San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1891-02-17
MONICA
A LOVE STORY OF MODERN DAYS
By the author Of Mona Sc1tlIy," 'Ac
cuSed' DC, &c.
CHAPTER 1.

i
| The OId-faShioned clock is ticking loudly,
| pOnderOuSIy, as though determined to be.
| tray the fight of tickle time and impress up
| on the happy, careless ones that the end of
all things is at hand. The roses knock their
fragrant buds against the windOw-panes
calling attention to their dainty sweetness.
The pigeons coo amOrOusly upon the sills
outside. and even thrust their pretty heads
into the breallfaSt-rOOm, demanding plain
lively their daily crumbs, but no one needs
A deadly silence has fallen upon this room
at MOyne, albeit life is fully represented
here, and two eyes, in which the light of
youth is quenched, are looking anxiously in
to two other eyes that have also seen the
best and the sweetest of their days.
/ Hopelessly the golden roses scattered their
petals. In vain the white and tawny birds
entreat backsheesh. To no purpose does the
elderly clock count out its numbers. The
urn is kissing angrily, the two cups of tea
so carefully prepared are growing cold. So
are the crisp little hot cakes, so is the
No! by the bye, it isn't! Honey can't.
What's chance l was near giving the re-
viewers!
One bird, growing annoyed at the prolOng-
ed quiet, flies from the open window to the
there with an indignant tiutter and a sup
pressed but angry note. This small suggeS-
ton of living world destroys the spell that
for the last few minutes has been connect
ing the brain with dead one.
Miss Penelope, raising her head, gives
words to her thoughts.
Poor, poor Katherinew she says, gently
smoothing out the letter that lies upon her
ly,,nn Il l-alt
and what sad ending there has been to
everything! Her children coming home to
us, Observation-Disclosures Dear child what
a life hers has been! 1t isquite twenty years
ago now, and yet it all seems to me as fresh
as yesterday"
''She shouldn't have taken things so easily !;
she should have asserted herself at the time, !"
says Miss Priscilla, whose voice is always .
note sharper than her sisters.
1T requires great deal of thought and
and great deal of moral courage to assert
ones self when man has behaved abomin-
nably to One,-has, in fact, tilted one!' says
Miss Penelope, bringing out the awful word
with little Shudder and shake of her
gentle head, that sets two pale lavender rib
bOns in her cap swaying mildly to and fro.
''Why was she so fatally silent about ev-
fusal, at the last moment, to marry her,
without assigning any cause for his base de-
sertion? Why didn't she open her whole
heart to me? WASN'T afraid of the man p
says Miss Priscilla, with such terrible energy
and such warlike front as might well have
daunted ''the man." or indeed any man,
could he have seen her. "She should have
unburdened her poor bruised spirit to me,
1xhn- yEa 4 /
was many years her senior-had at least a
sisters love for her."
"A true love-" says Miss Penelope, with
another sigh.
Instead of which," regretfulIy, ''she hid
all her sorrows in her own bosom, and no
doubt wept and pinned for the miScreant in
secret"
Poor soulr' says Miss Penelope, pro-
foundly affected by this dismal picture.
Tears born of tenderness spring to her eyes.
''Do you remember Priscilla, how she re-
fused to show his letter, wishing, suppose,
even then to spare him"
Il forget nOthingp' with some acerbity.
soften, when saying my prayers, l have
wished could forget him, but l can't, so l
have to go on being uncharitable and in sin,
if indeed sin it be to harden ones heart
against bad man."
do you remember, too, my dear Priscilla,
how she refused to go to church the Sunday
after she received his cOldblOOded miSsive
telling her he wished his engagement at an
end? ] often wonder in what language he
could have cOuched such scandalOus de-
sire; but she tore the letter up. Dear dear
it might have happened to-day, it is all so
clear to me-"
s'Too clear" says Miss Priscilla.
81 recOllect, too" says Miss Penelope,
leaning her elbows on the table, pushing her
untasted tea from her, and warming to the
dismal memory, show she would not come
down to dinner on that eventful evening,
though we had red-cwrant tart she was so
fond of, and how took her up some myself
and knocked at her door and entreated her
to open to me and to eat some of it. There
was whipped cream on it; she was very fond
of cream, too"
And she refused to open the d6Or?" ask
ed Miss Priscilla, with the satisfied air of
one who has often heard the thrilling recital
before, yet was never tired of it.
absolutely! so laid the plate on little
table outside her door. Some hours after
ward, going up to bed, l saw the plate was
gone her door slightly ajaT. Stealing into
her room on uptOe, saw Slle was oloOPihS
peacefully, and that she had eaten the red
currant tart. felt so happy then. Poor
dear child how fond she was of that tariff!
''She liked everything that had sugar IN
it." says Miss Priscilla, mOurnfully.
ut was only natural. Sweets to the
sweet" says Miss Penelope, letting one lit
tie white jeweled hand fall slowly, sadly
upon the other.
;s n Iap0tbapn1
Presently, STOPPING slightly toward her
sister, Miss Penelope says, in a mysterious
Whisper