San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-10-31
NOT PROVEN;
ESTHER HILLS SECRET.
BY GEoRGIANA NJ. CRAIK.
OR

through H6leIl, anu Drought al dlluOSI
impetuous reply from her; for the girl
was inquisitive and sometimes imperti-
nent, but at the bottom Of her heart
there was some generosity too.
"Oh, pray forgive me! l did not
mean to hurt you. OF course you have
every right to be silent if you please"
she said, with her hand held eagerly
out; and she took Esther's hand, and
drew her toward her with little gentle
force, and kissed her. And then she
put no more direct questions to her at
ter this, whatever further gains of in
formation concerning her she might try
to extract by more artful means.
1t had scarcely been with Aunt Su-
sans cordial concurrence that Mrs. Hill
had first begun to come to Wrexham;
but, cold and reserved as Esther Hill
was, there was something about the sad
and silent woman that soon appealed
irresistibly to the kindness of a nature
like Miss Dunstan's. Poor young
thing" she had tegun to say of her be-
fore her engagement had lasted for a
week,-'She is not cheerful object in
the house certainly, but as for not being
interested in her, that is impossible. /
am sure think am an old fool for the
way sit and look at her, and wonder
about her. think she has got the most
beautiful forehead and eyes, Nelly, that
/ ever saw in any mortal face"
This heart of Aunt Susan's was
heart that was touched easily, and that,
when once reached, had bottomless
depths of tenderness and kindness in
it. No creature came near her needing
help whom she could keep from helping
long. Before Mrs. Hill had been to
| WreXham half dozen times Miss Dun
stan had began to pet her.
'My dear, you are looking so tired"
she would say to her: and then she
would fall to prescribing wine and rest,
and whatever other good things it was
in her power to help her to, preaching
| kind little sermons over her. as she
administered her prescriptions. She
would hover about her on damp morn
ings, with an eye to the state of her
boots and the warmth of her shawl; she
would take possession of her at lunch
eon-time flor they always made her stay
to luncheOn), and press her to eat with
an earnestneSs that the two girls used
it was wet into an eager protest against
her going back to her lodgings through
the rain; and that day, for the first time,
! Mrs. Hill stayed during the afternoon,
! as well as the morning, at WreXham.
"Why should you go, when you have
nobody at home to want your" Aunt
| Susan said to her. ''Here is big house,
and not very many of us in it. just
make yourself comfortable where you
like, and stay as long as you like"
"For we can't let her 60 running
about in the rain, you know" Miss
| Dunstan half deprecatingly explained
! to Gabrielle. ut wouldn't be right
and, poor thing, am sure she is well
| come to be here as long as she pleases.
l shall only be glad if it does please her
| to stay. for it goes to my heart to think
| of such sorrowful creature sitting hour
| after hour by herself"
Upon which Gabrielle chose to make
wicked answer.
sDo YOU think it is quite right to let
| her stay, when you know so little about
her and there are so many silver
| spoons i'm the house?" said the girl, with
CLEAN of laughter in her eyes,-chOOs-
| ing in her insolent way to turn the
| tables. and make use of something like
Miss Dunstan's own previous argu-
ments to bring her to confusion,-until,
as Aunt Susan fell to blushing.-''My
dear old Aunty, who is the prudent one
aInOilHSl US! CllCu OdDllCIlOf anu
| laughed outright as she kissed the con-
| SciouS cheek.
And yet, though we are all falling in
| love with her, Mrs. Hill is still mys-
| tery," Gabrielle said one morning to
| Leigh Warrington. Can not you find
| out something about her? You find
| out nothing! Is she breaking her heart
| for her husband or not?"
us it. reasonable TO ask me such
| question: he answered with laugh.
| ''If YOU see her every day and cannot
answer it, how can you expect me to
answer it when l have never seen her
at all except twice2"
but you are clergyman: you ought
to be able to find out. Something must
be wrong with a clergyman if he can t
make his flock tell their troubles TO
him."
Il have no doubt many things are
wrong with me. In your sight believe
all things are wrong" the young man
said in the tone OF mingled reproach
and vexation to which she often drove
him.
"You might go and see her again, and
say something to her."
"Say what sort of thing to herr"
"How can | tell You what sort OF
thingp You ought to know that. Don't
you ever go to see people who are in
tToublep"
You know do.n
'"Then don't you know what you say
to them?"
Il know very well what say in an
ordinary case; but Mrs. Hills is not an
ordinary case. She is not the sort OF
woman to whom one could easily offer
consolation"
'"Ah-you feel that, do you",