San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1889-10-22
The Gypsie's Curse;
BY THE AUTHOR OF GUILTY WITHOUT
CRIME" THE ''WRECKERs OF
ERNER Doom" ETC.

ed voice, the crisp refined accent, the tone
half-peading, wholly deterential, the man.
ner that forbade denial because it made
a favor OF acquiesccnce! Was Roland so
blind that he could not see how the young
face lighted up a. il was turned to OAR
rell? Was his ear too dull to catch ring
in the girls voice that was not in it when
she spoke to her Cumberland cousin?
"What shall play?" she asked, rising
ct once.
"Play some of the pieces you played
from memory at the Court the other
day."
s'Some!" said lima, laughing. "You
mean one"
"Do you offer wineglass of water to
thirsty man, lima? You know you would
never tire me with music. You might be-
come weary of playing, but should never
be tired Of listening"
lima went to the piano and played, and
Roland came near-not that he cared for
classical music or understood it, but he
could not bear to leave lima alone with
Sir Philip Darrell.
Suddenly Roland noticed that the dam
ask rose was gone.
"Ilma," he said, as the girl struck the
"where's your rose"
lima started and looked down at her
dress.
81 don't know" she answered; I did
not take it out. must have dropped it."
"Perhaps while you were playing chess"
suggested Sir Philip.
"No; saw it when you left the table,"
said Roland.
"It must be somewhere about the floor"
and lima looked around her. "Never
mind, Roland; you'll have to give me an
other"
just then Rose drew near.
"Roland, we want you for whist; aunt
Rachel has no partner. Come along"
Roland could not well refuse; he could
not make = pretence of wanting to hear
classical music; so he was fain to be vic.
finland 1eTer was there more unwill-
ing one.
"Will you play that last piece againW
asked Darrell as soon as he was gone.
lima complied, and while she played,
Sir Philip, rho was looking down, caught
sight of something lying near his foot. 1t
was Rolands little-cared-for rose. He did
not pick it up at once; but when lima had
finished playing, he raised it and placed it
on the piano before her.
"Your rose," he said. 81 wonder that
1 did not see it earlier; it fell close to
me-"
"Thanks." There was no pleasure in
her face. She took up the rose as if she
hardly knew what to do with it. "The
stalk is broken off," she said with q per-
picked look. 81 can't put it back in my
dress; it's not much good now," and she
let 1t drop on the piano again.
Sir Philip Darrell bent forward with .
quickly-drawn breath, and his deep gray
eyes flashed.
1 s'Y on have not always so treated the gift
Of flower" he said.
Crimson as the rose itself were Ilma's
cheeks and brow; her eyes, half turned to
him, had seen the look in his, her ear had
caught-nay, to her very heart had rung
the tone in his voice. Yet she knew
nothing and felt nothing clearly. She had
q sense of losing some safeguard, of hav.
ing some veil or mask torn from her. She
saw how Darrell read her conduct about
the flowers he had given her; but she
could not, in that bewildering moment,
tell whether he was right or wrong. She
could not think at all.
Darrell, man of the world with wo-
mans subtlety Of perception, saw that this
child who turned from him and knew not
how to answer him had given him more
than her lips could have told him, than
her own heart, half child's, half woman'S,
could have told herself; and back on her
soul came the surge of the reaction. The
daring words he had spoken should never
have passed his lips. Had he said too
much to draw back in honor? Nay, if she
loved him, of what use to draw back? 1t
would be too late to save her. "lfw IL
ma was still child in many things. How
should she give to him, he asked himself
again, in 50 short time, such love as he
gave to her. At least be could test it, ut
least he could find out by absence if he had
won woman's heart, or only the sirlsh
love that was more Of the Imagination than
the heart.
Quickly all this flashed through Sir Phil
ip Darrell's mind-so quickly that there
was scarcely moments pause before he
laid his hands lightly on the keys, as
though he was speaking Of some piece of
music to her, and, forcing back from eye
and lip all that made his heart beat so
wildly, said earnestly
81 should not pain you, lima; let my
words pass--not as Il Jest-no-I wounded
to-day by a jest, born of my own pain-but
as u thought too hastily spoken, Il thought
that my life is not barren of at least kind
ly memory"
What bitter mocKery to him were such
words! They panied her, but they gave
her self command, and she was for the
time even grateful to him; later, in the ST.
lence of sleepess night she saw their hol-
lowness, and knew THAT his heart had spok-
EN- in that first look and tone.
"Kindly memory" she repeated very