The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1899-12-16

- $50 hoN. uINCt udtGu uD SUl ~
Ter. Once when she was going away Some
where I threw my arms round her and cali
cd her by that net nane:- but she put me
from her. and told me l 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 friglltens her, because she
turns to him with u rather. pale, nervous
face.
Il suppose 1 should not say suchthings as
these to you" she says, unsteadily. II for
got, 1t did not occur to me-, that we are only
| strangers
Say what youwill to me- says Desmond,
slowly, land be sure Of this, that what you
DO say will be heard by you and me a,one.,'
believe you,s she answers, with a little
sigh.
"And, besides, we are not altogether
strangers" he goes on, lightly; What day
Oh the river is a link between us, isn't it?,
"Oh, yes, the river she says smiling.
Our river. l have brought myself to be-
lieve 1t is orr joint property; no one else
seems to know anything about it.,
II have never been near 1t sinca,H says
Monica.
II knosc that returns he, meaningly.
She bushes deeply, and then, in spite Of
herself, laughs out loud, q low but ringing
laugh, full Of music and mischief.
This most uncalled-for burst of mcrri-
ment has the effect of making Mr.. Desmond
preternaturally grave.
"Alay1 ask what you are laughing at?" no
SAYS, with painful politcness; %whereupon
Miss Beresford checks her mirth abruptly,
and has the grace to blush again even liaraer
than before. Her confusion is, indeed, tile
prettfest thing possible.
81 don't know Shp cayS In ens acoriva
tone.
People generally do know what they are
laughing at" contends lie, seriously. 1t was
ridiculous Of me to suppose you would ever
come again to the river; but one hopes
against hope. Yet, as Fcltham tells us, he
that hopes too much shall deceive himself
at last that was my fate, You see. And
You never once thought of coming, did, you?
You were quite right
mo, | was quite wrong; but-but-uou
are quite wrong too in o1e way still with
her eyes downturned.
'By what right did expect you? i was
a presumptuous fool, and got Just what I
~dcsarved."
"You were not a fool,'' exclaims she,
quickly; and then, with a little impulsive
gesture, she draws herself up and looks hin
fair in the eyes. sIf l had known You were
there she says, hravely. though evidently
frightened at her W %tclnerity. sl-I-am
almost sure I should nave been there too!'
NO! would you really?:" says Desmond,
eagerly.
Then follows a rather prolonged silence.
Not an awkward one, but certainly u silence
fraught with danger to both. There is no
greater friend to Cupid than an unsought ST.
lence such as this. Al last it is broken.
: 'sWhat lovely roses there are in this gar
den. y says Desmond, pointing to a bush Of
glowing beauty near him.
Are there not!.' She has taken off a
long white glove, so that IL hand and arm
are bare. The hand is particularly small
and finely shaped. the nails on it are a pic
ture in themselves; the arm is slight and
childish, but rounded and very fair.
Breaking a rose from the tree indicated,
she examines it lovingly, and then, lifting
1t to his face, as though DESTROYS of sympa-
thy, says
rs it not swcet9"
'1tis indeed!" He is staring at her. Very.
gently he takes the little hand TINT holds
the flowers and keeps it in his own, He de-
tains it so lightly that she might withdraw
1t if she pleases, but she does not. PERHAPS
she doesn't please, or perhaps she secs not!
ing remarkable in his suction. AT all events,
she, who is so prone to blush on all occa-
slons, does not change color now, but chat
tefs to him ayly, in an uilconcerned man
ner, about the scented blossoms round her,
and afterwards about the people yonder,
behind the tall towering shrubs that sur
round the tennis ground.
And still her little slender fingers lie pass
lively in his. CHANGING at them, he strokes
them lightly with his otilerhana, and counts
her rings.
b "Four-tive," he says; quite aBurden for
such 4 little hand to carry
y II like them" says Monica; brooches
and earrings and bracelets l don't care FOR
but rings | love. / never really feel dressed.
until they are OH. To slip them cn my fin
gers is the last thing | do every morning be-
fore running downstairs. AT least, nearly
the last
And what is the last?:'
Il say my prayers says Monica, smiling.
'oThat is what every one does, lsn'tit?"
u don't know says Mr.. Desmond, not
looking at her. 1t seems to ;lima long, long
time nov since last he said his prayers. And
then he suddenly decides within himself
that he will say them tomorrow morning,
tho last thing before going dowil-stairs;;' y
he cannot have quite forgotten them act.
He is examining her rings as he thinks all
this and now q little pale turquoise thing at
| tracts his notice.
who gave You that?:' he asks, suddenly
1t is to a jealous eye rather a loyablc little
ring.
Papa, when l was foirteen,'' says Moni-
ca. 1T is very pretty, isn't ii? have felt
quite grown up ever since he ss.ye me tiint.''
Monica says Brian Desmond suddenly,
tightening his hold on her hand, had you
ever n lover betorc?i
"Before?o
w. ttEscD sIp,ul1- owl o-sf ntarr~;.,,lH ~
make his meaning clear. and yet. too, With
q certain surprised his own question. sIIad
you?n"
"Before?' as if hewildcred, she repcats
tho word again. "'Nhy, 1 never had a lover
at dlI!"
"Donot say tliatagain,' 2 says Prian, moving
astcp nearer to her and growing pale: II am
your lover now-mnd foierer!fn
"0h! no, no. says Monica, shrinking
from him. "Do not say that
II won't, If you forbid me, but quickly,
II AM, and shall be, all the same l think
my very sonl-belongs to you.n
A crnncliig OF gravel, q sound Of coming
footsteps, the murmur Of approaching
voices.
Monica, pallid rs an early snow-drop,
looks up to see her aunt Priscilla coming
toward her, accompanied by Il young man.
w hOA hti' 81 ShSus sNuiS mai, Will "
rather drilled air.
Ahlhcre is Aunt Priscilla, says Monica,
breathlessly. .'lSho is that with lser?n
"Ryde, ono of the marines stationed at
Clonbree.' says MI. Desmond. cursing tho
marine most honestly in his heart of
hearts. Clonhree Is Il small town about
seven miles from Rossmoyns, where q conf
pany of marines has been sent to quall the
Land League disturbances.
Miss Priscilla is looking quite pleased
with herself. and greets Monica With q fond
smile.
Il knew l should find you here, she says;
flowers have silchn fascination for YOU.
You will let me introduce You to Mr.. Ryde,
dear cilild!!
And then the Introduction isgone through,
and Monica says something unworthy of
note TO this biz youag man, wIio9is staring
at her in q more earnest manner than IS
strictly within the rules of etiquette. Some
how, too. she presently discovers She has