Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1900-01-27
CHAPTER VI

L
II is ten o'clock, and as lovely night as
ever overhung the earth. The moon Is al
its fullest, the wind has fallen, all is calm
as heaven itself, through which Dctynna's
unclOuded grandeur rolls.
The Misses Blake, fatigued by their un-
usual dissipation, ordered an early rout an
| hour agone, whereby bedroom candlesticks
were in demand at nine or half past nine
| o'clock.
Now in MOnica's room, Kit Is standing by
the open window, gazing In rapt admiration
at the dew-spangled garden beneath. Like
| diamonds glitter the grass and the flowers
beneath the kiss Of the queen of night
Moonbeams are playing In the roses, and
wrestling in the lilies, and rocking TO and
| fro upon the bosom of the stream.
There Is peace unspeakable on all
around. One holds ones breath and feels
q longing painful in its intensity as one
| drinks in the beauty of the earth and sky.
'Twere hedUcn to be assured of love on such
a night as this.
Stars make the vault above so fine that all
the world, methinks should be i'm love with
night and pay no worship to the garish sun.
There Is rush of feeling in the air,-a
promise OF better things to come,-of hope,
of glad desire, of sweet love perfected!
How lovely night 1t is p SAYS Kit, lean.
ing far out Of the window, and gazing west
ward. She Is at heart a born artist. with a
mind, indeed, too full of strange. weird
thoughts at times to augur well for the hap
pness of her future. Like many of her Irish
race, she is dreamy, poetcal, l,-intense at
one moment gay, wild, impulsive the next.
''See what a food of light there IS on
everythingp she says, "Bathetl In moon
light" what a good thought was thatl
Monica, when am as old as you, in a very
few short years shall be poet"
mo, you won't, darling; you will be
musician. See what fairies lie beneath YOUR
fingers even now when you touch the piano
or violin; be content then, with your great
gift, which most surely Is yours. And to
me, indeed, 1t seems grander thing to thrill
and enchain and draw to your feet all hearts
by the power of harmony that dwells with.
in you, than by the divine gift of song that
poets have"
but their songs arc harmony" says the
child, turning quickly to her.
"Ay, the Interpretation of it. but you have
Its very breath. No; search the world over,
and you will find nothing so powerful to
affect the souls OF all as music"
well some day shall want to do some
thing" says Kit vaguely; and then she
turns to the window again, and lets her
mind wander and lose itself in mute sonata
to the fair Isis throned above.
ut draws me-" she says, presently, rising
slowly and addressing Monica, but always
with her gaze fixed upon the sleeping rlr-
den down below. 1T is so bright, so clear"
What Kit?"
"The moonlight. must" restcssly, Ego
down into it for little moment or shall
not sleep through longing for it,"
"But the doors are closed, Wy dearest, and
Aunt Priscilla is in bed, asd - are the SER
wants."
80 much the better. can draw the bolts
myself without being question-' You said
just now," gayly, II have fairy beneath
my fingers. think have moon-fairy in
my heart because love K 81"
Stay here with me, then, and worship It
sensibly from my window"
what! do you look for sense in moon
struck madness% No; Il shall go down to
my scented garden. / have fancy l can
not conquer to walk into that tiny flame
white path of moonlight over there near the
hedge. Do YOU see it?'
''Yes. Well, go, If Titania calls you, kus
soon return, and bring me lily,-I, too,
have fancy, you see,-a tall lily, fresh with
dew and moonshine."
''You shall have the tallest, the prettiest /
can tnd," says Kit from the doorway, where
she stands framed upknowingly, looking
such slender, ethereal creature, with eyes
too large for her small face, that Monica,
with sudden pang of fear, goes swiftly up
her, and, pre- sing her to her heart, holds
her so for moment.
II know what you are thinking now" says
Kit, with another laugh,-'that shall die
early"
Exit! Kitw
"Yes. Isn't it strange? / can read most
peoples thoughts. But be happy about me-
1 look fragile, know, but shall not die un-
I'll am quite respectable age. Not MD
eous age, you will understand, but with my
hair and teeth intact. One keeps ones hair
until forty; doesn't one?'
II don't know. I'm no. forty" says Moni-
ca. "But hurry, hurry out of the garden,
because the dew is falling"
Down the dark staircase, through the
darker halls, into the brilliant moonlight,
goes Kit. The wind, soft as satin, plays
about her pretty brows and nestles through
her hair, rewarding itself thus for its Ell
forced quiet of an hour ago. Reveiing in
the freedom she has gained, Kit enters the
garden and looks lovingly around upon her
companions, the flowers.
Who would sleep when beauty such as
this is flung broadcast upon the earth, watt
ing for man to feast his slothful eyes up
on ii?
LiEgeringly, tenderly, Kit passes by each
blossom, or gazes into each
drowsy bell, until the moonlit patch of grass
she had pointed out to Monica is at last
reached. Here she stands in shadow, glanc-
Ing with coy delight at the fairy-land be-
yond. Then she plunges into it, and looks
q yeritable fairy herself, slim, and tall, and
beautiful, and more than worthy of the
wand she lacks.
Walking Straight up her silver path, she
goes to where the lilies grow, in bed close
By the hedge. But before she comes to