Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1900-04-07

a LOVE STORY OF MODERN DAYS
CHATTER XXI.

CHAPTER XXI.
"Why so pale and wan, fond lover%' he
says, lightly, laying his hand on Ulic's
shoulder. The latter turns to him with a
bright smile that renders his handsome face
quite beautiful. Seeing its charm, Kelly
asks himself, In half-angry fashion, how
Olga can possibly hesitate for one moment
between him and ROssmoyne. "But they
are all alike heartless," he decides, bitterly.
IL am feeling neither pale nor wan" says
Ronayne, still smiling. ut must be the
moon, II anything. Look here, Kelly, some
thing tonight has told me that 1t will all
come right In the end. l shall gain her
against the heaviest odds"
IF you mean Rossmoyne, he's the heavi-
est mortal l know" says Kelly.
swell, he isn't suitedt to her, Is hep There
Il a strange excitement in Ronayne's man
neg. Putting me out Of the question alto
gefher, j don't believe he could make her
happy. If thought he could, OF course |
| should go away somewhere, and find con-
tentment In the thought OF her; but-yOu
don't think she would do well to marry him,
do you Kcjly?" lie has controlled his fea-
lures to an almost marvellous calm, but the
agony Of his question in his eyes cannot be
hid.
~ think the woman who could even hest
tate between you and him must be a fool,
and worse" SAYS Kelly, whose temper is
not his own to-Iight. HE Is a pedantic ass,
more in love with himself than he can ever
be with anything else. While you- Look
here, RoDayne; l wonder If any woman is
aUOrth it,"
"oh, she is" says Ronayne, with tender
conviction. II don't think she Is at all like
,tl,or ,an.,la. ln NnnO nbnra'c o,pnntItn,
Notwithstanding spectL-about her.
II dare say" says Kelly, gently, which Is
rather good OF him, considering his frame Of
mind.
YOU'RE an awfully kind sort Of fellow,
Kelly, do.you knows" says Ronayne, Slip
ping his arm through his. You are the
suppose I must bore you, though you don't
say il. It's the most generous thing | know,
your sympathizing with me as You do. If
you were in love yourself, l could under
stand it. But you are not, you know"
"Oh, no; of course not" says Mr.. Kelly.
as that your guitar, Mrs. Bohun? | wish
you would sing US something" says Miss
Browne at this moment.
II don't sing much and never out Of
doors; it hurts my throat So" says Olga,
smiling at her; but if any one else will
sing, | will gladly play to them"
"Mr. Ronayne,-Ulic-come here" says
Monica, half shyly, but very swcetly. "You
can sing, | know"
"Yes, come here" says Olga, turning to
him, and away from Lord Rossmoyne, who
Is talking to her in low, short, angry tones.
But the latter, laying his hand on her arm,
half compels her TO turn to him again.
Let some one else accompany him If he
must sing" he says; "dny m but YOU"
mo one else can"
81 object TO your doing it,"
'You won't when you hear him he sings
so sweetly," with the prettiest, most enthusi-
astic smile. "You really should hear him."
you persist, then? you compel mt to be-
lieve the worst, to regard you as implicated
IN that story Of Kelly's"
Il compel you to nothing. And as for the
story, | thought it very amusing; didn't
you?"
Nor says Rossmoyne, with snbdued
fury.
"Do you know, | often said you lacked
humOrP" says Mrs. Bohun, with q little airy
laugh "and now | am sure of it. | thought
1t intensely comic; such a situation! |
should like to have seen your face when the
curtain was drawn, II yOu had been the
young man."
II must beg you to understand that such
a situation would be impossible to me-"
81 am TO understand, then, that you would
not 'emb--' that was what he said, wasn't
it?-a woman IL you loved her?"
Not without permission, certainly" very
stifly.
"Oh, dear!" says Olga; what a stupid
mani Well, l shouldn't think you would
do it often. And so YOU wouldn't have liked
to be that particular young manP"
This Is a poser; Lord Rossmoyne parties
the thrust.
would yOu have liked to be that young
woman,-who, as it appears to me, wasn't
at all PARTICULAR he asks, in turn.
That Is no answer to my question:" says
Olga, who Is angry with his last remark.
Are you afraid to say what you mean?'
Afraid No. TO give publicity to a thing
means always to yulgarize it; therefore, on
consideration, / should not have cared to be
that young man.
"Ah!I should have thought otherwise"
says Olga, in an indescrlbable tone. well,
there must be consolation for you in the
thought that you never can be. Mr.. RO-
nayne," calling to Ulic lightly, 'are you
coming, or must | sit lingering my Tyre i II
vainT'
Ulic, coming slowly up to her, stands be-
skle her, as she seats herself again upon the
marble edge of the fountain, and runs her
fingers gracefully over its strings.
His voice, q rich sweet tenor, breaks upon
the air, blends with the beauty Of the night,
and sinks into it until all seems one great
harmony. "Tis |" is the song he has chosen,
and a wonderful pathos that borders on des-
pair enriches every note. He has forgotten
every one but her, the pretty dainty creature
who holds his heart in the hollow Of her
small hand. She must hear the melancholy
that Is desolating and thereby pcrfecting
his voice; but, If so, she gives no sign. Once
only her fingers tremble, but she cOrrects
herself almost before her error is committed,
and never after gives way to even the faint
est suspicion of feeling.
Through the glade the music swells and
throbs. Mary Browne, drawing instructive
" nearer, seems lost in its enchantment
Monica, looking up with eyes full Of tears
into Desmond's face, finds his eyes fixed on
her, and, with a soft, childish desire for
sympathy, slips her hand unseen into his.
How gladly he takes and holds it need not
here be told.
As he to the last verse, ROnayne's
voice grows lower; it doesn't tremble, yet
there is in it something suggestive Of the
idea that he is putting a terrible conStraint
upon himself:
"If regret some times assails thee
For the days when first we met,
And thy weary spirit fail thee,
And thine eyes grow dim and wet,
Oh, It's j. love,
AT thy heart, love,
Humming, How couldst thou forgetP'
The music fingers still for moment, GIBBS,
and then dies away. Ronayne steps hack,
and all seems over. How Olga has proved
so utterly unmoved by the passionate pro-
test is exercising more minds than one,
when suddenly she rises, and with a swift
mOyamant hands ovar tha fountain Another