San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1886-09-29

But it is all in vain: even though two
of the clevereSt detectives from Scot
land Yard are pressed into the service.
no tidings of Arthur DynecOurt come
to light. \ man answering to his de-
scriptiOn, but wearing SpcCtacles, had
been traced as having gone OH board a
vessel bound for New York the very
day after Sir Adrian was restored to
the world, and, when search in other
quarters fails, every one falls into the
ready belief that this specialized man
was in reality the wOuld-be murderer.
So the days pass on. and it is now
quite a month since RingwOOd and
Florence carried Sir Adrian's senseless
form from the haunted chamber, and
still Florence holds herself alOOf from
the man she loves, and, though quite
as asSiduouS as the others in her atten-
tiOns to HILL seems always eager to get
away from him, and glad to escape any
chance of a tete-d-tete with him. This
she does in defiance of the fact that
Mrs. Talbot never approaches him ex-
cept when absolutely compelled
Sir Adrian is still a great invalid.
The shock to his nervous system, the
dragging out of those interminabe
hours in the lonely chamber, and the
strain upon his physical powers by the
absence of nutriment for seven long
days and nights, had all combined to
Shatter constitution once robust. He
is now greatly improved in health, and
has been recommended by his doctors
to try a winter in the south of France
or AlgierS.
He shows himself. however, strange
ly reluctant to quit his home, and,
whenever the subject is mentioned, he
first turns his eyes questiOningly upon
Florence, if she is present, and then,
receiving no returning glance from her
dOwncaSt eyes, signs, and puts the mat
ter from him.
He has 50 earnestly entreated both
Dora and Miss Delmaine not to desert
him, that they have not had the heart
to refuse, and as RingwOOd is also stay
ing at the castle, and Ethel Nilliers
has gained her fathers consent to re-
main. Mrs. Talbot acting as chaperOn,
they are by no means dull party.
To-day, the first time for over a
month, Florence, going to her easel,
draws its cover away from the sketch
thereon, and gazes at her work. How
long ago it seems since she sat thus,
happy in her thoughts, glad in the be-
lief that the one she loved loved herl
yet all that time his heart had been
given to her cousin. And though now
at odd moments, she has felt h erself
compelled to imagine that his every
glance and word speaks of tenderness
for her, and not for DOra-Still this
very knowledge only hardenS her heart
toward him. and renders her cold and
unsympathetic in his presence.
No, she will have no tickle lover.
And yet, how kind he iS-hOw earnest,
how honest in his glance! Oh, that she
could believe all the past to be an evil
dream, and think of him again as her
very own, as in the dear old days gone
byl
Even while thinking this she idly
opens book lying on the table near
her, where some brushes and paint are
scattered. A piece of paper drops from
between its leaves and flutters to the
ground. Lifting it, she sees it is the
letter written by him to Dora, which
the latter had brought to her, here to
this very room. when asking her adj
vice as to whether she should or should
not meet him by appointment in the
lime-walk.
She drops the letter hurriedly, as
though its very touch StingS her, and,
rOusing herself with bitter self-cOn-
tempt from her sentimental regrets,
works vigorously at her painting for
about an hour. then. growing wearied,
she filings her brushes aside, and goes
to the mOrning-rOOm, where she knows
she will find all the others assembled.
There is nobody here just now how
ever, except Sir Adrian, who is looking
rather tired and bored, and Ethel Wiz
ierS. The latter, seeing Florence enter,
Crl IT. hnrg orb
away to have turn in the garden with
Captain RingwOOd.
Florence, though sorry for this tete-a
tete that has been forced upon her, sits
down calmly enough, and, taking up
book, prepares to read aloud to Sir Ad-
rian.
But he stops her. Putting out his
hand, he quietly but firmly closes the
book, and then says:
Not to-day, Florence; l want to
speak to you instead"
Anything you WISH" responds Flor
ence steadily, though her heart is beat
ing hastily.
Are you sorry that-that my unhap-
py cousin proved so unwOrthyy he
asks at last, touching upon this subject
with good deal of nervousness. He
can not forget that once she had loved
this miserable man.
"One must naturally feel sorry that
anything human could be guilty of
such an awful intention" she returns
gently, but with the utmost unconcern.
Sir Adrian stares. Was he mistaken
then? Did she never really care for
the fellow, or is this some of what Mrs.
Talbot has designated as Florence's
"slyness"? No, once for all he would
not believe that the pure, sweet, true
face looking so steadily into his could
be guilty of anything underhand or
base.
1T was false that you loved him
then?" he questions, following out the
train of his own thoughts rather than
the meaning of her last words.
That | loved Mr.. DynecOurtl" she
repeats in amaZement, her color rising.
What an extraordinary idea to come
into your head! No; if anything, l con-
fess | felt for your cousin nothing but
contempt and dislike"
Then, Florence, what has come be-
tween usy" he eXclaims, Selling her
hand. you must have known that |
loved you many weeks ago. Nay, long
before last season came to a close; and
then | believe-forgiye my presump-
tiOn-that you too loved me-"
your belief was true one" she re-
turns calmly, tears standing in her
beautiful eyes. But you, by your own
act, severed u.s."
Il did,"
"Yes. Nay, Sir Adrian, be honest in
your dealings with me as am with
you, and confess the truth"
Il don't know what you mean," de-
clares Adrian, in utter bewilderment;
you would tell me that you think it
was some act of mine that--that ruined
my chance with your
"YOu know it was"-reprOachfully