San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-11-14

as she sat here thinking, that merely to
be allowed to stay iii this place quietly,
and to see him now and then, and to
feel that he loved her just so well as to
make it sweet to him sometimes to look
into her face, and touch her hand, and
speak to her,-it seemed to her that to
gain this would be to gain happiness
enough to make all other remuneration
cease to have in it even so much as
touch of bitterness. Was it not this,
indeed, that she had hoped for, and had
dreamed vain dreams of gaining?-this,
that she might close his lips for lit
tie while, till what he felt for her now
should presently sink down into such a
quietly resigned affection that she
might still so on living here beside him,
making her heaven out of her silent
love. This for these few weeks had
been her foolish dream.
He had an engagement in Scotland
| for some time past that was to take him
from home from the Wednesday of this
| week until the Thursday or Friday of
| the next. Before she had left his house
| to-day she had said to him making, in
| this request, her first step toward car
| rying out that sorrowful plan of hers)-
Twill you let me write what have
| to say to you? L want to do that--not
| to speak it. Will you let me write it.,
| and give it to you when you go away?"
II had hope that you would have told
it to me tonight" he had answered.
But after little while he had yielded
| to what she asked.
III want you to read it after you are
| gone-not here" she said to him earn
estly, that you may have that week
| while you are away to think over it. If
you were here, and could see me at
once, you might say something on the
impulse of the moment-and want to
save you from doing that. Do you un-
derstand me?" she asked him wistfully.
"Yes-I understand that you find it
very hard to put any faith in me-" he
answered half in earnest; but when the
| tears had started to her eyes at this,
he had promised her what she asked.
"You shall have your own way" he
| said you shall do whatever will
satisfy you best. Write your account,
and / will take it with me. So that you
end your mystery, won't quarrel with
| the way in which you do it."
And then he had parted from her with
| that promise, and with an utter unsuS-
piciousness that had gone to her heart
| like stab. For / love him so, and
| yet | am going to deceive him." she
said to herself. "Oh, is there no escape
for me-no other thing that l can do
but thisg" And she burst into bitter
tears as she asked herself this question.
But yet she could not think of any way
of escape, nor discover any other thing
that she could do.
They had all been full of tenderness
and kindness to her when she left them.
l do not say that there had not been
some natural moments of late when
| Miss Dunstan had wished that she had
| never seen the widows face, and when
Helen had been jealous of her; but yet,
| even to the end these moments had
been the exceptions to their general
| feeling toward her. To Helen, indeed,
| affection for Esther had become for
some time past a half-unwilling en-
| grossment.-a main involuntary occu-
| patton of her slightly occupied days.
| Esther had given new interest to her
life; she had added too sensibly to its
few pleasures for her absence or pres
sence to be a matter Of indifference to
her; she had been so patient and gentle
to her that, cold by nature as Helen
was, more warmth had been kindled in
her heart by Esther than any one else
except Mr.. Dunstan had kindled there
for long time past. 1t was a selfish
enough affection probably, but yet,
from girl like Helen, it had been
tribute that had been worth the gain
away she had done the unusual thing of
had exclaimed
II cannot bear to have you go! am
not good to you always-I know that;
but when you go away what am L to
do?" And as she said this the tears
had started to her eyes.
When she went away Gabrielle drove
home with Esther, for they would not
let her return to her own house alone,
-warm-hearted, impulsive Gabrielle,
whose foolish affectionate parting
speech some of them had laughed at
just as they were starting.
II wish you had no other place than
this to 60 toll wish you had no other
house that would take you I'M" was
what Gabrielle chose to say in her i'm
pulsive way; and it was Helen who had
laughed at her; for Helen, for her own
part. kept her rare words of affection
for private use, and had always rather
an unkind contempt for the sort of ma
ture that could make public coin of
them. But Esther loved the foolish
lips that spoke so better than she loved
Helen's and some one else too had look
ed with approving eyes at the girl as
she had flushed UP and made her little
speech.
Mr.. Dunstan closed the carriage door
upon them with scarcely word of fare
we'll
Il endure to let you go away now,
but you shall aereT go againl" he had
said a few Minutes before arrpStinU
Esther at the foot of the stairs as she
cafnn HnNul, aftnr mn tfinne IN hnr hnnrnt