San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-11-15

direction. She had done this purposely
to make any pursuit of her difficult, in
case that should happen did which real.
" happen, that Mr.. Dunstan should
try to follow her. For herself she only
felt that it did not matter where she
went, and so for day or two she wan
! dered to and frO,-caring only to make
the course she took an irregular and
| improbable courSe-and then she reach
ed Leeds and stayed there, not from any
| preference of Leeds over other places,
but merely because she was weary when
she got to it, and had no heart nor care
to go further, and because she thought
that amidst its busy streets she could
easily live unnoticed and unknown.
Guy Dunstan would never find her here,
| she thOught-even if he were te look
| for her (which he would not do, she used
to say, with sad, half belief in her own
| Words; and so she hid herself here,
having Just courage and strength enough
| left to do that and no more.
She used to sit all day thinking of
| him while she worked. Her only oc-
cupation during these months was do
| ing pieces of embroidery, which, when
| finished, she disposed of at one of the
Leeds shops. She had earned little
money in this way before she went to
Cheshire, and she had no other means
now of gaining subsistence. She had
indeed saved something during the past
year, but the largest part of that had
been spent in bringing her here, and
the little permanent income that she
had of her own was scarcely more than
enough to pay for the room in which
She'lOdged. Her work procured her a
few shillingS week, and in this way
she contrived to live, being indeed hard
ly troubled at all about her poverty, for
it seemed to her matter of so little
consequence what became of her that
in her present mood the thought of it
had scarcely any power to disturb her
or make her anxious. She felt during
these weeks as if it was so little likely
that she could live long; and she had
her own small principal to draw upon
always, at the worst. Il shall not live
till that is all spent, " she used to think.
She would look sometimes at her thin
hands, and at the hOllows that were
coming in her cheeks, with feeling
that had more in it of gladness than of
pain. Occasionally sense of the wrong
ness Of this would steal over her, and
she would think to herself half frighten-
ed have no right to be so miserable:
have no right to sit still and let my
heart break" but yet she seemed to
have no power to keep it from breaking.
She had worn out her strength so en-
tirely that nature, as her right, claimed
this time of weary, unreSisting, lifeleSS
rest. Il will try to rouse myself pres
ently-if God gives me strength" she
used to think; but she had no power to
do it yet.
At the end of two months she had
never seen one word that Mr.. Dunstan
had addressed toher, though there were
few principal newspapers throughout
the country in which he had not adver-
tiSed But she never saw newspaper;
nor so much as dreamed of looking
there for any communication from him.
Week after week other eyes read his
appeals to her, and her eyes never read
them. She had lived for more than two
months in absolute ign ORANGE of every
effort that he had made to find her be-
fore at last, one night, as she was fold
ing up torn paper that had been wrap
ped about some work she had brought
home, amongst the advertisements at
the head of a column, her eyes for the
first time caught the words-''To Es-
Their"
She saw her name, yet even then she
did not think at the first moment that
the Esther so addressed could be her.
self; 1t was only for an instant that the
sight of her own name attracted her,
and made her, with a kind of idle
languid interest, pause to look what
followed. 1t was the second glance that
told the truth to her, and brought her
down upon her knees before the table
at which till then she had been stand
ing listlessly, with a cry like a cry of
regained life upon her lips.
He had written to her.
You did not know what you were doing
when you went away from me. If you had
ever trusted me you never would have left
me as you did. / implore you to tell me
where you are. You did not let me write
an answer to your letter: l claim the right
to see you once more, and to answer it to
your face. Let me do this, if the past
counts for anything at all with you, or il
you have faith in any words that have
ever said"
1t was a single leaf of Leeds paper,
roughly torn across the top, so as to
leave no date. In vain she searched to
discover even the month in which it
had been published; she could not find
any mention of month or day. With
out any clew by which she could gather
when he had written them, the half
dozen sentences stood before her, start
ling as sudden words from dead lips.
If she had been dying before land 1
almost think she had BEEN they brought
life back to her. Had a message come
to her from heaven it could hardly have
been more to her than this. Though
she never were to see him more in all
the world, could she ever feel utterly
lonely again now? Had not God heard
her prayer, she thought, and given her
the one assurance she had tainted for
the one cart ainfu thnt rrni,ld rnnIrn