Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1891-08-13
MON ICA.
LOVE STORY OF MODERN DAYS


See how she is trying to get at my hairr'
Monica is beginning in a delighted tone,-as
Though to have ones hair pulled out by the
roots is the most enchanting sensation in
the world, when suddenly her voice dies
away into silence, and she herself stareS
with great open violet eyes at something
that darkens the doorway and throws a
shadow upon the assembled group within.
1T is Desmond!
"Ah! come in, Misther Desmond" says
Mrs. DAILY, Hospitality. Ppm glad it's COM
pany have before We the day. Maybe twill
coax We to come again. Where have We been
this week an more? Fax, We were so long
In comm, l thought twas angry wild me We
were.''
Nobody is ever angry with a pretty wo-
man like yOu," says Desmond, saucily.
"Oh, now, bark to himp' says Mrs. DAILY,
laughing heartily. Il wonder We aren't
ashamed of yourself. An is the ould Squire
hearty?"
Hes as we'll as even yoot could wish
him. How dye do, Kit? Won't you come
and speak to me?''
He has been afraid to shake hands with
Monica up to this, but now she turns sud-
denly toward him and holds out to him one
slender fair hand, the other being twined
He graSps the little snowy hand with al
most senile delight, and holds it for-as long
as he dares. During this underlined period
ne tells himself what a perfect picture she
Is, with her clear, pale, beautiful face, and
her nut-brOWn hair, and the tender sweet
ness OF her attitude, as she bends over the
smiling baby. Could any Wanted Madonna
be half as lovely? At this moment grow
Ing contempt for all the greatest master
pieces of the greatest masters permeates his
being and renders him weak in faith.
Wont ye sit down, thin?' says Mrs.
DAILY. Being a woman, she grasps the situa-
ton at a glance, and places a chair for him
close to Monica. whats the matther wild
We to-day, Misther Desmond, that We haven't
word to give us?'
You ought to know what I'm thinking
of, says Desmond, accepting the chair, and
drawing it even degree closer to Monica.
''Faix, thin, l DON'T" says Mrs. Daily
Junior, her handsome face full of smiles A
love-affair is as good as a saints day to an
Irish peasant; and here she tells herself,
with glance at Monica, is one ready-made
to her hand.
''Im thinking what lucky man DAILY is"
says Desmond, promptly.
'Oh, git along wild we now, an yer blair
ter; whilst even Mrs. MOloney the dismal,
and the old granny in the corner, chime in
merrily.
And then the visit comes to a close, and
they all rise and bid Mrs. DAILY and the
others 'good-by;" and Monica, mindful of
his late aft1ictiOn, beStOWS a soft parting
word upon the subj ed Paddy.
And now they are all in the open air
again, and, turning down the bOreen that
leads to MOyne 1t is DeSmond's way as well
as theirs, so he accompanies the girls with
out remark.
''What brought you to see the Days, to-
day" asks Monica, suddenly, without any
Interior meaning beyond the desire of MAX
ing conversations; but to Kits guilty soul
this question seems fraught with mischief.
"Oh, often go to see DAILY. ] want him
to come fishing with me tomorrow; he's the
best man about here for that, and trudges
behind one for miles without complaining"
Poor Dalyp'
well, hope you enjoyed your visit to-
day." says Kit, blithely, glancing at him
miSchevouSly from beneath her broad hat
'There was a drawback" says Brian, I'M
thinkingly. II went there full of hope, and,
after all, she never offered me any of your
puddingP'
Tabeau!
Kits agonized glance and Monca's ques-
tiOning eyes awake Mr.. Desmond to q
knowledge of what he has done.
How did yOU hear Of Kits pudding?"
asks Monica, looking keenly from Brian to
Kit, and then back again.
"Oh!-the pudding" stammers Desmond.
There! don't commit yourself" says
Monica, in tone that trembleS. "Oh, KitV'
Both culpritS are afraid to look at her.
Does the tremble mean tears, or anger or
what? Perhaps horror at their duplicity,
or contempt. Is she hopelessly angered?
Then suppressed sound reaches their
ears, creating a fresh panic in their breasts.
Is she positively choking with indignation?
Cautiously, anxiously, they glance at her,
and find, to their everlasting relief, that she
is cOnvulsed with laughter.
"WhPn next you mediate forming brill
liant plot such as this" she says to Kit, Il
think | should look out a more trustworthy
accomplice if | were you"
''Catch me having a secret with him
again" says Kit, now her fears are appeas-
ed, turning wrathfully upon Desmond.
81 quite forgot all about it, did, indeed"
eXclaims he penitently. Forgive me this
time, and I'll promise never to do it again."
''And I'll promise you you sha'n't have
the chance" says Kit, with f2rVor.
"Why was | to be deceived?' says Monica.
II think have been very baSely treated. If
you, Kit, desired a clandestine meeting with
Mr.. Desmond, l don't see why was to be
drawn into it. And it was aStupid arrange
ment, too; two is company, three trumpery.
know, if I had a lover l should prefer"
'Monica!' says Kit, Indignantly; but
Monica only laughs the more.
- IT. is mn tuTO now Won l[nOW-' she saws.
Kit had nothing to do with it; it was all
my fault" says Desmond, laughing too. 'If
you must pour out the walls of your wrath
on some one, let it be on me-"
Yes, give him good SColding, Monica"
says Kit, viciouSly, but with lovely smile.
Il am going to pick some ferns for Aunt
Pen; when [ return hope l shall find that
recreant knight of yours-I mean mjlle-at
the point of deathv'
At this she fits away from them, like the
good little thing she is, up a Soping bank,
and so into the fields beyond, until Desmond
and Monica are as much alone as if a whole
sphere divided them from their kind. Dear lit
tie Kit! When her own time comes may she
be as kindly dealt with!
"Y0u are angry with me, ill,-abOut last
night" says Desmond, softly, land, own,
with cause. But was miserable when l
called you cOQuette, and misery makes a
man unjust. l wrote to Kit this morning,
I was afraid to write to you,-and she was
very good to me-
''How good?" plucking leaf from brier,
as she goes slowly-Uery slowly-down the
road.
''She brought me you. Do you know,
Monica, have been as unhappy as man
can be since last saw you,-a whole night
and part of day? Is it not punishment
enough?'
TOO much for your crime" whispers she,