Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1900-04-28

INV, ho, Says bloIilca, impulSlvely, tears
In her eyes and voice. Trcmblingly she
yields herself to him, and lets him hold her
to his heart In a close embrace. "How could
you think that of me? Have you forgotten
that ! kissed you?"
Plainly she lays great stress upon that
rash act committed the other night beneath
the stars.
Forget ttp' says Desmond, In a tone that
leaves nothing to be desired. 'You are
mine, then, nOw,-now and forever" he
says. presently.
But there is always Aunt Priscilla . says
Monica, nervously. Her tone is full of af-
Fiction. 'Oh, Z she could only see me
now"
Well, she can't, that's one comfort; not
II she were the hundred-eyed Argus her
self"
II feel l am behaving very badly to her."
says Monica, d~olorously. II am, In spite Of
myself, deceiying her, and tomorrow, when
1t is all over, l."
1T shan't be over" interrupts he, with
considerable vigor. What q thing 10 say ~
II shall feel so guilty when / get back TO
Moyne. just as If had been doing some
thing dreadful. So l have, / think. How
shall l ever be able to look her in the face
again?'
boh Y gou NiluNs IL Is Tile SlnDlpkU
thing In the world. You have only to fix
your eyes steadily on the tip of her nose,
and there you erer'
This disgraceful frivolity on the part OF
her lover rouses quick reproach in Monica's
eyes.
II don't think il is a nice thing to laugh
at one" she says, very justly incensed. II
wouldn't laugh at yo,t, If you were unhappy.
You are not the least help to me. What am
/ to say to Aunt Priscilla9"
"How dye do? first; and then-in an airy
tone, you know-I am going to be married,
as soon as time permits, to Brian Desmsnd.'
No, no." ~penitently, catching a iirmer hold
OF her as she makes a valiant but Intellectual
effort to escape the shelter OF his arms, II
idn't mean IL. / am sorry, and I'll never
do it again. I'll sympathiZe with anything
you say, II you will promise not to desert
me-"
1T is you," reproachfully, "who deserts
me, and In my hour of need. / don't think"
wistfully, II am so Uery much to blame, am
j? didn't ask you to fall IN love with me,
and when you came here all this week to
sec Madame O'Connor | couldn't possibly
have turned my back upon you, could ~"
you could; but it would have brought
you to the verge of suicide and murder. Be-
cause, as you turned, | should have turned
too, on the chance Of seeing your face, and
SO on and IN, until vertigo set in, and death
ensued, and we were both buried ipone COM
mon grave. 1t sounds awful, doesn't itP
Well, and where, then, will you come to
meet me tomorrow
10 the river, | SUPPOSE says Monica.
ID you know" says Desmond, after q
short pause, Il shall have to leave you soon?
NJ ,~,-. 80 ,.4II n.Al. -.
whenever l do go it will be for a month at
least"
"A month";
YES"
"a whole long month"; ~
1.-THE longest month l shall have ever
known" sadly.
Il certainly didn't think you would go
and doa thing like that" says his beloved,
with much severity.
my darling, l can't help it; but we
needn't talk about it just yet. Only 1t came
into my head a moment ago, that 1t would
be very sweet 10 get a letter from you while
i was away; a letter" softly, "A letter from
Own wife TO her husband"
Monica glances at him In a half-perplexed
fashion, and then, az though some thought
has come TO her for the first time, and
brought merriment in its train, her lips part,
and all her lovely face breaks into silent
mirth.
What is it?' asks he, a little-just a very
little-disconcerted.
'Olt, nothing; nothing, really. Only it
does seem SO funny to think l have got a
husband" she says, I'm a choked whisper,
and then her mirth gets beyond her control,
and, but that Brian presses her head down
on his chest, and so stiles it, they might
have had Miss Fitzgerald out upon them in
ten seconds.
Hush ~ whispers the embryo husband,
giving her a little shake. But he is laugh
ing, too.
Il don't feel as if / honored you a bit,v
says Miss Beresford; 'and as to the obey
| certainly shan't do that"
"As if | should ask you! ~ says Desmond.
but what of the lore, sweetheart?"
why, as it Is yours, YOU ought to be the
one to answer Ud question:" retOrts she,
pyettily, a warm flush dyeing her face.
but why must you leave mc?' she says,
presently.
THE steward has written to me- once or
twice. Tenants nowadays are so trouble
some. OF course | could let the whole thing
slide, and the property go to the dogs; but
no man has a right to do that. | am talk
ing of my place now, you understand,
yours, as 1t will be soon, | hope"
And where iS-Our place."
The hesitation is adorable, but still more
adorable are the smile and blush that ac-
company 1t.
I'm Westmeath," says Brian, when some
necessary prel' minaries have been gone
through. IL hope you will like it. 1t is far
prettier than Coole i'm every way"
And / think Coole lovely, what I've seen
of It," says Monica, sweetly.
Here the lamp hat has hitherto been
lighting the corridor, thinking, doubtless
(and very reasonably, too), that 1t has done
It's duty long enough, fickers, and goes out.
But no darkness follows its detection.
Through the far window a pale burst Of
light rushes, illumlning in a cold and ghost
~ manner the spot on which they stand.
The meek-eyed morn, mother OF dews,"
has come, and night has slipped away
abashed, with covered front.
"Oh, wehaye delayed too long" says Mon
lea, with a touch OF awe engcndered by the
and mystic beauty of the hour.
Goodnight, good-night!'
NAY, rather a fair good-morrow, my
sweet love-" says Desmond, straining her to
his heart.
CHAPTER XXIV.
hI2N Ia IWEn ~ 49, a I