Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1891-06-18
MONICA.
A LOVE STORY OF MODERN DAYS.

pdIlIOII IIlIIlS 10 utI.
1T wasn't true what you said to me that
last day, was it?' he asks, with far more
anxiety than the occasion seems to demand.
Not really, l mean. You said it for fun,
perhaps-or- 1t has been with me ever
since. [ can't forget it. You said you dis
liked sudden friendships, and the way you
said it made me think you disliked me. Tell
me / thought wrong
"Quite wrong" in a low tone. She is
plucking rose to pieces, and keeps her eyes
downcast. when 1 said that, I was angry
about something"
"About something [ said?'
mo. Nothing you said"
Something did, then?" growing more
and more anxious.
"Ye-es."
''What was it?''
sit doesn't matter now; not in the least
now; and I cannot tell you, indeed"
"But I wish very much you would. Per
haps being in wretched ignorance, l shall be
SO unhappy as to do it again some day, and
so make you hate me a second time"
81 didn't hate YOU"
"No? Yet there was look in your eyes
wouldn't like to see there again. Do tell
me, lest once more fall into error
''Oh, no. coloring deeply, as though at
some unpleasant recollection. THAT would
be impossible. It could never happen again.
I shall take care of that. l shall never as
long as [ live get into a-that isl meant
- Really l have forgiven it all now, so let
US forget it too"
Though still greatly mystif1ed, Mr.. Des-
mond wisely forbears to press the point,
something in her pretty distressed face and
heightened color forbidding him.
SSNoryr crOn1 - ha nlno sanity SRT1t
there is another thing I have not forgotten.
Have you ever cleared up that mystery
about my uncle and your aunts?"
''Oh! that. 1t cannot be cleared, I am
afraid; it is too muddy a tale for any help;
but have at least found out all about it,"
would it be indiscreet if said [ would
give anything to be as wise as you on this
subject? In other words, will you divulge
the secretH'
sit is story that doesn't rebound to the
honor and glory of youw house." says Miss
Beresford, stepping back from him with a
gay little laugh, and glancing at him mis-
chievously from under her big Patience"
hat. eff [ were you l should shrink from
hearing it,
II decline to shrink" with unparalleled
bravery. Il prefer to rush upon my fate.
Life has no longer any flavor for me until I
hear what the old reprObate at Coole has
done"
''WeH, if you oOilI insist upon the sorry
tale, tits this. Once there lived a wicked
knight, who wCoed maiden fair But when
her heart was all his own, his love
grew cold, and, turning from her, he refused
to fulfill his plighted troth and lead her to
the hymeneal altar. In fact he loved and
he rode away, leaving her as dismally dis.
consulate as the original maid forlorn. That
wicked knight was your uncle; the maid
forlorn my mOther?'
You have been giving me a summary Of
fairy tale, haven't you?' asks he in an I'M
believing tone.
mo, indeed; it is all quite true. From
what [ have heard, your uncle must have
treated my mother very badly. Now, aren't
you thoroughly ashamed of yourself and
your family?'
You have proofs of his iniquity, of
course" says Brian, who evidently finds a
difficulty in believing in his uncle's guilt.
Yes. He wrote her letter stating in
distinct terms that'-and here she alters her
voice until it is highly suggestive of Miss
Blake's fine contralto-'he deemed it eX-
pedient for both parties that the present en-
gagement existing between them should be
annulled.' Those are Aunt Priscilla words
what he really meant, l suppose, was, that
he was tired of her."
Your mother, 1 should imagine, was
hardly a woman to be tired of readily"
THAT is matter of opinion. We-that
is, Terry and Kit and Thought her very
tiresome woman indeed,'' says Miss Beres-
ford, calmly. She does not look at him as
she makes this startling speech, but looks
beyond him into, possibly, past where the
''tiresome woman" held part
Brian Desmond, gazing at her pale, pure,
spiritual face, sustains a faint shock, as the
meaning of her words reaches him. Is she
heartless, emotionless? Could not even a
mothers love touch her and wake her into
life and feeling?
you weren't very fond of your mother,
then" he asks, gently. The bare memory
of his own mother is adored by him.
''Fond?' says Monica, as though the idea
is a new one to her. Fond? Yes, I sup
pose so; but we were all much fonder Of my
father. Not that either he or mamma took
very much notice of U.s."
''Were they so much wrapt up in each
other, thenT"
''No, certainly not" quickly. Then, with
an amount of bitterness in her tone that
contrasts strangely with its usual softness,
Il wonder why I called my mother mann
ma to you just now. never dared do so to
her. Once when she was going away some
where | threw my arms round her and call
ed her by that pet name; but she put me
from her, and told me [ was not to make a
noise like a sheep"
She seems more annoyed than distressed
as she says this. Desmond is silent. Per.
haps his silence frightenS her, because she
turns to him with rather pale, nervous
face.
Il suppose l should not say such things as
! these to you," she says, unsteadily. Il for
got, it did not occur to me, that we are only
strangers
'Say what you will to me-" says Desmond
slowly, land be sure Of this, that what you
do say will be heard by you and HE alone
L believe you," she answers, with little
| sigh.
And, besides, we are not altogether
| strangers" he goes on, lightly; ''that day
| on the river is a link between us, isn't it?'
"Oh, yes, the river" she says smiling.
sour river. I have brought myself to be-
| lieve it is our joint property; no one else
! seems to know anything about it,
Il have never been near it SINCE" says
| Monica.
| Il k3IG1U that returns he, meaningly.
| She bushes deeply, and then, in spite OF
| herself, laughs out loud, a low but ringing
| laugh, full of music and mischief.
| This most uncaIled-for burst of merri
ment has the effect of making Mr.. Desmond
| preternaturally grave.
May 1 ask what you are laughing at?'' he
says, with painful poIiteness; whereupor
Miss Beresford checks her mirth abruptly
and has the grace to blush again even harder
! than before. Her confusion is, indeed, the
| prettiest thing possible.
L don't know" she says, in an evasive