The San Antonio light. (San Antonio, Tex.) 1883-1886, 1885-06-18
"L0fD OF ALL"
by MRS. nEnnEnr MARTIN.

AIt you u great lhlill'l-ln lonuou
You come from London the folks
mo, I'm not. I'm only middling ut
everything. break my heart over try
ing Of it,
That's u pity, why don't you give It
upp But perhaps it's your livingy'
NO, Id make but poor living If IL
were; But it's part of my life, | can't
give il up
You're fond of ity"
81 don't know; | love II and hate ii,
but it's part Of my life. Now Miss IRE
varroch, be very good to me-go and
lean against that bit Of red rock and I'll
try and get you in
She laughed short but merry laugh.
Get me in the picturcy II you like;
but Miss Trevarrochr How queer 1t
sounds. I'm no miss, sir
what are yOu-tO such as mct'
"Plain Mary TrrvarrOCh to you and
every one else, sir.
"Well, Mary. then please to 60 and
do what said, unless you are busyH'
NO. I've nothing much to do. Moth
or Is cleaning the house for tomorrow
tomorrow was sunday. "llow shall !
put myselfr'
Anyhow. you can't go wrong; and
talk To me while paint, shall get on
all the better
~ haven't much to talk about"
"Why notp Everything is new and
interesting to m here; tell me about
your life
There's nauglt in that that would
amuse YOU she answered, in "a dull,
dreary voice. that reminded him Of her
mother: at would be better for yoiLto
tell me how ladies' live, wi B., are gay and
happy and have naught To trouble
thpm.n
II don't know many happy ladies in
IOndOn-plenty who are gay enough.
To me II would seem ever so much hap
pier here at pcnruth out Of the noise
and hustle, with that sweet. salt air
blowing from over the sea. Don't let's
talk Of London, am trying 10 forget
any world but this
All she said in quiet way, ITS
happy for you here perhaps; you know
nought of how we live in Penruth."
DO you want to 60 somewhere clscY
would Il make you happicrr'
81 don't look to he happy She an
swered, turning her eyes from him.
AS for going away, sometimes ] think
| want to, sometimes think | want to
come back. I've never in all my life
been ten miles from penrtth, but I've
read about places
DO you care for reading, thenp'
d" used to when | was n girl; our par
sons wife had me "A great deal with her
and lent me books, and VIII was fond of
reading in winter evening" There was
silence, and then Mary said quite
calmly, viii was the man | was to
marry. He's dead
you talk of when you were II girl, -
Vincent said, dashing into words to
save himself from some embarrassment;
| you are young enough nOw.'
Turned two and twenty. | don't
feel young
You've gone through great deal, -
lac said in "A low voice, tender with sym
| patty.
ON, have. have" she said in a
voice dccpcned 10y her emotion; chow
| kindly YOU speak to me; who told you
about ity'
Your mother and others, and your
self saw You before
She blushed dccriy. "WhereY'
Down in the little cove there, under
| that cliff | saw in your face that you
had suffered
She turned away her head, and put
| one hand over her eyes. 81 didn't know
she said, just above her breath. II
never saw you. Don't talk of it now"
Vincent had tact enough not To keep
| the same cord sounding; he chattcd
away about a hundred things. The dark
| eyes came back to him. and she was
again the rather dignlied matter-of-
fact self that he had startled away
Vincent Randall had taken the plunge
| in good earnest, ne went about from
| thchOur hamtedwith herperpetual pres
| ence. by after day the picture linger-
ed on u the intimacy progressed, on
her side a perfectly straightforward
| friendship which had not an after
| thought; on his, II gradual rising from
admiration to passion, from passion to
an IRE sistible depth of tenderness, If II
comes mt all, comes after, not before
passion.
One day he took n sudden resolution,
packed up and went of for Il walking
tour, leaving his heavy goods mt the
! Fishermam's Rest. lie .nted to try
the antidotc oi absence. But it was in
etfectIal. Wherever he went the inn
preston of her pathetic beauty went
with him; he could no more part with
her inner vision than with the heart
that eushrined it. Il will 90 back, y
he said, I'm 20 back to Penruth and
ask her to he my wife. Come what may
of ii, must tell her what she is to me,
or | shall 90 mad. Perhaps | am fool
on the whole | believe | am-perhaps
ii is only her beduty that has set me on
fire to possess her, perhaps she is not
what | believe her to BE-, one of Gods
sweetest creatures, but | must put it IA
the test. and | WILL
lie went back To Penruth, and the
very strength of his purpose quoted the
restless fever he had been in since he
left ii. But he did not go to the cottage
lie wanted her away from the influence
of the hard, sad, prosac mother and the
life of her home; he wanted to get hel
to himself on the shore where he had
seen her first, near the great murmur OF
her own sea. At last he met her there
She started when She saw him, but did
not blush Her eyes were bright with
kindness and pleasure, as he came VI
to her and took her hand.
You look surprised he said, speak
ing with perfect ease now that the SUI
preme moment of his fate had actually
come. did You not know that was
back at pcmruthy'
NO. I've been up at the Hall; they
wanted some help up there getting tho
house ready for the family. My mother
is IA friend with the house-keeper. I'm
surprised you've come back"
Why"
IL don't know why, fancied you'C
gone for good"
81 went to see if it was for good
found it was not, so came back. 81
down here by me ON the rock, MARY
TrevjrroCh, and listen To me for min
ute. | want to talk about myself, an,
you are To be so kind as to attend an,
try not think it a bore
Mary's straight black brows contract
ed "A little with somewhat uneasy an,
puzzled expression. 1T won't bottle
me, sir" she said, in slightly confus
| ed tone. "hnt | Cnn't gee whit IL cal