Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1899-11-11
MONICA.
A LOVE STORY OF MODERN DAYS.
CHAPTER 4,

on the happy, careless ones that the end OF
oil things Is at hand. The roses knock theft
fragrant buds against the wihdow-panes
calling attention to their dainty sweetness.
The pigeons coo amorously upon the sils
outside, and even thrust their pretty heads
Into the breakfast-room, demanding plain.
lively their daily crumbs, but no one needs
A deadly silence has fallen upon this room
1t Moyne, albeit life Is fully represent.c
here, and two eyes, III which the light Of
youth Is quenched, are looking anxiously IL
to two other eyes that have also seen the
best and the sweetest of their DAYS.
IIopelessly the golden roses scattered their
petals. In vain the white and tawny birds
entrcat backsheesh To no purpose does the
elderly clock count out its numbers. The
urn is Kissing angriy, the two cups Of tea
80 carefully prepared are growing cold. So
are the crisp little hotCakes, so Ia the
No! by the bye, 1t isn't! Honey can't.
What a chance / was near giving the re-
viewers!
One bird, growing annoyed at the prolong-
I'd quiet, files from the open window TO the
back of Miss Penelope's chair, and settles
there with an indignant fiutter and sup
pressed but angry note. This small sugges-
ton Of living world destroys the spell that
for the last few minutes has been connect
| ing the brain with dead one.
Miss Penelope, raising her head, gives
words to her thoughts.
Poor, poor Katherinew she says, gently
moothing out the letter that lies upon her
knee. "llow her happiness was wrecked !
and what sad ending there has been to
everything! Her children coming home to
Us, fathc.Iess motherless Dear child what
life hers has been! 1t squite twenty years
Ayn N1 ,.aNi A,ll l..
as yesterday"
'She shouldn'thave taken things so easily |;
she should have asserted herself at the time y
says Miss Priscilla, whose voice Is always
note sharper than her sisters.
1T requires great deal of thought and
and great deal of moral courage TO assert
'ne's Self when q man has behaved abomin-
1ably to ne,-has, In fact, Tilted one !" says
Miss Penelope, bringing out the awful word
with little shudder and shake of her
gentle head, that sets two pale lavender rib
oons In her cap swaylng mildly to and fro.
why was she so fatally silent about ev-
elything, except the one bare fact Of his re-
| tusal, at the last moment, to marry her,
without assigning any cause for his base de-
;ertion? Why didn't she open her whole
heart to me? / wasn't afraid of the man ~
says Miss Priscilla, with such terrible energy
and such warlike front as might well ha ye
iaunted 'the man" or indeed any man.
could he have seen her. "She should have
1nburdened her poor bruised spirit to mo,
who-if my mother was not hers, and IL I
vas many years her senior-had at least q
sisters love for her"
"A true love-" says Miss Penelope, with
another sigh.
'Instead Of which," regrctfuly, "she hid
I'll her sorrows in her, own bosom, and no
doubt wept and pined for the miscreant in
secret"
Poor soulw says Miss Penelope, pro-
torndly affected by this dismal picture.
Tears born Of tenderness spring to her eyes.
do you remember, Priscilla, how she re-
fused to show his letter, wishing, suppose,
sven then to spare him?'
u forget nothingr with some acersity.
often, when saying my prayers, have
wished could forget him, but can't, Vo
nave to so on being uncharitable and il sin,
If indeed sin it be to harden ones heart
against bad man."
"Do you remember, too, my dear Priscilla,
how she refused 10 60 to church the Sunday
after she received his coldhlooded missiye
telling her he wished his engagement at an
md? often wonder In what language he
,ould have couched such scandalous de-
lire; but she tore the letter up. Dear dear
t might have happened today, it is all 50
| slear to me-"
"Too clear" says Miss Priscilla.
III recollect, too" says Miss Penelope.
leaning her elbows on the table, pushing her
untaSted tea from her, and warming to tho
dismal memory, chow she would not come
down to dinner on that eventful evening,
though we had red-currant tart she was so
fond of, and how took her up some myself
and knocked at her door and entreated her
to open to me and to eat some of it. There
was whipped cream on it; she was very fond
of cream, too"
And she refused to open the door%' ask
ed Miss Priscilla, with the satisfied air of
one who has often heard the thrilling recital
before, yet was never tired Of ii.
Absolutely! so laid the plate on a little
table outside her door. Some hours after
ward, going up to bed saw the plate was
gone her door slightly ajar. Stealing into
her room on tiptoe, saw che was sleeping
peacefully, and that she had eaten the red
currant tart. / felt so happy then. Poor
dear child how fond she was Of that tart ~
"She liked everything that had sugar in
It," says Miss Priscilla, mournfully.
ut was only natural. Sweets to the
sweet" says Miss Penelope, letting one lit
tie white jeweled hand fall slowly, sadly
upon the other.
There is heightened pause.
Presently, STOPPING slightly toward her
sister, Miss Penelope says in mysterious
Whisper
81 wonder, my dear Priscilla, aoly she
married James Beresford month after
ward
"Who can read the human hearth Per-
haps it was pride drove her into that mar
rlage,-a desire to show George Desmond
how lightly she treated his desertion of her.
And James was handsome young fellow,
whereas George was"
Ugly" says Miss Penelope, with quite
an amazing amount of vicious satisfaction,
for her,
"Strikingly So" says Miss Priscilla, ac-
quiescing most agreeably. "But then the
Desmond estates mean half the county and
we used to think he was the soul of honor"
ut was our fathers expressed desire up
on his death-bed that Katherine should mar
ry him."
'Yes, yes; a desire to be held sacred" /"
And Katherine gave her promise to our dy-
ing parent. Nothing" says Miss Priscilla,
In solemn tone, should induce any one to
break such an oath. have often said so to
the dear child. But she appeared not only
willing but anxious to marry George Des-
mond. His was the traitorous mind"
Il dare say he has had his own punish
ment," says Miss Penelope mildly.
II hope So" says Miss Priscilla sternly.
Then, with return to sadness, Twenty
years ago it is, and now she has been
twelve-month dead and in her quiet grave"
"Oh don't, my dear Priscilla" says Miss
Penelope, in broken voice, burying her
face in her pocket-handkerchief.
"Ah well, well, we had better look to the
future: the past has no charms for u.s." says
Miss Priscilla, with a CHASTITY attempt at