San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-11-08

was girl"
What sort of writing? Letters?"
"Yes-sometimes, with little
hesitation. But more often copied
bis sermons"
OH was your father clergyman"
Another moments silence; then alb
ruptly-
lis he living?"
Nor your mother"
"You must be tired, am afraid. Are
you?" This was said with change of
tone. Have given you too much to
do?"
"Oh, no."-very earnestly
well, L hope l haven't. You have
been of great use to me. | wish you
could teach Gabrielle to write hand
like this. You couldn't have better
hand. 1t is both distinct and beauti-
full"
II hope'-she had risen up by this
time, and she began to make her speech
little nervously-''I hope that, if you
find anything else that l can do for you
i mean, if you should want any more
writing done while am here-that you
will let me do it,"
Would it not be a trouble to you?"
He asked this with frank look in her
face.
''Oh no! should like it."
"Then will make use of you very
gladly. There are number of things
you could do for me-"
Have you anything ready that you
could give me now? If you could set
me something to do l would take it
away with me-"
No, no,"-a little quickly. "You
have written enough for to-day. I'll
tell you when you can help me again.
Thank you; you have done everything
want at present"
And then she left him, and went back
to Helen, who was waiting to be read
to, feeling glad that she had been able
to be of service to him.
In the course of that day she began
to get a little more at home with them,
and to become able, to some extent at
least, to throw off the morbid feelings
that had so oppressed her the first night.
1t was strange enough to her, after all
she had passed through, to find herself
once more living as a common member
of common household, with all that
bitter past of hers-which she had be-
l lieyed so short time ago must separ-
ate her forever from ordinary human
companionShip-all cast aside, blotted
out, for the moment, and as it were
forgotten; it was so strange that she
could scarcely believe it, and could
hardly dare give herself up to the sweet
ness of it; and yet Though she said to
herself-''I have no right to take such
happiness as this, nor to let them give
me place amongst them,") its sweet
ness became every hour more hard to
| be resisted. A
For, in fact, she loved these people
not exactly by reason of their deserts,
but because when she had been friend
less they had found her out and been
kind to her; and love kindled in this
| way is apt in some natures to become a
species of passion. do not know that
any one of this family atWrexham was
especially worthy of being regarded
with great devotion, but they had come
by chance to form the main interest,
almost at this time the sole interest, of
Esther Hills life. She was letting her.
self become wrapped up in them to an
extent of which she herself was hardly
yet aware, and of which they, missed
by her reserved manner, were wholly
unconscious. or her own power OF win
ming their love she thought with almost
morbid humility. She knew that Ga
brielle cared for her,-or at least for
this poor face of hers that, in her own
sight, seemed so changed from it's old
beauty that she wondered how the
young eyes could think it so pretty still;
but in the affection of the others she
had but little belief. II might have
made them all like me once" she would
think to herself sadly, "but now what
is there left in me that could make any
creature draw to me except in kindnessp
All, if l could but do something for
them so that they might feel they were
the happier for me, think l should
never murmur or say that God had been
hard to me again." :
There was, as have said already, an
unconscious charm given to Esther
Hill by her unselliShness. She was
woman OH whom circumstances had in
deed forced an unhappy habit of intro
spection, and she had been driven to
brood over her own history and her own
troubles till the worlds boundaries had
almost contracted themselves for her to
the little circle which inclOsed her
special life; but yet from seltishness, in
the common meaning of the word, she
was admirably and nobly free. In every
thing she ever did she was content to
serve herself last; nor did she do this
from any sense of duty, but uncon-
sciously and from instinct Whether
the work she did was sweet to her to do,
as performed for some one whom she
loved. or simply help given to stran-
ger whom it was in her power to aid
in both cases her natural instinct ledto
the same result.
She had not been at Wrexham for a
week, before Though she herself knew
nothing of it) she had made this self