Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1899-12-16

hardly woman TO be tired Of readily"
That Is matter Of opinion. We-that
| Is, Terry and Kit and Thought her very
| tiresome woman indeed, says Miss Beres-
ford, calmly. She does not look at him as
she makes this startling speech, but looks
beyond him into, possibly past where the
| "tiresome woman" held part.
Brian Desmond, gazing at her pale, pure,
| spiritual face sustains a faint shock, as the
meaning of her words reaches him. Is she
heartless. emotionlessp Could not even
mothers love touch her and wake her into
| life and feeling?
"You weren't very fond ofyour mother,
then?' he asks, gently. The bare memory
of his own mother is adored by him.
'FondT' says Monica, as though the idea
Is new one TO her. Fond? Yes, l sup
| pose so; but we were all much fonder of my
father. Not that either he or mamma took
very much notice of us.''
Were they so much wrapt up in each
other, then?"
mo, certainly not" quickly. Then, with
an amount of bitterness In her tone that
contrasts strangely with its usual softness,
u wonder why called my mother mann
ma to you just now. l never dared do so to
her. Once when she was going away some
where threw my arms round her and call
ed her by that pet name; but she put me
from her, and told me was not to make
noise like sheep"
She seems more annoyed than distressed
as she says this. Desmond is silent Per-
haps his silence frightens her, because she
turns TO him with rather pale, nervous
| face.
Il suppose should not say such things as
these to You" she says, unsteadily. II for
got 1t did not occur TO me, that we are only
strangers"
''Say what you will to me, says Desmond,
slowly, "and be sure of this, that what YOU
do say will be heard by you and me alone"
Il believe you,' she answers, with little
sigh.
And, besides, we are not altogether
strangers he goes on, lightly; that day
on the river Is link between us, isn't it?'
"Oh, yes, the river" she says smiling.
"OW river. have brought myself to be-
lieve it is our joint property; no one else
seems to know anything about it,"
II have never been near it sincG," says
Monica. :,
II hlolc uIdt," returns he, meaningly.
She bushes deeply, and then, in spite Of
herself, laughs out loud, a low but ringing
laugh, full of music and mischief.
This most uncalled-for burst Of merri-
ment has the effect of making Mr.. Desmond
preternaturally grave.
MAY ask what you are laughing at"' he
says, with painful poiteness; whereupon
Miss Beresford checks her mirth abruptly,
and has the grace to blush again even harder
than before. Her confusion Is, indeed, the
prettiest thing possible.
IL don't know" she says, in an eyasive
tone.
NIDaopIa o,nporalI,, 10 lypn,y ,,l ~ tbox, ora
laughing at" contends he, seriously. 1t was
ridiculous of me TO suppose you would ever
come again to the river: but one hopes
against hope. Yet, as Feltham 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 one way" still with
her eyes downturned.
"By what right did expect you? j was
. presumptuous fool, and got just what /
deserved"
"You were not a fool" eyclams she,
quickly; and then, with little impulsive
gesture, she draws herself up and looks him
fair i'm the eyes. IF had known you were
there" she says, brayely, though evidently
frightened at her own temerity, "I-I-am
almost sure I should have been there toop
mo! would you reallyP' says Desmond
eagerly.
Then follows q rather prolonged silence.
Not an awkward one, but certainlya silence
fraught with danger to BOTH There is no
greater friend to Cupid than an unsought ST.
lence such as this. At last ii is broken.
What lovely roses there are in this gar
f, N h,,ph ~
glowing beauty near him.
Are there note" She has taken off a
long white glove, so that one hand and arm
are bare. The hand is particularly small
and finely shaped, the nails on il 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
II to his face, as though desirouS Of sympa-
thy, says
rs 1t not sweet?"
ut Is indeedw He is staring at her. Very
gently he takes the little hand that holds
the flowers and keeps it in his own. lie de-
talns 1t SO lightly that she might withdraw
IL If she pleases, but she does not Perhaps
she doesn't please, or perhaps she sees moth
ing remarkable In his action. At all events,
she, who is SO prone to blush on all occa-
si0ns, does not change color now, but chat
ters to him gayly, in an unconcerned 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 anthem, he strokes
them lightly with his other hand, and counts
her rings.
'Four-fve," he says; ''qute aburden for
such little hand to carry"
Il like them," says Monica: "brooches
and earrings and bracelets don't care for
but rings love. never really feel dressed
until they are on. To slip them on my fin
gers Is the last thing do every morning be-
fore running downstairs. At least, nearly
the last
"And what is the last?''
II say my prayers" says Monica, smiling.
"That is what every one does, isn't it?''
Il don't know" says Mr.. Desmond, not
looking at her. 1t seems to iima long, long
time now since last he said his prayers. And
then he suddenly decides within himself
that he will say them tomorrow morning,
'the last thing before going down-stairs;"
he cannot have quite forgotten them yet.
He Is examining her rings as no thinks all
this and now little pale turquoise thing at
tracts his notice.
''Who gave you that?" he asks, suddenly.
1t is to jealous eye rather lovable little
ring.
Papa, when was fourteen" says Moni-
ca. 1T is very pretty isn't it? have felt
quite grown up ever since he gave me that"
Monica" says Brian Desmond suddenly,
tightening his hold OH her hand, ''had you
ever lover before?"
''Before?'
yes" slowly, and as if determined to
make his meaning clear, and yet, too, with
a certain surprise at lis own question Had
you?"