Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1901-10-24
By ". HEIMBURG.

q firm step.
''Good-by," she said shortly, giving
him her hand without looking at him
'Good-by, Hilda," he replied, hold
ing the burning little hand firmly in
his own. 'Good-by, Hilda. Aul
Wiedersehen, and a happy Christ
mas"
: He felt how she trembled. She
hastily snatched her hand away so
/ that her rather large wooden gloves
remained between his fingers.
Thank you, Hilda!" he cried with
g laugh. 1t sounded as constrained as
her own moment before. He put
| the glove SO strangely won into the
pocket of his velvet coat.
She merely shrugged her shoulders
without speaking, and preceded her
aunt out the door. Frau Polly ran
after her with her bonnet strings fly
ing.
''DO wait minute, for Heavens
sake!" she cried, almost out Of breath
Il am not ready yet"
Hilda had already reached the hall
door below. The wind whistled past
her; it ratified the closed shutters, and
bent the bOughs of the tall trees.
There was soft, spring-like odor in
the air. And the girl looked up at
the clouds that were flying over her
head, with longing eyes. Her lips
were open as if she were thirsty, and
she felt as though she must cry out
in the midst of the storm and thus
free her soul from an overpowering
burden. The rain-drops fell on her
pale face as she lifted it up; the wind
blew her hat back and scattered her
hair about her low forehead The
sad young face had a pathtic beauty
at this moment.
rs Herr Jussnitz at homer" asked
voice near her at this moment In
front of her, only three steps lower
down, stood a gentleman and lady.
The question had come from the lat
ter. 1t was a soft, childishly clear
voice, and a lovely face looked out of
the peacock-blue capote that she wore.
les, odlu Ililud, dlu oH6 SISppSl
aside, grasping her hat with both
hands to keep it straight as she did SO.
The lady came up the steps. Her
eyes looked out under her half veil
turned slowly away, and as she looked
back at the young matron. the latter
also turned her head and their eyes
again met. The stately, light-haired
man was still standing, with his hat
in his hand, outside the door, from
which Aunt Polly was now emerging,
courtesying and begging pardon.
Then, he too. disappeared in the door
way in the villa.
'Who are they, I wonder?" said
Aunt Polly.
do come" replied Hilda, inpatient
ly But she was wondering the same
thing, only more passionately and
with more interest.
An elegant equipage was drawn
slowly up and down before the garden
gate.
THAT must be their carriage"
sighed Aunt Polly, contemplating the
muddy street.
VERY likely" assented Hilda. And
they walked on. Aunt Polly said no
more: this was one of Hilda's "cross
days" and there was nothing for it
but to let her have her sulk out, if one
didn't wish to get into rage, and that
Aunt Polly would not do. In the first
place it was bad for her, and then-on
account of the futurei eff we had
only got as far as that" she thought
christmas is such a capital oppor-
tunity for that sort of thing. One
never sees so many engagements an
nounced in the newspapers as in the
Christmas holidays"
When they rachel the horse-car.
Aunt Polly INDUCED herself in a ride,
because it was Christmas eve, and be-
| cause it was such a dismal day. At
one of the stopping places the car
riage they had seen drove rapidly
past them. Hilda recognized Jussnitz
sitting on the back seat.
Those are the Sibyllenburgers,"
said a young girl, whose sealskin col
| lar and the shape of her hat, as well
as her long, narrow face, proclaimed
her as English, to a very German
| looking old lady in a brocaded silk
cloak. by whose voluminous folds
Hildas slender figure was almost
blotted out.
do you know them, Maud?"
'Yes-no, not exactly; I know the
horses, they are very handsome"
| so he is going to Sibyllenburg!
thought Hilda. She would have given
good deal to know where this
| Sibyllenberg wassituated. She re-
solved to ask the grocery-woman, but
in any case she could buy map Of
| Dresden and its vicinity.
Buy it-oh, buy it, indeed. Hilda
had not a single penny to her name
She had done no work: the small
amount of pocket-money which she
used to earn by painting fans and
purses had failed her since her re
moval to Dresden. She had not
touched a brush; she had been
painted, and on those afternoons that
she might have had for herself she
sat dreaming by the window, with q
pretence of work before her, or she
had wandered about the street in tor
turing restlessness, farther ant
farther, till at last she came home
tired to death.
Hilda started violently as Aunt
Polly pulled at her cloak, and signi
fed that they would get out. She
walked like one in a dream behind the
stout little woman, through the street: