San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1891-02-25

b"N5'hS bhS 1uhl W a.
you will, but no more; and-I cant you 70
seem careless where she is concerned"
But why, my dearest?'
Because l don't like her; she Always
treats me as though / were some insignia
cant little girl still in short petticoats," says
Miss BereSfOrd, with rising lndlgnatioh-
And beeause-because, too
She pauses in some confusion.
go on; because what?" with gentle en-
cOuragement.
"Well, then, because know she wants to
1narr'u YOU" saws Monica, Vehemently, but
in a chOked voice.
what an extraordinary idea to come into
your headv' says Desmond, in choked
tone also, but from different emotion.
what are you laughing at"' severely.
"At meg' -,
''My darling, it seems so absurd, and"
81 forbid you to laugh" in tone replete
with anger but highly suggestive Of tears.
Don't do it,"
"Pll never laugh again, my pet if it Of
tends you so dreadfully."
But your eyes are laughing; can see
them. can>see great deal more than you
think, and / know that hateful girl has
made up her mind to marry you as soon as
ever she can"
THAT will be never"
Not if you go on bringing her roses and
things"
what harm can simple rose do?'
'If you are going to look at it in that
light, l shall say no more. But in a very
little time you will find she has married
you, and then where will you be?''
Her jealousy is too childshly open to be
misunderstood. Mr.. Desmonds spirits are
rising with marvellous rapidity; indeed, for
treading on air.
"AS you won't have me, | don't much care
WileTe l shall be-" he says, with the mean
hope Of reducing her to submission by a
threat. In this hope he is doomed to be dis
appointed, as she meets his base insinuatiOn
with an uncovered front.
VERY good, 90 and marry her," she says,
calmly, as if church, parson, and Miss Fitz-
gerald are all waiting for him, in anxious
expectation, round the corner.
mo, sha'n't" says Desmond, changing
his tactics without blush. Catch me at
1t! As you persist in refusing me, shall
never marry but remain bachelor forever,
for your sweet sake"
Then say you will not bring those roses
tomorrow. Or, better still, say you will
bring them, and"-all women, even the best,
are cruel-'give them to me before her"
my darling! what an unreasonable thing
to ask mel!
''Oh! dare say! when people don't loue
people they always think everything they
do unreasonable"
This rather involved sentence seems to
cut Mr. Desmond to the heart
'Of course, if you say that, must do it."
he says.
full air.
mo, OH my own, of course"
swell, remember don't ask you to do
II" with the most disgraceful ingratitude.
do as you wish about it."
Your wishes are NINE" he says, tender
ly. II have had no divided existence since
that first day saw yOu,-how long ago it
seems now"
but it seems TO myself that have known
and-liked you all my life"
"Yet that day when l saw you on the hay
cart is hardly two months old, says DeS-
mond, dreamily.
As breath of half-forgotten perfume, or
a long-lOst chord fresh sounded, brings back
the memories of a lifetime, so does this
chance remark Of his now recall to her a
scene almost gone out of mind, yet still
fraught with recollections terrible to her
self-love.
1.-TWO months,-only two?-oh, it must be
more" she says, with pang. Surely time
ought to lessen the feeling of shame that
overpowers her whenever she thinks Of that
fatal day.
$50 wearisome time, my own?' asks he,
reproachfully.
mo, it is not that 1t is only. Oh,
Brian, that day you speak Of, when l was
on that horrid hay-cart, did you'll mean
did THAT is-did look very ungracefulP"
The word she is dying to say is disgrace
full, but she dares not.
"Ungraceful?'
Eyes. Terry says that when we were
passing you that day was-was," with
desperate rush, kicking up my heelsr'
She is trembling with shame and confu-
sion. Crimson has sprung to her cheeks,
tears to her eyes.
II don't believe word of it," says Mr..
Desmond, cOmprehending the situation at
last. But, even suppOsing you were,-and,
after all, that is the sort of thing eUeTy one
does on a bundle of hay,"-as though it is
quite the customary thing for people gener-
ally to go round the world seated on hay
carts,-"I didn't see you-that is, your heels
l mean; saw only your face,-the prettiest
face in the world. How could | look at any
thing else when had once seen that?"
"Brianr' turning to him impetuously, and
laying both her hands upon his shoulders,
Il do think you are the dearest fellow on,
earth"
"Oh, Monica! am ! the dearest to your
He has twined his arms round her lissOme
figure, and is gazing anXiOusly into her eyes
"YeS,-yes, certainly And then, with
ndtUets understandable, and with the ut
most cOmpOsure, she says