Vilas County news. [volume] (Eagle River, Vilas County, Wis.) 1896-1927, 1904-05-23

THAT may be-" he said. 81 do not
know why it is, bLs you remind me Of
my mother more than any one have
ever met. She was gentle, and yet
full of sweet wisdom, tender and sim
pie in her manner, as you are. Will
you come to the gallery now, Mrs.
Rivers?"
Let me have two pleasures instead
of one" she said. II take with me
the memory of your mothers picture.
should prefer coming another time to
visit the gallery"
She longed to be away; the strain
upon her nerves was so great, she
could not endure much more. She
must go out into the leafy solitudes
of the woods, where she could cry aloud
in her anguish, and none could hear.
How do you like little Lancer" said
Rupert, as he went with her to the
door. HE will be a handsome boy.
/ wish my lady would let me touch
him sometimes; she always seems
afraid that / shall break him"
She smiled adieu; she had not
strength for another word. Down
the broad steps, through the lawn and
the pleasure grounds, into the park
she went, where the birds sung as
though no sorrow had ever darkened
the world.
No one was there. She could weep
to her hearts content; she could cry
aloud; she could call upon Heaven
for help, and human eyes would not
see her. She plunged still more deep
ly into the leafy shade; the tall trees
grew wild there-their branches were
intwined like giant arms caressing;
the blue sky was almost hidden by the
dense foliage; flowers grew sweet and
wild at the foot of the trees; and there
she knelt. in the abandonment of her
sorrow. 1t was a luxury to be able
to fling herself on the ground and
weep at will. She had controlled her
self so long, she had driven back the
burning tears from her eyes, she had
held with an iron hand the vast sor-
row that was hers, that now there was
even a luxury in her passion of grief.
She leaned her desolate head against
the ivied trunk of an old oak tree;
she clasped her tender arms round 1t.
In this the supreme hour of her aban-
donment and grief, there was no hui
man heart for her to lean upon, no
kindly hand to wipe away the tears
from her aching eyes.
When she could weep no longer. she
That was reserved for another day;
tried to think The full consequences
of her act had not come to her yet |
but she saw plainly now the wrong |
she had done to Lady Beatrice and her
child.
She must guard her secret with
double zeal now; she had a double /
motive for il. Her son revered, nay, |
idolized her memory. Lady Beatrice
had concealed from him all that she |
used TO taunt her with. For very /
gratitude's sake she must guard her |
rivals fair name. Because Lady Bea- |
trice had spared her son, she would .
spare her, let the temptation be what
it might.
There was no fear now, she said TO
herself. She had stood with her hus-
band in their own home, and he had
not recognized her. She had stood
with her son before her own picture.
and he had not known her. She had
held the child of her mortal foe in her
arms. and that woman still believed
her dead. There was no fear, but
II discovery should ever come, what
should she do? Then, indeed, would
Lord Selwyn turn round and curse
her; then would her son blush to hear
her namel
The words that had driven her to
the wrong were-"If she were dead, he
would be free!" She had forgotten
what he could do with his freedom;
that with it he could love and marry
another. Let it be wrong as 1t might,
she must carry it through now. She
only prayed Heaven the punishment OF
it might fall en- her alone.
What would be said of her should 1t
be discovered? All, they would per-
haps be merciful, they who told the
story, and say it was a woman's error
after all; a mistaken notion, a mis-