Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1900-03-24

4 LOVE STORY OF MODERN DAYS

lou may, indeed, my pretty one; n i
hope it won't be long before you pour me
out ely tea in your own house."
Monica laughs, and kisses her, and Des-
mond, who Is standing near them, stoops
over Madame O'Connor and tells her he
would like to kiss her too, first, for her own
sake, and secondly, for that sweet hope of
hers just uttered.
"Not a bit of it, says she, in return, in a
tone as sprightly as it was twenty years ago,
though too low for Monica to hear. "Your
first and second reasons are all humbug.
Say at once you want to kiss me because
you think this child's caress still fingers on
my lips. All ha!-you see l know more
than you think, my lad. And bark you,
Brian, come here till / whisper a word In
your ear. I'm your friend, boy, in this mat
ter, and wish you luck, though Priscilla
Blake kill me for it; that's what ! want to
say"
II couldn't desire a better friend" says
Brian, gratefully.
And where on earth is Mary Browne?"
says Madame O'Connor. "She Is such a
nice girl, though hardly a Venus. Owen,
my dear, | want yox to take her down to
dinner, and TO make yourself charming to
her."
II shall be only too pleased" says Mr..
Kelly, family; and then he sinks back In
his chair and covers his face with his hands.
"'We were talking about Miss Brownies
father: he was quite a millionaire, wasn't
hep says Lord Rossmoyne, who is stand
ing at the tea-table beside Olga. He is a
very rich man himself, and has, therefore,
a due regard for riches in others.
ale was,-and the most unpleasant per-
son | ever met in mylife, into the bargain"
| caNG Ai11ann n'(Nnnnny t'l'n, Strn tba lifa
he led that poor Mary!-I never felt more
relieved at anything than at the news of his
DEATH"
IL feel as if | could weep for Mary" says
Mr.. Kelly, in an aside to Mrs. Herrick, who
takes no notice of him. Il wonder if she
has got a little lamb" he goes cl, unrebuk-
ed.
"NNhat about the lamb?' says Madame,
whose ears are young as ever.
IL was only conjecturing as to whether
your cousin Mary had a little lamb" says
Mr.. Kelly, genially. "The old Mary had,
you know. A dear little animal, with It's
Fleece as white as snow;
And everywhere that Mary went
The lamb was sure to go.'
You rccollect, don't you? What does Miss
Browne do with hers? Has she got it up
stairs in her room, now? After all, -though
the idea is sweeSly pretty,-I think there
might be certain places into which it would
be awkward to have even the whitest lamb
trOtting after one. Eli"
81 suppose Miss Browne is rich enough to
| indulge in any v~agarles that may occur to
her," says Bella Fitzgerald.
"There's nothing like money" says Olga,
with a sigh; at which Lord RoSsmoyne looks
hopeful, and young Ronayne Respondent.
al tho lnotlnr Won mnon - CaN-S nuvap
Kelly; that's the real thing to get hold off,
"Some people would do anything for
money" says Miss Fitzgerald, with a spite
full glance in Olga's direction. They would
sell themselves for it." Here she turns her
cold eyes upon Ronaync, who Is standing
erect, handsome, but Enthusiastically miser-
able.
"They could hardly sell themselves for a
more profitable article" says Olga, with a
fine shHlg of her soft shoulders.
$50 they think. Crgsus, we know, was,
and is, all-powerful.'
"Oh, no." says Olga, with a little silvery
laugh; you forget, my dear Bella. Read
1t up again, and you will see that Cr9sus
was once conquered by Cyrus. What be-
came of his power then"'
Her lasheS cover her eyes for q moment,
and when she lifts them again they are fixed
on ROnayne. By ONE COquettish art she
gives him to understand in this single glance
that he is Cyrus, Lord RosSmOyne CrnSus.
He can conquer this rich lord if he will.
How idle you are, Mr.. Ronayner' she
says, aloud. Come here directly and help
tie. You know | cannot do without your
help" There is the most delicate emphasis
possible upon the pronoun. Obedient to her
command, he comes, as ROssmOyne, armed
with the cups, crosses the hall TO Hernia
and Miss Fitzgerald.
"Did your eyes speak true ~justnowT' he
asks, bending over her under pretext Of
helping her with the cups.
What is truthY asks she, in turn, with a
swift upward glance. "Who knows aught
of her? She lies buried in a deep well, does
she not? Who shall drag her forth?'
she smiles, yet in a somewhat constrained
fashion, that asserts i'll with the Unborn self
possession that as a rule characterizes her.
She glances at him hurriedly. How young
and handsome and earnest he looks! How
full of teDderest entreaty! There is, too, q
touch Of melancholy in his dark eyes that
never came to the birth (she is fain to ac-
knowledge to herself with n pang of re-
morse) until that day when first they look
ed on her.
He loves her, thatshe knows but Rossmoync
loves her too; and though ROnayne's rent
roll Is by no means to be despised, still it
counts but as q small one beside that of
R~OsSmoyne's.
And Hernia is right! a title is Of use in
the world; and nothing is so lasting or so
satisfactory as a respectable book at ones
bankers. A good match QIermia AGAIN. is
the one thing to be desired; it covers all sins.
Advice such as this coming from Mrs. Her
rick is thoroughly disinterested, as the late
lamented Mr.. HerTick, having behaved to
her like a brute during their mercifully short
married life, had died in the odor Of sancti-
ty, leaving her complete mistress Of all his
enormous wealth, and quite free to make q
second marriage of her olUn choosing.
With her (Olga), however, the use is
widely different; she is indeed without in
cumbrances so far as children may so be
termed, and she has sufficient means to en-
able her to get her gowns and things from
Paris, but there her independence ends.
AS she runs over all this hurriedly in he~
mind, the desire for riches grows upon her.
Yes, there is certainly q great deal of good
In RosSmoync, besides lis income; and per-
haps q solid %sternness is preferable to any
airy gayety of manner this with an ire
presAble leaning toward the 'GiTy gayety') +;
and-and-wEat a pity it is that Rossmovne
is not Ulic -
II will" says Ronayne, abiding to her
last remark, in a low but determined tone.
"Olga, tell me that 1 am more to you than
Rossmoyne."
1.-THE boy you arew says Olga, with an
adorable smile that reaches him through the
Pickering flashes of the freight. 1.-THE
babyv He is bending over her. and with a
light caressing touch she brushes back the
hair from his temples. 'tIn a year, nay, in
a month, once we are separated, you will
see some other face, newer, more desirable,
and forget you ever cared for mine"
'If / could believe that, might find peace.
Yat for all that mace could rive me. 7