San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-02-25
MISS BRE7HERTON
By MRS. HUMPHREY WARD,
ROBERT ELSMERE."

IRE.
Tomorrow, as soon as you are gone,
shall go off to Italy There are some little
places in the south near Naples that she was
very fond Of | shall stay about there for a
while. As soon as | feel | can, shall come
back to the senate and my work. 1t is the
only thing left me-She was so keen about it."
His voice sunk into a whisper and n long
silence fell upon them. Women in moments
of sorrow have the outlet of tears and ca
reSses; mems great refuge is silence; but the
silence may be charged with sympathy and
the comfort of a shared grief 1t was so i'll
this case.
The afternoon light was fading, and Ken
dial was about to rise and make some neceS-
sary preparations for his journey, when Paul
detained him, looking up at him with sunEen
eyes which seemed to carry in them all the
history Of the two nights just past. will
you ever ask her what Marie wished" The
tone was the even and pasSionleSs tone of one
who for the moment feels none of the ordi-
nary ennbarraSsments of intercourse; Kendall
met it with the same directness.
"Some Ivy shall ask her, or at least'I
shall let her know; but it will be no USE"
Paul shook his head, but whether in protest
or agreement Kendall could hardly tell. Then
he went back to his task of sorting the letters,
and let the matter drop. 1t seemed as if he
were scarcely capable of taking an interest
in it for its own sake, but simply as wish,
charge of Marie.
Kendall parted from him in the evening
with an aching heart, and was haunted for
hours by the memory of the desolate figure
returning slowly into the empty house, and
by sharp provision of all the lonely nights
and the uncontrolled morrows which lay be-
fore the stricken man.
But, as Paris receded further and further
behind him, and the sea drew nearer and the
shores of the country which held Isabel
Bretherton, it was but natural that even the
grip upon him of this terrible and startling
calamity should relax a little, and that he
should realize himself as a man seeking the
adOred woman, his veins still beating with
the currents of youth and the great unguessed
future still before him. He had left Marie in
the grave, and his life would bear the sclr Of
that loss forever But Isabel Brethcrton was
still among the living, the warm, the bcauti-
full, and every mile brought him nearer to
the electric joy of her presence. lie took a
sad strange pleasure in making the contrast
between the one picture and the other as
vivid as possible. Death and silence on the
one side-Oh, how true and how irrcparable!
But on the other, he forced or his magma
ton till it drew for him an image of youth
and beauty so glowing that 1t almost charmed
the sting out of his grief. The English
paper which he succeeded in getting at Calais
contained the announcement: "4liSS Brother
ton has, we are glad to say, completely re-
covered from the effects of the fainting fit
which so much alarmed the audience at the
CalliOpe last week. She was able ID play
'Elvlra' as usual last night, and was greeted
by a large and sympathetic house" He read
1t and turned the page hastily, as ii what the
paragraph suggested was wholly Gistasteful
10 lin. He refused altogether to think of
her as weak or suffering; he shrank from his
own past misgivlngs, his own prophecies
about her The world would be a mere dark
prison house if her bright beauty were over
clouded! She was not made for death, and
she should stand to him as the image of all
that escapes and resists and defes that tyrant
of our years, and pain, his instrument and
herald.
He reached London in the midst Of a rainy
fog. The endless black streets stretched be-
fore him in the dreary December morning
like so many roads into the neither regions:
through the rain and fog. 1t was the quint-
essence OF murky, cherries winter
He reached his own rooms, and found bis
~ u? and waiting; for him, aGd 4 l.lu4l
ready 1t was but three days since he had
oeen last there; the open telegram was still
lying on the table. One of his first acts was
TO put it hastily out Of sight. Over his break
fast he planned his embassy to Miss Brother
imagined would be about midday, and in
the interval he would put his books and pa
pers to rights. They lay scattered about
books, proofs and manuscript. rs his or
derby hands went to work upon them, lie was
conscious that he had never been SO remote
from all that they represented. But his na-
ture was faithful and tenacious, and under
the outward sense of detachment there was
an inward promise Of return. Il will come
back to YOU" seemed to be the cry Of his
thought. You shall be my only friends.
But first must see her, and all my heart is
hcrs!n
The morning dragged away, and at half
past II he went out, carrying the little case
with him. AS he stood outside tie Bays
water house, in which he had settled for the
winter, he realized that he had never yet been
uuuer her roof, never yet seen her at home. |
1t was his own fault. She had asked him in
her gracious way, on the first night Of "El- |
vira," to come and see her. But instead of |
doing so he had buried himself in his Surrey /
lodging, striving to bring, the sober and aus
tere influences Of the country to bear upon |
the feverish indecision of his mood. Per- |
maps his disappearance and silence had |
wounded her; after all, he knew that he had |
some place in her thoughts
The servant who opened the door demurred |