San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1891-02-21
M0NICA
A LOVE STORY OF MODERN DAYS
BY the Author of "MonG Sc'tliH" "Ac
clsed" &C., DC.

not sufficiently to allow one 10 WANDER
happily through shrubbery or garden, but
enough to augur well for the morrow, when
the much-longed-for dance at the Barracks
is due. ~
And indeed, when Friday dawnS all ma
tire is glorious Der sea and land there
foats a Brightness indescribable, with no
fIeck or flaw upon its beauty. In every nook
and glade and hollow is glad sunshine, and
a soft rushing breeze that bids the heart re-
ioice, and uplifts itself in joyous praise to
the Great Power above who calls the heav-
ems His Throne.
Bir Is are singing upon every bOugh, to
give the day ''gOOd-morrow," and the small
streamlets, swollen by past rains, are chant
ing loud but soft harmonies to the water
pixies, as they dash headlong toward the
river down below.
mo tears
Dim the sweet look that Nature wears"
but rather smile is on leaf, and flower, and
waving bracken. And on Monica, too, as,
with glad eyes and parted lips, she steps
lightly into the shadow of the old porch at
Moyne. No sweeter presence ever honored
it. Leaning against one of the pillars, she
stoops forward, and gazes almost gratefully
at the merry sunbeams, as they creep up in
homage to her feet and then go swiftly back
again. ..:.
She is dressed to-day in pale-blue batiste
gown, that rivals In hue the delicate azure
Of the skies above her. Her large black hat
is mass of Spanish lace, her long gloves
are Of the same somber shade, and so are
her shoes, though relieved by buckles. With
that smile upon her lips, and the subdued
expectation In her eyes, she looks the per-
sonifcation of all that is tender, pure, and
lovable.
Are you ready?" asks Kit joining her.
''The carriage is coming round"
Quite"
'All but your fan; where is that?'
"Ah! true; l forgot it. 1t must be on my
table. II
mo, do not stir. will get it for you. 1t
would be shame to send you on any GRAND
that might destroy your present pose, you
look so like cloud, or thing out of Kate
Greenaway's books"
sit is very rude to call me thing; it is
disheartening, when believed l was look
ing my best" says Monica, laughing. Some
how Kits praises always please her.
Then the carriage does come round, and
they all get into it, and start for t. ir seven
miles drive, very slow seven miles, at the
end of which they find themselves in the
small town of Clonbree, mounting the steep
hill thatleads to the Barracks, which are plac-
ed on q most unsavory eminence-all the
narrow streets leading up to them being
lined with close cabins and tiny houses that
are anything but ''sweets to the sweet"
Entering the small barrack-yard, and find
ing a door Hospitality open, the Misses Blake
go up wooden staircase, and presently find
themselves on the landing-place above,
where they are welcomed effusively by Mr..
Ryde, who is looking bigger and hotter and
stouter than usual.
Captain Goblet in the largest room-there
are but two available In these rustic bar
racks-is trying vainlyto find comfortable
quarter for old Lady Rossmoyne, who Is
both deaf and stupid, but who, feeling it her
duty to support on all occasions (both fes-
tive and otherwise) the emissaries Of her
queen, has accepted this invitation, and is
now heartily sorry for her loyalty.
She is sitting in durance vile upon low
chair, with carpet seat and treacherous
nature, that threatens to turn upon her and
double her up at any moment if she dares
to give away to even the smallest amount Of
natural animation; so perforce the poor old
woman sits still, like patience on a mOnu-
ment smiling at grief" and that her own
grief, too, which, of course, is harder to
bearl
80 glad you've comet We were quite in
despair about you; but better late than
never, ehr' says Mr.. Ryde to Monica, with
a fat smile. There is rather much of too
solid flesh" about his face.
II dare say" says Monica, very vaguely {;
she is looking anxiously round her, hoping
yet dreading, to see Desmond.
In the next room can be heard the sound
of music. MY Queen" is being played very
prettily upon piano by somebody Dane
ing is evidently going on, and Monica, who
adores it, feels her toes trembling in her
shoes.
"May have the pleasure of thiS?" says
Mr.. Ryde. 'I've kept it for you all along,
you know. If you tell me you have already
given it away, l shall feel myself aggrieyed
indeed"
WAS there ever so silly young man%'
thinks Monica, and then she says aloud,
mo, it is not promised" and lets him place
his arm round her, and reluctantly mingles
with the other dancers. To do him justice,
he waltzes very well, this fat young marine,
so it cannot be said that she has altogether
a bad time, and she certainly feels little
glow of pleasure as she pauses presently to
recover her breath.
AS she does so, her eyes rest on Desmond,
He, too, is dancing and with Olga Bohun.
He is whispering to his partner, who Is
whispering back to him in a somewhat pro-
nounced fashion, and altogether he Is look
ing radiantly happy, and anything but the
disconsolate swain Monica has been pictur-
ing to herself He is smiling down at olga
and is apparently murmuring all sorts OF
pretty things into her still prettier ear, be-
cause they both look quite at peace with
each other and all the world.
A pang shoots through MOnica's heart.
He Can be as happy then, with one pretty