Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1899-10-19
CHAPTER l.

Looking at them as they lie in the
shOp-windows of the vendors Of ole
gold-wedding- rings of every size
worn, bruised, taken most of them
from hands that will never more be
raised to caress or to threaten-whC
realizes the tragedies that belong tC
their history? The love of which
they were the outward symbol is
known on earth no moTe-the wave OF
time has passed over it, obliterating
all trace; but what poetry, what ro-
nance, what tragedy ever equalled the
stories attached to these old worn we'd
ding rings?
| have a story to tell Of one-the
ring that Paul Waldron placed on his
wife's fnger-a ring of plain thick
gold.
The birds that had built their nests
in the grand old trees of Dene Woods
were singing their vesper hymn; the
forest glades, the dells and knobs,
the dark tangled shrubs, were all
bathed in a flood of golden sunset
light.
On the eastern side of the wood
stood the pretty little cottage that had
been given to Paul Waldron for him
self and his beautiful young wife-a
cottage such as poets delight to sing
Cf-all covered with wild roses and
woodbine, and with trailing sprays of
jessamine, its windows framed with
flowers, it's rustic porch overgrown
with scarlet creepers, and it's large,
old-fashioned garden containing al
most every sweet flower that grows.
AS it appeared now in the evening
sunlight the air SO full of richest
fragrance, the roses all ablOOm, the
little brook close by singing as it ran,
tie birds filling the air with jubilant
song, the cottage in itself furnished
matter for a poem.
AT the door, looking intently down
one of the broad woodland paths, stood
a young and most beautiful woman
-Ismay WaldrOn, Paul Waldron's
wife, and mother of the lovely little
boy playing on the grass. She was
only nineteen, and marked by great
girlish beauty.
She had hair of shining brown
which looked like gold in the sun
shine; it covered a head of most per-
feet shape and symmetry, ranging in
waving masses round a neck that also
was perfect-it was such hair as the
old masters loved to paint in their
famous pictures of Mary Magdalene
She had eyes of an indescribable VIC
let hue, with a golden light in their
proud but the long silken lashes
softcned them into wondrOus beauty
Hell brows were straight, and her fore
head was white, rounded at the
temples, and full of ideality. She
had ripe red lips, the upper one short,
the lower one full-a beautiful mouth
that would have made even a plain
face lovely; the chin was delicately
moulded, and the curves of the neck
and shoulders were full of grace.
Ismay Waldron was that most per-
feet of all poems-a beautiful woman.
Her dress was quite plain, but the
homely material only showed the mar
velous beauty of her girlish figure to
greater advantage. The hand that
full. One might have wondered how
shelving in a cottage, the wife of a
man who worked hard for his daily
bread-came by this dainty beauty,
this delicate, graceful loneliness that
would have been fit dowry for a queen.
Suddenly her eyes frightened, and a
low musical laugh came from her lips.
She heard her husbands footsteps, saw
him in the distance, and FASTENED to
meet him.
Paul Waldron had the true Norman
type of face-dark handsome, full of
fire and power. He had dark eyes from
which an undaunted soul looked out
on the world, dark hair that clustered
round noble head, firm, well-closed
lips, a tall, manly figure, free, indie
pendent carriage and bearing, as
though he felt himself to be any
mans equal-and so indeed he did.
His whole face changed and sOftened
when he saw his beautiful young wife.
you are waiting for me, my dar-
ling" he said waiting and watching
for me-"
She clasped her little white hands
round his arm, and they walked slow
ly home together.
You have not been dull today, Is
may, l hope?" said the young husband,
questioningly.
Not more dull than usual" she re-
piled. "Oh, Paul, make haste to be
rich, and let us leave this quiet, home
iy little cottage!"
His countenance fell as he listened
to her. He drew the beautiful face
towards him, and kissed It with a
passion that knew no words
My darling wife, to me this little
cottage is more beautiful than a
palace; that is because l love you SC
dearly and it is our home, Do you
not love 1t also?"
She smiled carelessly.
Yes, but I cannot go into raptures
over it, When we have grand man
sion-a large house full Of all kinds
of beautiful things-then I shall be a.
charmed as ever you wish me to be-
But, Ismay, 1 must work long ant
hard, dear, before attempting to finC
YOU a large house, Will you never b.
happy or contented until then?"
A slight shadow came over her face
My darling" he continued earnest
", "you will never-oh, believe mel
you will never be happier than you ar
now. You have sunshine and must
all the day long; the birds sing to yor
the little brook there murmurs sweet