San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-11-04

a disturbing element, does she call
herself?'' he said. swell, l can't say
that she distuTbs me. If she does any
thing, 1T is rather the reverse of that
Her fault is that she is too much of a
composing element. And, as for being
useless,-well, in the utilitarian sense
OF the word every work of art is useless,
but we are not utilitarians here.
Doesn't she know that she is good to
look at?n
But still, as far as holding any special
communication with her went. it re-
manned true that Mr.. Dunstan did not
seem to be much drawn to Esther.
One day, however, he said to her
when she was about to take her leave
Are you going home? l have to 90
your way, so we may as well walk to-
gether, mayn't wey'-and the PROPOSE
ton was made so suddenly that, having
no time to frame an objection, she was
startled into forced compliance with
it.
"If you like" she said after mo-
ment'S silence; and though he might
have seen, and probably did see, that
she would rather have gone alone, he at
once accepted her unwilling permission,
and in couple of minutes they were
walking together to the gate.
He began almost at once to talk to
her in an easy pleasant natural way.
He was man fond of talking-one who
at most times preferred talk to silence
who rarely had difficulty in talking to
any one, whether man, woman, or child.
On the few occasions hitherto when he
had been alone with Esther (shy of him
as she was in general way) he had
managed to make these interviews not
silent interviews by any means, and as
they walked along the road together he
was not silent, nor did he let her be 81
lent now.
He fell to talking to her about Helen.
In the estimation of many people Helen
Lynn was hardly a lovable woman; her
illness had sharpened and sOured her,
and made her on the whole not COM
Portable to live with; but her uncle lev
ed her, and never thought of her Or
spoke of her without tenderness. He
was so tender over her, and so sorry for
her, that her faults of temper never
vexed him as they veXed other people.
He never said quick word to her, nsr
resented sharp word that she said to
him, nor failed in his constant patience
with her.
He had never spoken to Esther about
her before this, and she had hardly
hitherto known how ne"r his heart the
girl was. His voice grew gentle and
full of feeling now as he talked of her.
"She has so much more to suffer than
any of the rest of us; | cannot bear that
we should ever forget that" he said.
"All this illness of hers has been 50
much harder for her than it might have
been for many a one-or than it might
be even for her in another place, where
she could have more to occupy her than
she has here. l am more grateful than
can tell you to any one who ever
brings fresh interest into her life.
You have done that. you know, he said,
and suddenly turned his face to her,
land have never yet thanked you for
it." 81
"Oh, but you must not speak Of
thanking me-" Esther replied to this
quickly and eagerly.
"W6y must / not?' he Immediately
asked.
"Think of how little can do, and Of
all that they have done for mel Think
how good they have been to mel' she
said, with something of culver in her
voice.
is ALL"
"But they were not fond Of me at The
beginning"
And then, when he did not answer
this at once
"Do not speak again of thanking me-
for anything may ever do for Them
she added earnestly. 81 have received
ten times more from them than 1 can
ever repay. They were kind to me wheuI
was without friend: they helped me
when did not know where to look for
help; above all, they trusted me-" she
said, and all at once she turned her face
to him with look of intense and even
passionate feeling that came over il
like flash of Highland that l shall
never forget"
"They did right to trust you," he an
swered quietly.
She was still looking at him as he said
this, and at the words the gray eyes
opened wider, as if in surprise; and
then suddenly she could not answer
him, for they had got brimful of tears.
They walked on together for little
after this without speaking again. He
said no more about Helen. They were
coming near Mrs. Coulson7s cottage,
and if she had chosen she might per
haps have remained silent for the shOH
remainder of the way they had to 90
together; but these last words of his
had moved her, and though she had mob
been able to reply to them at once, be-
cause she could not trust her voice To
do it steadily, yet she wanted to reply
to them, and when she was almost at
the cottage door she forced herself,
though not without an effort, to do it.
81 am too grateful-to all of you-ts
be able to speak about my gratitude"
she abruptly said in low voice; only
1 should like you to understand that at
lnnst fool how nnnd Won are To me -