Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1898-09-29

They were wonderful eyes, the only
remaining trace in that countenance
of long past beauty; but now they
were awful, too, for misery and humil-
iation, rage and despair, glared out of
their brown depths as the English girl
bent over them, half fascinated, half
appalled,
A voice sounded across the room:
"Come, Miss Villars, we must be go
ing. There is more for you to see, and
the sun is getting hot. And''-with
a tender, half proprietary tone in his
voice as he came near her-'I don't
half like your being here any longer.
All, what have you found there?"
Over the miserable eyes into which
she was looking there came a sudden
change. They positively darkened
with an expression of the acutest
agony. Was she suffering-ill? Edith
bent closer, but fierce gesture of the
hidden arm forbade her kindly touch
and she could not speak-the woman
would not understand English. She
felt relieved to know that Col. Man
ners was beside her. and silently point
ed to the huddled form. For a few,
brief seconds his clear blue eyes met
those other brown ones-those eyes,
awful with the extremity of shamed
despair and filed with such longing
as might burn in those of some lost
soul who gaZed across the impossible
gulf into the kingdom of the blest.
With a deep-drawn sigh Col. Man
ners passed out and looked up, hale
unconsciously, to the dark blue sky
above.
"These novels are sitting; the char
coal fumes make them unbearable.
Fancy living in one! No one but a
native could!'
But, even as he spoke, he threw off
the depression caused by the charcoal
fumes, or that uncomfortable looking
old woman in the corner, and turned
to look proudly at the tail, beautiful.
fair-haired girl who was already,
surely, his own.
Miss Villars had not answered him.
She stood hesitating on the threshold,
shading her eyes from the dazzling
glare before her, thinking of the black
ness, the wretchedness behind her.
She felt it would be long before she
| forgot that face; those eyes, which, to
| her excited imagination. seemed to be
following her still. Was there not
some appeal in them? She half turned
as though to go back, but Col. Man.
ners said: "This way, Miss Villars."
and she stopped, ashamed of her aim
| less impulse.
Inside the dark and sitting shop,
; which Col. Manners had been so glad
to leave, the woman still croacned
upon the floor. She had thrown back
her veil as if she needed air, and the
masses Of her dark, fine, waving hair
were revealed. Not native hair; the
very way it grew showed that. When
| the shade of the sari was gone her
| features were visible, and every curve
of lips, nostrils, eyelids and throat cried
| out her English blood. Within her
breast torrent of misery was I'M
sealed. 1t was years since she had
thought, consciously thought, as she
was thinking now.
But for thirty years she had not
heard the voice she had heard to-day
had not seen the face upon which her
eyes had hungrily rested only few
moments ago, had not dared for shame
and agony to admit the thought of him
| into her heart, and now All that she
had borne of humiliation, ill-usage and
daily, grinding tyranny throughout
those weary years, was as nothing to
! the burning torment of those few sec
| onds when Dick had looked down upon
| her without spark of recognition in
| his eyes, with only 4 horror, which
was, perhaps, the mere retectlon or
! that within her own.
She closed her eyes. 1t was sum-
mer night; she stood in a starlit fSr-
den: the scent of champak blossom
was heavy on the air. and voice was
speaking from very far away: at will
be years before I see you again.
But, before the memory of the past
could drive her tortured soul to mad
ness, she was recalled suddenly to the
present by another voice:
cam I to keep thee in idleness ali
thy day? Rise, get thee to the pre-
| paration of the NEAL Thou hast
looked too long upon these white folk.
Perhaps they have bewitched thee;
but, remember | will have no lazy
white memsahibs here!'
1t was the voice of her master, and,
| while the sneer cut her to the heart
| as it had never failed to do through
all the long years, the fash died out
of her eyes, and, drawing the sarl
closely about her once more, she
passed obedently to the back of the
house with the slow, gliding step of a
/ native woman.-Temple Bar.
"Oyer to Port
| n,o tho uiSitnr from the shore WHO