San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1888-01-06

/ Sstlu fOu hCcu HUI nave
| bled yourself; though it is very kind of you
| to come"
81 said l would look after you, Fairy
Queen, and you would be clever to steal
| march on an old campaigner."
But can walk. Colonel Beauregard-
much better with you than with Fanchon,
since you are so much stronger"
"Well, you shall try"
He raised her up, and, slowly, leaning
| on his arm, she succeeded in reaching the
| corridor.
"You see," she said, smiling, my sprain.
ed foot hardly touches the floor
"Yet even that little hurts yOu," said her
cavalier, gently, though you try to hide it
| from me-"
But little pain doesn't matter, Colonel
Beauregard."
at does to me, very much, " he answered:
"Come, Fairy, let me carry you to the
drawingroom door; will put you down
there"
He suited the action to the words, taking
her up in his arms as he spoke, Valerie
yielding without further remonstrance, as
was best; besides, she knew it made him
suffer to see her endure pain.
THANK you so much" she said, CRATE
fully, as he gently placed her on the ground
outside the drawing room door.
"Thank you, Fairy Queen, for giving in
to my mans weakness. 1t is so cruel to
see a woman suffer! but it was easier so,
wasn't it?"
"Much-much easierr'
Cruel to see a woman suffer- Yet she
had made him suffer, and for whatf-as he
must think. His words were sharp stab
to her, though he had not meant them so.
Valerie on her couch was like queen on
her throne; they all gathered around her
all save Max Beauregard, who resigned
her to others, and, while he talked with
Mrs. Langley, tried to steel his heart
against the girl he loved so madly, and yet
all the time he was wildly conscious of her
every change Of expression, and listened
for her words or her laugh.
And presently Lady Elinor, who had been
watching her opportunity, beckOned her
brother-in-law to her side, where she sat
somewhat apart.
"What is it, Nell, deary" he said, as he
seated himself on the lounge
Nothing very special, Max. Did you
know that Constance Langley had letter
from LawfOrd this afternoon"
"How should know and what is it to
met'
with an enclosure for Valerie" contin-
ned Lady Elinor, agitating her fan gently,
but glancing edgewise at the soldiers dark
face.
He turned to her with half smile.
swell, >" he said. SIS that all?"
"Alll Upon my word, Max, Ican't make
you outl'
Hadn't you better leave off trying'"
"ImpOssible! l really began to think
Valerle's wiles were succeeding; you have
been leading her to think so, anyhow"
IL think Valerie can take care of herself,
Nellie" said Beauregard, very quietly.
Certainly she CAM said Lady Elinor,
trying to turn off with laugh words whose
meaning as regarded herself, was perfect
ly clear to her; mo one better. Lawford
is, of course, resuming his offer; he can
have nothing else to write to Valerie about.
Mrs. Langley told me she had the letters"
THAT you might tell me?"
II don't know; but only repeated this
for you sake, Max"
"Vrdtment Well, by your leave, we'll
talk of something else"
But, all the same, the news was another
stab to an open wound. Had Valerie done
anything to "lure this tasselgentle back
again, so that If she failed to win the great
er prize she could still fall back on the
sutton so remorselessly thrown overS
No, he would not think this of her; but
he did not doubt that Mrs. Langley had
taken some such steps.
Was Valerie consenting? Had she read
Aston's letter, and was she holding over
a reply until she saw whether-even at the
ala sha n nj
and bring the owner Of Abbot's Leigh to
her feet, or close her visit to the Hall with
out succeeding in the object that took her
there?
1t was maddening even to ask such men,
tai questions concerning Valerie; and yet,
horrible as they were, he could not quite
dismiss them; he could not say such DELHI
crate calculation of chances was impossible
to her; and yet, there was ever the para.
| dox which the girl presented to all that
| she had done-all Of which she might lar"
| guing from past acts) seem capable. She
made no effort to win the man for whom
| she had abandoned a rich sutton yet that
might be profoundest coquetry); she was
| 30 fresh, so pure, so innocent; in her face
| no guile; in her acts, in her looks, none Of
| the arts Of the coquette. Could design so
completely, so successfully, wear the mask
| of innocence?
No wonder these things perplexed Max
| Beauregard lacking, as he did, the key to
the truth-seeing only Through glass
darby"
1t was not till near the close Of the even
| ing that he approached Valeries couch,
and asked her if they should finish the
| chess-game sometime tomorrow.
YES" she said, "any time you like"
NAY, put it the other way"
Valerie shook her head.
at would be all one to me-" she said.
81 shall have to keep still, so one time
| would be like another; and you may only
have few times you can call your own"
IAN ingenious plea for me-thank you
for it; and IL you are not inclined to play
when / ask you, will you refuseg"
| but l shall like to play anytime"
Suppose you were reading a fascinating
novel;"
| 81 would prefer chess"
Every well, see must take you at your
word"
So they parted for the night.
The next morning Valerie's foot was
much better; and Max told her that anoth-
or days complete rest and martial rest for