San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1891-02-20
MONIC
Above STORY OF MODERN DAYS
By the Author of Mona Scatlly" "Ac
cuSed' &C., &c.

.
there be seen.
'I,et ms walk round the garden, Aunt Pris-
cilla.n saws Monica, feeling very sorry for
them. ssThe evening is lovely, and the roses
so sweet"
sCome. Them says Miss Priscilla, who is
perhaps glad to escape from her own
thoughts. And so they all wander to and
fro i'm the pretty garden, bending over this
flower and lingering over that in soft, idle
sort of enjoyment that belongs alone to the
country.
Terence has disappeared, but as he is not
much on flowers, his presence is not indiS-
pensable, and no one takes any notice of
his detection.
st grows chilly" says Miss Penelope,
presently, let us all go in"
''Oh, not yet, auntie; it is quite lovely
yet" says, Monica, earnestly. She cannot
go in yet, not yet; the EVENINGS still young,
and-and she would like so much to go down
to the river, if only for moment. All this
she says guiltily to herself.
swell, we old women will go in, at least"
says Miss Penelope. you two children can
coquet with the dew for a little while; but
don't stay too long, or sore Threats will be
the result"
Eyes, yes" says Miss Priscilla, following
her sister. AS she passes Monica, she looks
anXiously at the girls little slight fragile
figure and her slender throat and half-bared
arms.
THAT dress is thin. Do not stay out too
long. Take care of yourself my darling"
She kisses her pretty niece, and then hur-
ries on, as though ashamed of this show of
affection.
A little troubled by the caress, Monica
moves mechanically down the path that
leads toward the meadows and the river,
followed by Kit. BY this time the latter is
in full possession of all that happened yes
terday,-at least so much of it as relates to
Monica's acquaintance with Mr.. Desmond
(minus the tender passion), his uncle's en-
counter with her auntS, and Brian's subse-
quent dismissal. Indeed, so much has tran
spired in the telling of all this that Kit, who
is a shrewd child, has come to the just con-
clusion that the young Mr.. Desmond is in
love with her Monica!
Strange to say, she is not annoyed at his
presumption, but rather pleased at 1.-THE
being the first live lover she has ever come
in contact with, and therefore interesting in
no small degree.
Now, as she follows her sister down the
fOwery pathway, her mind is full of rO-
nance, pure and sweet and great with chiv-
airy, as a child's would be. But Monica is
sad and taciturn. Her mind miSgives her,
her conscience pricks her, her soul is dis
quoted within her.
What was it she had promised Aunt Pris-
ella yesterday? Aunt Priscilla had said
''For the future you must forget you ever
spoke to Mr.. Desmond. You will remember
this?" and she had answered, Yes"
But how can she forget? 1t was foolish
promise, for who has got memory under
control?
Of course Aunt Priscilla had meant her
to understand that she was never to speak
to Mr.. Desmond again, and she had given
her promise in the spirit. And of course
she would be obedient; she would at least
so far obey that she would not be the first
to speak to him, nor would she seek him
nor But why, then, is she going to the
river? Is it because the evening is so fine,
or is there no lurking hope Of
And, after all, what certainty is there
that-that-any one will be at the river at
this hour? And even if there should be,
why need she speak to him? she can be ST.
lent; but if he speaks to her, what then?
Can she refuse to answer?
Her mind is as boat upon troubled sea,
tossed here and there; but by and by the
wind goes down, and the stanch boat is
righted, and turns its bow toward home.
Kit do not let us go to the river tonight"
she says, turning to face her sister in the
narrow path.
But why? 1t is so warm and light, and
such little wayp
"You have been often there Let us turn
down this side of the meadow, and see
where it will lead to-"
That it leads directly away from Coole
there cannot be the least doubt; and the lit
tie martyr treading the ground she would
not, feels with an additional pang of disap-
pOintment that the fulfllment of her duty
does not carry with it the thrill of rapture
that ought to suffuse her soul.
Monica, who is that|' eXclaims Kit, sud
denly, staring over the high bank, beside
which they are walking, into the field be-
You'd. Following her glance, Monica sees a
crouchng figure on the other side of this
bank but lower down, stealing cautiously,
noiselessly, toward them, as though bent Oh
secret murder. A second glance betrays the
fact that it is Terence, with-yes, most posi-
lively with gun!
"Where on earth did he get ~ says Kit;
and, unable to contain her curiosity any
longer, she scrambles up the bank, and calls
out, Terry, here we are! Come here!
Where did you get it?'' at the top OF her
fresh young lungs.
As she did so, a little gray object, hither-
to unseen by her, springs from among some
green stuffs and, scudding across the fields
into the woods of Coole beyond, is in mo-
ment lost to view.
''Oh, bOtherr' cries Terry, literally dane
ing with rage; 81 wouldn't doubt you to
make that row just when was going to fire.
wish to goodness you girls would stay at
home, and not come interfering with fell
lows sport.