Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1899-07-13
CHAPTER XVIII.


som~imes under the shade of Italian
vines, among the myrtle trees of
Spain, or in the green lanes of old
England always the same,-fGl OF
music, pony, and romance,-always
making the earth fairer, and life a
golden dream.
And now the beautiful, gifted, i'm
aginative Inez was listening to the
familiar chime of loving words. Life
had grown SO bright and clear, she
wondered at times if the world could
0e the same,-had the skies been al
ways as smiling, the sunshine always
as bright? What was this golden
radiance that had fallen around her,
dazzling her eyes with its beauty?
Only the glamour of love, that had
fallen upon thousands Of innocent
hearts before, and will so fall until
human hearts grow cold and beat no
more.
There was no more mOnOtOny now.
The bright summer days were not long
enough for her dreams. She had to
muse over every loving word, every
sigh, every admiring look bent upon
her. For it had now become a regu-
lar and established rule, after the
great heat of the afternoon had passed,
for IneZ to take her book and read in
the orange grove; but the book was
rarely opened, for before she had
been there long she heard the sound
of footsteps, and she knew that he
To NV har CT hrn orb
the long summer evenings, and he
wooed her with grace and skill be-
yond words. He said nothing to her
at first of love; he talked to her of
the past grandeur and chivalry of
SPAIN of her gay knights, her brave
cavaliers, and her beautiful daughters.
He spoke to her of his own Italy, the
land of music and song; of the grand
old city of Venice, where his race, the
Montaltis, had lived and died. They
talked of music, of poetry, and Of
flowers, Of all that was fairest and
most lovely on earth; but as yet he
said not a word to her of love.
Inez had long since ceased to re-
member that there was anything
wrong in meeting every day a
stranger unknown to her friends She
forgot that she had ever fancied it to
be ever so slightly wrong. What harm
could there be in it? She was happy
now,-life had some interest; before
it had been a living death. Each day
now brought its accomplished wishes.
its happiness, its hopes. The time
was gone forever when she dreamed
among the trees. The reality had
come and she welcomed it warmly.
But not always was Count Rinaldo
willing to sit by her, to look in her
beautiful face, and talk of fair cities
and grand poems. He was growing
impatient to speak of his love. Yet,
imprudent as she was, there was some
thing in her child-like innocence that
awed him. Day by day he grew more
charmed and fascinated with her
beauty, and found that life without her
would be dreary, vapid, and unpro-
fitable. He knew the simple record
of her life. He had heard the story
from her own lips; and better per-
hapS than any one else could have
done did he understand and Sympa-
thise with her. He knew that a re-
turn to that dreary monotony would
be simply uncomfortable, that she would
never willingly again lose sight of one
who had given her some interest in
living. He laid his plans accordingly.
From her he heard the history of the
English father, who had, to use his
own language, given her away" when
she was a few weeks DID, and had
never seen her since. But she did not
tell him-for she did not know-that
the same father was a rich English
MILFORD" The count concluded that
Blanca Monteleone had married be-
meath her, and that the father unable
and unwilling to support his child,
had abandoned her. Had he known
the truth, this story of Inez Lynne
would never have been written.
He was determined to win her; for
the first and only time in his life
Count Rinaldo was deeply and truly
in love. He determined to win her
even If he gave UP for that purpose all
the most cherished plans and schemes
of his life
One bright evening, when they met
as usual among the orange trees, the
count looked sad and pensive. He
seemed to speak with difficulty, as
though some great grief burdened his
mind He sighed deeply. and his
dark eyes wore a dreamy look of sor-
row.
Us anything the matter?" asked
Inez. gently. You do not seem cheer
full this evening"
He evaded the question; but in a few
minutes she asked it again.
Tell me, count" she said, ARE you
grieving or troubled?"
Then he told her that the deepest
sorrow of his life was upon him; his
heart was torn, for he found that he
must leave this sunny Spain, where
he had found his Eden, and return to
Venice.
Leave Spain," she said, slowly, as
though the idea was difficult of realis-
alton. Leave, never to return?"
The color faded from the beautiful
young face, the dark, loving eyes
grew dim with tears. She could not
bear to return to that dreadfully
lonely life; she could not bear to be
left alone; it was so sweet to be loved
and cared for.
He watched her intently as these
thoughts rushed through her mind:
something in that exquisite dooncast
face gave MIN courage.
1T is bitter grief to me- he con-
tinued; for, Inez, you must know