Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1891-10-08

llveliest encouragement; land as for you,
Desmond, why if were girl, I'd be won
by yours at once"
Desmond laughs.
I'm sorry Pm beneath your notice now"
where's your uncle? Couldn't even my
letter coax him here to-night?''
Not even that. He has gone nowhere
now for so many years thai l think he is
afraid to venture"
''Tut3' says Madame, impatiently; be
cause he Tilted a woman once is no reason
why the rest OF us should iilt him"
It is an hclr later, and all the guests have
gone, except indeed Kit, who has been sent
upstairs, tired and sleepy, TO share Mon
ica'S room. and Terence and Brian Des-
mond, who with his friend Kel Y are strug
CLING into their tOp-cOats in the hall. The
rain is descending in torrents, and they are
regarding with rather rueful countenanceS
the dog-cart awaiting them outside, in which
they had driven over in the sunny morning
that seems impossible, when Madame o Con-
nor sweeps down upon them.
Take off those coats at once" she SAYS
''What do you mean, Brian? 1 wouldn't
have it on my conscience to send rat out
OF my house on such night as this, unless
under cover" Her conscience is Madame's
strong point. She eXcels in it. She OfttimeS
sWearS by it! Her promise to Miss Priscilla
that Desmond shall not sleep beneath her
roof during MOnica's stay is forgotten or
laid aside, and finally, with smile Of salts
faction, she sees the two young men carried
off by Ronayne for final smoke before,
turning in.
Il don't feel bit sleepy myself says
Monica, who is looking as fresh and sweet
as if only now just risen.
Neither do H. says Olga. "Come to my
room, then, and talk to me for minute or
two"
They must have been long minutes, be-
cause it is quite an hour later when little
slender figure, clad in a pretty White dress
ing-goWn, energies on tip-toe from Mrs. b.
huns room and steals hurriedly along the
deserted corridor.
Somebody else is hurrying along this cor
ridOr, too. Seeing the childish figure in the
white gown, he pauses; perhaps he thinks
it is ghost; but, if So he is a doughty man
because he goes swiftly up to it with a glad
smile upon his lips.
My darling girl" he says, in subdued
VOC, 81 thought you were III the middle of
your first happy dream by this"
Monica smiles, and leaves her hand in
his.
Il am not such lazy-bones as you evil
IDENTIFY thought me-" she says. But must
hurry now in Iced All the world is abed,
suppose; and if Kit wakes and finds me
not yet come, she will be frightened"
Before You go, tell me You viii meet me
somewhere tomorrow. IOu," uncertainty,
''CCTe going heme tomorrow, are you mott"
eyes. But--but-holU can meet you?
have almost given my word TO Aunt Pris-
ella to do nothing -clandeStine--or that;
and how shall break it? You are always
tempting me-, and'-a soft glance stealing
to him from beneath her laSleS-'I should
like to see you, of course, but so much duty
| owe to her"
''Your first duty is to your husband" re-
spends he, gravely.
She turns to him with startled eyes.
WHO is that?" she asks
81 am" boldly; ''or at least soon shall
be; it is all the same"
How sure you are of mem she says, with
iust the faintest touch of OtfenSe in her tone
taat Quicllens his pu ses to tever-heat.
"Surcw he says, with melancholy
by passion into something that is almost
rchemenc2. Was | ever SO 1I1iStEe of any
thing, / wonder? There is so little certain
ty connected with you i'll my mind that half
my days are consumed by doubts that ren-
der M miserable! Yet l put my trust in
you Upon your sweetness | build my hope.
feel YOU womb not willingly condemn any
one to DEATH and what could do but die if
you now throw me over? But you aOO7l't,
think"
No, no. says Monica, impulsively, tears
in her eyes and voice. Tremblingly she
yields herself to him, and lets him hold her
TO his heart in a close embrace. How could
yOu think that Of me? Have you forgotten
that kissed your"
Plainly she lays great stress upon that
rash act committed the other nightbeneath
the stars.
"Forget itr' says Desmond, in tone that
leaves nothing to be desired. you are
mine, then, now,-nOw and forever" he
says, presently.
But there is always Aunt Priscilla" says
Monica, nervously. Her tone is full of af
Fiction. ooh, if she could onLy see me
noW"'
Well, she can't, that's one comfort; not
if she were the hundred-eyed Argus her
self"
Il feel am behaving very badly to her."
says Monica, dolorously. Il am, in spite Of
myself, deceiving her, and tomorrow, when
it is all over, /"
at shan't be over" Interrupts he, with
considerable vigOr. what thing 10 sayw
Il shall feel so guilty when get back to
MOyne. just as if had been doing some
thing dreadful. SO have, | think. How
shall / ever be able to look her III the face
again?'
Don't you know? 1t is the simplest
thing in the world. You have only to fix
your eyes steadily on the tip of her nose,
and there you are!'
This disgraceful frivolty on the part OF
her lover rouses quick reproach in Monica's
eyes.
Il don't think it is a nice thing to laugh
at one," she says, very justly incensed. Il
wouldn't laugh at yOst, il YOU were unhappy.
You are not the least help to me. What am
| to say to Aunt PriScilla"'
''HOw dye do" first; and then-in an airy
tone, you knOw-1 am going to be married,
as soon as time permits, to Brian Desmond
No, no." penitently, catching tirmer hold
of her as she makes 4 valiant but Intellectual
effort to escape the shelter of his arms, Il
didn't mean it. ] am sorry, and I'll never
do it again. I'll sympathze with anything
you say, if you will promise not to desert
me'
1T is you," reproachfully, "who deserts
me, and in my hour of need. don't think"
wlsttuuy, II am so gerry much to blame, an
1? l DIDN'T ask you to fall in love with me,
and when you came here all this week to
see Madame O'Connor l couldn't possibly
have turned my back upon you, could T."
you could; but it would have brought
you to the verge of suicide and murder. Be-
| cause, as you turned, l should have turned
too. on the chance of seeing your face, and
so on and on until vertigo set in, and death
enSued, and we were both buried in one COM
mon grave. 1t sounds awful, doesn't it?