San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1886-05-13


Presently he rose and wandered up and
down the room in his restless misery Blind,
blind, y he murmured drearily, TO dream a
young heart would be hidden mInr gray
hairs. From the world, yes! but thine eyes
are very clear, petite; they look not upon
this diable de viSage; they pierce TO the core
OF the heart And there is none-nO not in
all the Worldwide will love thee like this
poor old Max. let-yet-it is he who leaves
thee; and 10 what, ah, mon Dieu! to tCIOln p
! For Monsieur Max knew the use an unprin-
| cipled man might have made Of his own OPP
portunities; and as the thOught-the doubt
arose in his mind whether the next 10 whom
Aunt Letitia might careleSsly intrulst his
| darling would be equally strong against
temptation, he hid his face in his hands and
groaned. Ought he to go away? he question
ed; ought he not rather. laying aside all
thought of himself, to remain and watch
over his pupil, his child, who needed him 50
sOrely? But the soul of Monsieur Max was
too true, too simple, To be thus beguiled: and
he could not blot from his memory the blush
upon that beautiful cheek. or look in her
sweet, blue eyes.
The only man thou cartSt tO please Am
truly so, ina mignOnmer' he murrnured ten
u. 4
leave thee because love thee, petite! First
OF all must guard thee against myself. !
leave thee-SGfG-in the hands of the good
God"
He did not 90 to the grove next morning,
but sent note to Aunt Letitia saying. in his
clear beautiful hand (Which did not tremble
like his poor heard, that trouble of a family
nature, into which he was not at liberty more
rlN
ate attention. He was pierced 10 the soul
ali poor Monsieur Max thus suddenly to
quit these enchanting places where one had
been so happy.
Two days later monsieur, arrayed for the
occasion, like true Frenchman, i'm his best
attire, walked out to the grove to say good
bye. Aunt Lct.tia was angry and indignant:
but it was the trustful, c0ntiding grief of
Bertha that wrung the heart of Monsieur
Max.
at must be right, since it is monsieur who
does II; but, ah! what a misfortune! How
shall | support the absence of monsieur
Thou wilt forget me, all so SOON said
Monsieur Max.
Forget monsieur? never! There is no
one like him-t!!S naughty monsieur who
leaves his little child all alone-nO one in the
whole wide world
He gave a low, trrmulOus laugh. They
were delicious words, and yet
The whole wide world is very wide. my
child"
1T will seem very empty when monsieur
is gOne.'
The lips under mOnsieur's heavy mustache
grew white and tcnS,' with the Response, ne
lOnged to utter. Silently he extended his
hand; not to hold and keep her for his own,
all, no! only to say farewell. She was very
near him; he could feel her fingers culver
within his own. could see the quick rise and
fall of the folds of white upon her brast.and
the tears in her blue eyes. They were alone.
and it seemed Ia Monsieur Max that il would
be no wrong to any one were he To touch
with his lips that fair, pure. beautiful brow.
Was she not his child. his love. mis- treasure
whom he was rCsgning forever One word |
from him-nay. only the opening of his arms |
and the golden mead would nestle upon his |
bosom, the clinging fingers rest in his for |
life. But
''If thy kisses We're mine, petite, should
not claim them dU7 will not rob thee, then, |
who art but child. and knOweSt nothing"
"Adieu," said Monsieur Max He held
~
suddenly to his lips. and was gone; out at
the yine-clad door and down the garden walk
which so often they had trodden together;
with STOPPING shoulders. bent head, and
fresh June rose above the heart that thrObbed |
with such fierce agony.
She is but child; she will soon forget
me, murmured Monsieur Max; whether as
'Olace or in anguish who shall dare to say?
Soon, soon, o very soon, mon ami he
5aid, treading more heavily than was his
wont through the dust of the country road.
His lips were parched-there was film be-
'Ore his eyes; but he tramped on bravely,
while the sun burned down and the dust rose
n clouds above his head, still murmuring
with those pale, dry lips: Thou art but
'hild, my best beloved; thou knOwest moth
ng, and thou wilt soon forget"
Ten years.
The time seems short enough as one reads
he two words there upon the paper: but
when the days must be lived through, mo-
nent by moment. it is very different mat
er; yet Monsieur Max lived on for ten long,
weary years before he saw his pupils face
lgain.
He had Obeyed upon leaving her, the uni
'ersal Aryan impulse; he went West. In
little town not far from one of the great lakes
he set up his modest household goods But
,upils were slow to come in. His temper
lad never been an idle one, however, and
lis need was great of work to deaden the cry
# his longing heart Moreover, the innocent
winged life of the insect world had always
'een his delight To this, therefore, he turn
ID for comfort in his hour OF trouble. Work
ng as man will who tries with toll to fill
IN empty heart, it is small wonder that the
esult OF his observations was well received
" the scientific world, and that Monsieur
lax found himself in fair way to become
amOus; and, as a principal result of his
rowing celebrity, was offered Professors
hair in recently founded neighbOring col
ege Monsieur accepted with eagerness.
The very yOuthfuneSs and untried strength
# the infant institution endeared II the more
o his heart, and it was to him an Alma Fila,
whose efforts to grow up with the country he
ecOnded with untiring zeal.
II was about this time that he subscribed
o New York society paper and scanned its
OlumnS in search of one name which he fail
d to find.
''She is dead, or perhaps-mdrTied," said
lOnseur Max. For he had often come upon
he characters that meant so much to him
Turing the first years of his self-impOsed ex-
lie. They had flashed upon his sight from
Olumn after column of society news relat-
ny how Mrs. Bonton's palatial residence
ad been filled to overlooking upon the Oc-
aston of her daughters birthday, and how
tla to aha "A