San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1886-08-25

was the map OF une county wnCn nad SET.
last on the Squire's table when he was max
ing his will. | remembered the wooden roll
eTs, the blue twist, the peculiar cOlOrs. IL
was like seeing an old friend; and il brought
that past picture 50 wildly before me that
for some time | sat silent looking at IT.
At last | opened il, and something fell
from II. | stopped 10 pick 1t up; and there,
fresh as Ii was when ! had seen il last, was
the parcel | had seen the Squire pack up and
tie with red tape. There was tine closely
written sheet of parchment, there were the
long strips of paper that looked like ceTtiti-
Gates, there were the letters that had seen
him enclose. Although had never seen the
packet since that eventful day, | knew it at
once, remembering how the Squire had fast
ened the ends Of the tape with wax.
A perfect fever of excitement possessed
me; knew that had found the lost will.
But there was something more wonderful
still than this. On the outside cover, in the
Squire's own handwriting, were these words
TO be opened by my daughter Gracia aft
er my death" My eyes read, yet hardly saw
the words. fell upon my knees with the
packet In my hands, for | had discovered
oh, thank Heaven, had discovered the name
of my father at last
l knelt there with streaming tears and
trembling hands, my heart too fun for words,
hardly daring TO break the seals and read.
ITO my daughter Gracia"-that was why
had loved him thenl The white-haired old
man who had been so kind yet so strange to
me, who had kissed me with tears in his eyes,
yet while knowing his relationship to me,
had never spoken of 1t, was my fatherl
Gracia Dacre! Thank Heaven, / had dis
covered my name!
Those moments were TO me the most sol
emn of my life. ! stood on the threshold Of
a mysterious shrine. | kissed the words
my daughter Gracia." Oh, my dear dead
father, If l could but have kissed your face
againp
Then, with the fervent words of a prayer
on my lips, broke the seals. | remember
how the Sunbcams from the rOOf-windOw fell
across the papers, some of which were yellow
with age. | remember the silence that reign
ed in the room, unbTOkCn save by the rIlStling
Of the pages turned in my hands. The first
thing | read was the long letter which had
seen the Squire write on that wel-remember-
ed day in the library; and this was what II
contained
my dear daughter Gracia,-I write this
letter in your presence, and, as | write, look
at you and wonder what you will think OF
me when, after | have passed away, you
know that was your father. wish / had
the moral courage TO tell you now, 10 take
you in my arms and kiss you; but am afraid
and ashamed. | ought 10 be proud of you,
for you are as beautiful as your mother, who
was one Of the lOvelieSt women in Spain.
you are my child, Gracia, yet have new
er told you so. False pride withheld me. /
will tell you the story of my life; then you
can condemn or pity me as you Will Per
haps you will know for yourself some day
how the DacreS love; perhaps you will know
the fever and passion men call love II
consumed me. She is dead-the beautiful
Millicent whom lOved-and will say no
word against her-Only this, that she betray-
ed me-"
remembered how he had uttered the name
ha la INin nd lat hriu
had come into his face.
"She was a fashionable lady, my poor Mil
liCent | was only a country Squire; but /
would have died for her, Gracia. She lured
me on with sweet words and loving glances.
felt sure she loved me; but one day, when
| asked her to be my wife, she gave
me a cold cOntemptuOus look and refused my
offer with ScOrn. She killed the good within
me; nevertheless nothing could eXtnguish
my love for her. She married. OF her aft
er-fate ] need not speak; all England knows
II, and she has long been dead.
II became a confirmed wOman-hater after
that; and, what was worse, j grew proud Of
the reputation. | liked to hear men aver
that no woman would ever win Wolfgang
Dacre. l lived for years in state Of proud
defiance, and then / went to Spain. 1 hon
estly believed that my heart was dead, and
that no woman had the power to draw a
smile or sigh from me. | met your mother
at Granada, where she was living with an
uncle-fOr she was an orphan, Gracia; she
had one of the lOveliest faces that the sun
ever shOne on, and you are the living image
of her. We were married In the Church of
San Geronimo Granada, and the long strip
of paper you Will find enclosed, marked No.
l, is the copy of the marriage certificate of
WOlfgang Dacre of HerOn'S Nest in the
county of Kent England, and lsOla Valida
of Granada Spain. The original is to be
found in the registry Of the old Church Of
San Geronimo.
Now | have a shameful confession TO
make Your mother lsOla was young and
beautiful; she was deeply in love with me,
but she was not as Milicent had believed
myself madly in love with her; but when |
had been married few months, grew tired
of her
Poor IsOal l tried to hide my feeling;
but | am afraid she found out the truth. She
was beautiful and loving; but she was not as
Millicent My very soul cried out for her,
who had been dead so many years-Milli-
cent who had lured my heart from me only
to fling il away. You will ashland the
question Is a natural One-why, having mar
ried your mother, did | not bring her home
to England and acknowledge her? My an
swer is this. First-and | am ashamed to
confess i'll had lost all interest in her.
Poor IsOla! l did not care TO bring her TO
England and introduce her TO my friends.
The second reason was, | had been SO proud
of my reputation as wOman-hater that |
was ashamed to have it known that l had
married.
''Then you were born, Gracia. l should
have worshipped you had you been Milli-
cents child. You had IsOla's eyes and all
her dark loneliness. But there was no room,
poor child, for you in my heart! When you
were year old, my old restlcssness and the
craving for change came over me- and went
away on my travels again. The paper mark
ed No. 2 is the certificate Of your baptism in
the Church Of San Geronimo, in Granada;
and you were given the name of Graca Isola.
After while your mother faded. May
Heaven forgive me the share had in her
III b Conttau'sil