San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-08-30

We all wished that it had not been that
summer that an old uncle in Texas left
Miss Abbie $4,000 Still, she seemed so
happy and so bright that used to say to
myself:
Gwen if the dowry made the match it's
better than lonely old maids life"
And now that she had money she wore
pretty bonnets and nice gowns, and looked
quite another figure. The Spaniard was
devoted to her. Senior Josef was his name,
and at last we all knew they would be
married in week or two. We knew, too,
that the legacy was in portable shape and
that they were going to some Spanish
speaking place to live-a place where that
money would be fortune, for Senior Josef
was not rich, only teacher of his own
language, making his bread from day to
day.
People learn everything about their
neighbors in small town, and old Maum
Carline talked and told all she knew.
But one thing I'll say, nobody was i'll
natured. Every one said that whoever got
Miss Abbie was lucky, plain as she might
be.
There was a wedding in the church one
day and everybody went to it.
Miss Abbie looked better than | ever
saw her before and the Spaniard very
handsome. They were to stay in the old
house day or two, and then place it in
Jerry Johnson's hands to lease to any
one who wanted to hire it-any respectable
people who would use it well-and the
senior also had one more lesson to give, a
lesson he had been paid for.
1t was some miles away, and Madame
Williams, who was driving over, was glad
of his company. He said he would walk
home.
1t was not a pleasant walk in any
weather There were so many washouts
on the way, and it was lonely, too, and
there were bits of pine woods to cross, and
there were negroes about who were not
pleasant TO meet.
But no one thought of any danger to the
senior, and we supposed he had got home
long before the great thunder storm began.
1t was frightful storm. Our barn was
struck and the smoke house on the
Garden place and lots of trees, and we
were all glad to be under shelter when at
IL o'clock old Maum Carline came overto
tell us that Miss Abbie, as she called her
still, and always did call her, was most
crazy with skeer," for the senior was not
home yet.
Oh, that was a storm! My mother
begged me not to go out, but IN Virginia
men always help a woman if she is in dis
tress, and, storIning as it was, Two or three
of us mounted and rode to Nine. Williams
house.
Nine. Williams had set the senior down
at his pupils door and seen no more OF
him.
After that we galloped over to the pupils
house and reused the family at half past 3
She said the senior had gone away in the
early afternoon, bidding them all good by,
and saying that it was, perhaps, forever.
We shouted in the woods, we called
across the washouts, we rode about long
while. All the light we had was the light
ming. The thunder rolled and the rain
poured. We had to go home at last and
tell the senor's wife that lie couldn't be
found.
But no doubt" said, che has gone in
somewhere, and is quite safe and will be
home all right"
She thanked us over and over again for
what we had done.
But" she said, 81 shall never see him
again, dear friends. The only being who
ever loved me is dead. | know it,"
The house was full of ladies next day
before sunrise, and we men were searching
for the senior.
We did not find him, though. There
was not place we did not look into. The
cane in the west woods, the "hole" under
the hill. We dragged the river and look
ed into hollow trees, but we never found
him; and pretty soon Maum Carline told
US something that set us all thinking.
From the day her mistress had put her
money into paper the senior had carried it
with him in a belt he always wore. He
was terribly suspicious of the negroes, and
said it was not safe for her to have so
much in the house.
Nobody knew what he had done but his
wife and Maum Carline until she told it,
but then we felt we knew the truth.
The senior was not dead. He had run
away with the fortune of the ugly woman
he had married and he had married her for
nothing else, as we'd been afraid he had.
OF course the poor woman never heard
the talk
The years pissed and the poor soul lived
alone with old Maum Carline.
She got out her mothers black clothes
that she wore as a widow and put them on;
she had no money to buy new ones.
All that had gone with the senior. And
the black veil got rusty and almost red at
last, and she who wore it grew thinner and
thinner. We only saw her at church, when
she sat with her veil over her face. And
they said she earned her bread by taking
in sewing. Ladies used to carry it to her
themselves after dark and fetch it, and
never tell their best friends about it, for
they felt for lady who had suffered so
much, and when southern folks do feel