Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1883-01-13
MONICA.
By THE AUTHOR OF ''PHYII.Is," MRS GEor-
FREY" ETC.

| By THE AUTHOR OF PHYLLIS" MRS. GEoF-
| FREY" ETC.
To any one coming direct from all the luxury
and beauty of the old court above naturally this
little cottage room looks small and poverty
stricken. yet there is a pathetic tenderness about
1t. too, born of wOEan's hand-a touch of
gentle refinement that shows Itself in the masses
of old world flowers, carelessly and artistically
put together, that adOrn the one table and the
two brackets, filling all the tiny apartment with
their subtle perfume.
The windows, opening to the ground are
thrown VIDE open. Outside. the garden lies
PAINTING in the sunshine. There is the sad low
ing rs of many cows in the far distance All the
land lies guivering in its heat. A faint useless
LITTLE breeze comes laZily intO the ROOM ruffiinp
| the ancient curtains that arc drawn closely to-
s,at'er i'll q vain effort to exclude the SUM-
Poor Mr.. Norwood. with praiseworthy de-
termination to seem quite the contrary, is look
lag the very picture of misery. He has been
dragged from his sanctum and his beloved al
dimes. Rodonis, Elzevirs." to interview. or
rather b. interviewed by, a fashionable Young
mar fresh from town. who. though his nephew,
Is to him an utter stranger.
conversation for the last FIVE minutes has
been growing more and more lan"uid. Now it
threatens to cease altogether. The host ia at
his wits end the fashionable Young man is
| lOOkin. distinctly bored. 1t is therefore with a
glance full OF rapture. and nobly suppresse |
sigh OF extreme relief. that Mr.. Norwood hears
| step upon the gravel outside that comes
quickly nearer.
1t is-it must be-MOnica to the rescue!
Now one oil the windows is darkeaec: figure
stepping air,ly from the bright sunshine beyond
TO the room within. parts the curtains with
both hands. and TaZes inquiringly around.
AS her glance falls upon the strange Young
man it alters from expectation to extreme sur
prise-not confusion or embarrassment of any
Kind. but simple. honest surprise. visitors at
the cottage being few and tar between and as a
rule exceedingly i'll to look at.
The strange young man returns her gaze with
generous interest, and a surprise that outdoes
her own. For full half minute she so stands
| with tine curtain held back in either hand and
then she advances slowly.
| She is dressed in gown of Oxford shfrtnr-
very plain, very inexpensive. 1t has a little full
| baby body that somehow suits wonderfully the
grave child sh sace above it with its frame of
light brown lair, so like the color of ON unripe
Chestnut. Her eyes are blue as the heavens
above her; her mouth, trife large, perhaps
but very serious. and very sweet. One cannot
but believe laughter possible to her; cue cannot
also but believe she has found self-communon
| on many occasions a sOace and a solemn iOy
Come here, Monica, and let me make YOU
| known to your COUSIN George Norwood" saws
| her father, very proudly. The pride is all cOn-
| centrated in his daughter. In his soul he deems
a king would be honOred by such an introduce
| ton.
At this she comes closer and places a small
| slim hand in her cousins.
| Il should have known, of course" she SAYS
as though following out certain train of
| Thought. II heard you had come to the court
You must be good friends with him. Mon
| lea. says Mr.. Norwood nervOusly. "He is your
only cousin. You knOw-except Julia"
| les'-she is smiling nOw-"we shall be
friends OF course. Then more directly to the
man who is still holding her hand. as though he
has actually forgotten it is in his possession
AS my father likes you, it follows that shall
| like you too"
'Ah!" says George Norwood, with an an
sWerlng smile that renders his face quite beauti-
full, 'then l owe your father debt OF gratitude
shall not easily repay
Mr.. Norwood has been getting nearer and
nearer to the door by fine degrees. Monica.
without seeming to notice this saws gently:
| 'Go back to your books papa will take
care Of-Of-my ccusin.''
At this Mr.. Norwood beats thankful retreat
leaving the two young people alone.
! why did you hesitate just now" asks George
| suddenly. She has seated herself on a very an
Client sofa. and is regarding him thoughtfully.
| "When:"
"Over my name''
| Because | didn't quite know what to call
yOu TOUR being my cousin does not prevent
| your being perfect stranger-aId a stranger.
| suppose, ought to be called Mr. Norwood
III you call me that shall ,be unhappy for
ever, says George Norwood. Besides, you
call you anything but Monica"
| ION. at that rate! says she, smiling again.
| Presently, as he stands upon the hearth-rug
! ne Illus ms eyes and fasfens them upon pOr-
trait that hangs above the ciimneypece
| what a charming face" he SAYS. s'What a
cOmpexiOn-and eyes'
Eyes, it is lovely 1t is my grandmother
Don't you think the mouth and nose like pa
pa's!'
THE very image" says George Norwood. He
doesn't think 1t bit, but seeing she plainly ex-
poets him to say it, he does his duty like a man
1T is perfect face. But the cyes-they are
your own, surely"
Are they? Do you know never look at that
picture without feeling bitter.' She laughs as
| she says this III a way that precludes the idea
that acriinOny of any sort could belong to her.
ut was the only thing my grandfather left
papa He made particular point Of it in his
| will. that it should be given to him. When he
had carefully cut him of to a shilling he be-
slowed upon him an o-painting; wasn't it mu-
nlhcent: The eldest sons portion to be q mere
portrait! while the second and third sons chill
brance comes to her. She reddens and grows
for the first time confused. 81 beg YOUR par
dom" she says softly; ~ had forgotten you were
the child Of the second son."
| Don't mind about that -" says Norwood '.In
my eyes too, 1t was most iniqutOus will"
! Papa was very glad to get this portrait of
| his mother" says Monica hastily. IS He adored
her. She did all she knew to make grandfather
destroy HIS nrSl VIII. ana leave everything, as
was only right. to my father She gained her
point, too, but when she died. he forgot his
promise and everything. and betrayed the dead
| as you can see" She makes q mOurnful ges-
| ture toward the room that SO painfully betrays
! their poverty.
My father as the second son was badly
treated, too, says Norwood. anxious, he hardly
knows why. to create feeling of sympathy be-
tween them.
Not so badly. BY leaving the property to
you and Julia, the daughter of his third son, on
condition you marry each other, he provided
for both the children of the younger sons
For me he did nothing. He never forgave
papas marriage. You will marry Julia, OF
cOurse?'
She is regarding him seriously, and he laughs
a little and cOlOrs beneath her gaze.
II dare say" he says lightly. ut would seem
! a pity to throw away ten thousand year; and
II refuse she gets ALL and am in the cold. AS
am heart-whOle, may as well think about it;
that Is, If she will have the goodness to accept
| me-"
''She will, says Monica, with certain mean
ing in her tone. "If she refused she would be
left pennless too, it would all go to you and
she is fond of - she pauses Il dare say YOU
get on very we'll together" she continues hasti-