The San Antonio light. (San Antonio, Tex.) 1883-1886, 1885-06-17
Under an Umbrella.
WHAT HAPPENED AT A PIONIO.


some one to direct us; don't know this
part of the world at all. Where are we
TO meet the shallopY"
What. don't YOU knowYn questioned
Miss de Lara, an alarmed look coming
/ into the blue eyes
" / must confess don't. | supposed
| you would hc sure To know, and the
| others; OF perhaps ! never thought
about ii at all"
"Oh, dear. this is unfortunate What
are we To duy was not there when the
/ arrangements were made. What can
| We doy'
"If YOU are not too tired. think we
had better walk on; we must try and
/ strike down the river.
So they tried; but they did not APP
| parcntly succeed, for no river came
| within view, and poor Maud, who was
never very good walker, began to
/ stumble over the long grass from fa-
| tigue.
Then Mr.. Duustan insisted upon her
taking his arm. and they grew more
| cheerful under this close contact the
| girl feeling that awkward ii WAS their
| position. she had still II strong arm To
/ protect her At length they came to u
cottage, and went mt once to the door
| and were told that they had come quite
away NUN wv llN'la NlllNll wis llNM
about mile and a half distant. then,
seeing their plight the gond-naturrd
/ cOuntry-woman invited them in. and,
noticing how tired and pale poor Maud
| looked, she made her some tea and in
sisted on taking off her shoes, and do
ing her best to dry them by the fire.
Mr.. Dunstan inquired whether any
conveyance could be found to take them
to the riverside, but there was none to
/ be had within n getabe distance.
Refreshed with that beverage which
! cheers but does not incbriate, Maud
started of once more with her compan-
| ion, leaving glad heart behind in the
/ humble cottage; for Edwin Dunstan
was generous fellow. and. seeing eyi-
dencc of the pinch Of poverty around,
| had left golden piece In the wOman's
| palm. When they reached the river
| they could for time gain no intOrma-
| ton respecting the Swan. and they
| walked along the water-sde. hoping
/ that the boat would soon Oycrtake them;
| and the girl grew So tired that Edwin
Dunstan persuaded her to rest under a
| tree, with a fallen limb for her seat.
| But no shallop arrived, and the pretty
| face became anxious and worried.
by and by u barge came up against
| the stream. Mr.. Dunstan hailed it. and
d
| down the riycr-thc barges had cspcci-
ally noticed her; and, upon further in
! QuiTy, he was still more annoyed to
| learn that they were not more than half
! mile from the point from which they
| had started 50 ii was evident that they
| had doubled, like harcs; and the only
| thing left for them to do was tn return
to the creek where they had landed, and
| hire boat to convey them to Radleigh,
distance of ten miles.
Tears rose in the g rl's eyes when she
heard of the dilemma she was in. and
| her companion strOve to rcassure her.
Don't fret. Miss de Lara; who knows
bat what we may Ovcrtake themy They
are sure to wait Il reasonable time for
| MS. and we viii make inquiries ut all the
| locks
They had some difficulty in prrsliad-
| ing any Ot the hOatmen To take them so
| great Il distance; but money does most
things, and il Overcamc the unwilling
ness of the men to start for 50 long n
| pull, when evening was fast closing in
on such dismal night.
They did their best to he cheerful,
even trying snatchcs of songs. their
voices blending together and going out
over the water softly and melodously;
| 50 that paSsers-hy on the land stopped
To listen, and more than once faces
| peered from the windows of houses
upon the banks, attracted by the music
under that umbrella.
But the singing proved a failure rs
the shades of evening drew on, and the
shivering girl crcpt closer to Edwin
! Dunstan for warmth ana shelter.
There was no one there to see them;
even the bOatman was shut out by that
paragon frame covered with thick brown
! silk. There was no one TO hear. for the
bOatmlu WAS decidedly deaf. Had these
two mt under ordinary circumstances
they would of course have been Ordi.
nary acquaintance upon this the tirs,
of Their mrt NJ; but the circumstances
were not at all ordinary, and Edwin
really ( 1t obliged to put lfis arms about
the little shrinking term, 70 protect II
| all he could Tor at any rate ii pleased
him to think sol from the stormy night
wind. for the ram had not ceased for q
moment. and A. I S'' med quite natural tC
clasp the small cold hands which she
trusted in his with such child-like con-
tidcncC; and when few tears rolled
slowly down the pale face, there is not
much wonder that he kissed them away
under that protecting umbrella, nor
that he strOYe to comfort her i'll his
own fashion,
II said you were not to he conventions
nj. little Maud lie whispered softly;
rest your head upon my shoulder, that
will be 4 pillow for YOU
but ought |? Do you think ought;
What would Beatrice sayy'
lie was nearly as possible saying
"Bother Beatrice" but, instead, he re-
piled:
IL am sure You ought and must. Lit
tie one, cannot you trust yourself tC
mepn-
And she had crept quite close, like &
tired child, glad to be at rest; and so Ia
had held her tend rly, his heart going
out to her with great love.
Then he leaned over her and spoke
again:
"Only fancy we met to-day for thu
first time, and vet ii seems as though
had known you all my life. Perhaps
have seen you in my dreams; but, sweei
Maud, cannot part from You again
You asked me just now what Mrs. Ro
Icy would say; that | do not know, bu
whatever ii may be, you will give M
the right TO stand by you. Maud, vii
you be my wife,
And he stopped and kissed her ros,
lips unchiddcn, once, twice, thrice; aut
again there was silence, delicious slenc
which, like "a man, he broke.
You do not answer me, my LITTLE
love. Are you happy-are you con
TENT"
More than happy-more than con
tent. My heart is too full for words.
MY little queen" he whispered
show fortunate 1t was | brought IN
umbrella otherwise | might never hav
gained you for my wife. | wonder
another man ever won so charming