San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1886-08-16
This story was commenced August I2.l
copyrighted. III Rights ReSeTred.)
A TRAGEDY;
OR
THE STORY OF THE CHAIN PIER.

SNeeIeT mouth ever SHllleu, anu lne
light that lay on her face was the light
of Heaven itself. How could it be?
She seemed to wonder little at my
GOODNESS, for she added
II cannot tell you how pleased | am
to see you, and Lance has thought of
nothing else during the last week"
wonder that | didn't cry out, You
are the woman who drowned the little
child off the Chain Pier" 1t was only
the sight of Lance's face that deferred
me. had some vague, indStinct no
ton of what those words would be to
him.
What is the matter, JOhn?" asked
Lance. impatiently. The sight of my
wife's face seems to have struck you
dumb"
1T must be with admiration then" |
said, making desperate effort to re-
cover myself. IL could almost think
| had seen Mrs. Fleming's face before.
She looked at me frankly, and she
laughed frankly.
II have a good memory for faces"
she said; land | do not remember to
have seen yours"
There was no shadow of fear or of any
effort at COnCealment; she did not
change color or shrink from me.
Lance laughed aloud.
Il wonder 10 longer at your being a
bachelor" he said, IF the sight of
beautiful face produces such a strange
effect on you. You must deal gently
with him, Frances, =" he said to his wife;
"his nerves are weak-he cannot bear
much at a time"
Il promise to be very gentle" she
said; and the music of that low, cares
sing voice thrilled my very heart. II
think" she continued, that Mr.. Ford
looks very tired, Lance, pale and worn.
We must take great care of him."
That we will, was the hearty reply.
Great Heaven! was it a murdereSs
standing there, with that sweet look of
compassion on her face? Could this
woman, who looked pitifully on me, a
grown man, drown little child in the
deep sea? Were those lips, uttering
kindly words Of welcome, the same that
had cried i'll mad despair, 'Oh, Heaven!
if dare-if dare" | could have kill
ed myself for the base suspicion. Yet
1t was most surely she!
/ stopped to pick up the white haw-
thorn that she had dropped. She took
it from me with the sweetest smile. and
Lance stood by. looking on with an air
of proud prOprietorship that would
have been amusing if it had not been
so unutterably pitiful.
While my brain and mind were still
chaOs-a whirl of thought and emotion
the dinner-bell rang. | offered her
my arm, but could not refrain from a
shudder as her white hand touched it.
When | saw that hand last it was most
aSsuredly dropping the little burden in
to the sea. Lance looked ut us most
ruefully, so that she laughed and said:
Come with us, Lance"
She laid her other hand on his arm,
and we all three walked into the dining
room together.
could not eat any dinncr-l could
only sit and watch the beautiful face.
1t was the face of a good wOman-there
was nothing cruel, nothing subtle in it.
! must be mistaken. | felt as though |
should go mad. She was perfect host
eSS-mOSt attentiVe-mOSt graceful. |
shall never forget her kindness to me
any more than shall forget the come
illness of her face or the CLEAN of her
golden hair.
She thought | was not well. She did
not know that it was fear which had
blanched my face and made me tTem-
BILE; she could not tell that it was hOr-
rOr which curdled my blood. Without
any fuSS-She was so anXiOusly cOnSid-
crate for me-withOut seeming to make
any ceremony, she was so gracefully
kind; she would not let me sit in the
draughts; with her own hands she Sc
lected some purple grapes for me. This
could never be the woman who had
drowned little child.
Hinnnr
in the drawing-room again, she drew a
chair near the fire for me.
You will laugh at the notion Of
fire in May" she said. but | find the
early Summer evenings chilly, and l
cannot bear the cold"
| wondered if she thought of the chill
of the water in which she had plunged
the little child. looked at her, there
was not even fleeting shadow on her
face. Then she fingered for half min
ute by my side.
AS she drew near to me | felt again
that it was utterly impossible that my
suspicious could be correct, and that |
must be mistaken.
Il hope" she said, ''yOu will not
think what am going to say strange.
/ know that it is the custom for some
wives to be jealous of their husbands
friends-some might be jealous of you.
/ want to tell you that / am not one of
that kind. | love my husband so utter
ly, so entirely, that all whom he loves
are dear to me. You are brother, friend,
everything to him-will you be the
same to me?"
A beautiful woman asking, with those
sweet, sensitive lips, for my friendship,
looking at me with those calm, tender
eyes, asking me to like her for her hus-
bands sake - the sweetest, the most
gracious, the most graceful picture |
had ever seen. Yet, oh Heaven! muir
deress if ever there was one. She won
dered why did not respond to her adj
vanceS. / read the wonder in her face.
"You do not care for hasty friends"
she said. well, Lance and are one;
if you like him you must like me, and
time will show"
"You are more than good to me-" l
stammered, thinking in my heart if she
had been but half as good to the little
helpless child she had flung into the
sea.
have never seen a woman more
more exquisite grace,-of
more perfect OBSERVATION-DISCLOSURES
fascination of manner. She sang to us,
and her voice was full of such sweet
pathos it almost brought the tears in
my eyes. l could not reconcile what l
saw now with what l had seen on the
Chain Pier, though Outwardly the same
woman | had seen on the Chain Pier
and this graceful gracious lady could
not possibly be one. AS the evening
passed on, and saw her bright, cheer
full ways, her devotion to her husband,
her candid, frank, open manner, came
to the conclusion that l must be the
victim either of a mania or of some ter
rihle mistake. Was il nOSSihle. thnnph.