San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-01-15
The Daily Eisht.
WEDNESDAY, JANUARY Is, 1890.

deed one of the chief surprises Of my life. He
had been several times abroad, and was now
beginning to walk a little with an arm, when
it CHANGED | should be left alone with him
upon the terrace. He turned to me with q
singular furtive smile, such as school boys
use when in fault, and says he, in private
whisper and without the least preface:
where have you buried himF
could not make one sound in answer.
"Where have you buried himf' he repeat
: ed 81 want to see his grave"
conceived had best take the bull by the
horns. "Mr. Henry" said /, ~ have news
TO give that will rejoice you exceedingly. In
all human likelihood your hands are clear of
blood. reason from certain induces, and by
these it should appear your brother was not
dead, but was carried in a swound on board
the lugger. By now he may be perfectly re-
covered"
What there was in bis countenance, | could
not read james," he asked.
''Your brother James" | answered. 81
would not raise hope that may be found
deceptive; but in my heart | think it very
probable he is alive"
"Ahp says Mr.. Henry, and suddenly rising
from his seat with more alacrity than he bad
yet discovered, set one finger on my breast,
and cried at me in kind of screaming whiS-
per, "Mackellar were his words
nothing can kill that man. He is not NOR
tai. He is bound upon my back to all eter-
nity-to all Gods eternity" says he, and,
sitting down again, fell upon a stubborn 81
lence.
A day or two after, with the same secret
smile, and first looking about as if to be sure
we were alone, "Mackellar," said he, when
you have any intelligence, be sure and let me
know. We must keep an eye upon him, or
he will take us when we least expect"
HE will not show face here again" said l. |
'Oh, yes he WILL" said Mr. Henry "Wher- |
ever | am, there will he be" And again he |
looked all about him
"You must not dwell upon this thought |
MIR. Henry" said l.
NO" said he, that is very good advice. |
We will never think of it, except when you
have news. And we do not know yet" he |
added, ''he may be dead"
The manner of his saying this convinced |
me thoroughly of what had scarce ventured |
TO suspect; that so far from suffering any
penitence for the attempt he did but lament
his failure This was discovery | kept to
myself, fearing it might do him a prejudice
with his wife But might have saved nv
self the trouble; she had OWNED il for her
self, and found the sentiment quite natural
Indeed, | could not but say that there were
three of us all of the same mind; nor could
any news have reached DurrSdeer more
generally welcome than tidingS of the mas
ter's death
This brings me to speak of the exception,
my old lord As soon as my anxiety for my
old master began to be relaxed, was aware
of a change i'll the old gentleman, his father,
that seemed TO threaten mortal consequences.
His face was pale and swollen; as he sat in
the chimney side with his Latin he would
drop off sleeping and the book roll in the
ashes; some days he would drag his foot,
Others stumble in speaking. The amenity of
his behavior appeared more extreme; full Of
excuses for the least trouble, very thought
full for all; to myself, Of a most fattering
civility. One day, that he had sent for his
lawyer and remained a long while private
he met me as he was crossing the hall with |
painful footsteps, and took me kindly by the
iand
Mr.. Mackellar," said he. Il have had |
many occasions to set proper value on your
ervices; and today, when recast my will, | !
rave taken the freedom to name you for one
If my executors. | believe YOU bear love |
,nough to our house to render ME this ser
ice" At that very time lie passed the {
greater portion of his days in sumber, from
which it was often difficult to rouse him: {
eemed to have lost all count of years and |
lad several times particularly on waking) {
,alled for his wife and for an old servant | |
whose very grave stone was now green with t
moss. If | had been put to my oath, must |
ave declared he was incapable of testing;
md yet there was never a will drawn more !
ensible in every trait, or showing more ex !
client judgment both of persons and affairs
His dissolution, though it took not very
ong, proceeded by infntesinal gradations
His faculties deCayed together steadily; the
,oweEof his limbs was almost gone, he was .
deaf, his speech had sunk into
mere mumblings; and yet to the end he man
ged to discover something If his former
courtesy and kindness, pressing the hand Of
my that helped him, presenting me with one
# his Latin books in which he had labOri-
,usly traced my name, and in thousand
Ways reminding us of the greatness of that
oss which it might almost be said we had
lready suffered. To the end, the power of
articulation returned to him in flashes; il
eemed he had only forgotten the art of
peech as a child forgets his lesson, and at
lines he would call some part of it to mind
IN the last night of his life he suddenly
,roke silence with these words from Virgil:
'Gnatique pratisque, alma, precor, mis-
rere," perfectly uttered and with fitting
ccent At the sudden, clear sound Of it we
tarted from our several occupations; but it
vas in vain we turned to him; he sat there
ilent and to all appearance fatuous.
title later he was had to bed with more diff
icplty than ever before; and some time in