San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1886-01-16
PASSIVE CRIME.
TIE MnNENT APrRNACnEs.
BT THE DUCHESS.

From its site upon the high rocks
that Overhang the sea. PenruddOCk
Castle. in all its Gothic and somewhat
savage grandeur. frownS down upon
the vale beneath: upon plain and up
land, park and winding stream. and the
pretty cottage far below. that lies half
hidden by the spreading foliage.
Although belonging to sunny June,
the day is dark and lowering.
The ocean, with a sudden roar, is
rushing inland. to break out with furl-
GUS Kisses upon the long. low beach.
The sky is overcast: no fainteSt CLEAN
of sunshine comes to Tighten the gloom,
or throw some brightness on the scene,
so Teplete with heavineSS and vague
melancholy.
And such a winter wears the face of
Heaven" that all the happy BIRDS lie
covering out of sight.
Upon the castle walls the flag waves
fretfully in the breeze. a sense of desc
latiOn and of coming evil is over all the
place. The servants 90 softly to and
fro, as though waiting SOlemnly for
deaths messenger. who comes with
hurried feet The moaning winds and
drifting clouds murmur of misery, and
plainly tell Of dawning grief.
Beneath, in hevalley. upOnthe grass
plot that belongs to the cottage, a man
is walking slowly up and down with
lowered head, and heart filled with
envy and vain longing. Ills face, though
handsome and suggestive of good breed
ing. is dark. stern. and impenetrable.
His arms are crossed behind his back.
Just now an expression. almost evil,
mars the beauty of his features. His
thoughts, busy with the past and the
present. are full of discomfort.
Sometimes, as though mCOnSCiOuSly,
he lifts his eyes to gaze upon the Grim
son flag floating so high above him,
marking the spot where his SiSter-in-
law, the Lady of PenruddOCk. lies at
the point of death. very certainly to fol-
low her husband into the land of shad-
OwS.
Within twelve months they will both
lie buried. and all this gOOdly heritage,
these swelling fields and softly undula-
ting plains. will pass into the hands of
a child, d feeble girl-a creature scarce
fit to combat with the winds that blow:
whilst his boy, his treasure beyond all
price, must through all his life toll for
daily bread.
At this moment merry laugh rings
out upon the air and from the house,
with fair hair flying. lovely boy of
seven runs eagerly and jOyOusly, with
arms extended. to the man SO deep in
enYiOus thought.
As the sound of childish gayety
smitcS upon his ear. his whole express
sion changes. and he lifts his head, and
gladly welcomes the child with word
and gesture. as he filings himself, breath
less, upon the mans breast.
The boy Cl.nGS to him. murmuring
joyful story of his escape from nurse
and tutor without fear of reprOOf, and
with no dread of the dark features and
cleaning eyes above him, that betray
some sense of cruelty.
Perhaps his little son is the one thing
in all the world that does not shrink
from George PenruddOck and is. there
fore, dOubly dear to him on that ac-
count.
He holds him now closely clasped
against his heart, as though the contact
were sweet to him, and whispers in his
ear words of fond endearment that are
almost wOmanish in their tenderness.
Yet even as he holds the yOungster in
his arms dark thoughts come again,
and take fast hold of him.
But for the puny baby in the castle
above, all these lands around HIM might
be the boys, aaC wealth and position
be assured to him.
That thought it is which is now tort
uring, and which has long driven from
his heart every feeling save only one
that should inspire a human being
He loves his little son; for him it is
that this man is ambitious, and would
enrich even by crime.
Tho nlnuhfnr A leo paprn1Ignl-
(Once so vamly loved, now so long de-
tested will soon be in pOSSes siOnOf all,
whilst his little son, his pretty ID ok,
must forever remain port .Onless. 1t is
this thought that constantly tOrtures,
that pOiSOns and lays waste his every
hour.
The boy has darted off again chasing
from flower to flower n snowy butter
fly: and once more PenruddOck looks
up sharply TO where the crimson flag
should he. But il is no longer there;
and almost il seems aS though q faint
cry comes to him upon the rising wind.
lie shivers. and then cries shame up
on his SuperstltiOuS fears and tells him
self it is but the shrek of the sca-gulIs
flying inwards from the storm.
The click of a latch makes him turn
his head. The gardengate is thrown
wide, and a tall woman. of servant S
rank, but finely formed. and of the
gypsy type, comes hurTiedly up to him.
Her eyes are peculiarly large and dark,
and there isa determinations StOlidIty,
about her lower jaw somewhat remark
able. Perhaps the touch of ROmany
blood is rather more disCernible in car
Tiage and complexion than in eyes and
hair. though both are dark as midn CHIT.