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


Monica with dilated eyes.
Yes. Is that tea for me?' returns she,
calmly, with great self-possession, seeing
that sundry eyes are upon her.
For you or any one" replies he. Tone
can convey far more meaning than words.
The words Just now are correct enough, but
the tone is uncivil to the last degree. Mont
ca, flushing slightly, takes a cup from him,
and Olga takes the second.
There is a short silence whilst thew stir
their tea, during which Madame O'Colmor,s
voice can be distinctly heard,-it generally
can above every tumult. She is discours-
ing enthusiastically about some wonderful
tree in her orchard, literally borne down by
fruit
''YOu never saw such Sightr' she is say
ing,-'laden down to the ground. The finest -
show of pears in the country. Twas telling
William he would do we'll to prop it. But |
suppose it will ruin the tree for the next
two years to come"
"What, the propping|' says Rossmoyne.
mo, the enormous produce, you silly
boyr' says his hostess, with laugh.
Monica who is growing restless beneath
Desmond's angry regard, turns to her nerv-
ously.
81 think l should like to see It." she
says, softly.
"Allow me to take you to it," says Ryde,
quickly, coming to her side.
miss BeresfOrd is coming with me-" in
terposes Desmond. His face is pale, and his
eyes flash ominously.
THAT is for Miss BereSford to decide"
"She has decided" says Desmond, grow
ing even paler, but never removing his eyes
from his rivals. He is playing dangerous
game, but even in the danger is ecstasy.
And, as Monica continues silent, a great Joy
| fills his soul.
but until'-begins the EDglishman, dog
| gedly-"I hear"
Mrs. Bohun's cup is causing her embar-
| raSsment. See to it," interrupts Desmond,
Internationally. And then, turning to Mon
lea, he says, Come" coldly, but with such
passionate entreaty in his eyes that she Is
borne away by IL, and goes with him sub
| missively across the lawn, until she has 50
| far withdrawn herself from her companions
that return would be undignified.
They go as far as the entrance to the Or
chard, a good quarter of mile, in silence,
and then the storm breaks.
81 won't have that fellow holding you In
his arms" says Desmond, pale with grief
and rage, standing still and confronting her.
| II thought You said You would never be
jealous again." says Monica, who has had
time to recover herself, and time, too, to
| grow angry.
81 also said hoped you would never give
! me cause" q.
Mrs. Bohun has arranged this tableaux."
| Then disarrange it,
But how?'
| Say you won't act with Ryde."
| you can't expect me to make myself
laughable In that way"
| Then III do It,"
| "And so make me laughable in another
way. / can't sec what right you have to in
terfere," she breaks out suddenly, standing
before him, willful but lovely. "What are
you to me, or to you, that you should order
me about like this%'
you are all the world to me,--you are
my lDife," says the young man, in a solemn
tone, but with passionately angry eyes.
you can refuse me if you like, but shall
go to my grave with your image only in my
heart As to what am to yolL, that is quite
another thing,-leSS than nothing, should
say"
"And no wonder, too, considering your
dtCful temper" says Monica, viciously; but
her tone trembles.
At this he seems TO lose heart. A very
sad look creeps into his dark eyes and lin
gers there.
"Well, do what you like about these
wretched tableauX," he says, so YEARLY that
Monica, though victorious, feels inclined to
| cry. IF they give you am0ment's pleasure,
| why should rebel? As you say, am moth
ing to you. Come, let us go and look at this
| famous pear-tree."
But she does not stir. They are inside the
| orchard, standing in secluded spot with
only some green apples and an ivied wall
to see them. Herkeyes are downcast, and
her slender fingers are playing nervously
| with ribbon on her gown. Her lips have
taken remorseful curve. Now, as though
| unable to restrain the impulse, she raises
| her eyes to his for brief second, but, brief
as it is, he can see that they are full of tears.
| Brian" she says neryously.
| 1t is the first time she has ever called him
by his Christian name, and he turns to her
| a face still sad indeed, but altogether sur
| priSed and pleased.
| Now, that's good of you" he says.
There is nothing good about me-" says
| Monica, tearfully. II am as hOrrid as l we'll
can be, and you are-Brian, l will give up
that tableau. will not be Dolly Warden;
no, not if Mr.. Ryde went on his knees to
me-"
my dear, dear lover says Mr.. Desmond.
"Do you indeed love me-" says Monica,
softly, in spite of all dO?'
81 love you because of all you do. What
is there not cOmmendable in every action of
yours? | love You; ] live always in the
hope that some day you will be more to me
than you are to-day. A presumptuous hope,
perhaps with rather forced smile, ''but
ono 7 ,piH mot SfiHp | SmDDOS,s every one
lives in visionary world ut times, where
some not impossible she, reigns as queen
dare say you think my queen Is impossible,
littln EnnNy u, hat lrnamS have been