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


one-?n He spoke almost Larshly.
You are wrong-you are utterly
wrong!p she said.
"GOd knows | do not want to be
right!' This came from him hurriedly.
He died sixteen months ago-it was
| in September of last year. l have kept
some things from you'll mean, have
kept one thing from you but have
never told you anything that is not
true" she said. And then, after mo-
ment or two, with so much earnestneSs
that her voice was trembling-"Mr.
Dnnstan, do not doubt that" she said.
Her hand was leaning on the mantel-
| piece near him, and, instead of replying
| to her, he laid his own hand for an. in
slant over it. 1t was a sort of reassur-
| ing caress such as he might have given
| to child-very slight-hardly tender
so much as merely kind; touch that
seemed to say only-"Hushl-I do not
doubt it"-and then left his thoughts to
turn to something else.
1t was a frosty winter day, and the
sun was shining on the place where
| they were standing-on her black dress,
| and on the little that her widows cap
| left to be seen of her bright hair. There
was a pause after the last words she
had said, and she longed to break it flor
she was frightened) by saying some
thing that, bringing their talk to an
end, should make it possible for her to
90 away; but she had not self-pOsses-
sion enough to think of what she could
say, or courage enough to leave him
without saying anything, and so she
stayed till, after he had been leaning
over the mantelpece for two or three
minutes, looking into the fire, he began
to speak to her again.
"You shall answer me or not as you
like,-but-as we have begun to speak
of this-let me ask you few questions
more" he said. WAS your marriage a
happy one?-tell me that"
NO" she replied in a low voice.
"Why was it not happy? Did you not
love your husband?"
Il was very young when married
him." She began to answer hesitatingly.
II hardly knew what | was doing, and
they persuaded me. They said had
encouraged him-and / had-I know
had" she said quickly and deprecating-
ly; "but l was so young: was not eigh-
teen."
"Who was it who persuaded your
not your mOther?"
Mol was not at home at the time;
/ had gone on visit somewhere. 1t
happened then. But they were glad at
, home too"
"Then they thought it good mar
riage"
"Yes."
Good in a worldly point of view9"
Eyes"
And yet even in worldly way it
did not turn out well for your"
She did not quite understand this,
and looked up inquiringly before she
answered.
you have to work to support your
self now. How does that happen, if
your husband was well Off"
The blood rose all over her face; in
hurried way she began to say some
thing, but he could hardly for moment
or two catch or gather any meaning out
| of her words.
"Oh, he had nothing to do with it
he never meant-it was only after his
death-he left no will" she said con-
fusedly.
but you were his widow. If he left
property, and no will"
Eyes, yes-I know" she interrupted
him quickly. And then she paused for
a moment or two, as if thinking what
she could say, and after that little ST.
lence went on speaking in strange
forced voice, without lifting up her
eyes.
81 cannot explain it,-but it was my
own doing" she said. II mean / chose
not to put forward any claim. / could
not do it. They had so nearly killed
me amongst them-I could not have
taken their money; l was advised to
claim it, because l was told if l did not
| should do injury 20 my own cause
but could not!-I would rather have
starved, thousand times All this is
very incomprehensible to you" she said,
suddenly raising her sad eyes up to his
face. II know how strange it must
seem,-but-I cannot tell you the truth!'
she cried with almost sob in her voice.
do you think you are right to say
still that you cannot tell it to me?" he
asked her gently after little silence.
"Why can you not do it? Are you
afraid that shall be harsh to you too,
| as you seem to say that others have
beenp Esther Hill, you might trust me
better"
''Do you think do not trust your"
she said passionately, though hardly
above her breath.
"Then, if you do, tell your secret to
me. Look here-I give you my hand,
and promise you that what you tell
me shall never pass my lips again. 1t
shall be secret forever, if you like, be-
tween u.s."
He touched her hand, but. she would
not let him hold it.
"Oh, l cannot-I cannotl' she only
said.
He closed his lips in something Of
hard line, and it was she who spoke
again first; he would not.
"DOn't be angry with NEEDN'T