Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1898-06-16
CHAPTER XVII.

find no nest, while nests are in
the grove;
Woes me for mine own heart that
dwells alone,
My keart that breaketh for a little
love
Christina Rossetti.
It was quite six o'clock before her
ladyship's tired horses reached Ken
sington. She herself was cold and
weary, but in spite of it there was an
alertness in her step as she assembled
the broad staircase which bespoke her
indomitable energy. She opened the
drawing-room door, and gave re-
lieYed exclamation to find within only
her younger sister, Frances Neville.
q am home again, at last. I was
SO afraid you would have a whole
roomful of visitors she exclaimed,
drawing off her gloves and warming
her hands by the fire.
You have just escaped them said
Frances, smiling. Il have had six
editions, and Colonel and Mrs VICAR
have only been gone a few minutes"
The unconscionable people to stay
SO late! firing you out, too, poor
child. You look as white as a sheet.
Is Henry in?"
81 fancy | heard his step outside;
but I am not certain. Tell me where
you have been, Katherine You have
had a long afternoon"
Yes very. I will tell you all when
| come down, but l must first speak
to Henry if he is at home" And
Lady Worthington fastened away.
The two sisters we're a strange con-
trast. Frances was many years the
younger; she was now. about eight
andtwenty, though her compexion of
almost infantine fairness, and her
abundance of pale golden hair made
her appear much less. She was
evidently very delicate her features
were sharpened as if by constant
suffering, and the mouth, though
sweet, was still more expressive of
firm endurance. Her eyes were like
Lady Worthington's, clear gray-but
while with the elder sister they were
full of numerous brightness and good
nature, with Frances they expressed
patient happiness and rarely dis
turbed serenity.
Yet her life had been by no means
an easy one. A tiny, sickly baby, she
had lived and grown almost miracu-
lous1y, struggling through illness af-
ter illness, and at length gaining
some degree Of health, though
was denied to her body, however,
seemed to be added to her mind. Al
most every one who knew her leaned
unconsciously upon her, for there was
in her that steadfast love Of truth,
and that earnest following after good,
which only can engender real trust.
This, added to a clear perception and
ready sympathy, made her almost
universally loved, and gave her great
or influence than Lady Worthington,
with all her kind deeds. could ever
obtain. The two sisters, however.
worked very we'll together, each
recognizing her own peculiar calling:
Lady Worthington describing Frances
Neville's as the "ghostlv" mission,
and her own as the bodily"
All this had not Of course been
attained without many struggles, nor
was Frances ever entirely free from
the difficulties and perp1eXed question
ings which will always attack an ac-
tive mind, particularly whe- bodily
activity at all restrained: but she
had long ago learned the secret Of a
happv life. and though her scrupu-
loue cEactnees would rot allow her to
think even the most trif1ing thing
immaterial. and laid down for her
the most carefully drawn distinction
between right and wrong, she was
Kept from narrowness-or rather
necessarily widened by her high, in
dwelling motive.
Since her mothers death. which
was several years before, Frances had
lived with her sister-an arrangement
which seemed to suit all parties
Lady Worthington liked having some
one to nurse and tend. and Frances
though not an actual invalid. always
needed great care. Her influence
too, in the house was exactly what
was required. Her two rompins
nephews. Harry end Fred. and littl'
s'tomboyish.'' noisy Kathie, wer'
quiet and gentle when "Aunt Fanny
was in the room. and she seemed t.
have the pc -er of drawing out al
the good in them-the chivalrous low
OF the boys and the woman1y tender
ness in her little niece.
When Lady Worthington left tn
room. something Of the brightness
faded. however. from Frances's face
She was very tired. and as she lay O
the sofa with throbbing head an
wearied limbs. the ott-recurring ques
ton, which must have suggested il
self to so many. began to trouble he
What good came of those cal
she had received that day? Had nc
her afternoon been wasted? She ha
intended to do so much-to fms
some of her work for the poor, t
learn an accompaniment for S
Henry. to go to afternoon church, an
all had been frustrated by wear
succession of callers. What good ha
have done them? she asked hersel
Had not every one of her visito
probably regarded the call as a tir
some duty, and been only too thanl
full when their ten minutes