San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1891-02-24


Now, Terence, dear, surely that is not
the way to pronounce that word" says Miss
Priscilla, anxiously; 'such vulgar pro-
nunciatiOn-'bu-ut.' How you drawled It'll
How ugly it sOunds-'bu-utp Now put your
lips together like mine, so, and say but
shortly. Now begin your story again, and
tell it nicely"
Terence begins again-UeTy good-humor.
eddy, thinks Olga,-and has almost reached
the point when Miss Priscilla breaks in
again
Now, not so fast, my dear Terence. I
really cannot follow you at all. don't even
understand what you are at. Gently, my
dear boy. Now begin it all over again, and
be more explicit"
But the fun is all out of Terence by this
time, though Olga is so convulSed with
laughter that it might have been the best
story on record, which somewhat astonishes
though it consoles Terence, as when his
funny incident is related in a carefully
modulated voice, and with painful precis-
ion, it strikes even him as being hOpeleSsly
uninteresting However Mrs. Bohun GER
tainly enjoys it,-or something else, per-
haps; fortunately, it never occurs to Terry
to ponder on the something else"
Hernia, Olga, come now, my dears. You
can't stay here for euer, you KNOW" cries
Madame O'Connor's loud but CHEEKY voice.
ut is nearly seven. Come, / tell you, or
the Misses Blake, our good friends here,
will think we mean to take upour residence
at Moyne for good"
ooh, now, Gertruder' says Miss Priscilla,
much shocked. But Madame O'ConnOr only
laughs heartily, and gives her little smart
| blow on the shoulder with her fan. Olga
laughs too, gayly, and Hernia lets her lips
part with one of her rare but perfect smiles
| If she likes any one besides Olga and her
children, it is bluff and blunt old Gertrude
| OConnor.
| One BY one they all walk away, and pres
| emily Moyae is lying in the dying sunshine,
in all its quietude, with never sound to
disturb the calm of coming eve but the light
rustling of the rising breeze among the ivy
leaves that are clambering up its ancient
walls.
Kit and Terry are indoors, laughing mer-
rily over the day, and congratulating them
selves upon the success 1t has certainly
been.
Eyes. do think, Penelope they all en-
joyed themselves" says Miss Priscilla, In
high gee; land your claret-cup, my dear,
was superb"
But Monica has stolen away from them
all. The strange restlessness that has lain
upon her all day is asserting itself with cruel
yigor, and drives her forth into the shadows
of the coming night.
All day long she has struggled bravely
against it; but, now that the enforced
necessity for loneliness is at an end, she
grows dreamy distrdite, and feels an in'
tense longing for solitude aud air. j
a Al 4, 4. al, ln. Ass. \ Al
garden, where the flowers, 'earth's lowell
est" are dropping their sweet heads to seek
their happy slumbers. Past them she gees
with lowered head and thoughts engrossed,
and so over the lawn into the wood beyond.
Here Coole and Moyne are connected by a
high green bank, that in early spring. is stud
ded and diamonded with primroses and now
is gay with ferns Not until she has reach
ed this boundary does she remember now
far she has come.
She climbs the bank, and gazes with an
ever-grOwing longing at the cool shade in
the forbidden land, at the tall, stately trees,
and foxgloves nodding drowsily.
1t is perfect evening, and as yet the god
of day-great Sol-riding the heavens with
triumphant mirth, as though reckless of the
death that draweth nigh. Shall he not rise
again tomorrow morn in all his awful maj
esty, and so defy grim Mars? 1t is, indeed,
one of those hours when heaven seems
nearest earth, "aS when warm sunshine
thrills wood-glooms to gold" and right
eousness and peace have kissed each other"
and Nature, tender mother, smiles, and all
the forest deepS are by "a tender whisper
pierced"
Conscience forbidding her, she abStains
from entering these coveted woods, and,
with a sigh, seats herself upon the top of
the green bank.
'.Monicaw says voice close to her, yet
not close to her, -mysteriously, far up in
mid-air, right over her head. She starts
Is the great woods peopled with satyrs,
ouphS, or dryads?