Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1915-03-16
CHAPTER VIII-continued.

Already had she stepped several
times to her daughters room and
looked in, only to meet Reuther's I'M
quiet eye turned toward hers in silent
inquiry. Was her own uneasiness In
fictitious? Was the child determined
to share her vigil? She would wait a
little longer this time and see.
Their rooms were over the parlcr,
and thus as far removed as possible
from the judges den. In her own,
which was front, she felt at perfect
ease, and 1t was without any fear OF
disturbing either him or Reuther that
she finally raised her window and al
lowed the cool wind to soothe her
heated checks. The moon emerged
from scurrying clouds as she quietly
watched the scene.
Perched, as she was, In window
overlooking the lane, she had but to
lift her eyes from the double fence
that symbol of sad seclusion) to light
on the trees rising above that unspeak-
able ravine, black with memories she
felt strangely like forgetting tonight.
Beyond how it stood out on
the bluff it had never seemed to stand
out more threateningly! the
bifurcated mass of dismal ruin from
which men had turned their eyes
these many years now! But the moon
loved it; caressed it; dallied with it,
lighting up its topping chimney and
empty, staring gable.
Spencer's Folly! Well, it had been
that, and Spencer's den of dissipation,
too! There were great tales-but 1t
was not of these she was thinking, but
of the night of storm-(of the greatest
storm of which any record remained
in Shelby when the wind tore down
branches and toppled down chimneys;
when cattle were smitten in the field
and men on the highway; and the
bluff towering overhead, dared into
fame, and the house which was its
glory was smitten apart by the de-
scending bolt as by Titan sword, and
blazed like beacon to the sky.
This was long before she herself
had come to Shelby; but she had been
told the story So often that u vas
quite vivid to her. The family had
been gone for months, and so no pity
mingled with the excitement Not till
the following day did the awful nature
of the event break in its full horror
upon the town. Among the ruins, in
a closet which the flames had spared,
A. hrnahnd nm in =
the body of a man, in whose scared
throat a wound appeared which had
not been made by lightning or fire.
Spencer! Spencer himself, returned,
they knew not how, to die of this self
inflicted wound, in the dark corner of
his grand but neglected dwelling.
But as she continued to survey 1t the
clouds came trooping up once more,
and the vision was wiped out, and
with ii all memories save those of a
nearer trouble-a more pressing ne
cessity.
Withdrawing from the window, she
crept again to Reuther's room and
peered carefully in. Innocence was
asleep at last. Lighting candle and
shielding it with her hand, she gazed
long and earnestly at Reuther's sweet
face. Yes, she was right. Sorrow
was slowly sapping the fountain of
her darling's youth. If Reuther was
to be saved hope must come soon.
With a SOB and prayer the mother
left the room, and locking herself into
her own, sat down at last to face the
new perplexisy, the monstrous enigma
which had conc into her life.
It had followed in natural sequence
from a proposal made by the Judge
that some attention should be given
his long-neglected rooms. He had said
on rising from the breakfast table
(the words are more or less inpor-
tant):
II am really sorry to trouble you,
Mrs. Scoville; but If you have time
this morning, will you clean up my
study before / leave? The carriage
is ordered for half-past nine"
The task was one she had long de-
sired to perform. Giving Reuther the
rest of the work to do, she presently
appeared before him with pail and
broom and a pile of fresh linen. Moth
ing more commonplace could be imag-
med, but to her, If not to him, there