Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1914-06-11

| In that single exclamation the major
seemed to have exhausted his zocabu-
larry. He was looking at the ground.
It was the doctor who spoke at last.
in a silence that to the man in the
doorway weighed like a hundred at
mospheres.
"Nol" he said bluntly. Certainly
not What put that into your head?"
When he was alone in the library
Valiant opened the glass door and
took from the shelf the morocco case.
The old stiyer of repugnance ran over
him at the very touch of the leather.
In the farthest corner was a low COM
mode He set the case on this and
moved the big tapestry screen across
the angle, hiding it from view.
In the great hall at Damory Court
the candles in their brass wall-sconces
blinked back from the polished par
quetry and the shining fre-dogs, fill
ing the rather solemn gloom with an
air of warmth and creature-comfort.
Leaning against the newelpost, Va
liant gazed about him. How different
It all looked from the night of his
coming!
He began to walk up and down the
floor, teasing pricks of restlessness
| urging him. He opened the door and
passed into the unlighted dining-room.
| On the sideboard set a silver loving
| cup that had arrived the day before
in a huge box with his books and
| knick-knacks. He had won it at polo.
He lifted it, lingering its carved han
| dies. He remembered that when that
particular score had been made, Kath-
arine Fargo had sat in one Of the
| drags ct tie side-line
| But the memory evoked no thrill.
Instead, the thought Of her palely-cold,
| passionless beauty called up another
mobile thoroughbred face instinct with
quick Hastings of mirth and hauteur
Again he felt the fierce clutch Of small
| fingers, as they fought with his in that
struggle for his life. Each line of
that face stood before him-the arch
ing brows, the cameo-delicacy of pro-
| file, the magnolia skin and hair like a
! brown-go1d cloud across the sun.
He stepped down to the graveled
drive and followed it to the gate, then,
bareheaded, took the Red Road.
| Along this highway he had ratified in
| Uncle Jefferson's crazy hack-with
her red rose in his hand. The musky
scent of the pressed leaves in the book
in his pocket seemed to be all about
him.
The odor of living roses, in fact, vas
| in the air. 1t came on the scarce
felt breeze, heavy calling perfume.
He walked on, keeping the road by the
| misty infiltrating simmer of the
stars, with sensation rather of Gid
| ing than of walking 1t occurred to
him that if, as scientists say, colors
emit sound-tones, scents also should
| possess a music of their own: the
| honeysuckle fragrance, maybe-soft
mellow fluting as of diminutive wind
| Instruments; the far-faint sickIy odor
of Elies-the upper register of faery
violins; this spicy breath of roses
| blending, throbbing chords like elfn
echoes of an Italian harp. The fancy
pleased him; he could imagine the
! perfume no in the air carried with
| it an under-music, like a ghostly harp
ing.
| 1t came to him at the same instant
/ that this was no mere fancy. Some
where in the dangerous night harp
was being played. He paused and lis
tened intently, then went on toward
the sound. The rose scent had grown
stronger; it was almost in that heavy
air. as if he were breasting an ETHEREAL
sea of altar He felt as if he were