San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1886-10-06


taken of my communication. 4 little
over 4 week | was again in Brighton,
haunting the school ! sHw the pupils
start on their daily walk, hut my dJr-
ling was not there. Was she i'll? | laid
wait for the hOu~emaid. Again failures
she too had disappeared.
"Driyen to desperation. finally went
boldly to the school. and asked for the
principal. Then it all came out. Oh,
Mark. what row there WAS. Ms
Dawes. a lean. long. pTim woman. with
Curls like a front. hpaped no end ut
ladylike abUS" upon me. II seemed that
something had created Miss Dawes
suspicious. She had watched. inter
copied my letter. and had discovered
everything. In vain | protested the
honor of my intentions, my love; ii but
added to her wrath. entreated an i'll
terview with her pupil. She absolutely
screamed.
Sir" she exclaimed. you have done
your best to ruin the moral standing of
my establishment. hut. praise Heaven,
circumstances have prevented your Sic
ceeiing.'
She was Il wicked old woman, Mark,
to say that, considering what the cir
CumStanceS were.
We'll. she showed me the door, and
for nearly another week | fruitleSsly
haunted the place, hoping to get news.
Regardless of Miss Dawes's frOwns. |
made it point always TO meet her pu-
pills in their walk. Among them was
dark, bright-eyed. pretty girl. who ap-
peared perfect repository Of fun. She
looked at me at first cOqUettishly. next
curiously, next interestedly: finally, |
felt sure, with meaning. | watched,
hoping, and one day found her walking
as demurely as little mouse by the
side of Miss Dawes at the tail Of the
twenty young ladies. As she saw me,
however, quick meaning glance shot
from the corner of her laughing eyes,
and, as rapidly slipping her Iand behind
her. she dropped folded paper.
Two minutes after. | had picked it
up; before another had read written
on it:
"'SIR <mlr7 or rHr DorIrI.L COr>rE.
NANCE:-lt am right lu my rumi1r. you are
searching for ruc who il uu longer L,.u.
Nearly II fortnight ago she was fetched away
10 her father who was dying l3, LulbrNua-
crescent, London, ia not Il hundred rurs
away from her residence. Don't h"trny me
Hardly had | finished shan the girls
came marching back. Ny kind friend
sent glance in my direction. let my
eyes answer her. and tore up her COM
munication after putting it to my lips,
that she might see she was safe. That
same evening | was in London, Marx.
And didn't you find her, Mr.. PHILIP
NO, was too late" sighed Philip
Bathurst; Il found the house shut up
and to let. Inquring, | learned that
her father had died. that week back
he had been buried, and that an uncle
had taken her | loved away; where,
none could inform me. save that il WAS
believed to Australia For q month |
searched and inquired with no better
result, so gave up in despair
But why didn't the young lady write
to you. Mr. Phil?"
Because, Mark. had never thought
Of giving her my address here"
"Then. it's my opinion, Mr. Phil,
you'd better take Miss McCrea.'
"NO, Mark, never, calculated Philip
Bathurst Sprimging from the heather.
"I'll not sell myself and my best alIrc-
tiOns for money, | don't like Miss Me-
Crea. and. by JOvp, will not marry
her for all the uncleS in the world. If
! seemed just now to hesitate. my re-
vealing ti,c past has decided me. Let
my uncle diSmhtr;t me if hr plraseS.-
III be independents: I'll work. | have
strength and heallh-capItal stoCk-in-
trade. I'll go to Australia; I'll go to
the diggings; I'll dig up a fortune, by
JOve! and III find her love. She is in
Australia. Why, Mark, shouldn't |
find herr"
why not, Mr.. Phil? though l reckon
AuStralia's big place, and you amt
likely to find her at the diggings, and if
you wait to do 50 until you've dug up a
fortune she may not be very young, or
she may be married when You do find
her."
Mark, for Heavens sake don't be
such Jobs comforter" exclaimed his
fOster-brOther. He had been striding
backwards and forwards through the
heather, but now halted before the
other. "Australia isn't like England.
BESIDES, what obstacles will not love
surmOunt, especially when the prize is
so worth winning? Look, Mark. and
Judge"
Taking out his pocket-book, he pro-
duced from it a small photo vignette,
and held it to his fOsteT-brOther.
us that her. Mr. Philip
That is her, Mark. Is she not beau
tiful?"
That she is, Mr.. Phil"
Now then, confess: do you blame
me for living in hope, Mark-for refus-
ing, for all Bathurst, to put an inSur-
mOuntable barrier between her and my
self should we ever meet, as ! cannot
help but feel that one day we shall?'
by George. Mr.. Phil, Id go through
fire and water for such sweet face as
that"
And L renounce Miss McCrea and
fortune. So hey for Australia, to work,
and to win, and be independent.
Hey, then it is for Australia, Mr..
Phil; for where you 90, | gO-if you'll
let me-"
Let you, Mark" and Philip Bath
urSt warmly pressed his hand. Il shall
be only too glad of your company, old
fellow. We start with the same CAPT
tal-health and cOurage-and we'll rise
or fall together. Now. take up the
guns, and back to Bathurst. In two
hours, Uncle Charles must pronounce
our sentence"
A month later Philip Bathurst and his
foster-brother, Mark Hilton, stood on
the deck Of the A emigrant ship Nep-
tune, as it glided down the Mersey, out
ward bound for Australia.
Charles Bathurst had decided. Philip
had refused to sell his right to indie
pendence and free action, and had been
cast adrift.
In his hand now he held a letter. For
the twentieth time he read the writing
on it:
Hear reason, and do not be an idiot Re
pent before II is too late. Come back, consent
to this marriage, and Bathurst is yours.
CHARLES BATHURST"
"Do you repent, Mr.. PHILIP" Queried
Mark Hilton who had watched him.
II, Mark? not fraction" with a
merry laugh. Il never felt so content
in nv life. There is nv reply to Uncle