Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1905-10-31
CHAPTER VT


mingled family with the air.
Mr.. Gilbert drew rein on the green,
which was quiet enough to-day. Should
he go to the chemists in the market
place and get his drugs, and thence TO
Mr.. Raymond's house, which was at the
other end of the town; or rather on the
outskirts of the country and beyond the
town; or should he go first to Mr.. Fay
mond's by quiet back lanes which were
free Of the hustle and riot of the mar
ket people? To go to the chemist first
would be the wiser course, perhaps but
then it wouldn't be very agreeable to
have drugs in his pocket, and to smell
of rhubarb and camomile flowers when
he made his appearance before Miss
Sleaford
If Mr.. Raymond had resembled other
people he would have been considerably
surprised by a young gentleman in the
medical profession venturing to make
morning call upon is nursery govern
ess; but as Mr.. Charles Raymond was
the very opposite of everybody else in
the world, he received George as cor
daily as it was his habit to receive every
living creature who had need of his
friendliness and he sent Brown Molly
his ease, before George had quite left off
blushing in his first paroxysms of shy
ness.
Come into my room,' cried Mr.. Ray
mond. in a voice that had more vibra-
ton in it than any other voice that ever
rang out upon the air; "come into my
room. You've had letter from Sigs-
mund-and he's told you all about Miss
Slnofor1 MIC ry;rl Int IN
be educated before she can teach; keeps
the little ones amused, however, and
takes them out in the meadows; a very
nice, conscientious little thing; cautious
ness very large; can't get anything out
of her past life; turns pale and begins
to cry when l ask her questions; has
seen good deal of trouble, I'm afraid
Never mind; Wen try and make her hap
py."
Charles Raymond took George into
the drawing room, and from the bay
window the young man saw Isabel Slea-
ford once more, as he had seen her first,
in a garden. But the scene had a diff
ferent aspect from that other scene,
which still fingered in his mind, like a
which still fingered in his mind, like a
picture seen briefly in a crowded gal
lery
Instead of the pear trees on the low.
disorderly grass plot, the struggling
branches green against the yellow sun
shine of July, George saw a close crop
ped lawn and trim f ar beds, stiff
groups of laurel and bare. bleak fields
unsheltered from the "lill March winds.
Against the cold, blue SKY he saw Isa-
bells slight figure, not 1olling in a gar
don cb-.ir hut IL
primly with two pale-faced children
dressed in black. A chill sense of pain
crept through the surgeons breast as
he looked at the girlish figure, the pale,
joyless face, the sad, dreaming eyes. He
felt that some inexplicable change had
come to Isabel Seaford since that July
day on which she had talked of her pet
authors and gIowed and trembIed with
childish love for the dear books out of
whose pages she took the joys and sor-
rows of her life.
The three pale faces. the three black
dresses, had desolate look in the cold
sunlight. Mr. Raymond tapped at the
glass and beckoned to the nursery gov
erness.
Melancholy looking objects, are they
not?" he said to George as the three
girls came toward the window. I've
told my housekeeper to give them plenty
of roast meat, not too much done. Meat
Is the best antidote for melancholy"
He opened the window and admitted
Isabel and her two pupilps.
Here's a friend come to see you.
Miss Sleaford," he said. "a friend of
Sigismund."
George held out his hand, but he saw
something like terror in the girls face as
she recognized him, and he fell straight
way into gulf of confusion and en-
brarrassment.
"Sigismund asked me to CALL" he STAN
mered. ''Sigismund told me to write and
tell him how you were"
Miss Sleaford's eyes filed with tears.
The tears came unbidden to her eyes
now with the smallest prOvocation.
You are all very good to me-" she
said.
There, you children, go into the gar
den and walk about" cried Mr. Ray
mond. You go with them, Gilbert. anud
then come in and tell us all about your
Graybridge patients"
1t was dusk when George Gilbert
went to the chemist and recovered his
parcel of drugs. He would not stop to
dine at the White Lion, but paid for
Brown Molly's accommodation and
sprung into the saddle. He rode home
ward through the solemn avenue, the
dusky cathedral aisle, the infinite tenn
pie, fashioned by the great architect,
Nature. He rode through the long
ghostly avenue until the twiukling lights
of Waverly glimmered on him family be-
tween the bare branches of the trees.
Yes, he loved her; the wondrous flow
er that never yet "thrived by the calen-
dar" had burst into full bloom He
loved this young woman, and believed
IL her, and was ready to bring her Tn
his simple home whenever she pleased +o
come thither; and had already pictured
her sitting opposite 20 him in the little
parlor, making weak tea for him in n
metal teapot, sewing commonplace but
tons upon his commonplace shirts. de-
batting as to whether there should he
roast beef or boiled mutton for the .
o'clock dinner, sitting up alone in that
most embarrassing little parl0r when the
surgeons patients were tiresome and in
sisted upon being i'll in the night, waiting
TO preside over little Suppers of cold
meat and pickles. bread and cheese. and
celery. Yes; George pictured Miss Slea-
ford the heroine of such a domestic story
as this. and had no power to divine that
there was any inconguity in the fancy,
no tineness of ear to discover the disso-
nant intervals between the heroine and
the story. Alas. poor lizzie! and are all
your tancies, all the pretty stories wo-
ven out of your novels, ell your long
day dreams about Marie Antoinette and
Charlotte Corday, Edith Dombey and
Ernest Maltravers-all your foolish pic
lures of modern Byron OF q new Ma
poleon, exiled to st. Helena, and fol
lowed. perhaps liberated by you-are
they all come to this? Are none of the
wonderful things that happen to women
ever to happen to you? Are you never
to be Charlotte Corday, and die for
your country? Are you never to wear
any ruby velvet, and diamonds in your
hair? Are all the pages of the great
of life n hn nInSaI ,tpOn ~ou--y-,,,