the
land, and Lambscote had attained its
highest stage of beauty. The trees in the
park were rich with verdure; the bees
were humming through the lines and
chestnuts on the lawn, and the beds of
flowers shone like living gems. Amidst
it all sat Rosie Ewell, broad brimmed
hat upon her head, her work in her hand,
and look of complete contentment on
her face. She had now been year at
Lambscote with her brother She had
brought him down there after the terrible
illness that followed the shock of his
wife's sudden death-a ghost Of his for
mer self-and had nursed him back to
health and strength again. And now
there seemed but little more needed to
make her happy. She reveled in the sun
shine and flowers. She adored the old
hall and it's park-like acres And she
thought--as she had always done-that
Sir Wilfrid was the. best and dearest and
most lovab,e brother in the world. Sir
Wilfrid came across the lawn to meet her.
He was looking remarkably well and hap
py. The color had returned to his face,
the light to his eye. He was but six-and-
twenty, but he might have been eighteen.
Rosie could not help commenting on his
appearance.
my dear Wilfrid, how bonny you look.
Who would imagine you were the same
miserable specter | travelled down TO
Lambscote with this time last year? One
could almost count your bones then, and
now you are positively growing fat"
A shade of pain passed over the baro-
nets brow.
DUus L ulluuC " ~, 1eOSlt SuAeASu
more then than YOU can magine-more
than / had thought was possible
Il think the fever helped rather than
hindered ycu,' she said cheerfully When
you took that terrible chill getting out Of
your bed to go down to Dover, | thought,
myself, tswas all over with you, and /
was in despair. But l believe you are
really stronger and healthier, Wilfrid,
now than you were before. How thank
full we should be!''
ut is all due to your careful nursing,
then, my dear little sister, and now comes
your reward Can't you guess from my
face that i nave some good news for you
this mornings?
II thought you seemed unusually mer-
ry.'
II feel so. l have just been going
through the books with my bailiff, and /
am once more free. The retrenchments
Of the last twelve months, in which you
have so generously assisted me, have COW
cred the deficiency caused by my gam
bling losses. All, Rosie, | shall never
touch card again.
81 am so glad to hear you say so, Will
frid.'
ssAnd dear old Lambscote shall be itself
again." continued Wilfrid joyously, land
hold up it's head in the county as it ought
to ao.'
"Ah! something else is needed to make
old Lambscote quite itself again." said
Rosie, oracularly.
Indeed! And what is that?'
"a mistress! You must marry again,
Wilfrid. You know, it is a positive ne
cessity."
II suppose / must-some day." he an
swered carelessly.
But the observation seemed to have
stirred UP thought in his breast which
would not be put aside again. He fidget-
ed about the lawn for some minutes, talk
ing irrelevantly of his mother, and the
chestnut tlly, and the good times that
were coming for Lambscotc. And then,
all at once, as though he could keep the
secret no longer, he threw himself down
upon the grass by his sisters side.
about the marriage business, Rosie"
he said neryously, as he drew closer and
put his head in her lap; II should like to
say 4 few words to YOU"
"All right, dear" she answered. with a
kiss, and caressing hand laid on his dark
locks.
1 want 10 tell You a stOry-Wlu You
listen to me?"
you know / will
1t concerns an episode in my early life
"a very dark episode, Rosie; and, except
that during this past year you have been
SO much my friend and counselor, one that
| should be ashamed to relate to you. You
have always thought better of me than I
deserved. You have believed me to be an
honorable, generous man, incapable of
mean or unworthy action. You have
judged me by your own standard. You
will see now, when you have heard my
story, that am no better than crimi-
nal"
Il don't believe it, said Rosie, stoutly.
Years ago, my dear, when / was quite
a lad-between nineteen and twenty
was thrown in contact with young girl,
- n L