San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-11-18


II hardly know whether or not | am
| right in bringing it to you,-but have
| thought over that, and have decided to
| do it. 1t came this morning. He took
! it from his pocket and held it out.
"Here it is. 1t is from Mrs. HILL"
They were sitting yard or two apart,
| with the library table between them.
| At those last words--"It is from Mrs.
Hill'-with sudden, half-inarticulate
| cry, Mr.. Dunstan started to his feet
| lie gave one moments glance at the
| letter as he seized it, then he held it
tight, and lifted up his eyes to George
| Gilbert's face, with. not at first joy
full. but a bewildered and almost fierce
| look in them.
ITO yOus" were the only words he
said, in a tone of suppressed passion.
"YOu will understand the reason of
that when you read what she says" Mr..
Gilbert answered quietly. (IIe might
have taken offense at the look that Mr..
| Dunstan had given him. Some men
would,-but this one loved Guy Dun
stan too well to do it. Il happened to
know her story-that is all. She found
that out after you saw her last.n
| He said nothing more; neither of
them spoke another word. With the
letter in his hand, Mr.. Dunstan went in
| silence to one of the windows. and
stood there with his back to the room,
and then few minutes passed.
| AT the end of them there was step
upon the floor again,-a voice, a face
over which magical change had come.
George Gilbert looked up,-and for that
moment at least he did not regret what
he had done.
Mr.. Dunstan went straight up to him
and wrung his hand.
"God bless you, George! If you had
kept this back from me-" he said, you
would have done crueler thing to both
of us than you ever did before to any
one in all your life."
| "Yes-that is how it seemed to me;
but You must ask her to forgive me-"
Mr.. Gilbert said.
''She ,ciU forgive YOU" This was
said with sudden joyful smile. "She
will forgive you: L will promise you
that. When can / get train? Isn't
there one at half past five? Look for
me in Bradshaw, George"
1t was not his voice alone that was
| changed, but his whole look was so full
| of new life,-of overlooking, tumultu-
| Gus; impatient Joy. What did he want
! with explanations? George Gilbert was
| prepared to tell his story, but he never
| asked him for it. He had got one fact,
| to be grasped as for dear life: what did
all the rest matter to him?
| "She cannot look for an answer till
tomorrow morning, Mr.. Gilbert began
to say. You need hardly take that
train unless you like. She will go to
the post ofiice tomorrow, no doubt"
| And l will be in Leeds to night"
Mr.. DunStan answered with laugh.
i GIFT anrin hnt
| accounts in the housekeeper's room,
heard call upon her name presently
| that sent cloudy sense of old things
had actually met, all that humiliation
| which she had thought to feel in his
| presence vanished like dream. 1t was
| not shame because of what she was
that made her drop her eyes before
| him. Now that he had come she thought
| no more of shame. 1t was fear of her
| own weakness only. she was fainting
| and hungeriDg to feed her heart upon
his face, but she said to herself that she
| dared not satisfy her hunger. There
was wild sense of unutterable gladness
| in her, through and above and in spite
of all pain and terror,-a passionate
sense that for the moment death had
| ceased, that life had come back, that
|
veins again; but yet, beyond the mo-
ment, was there hope for her, or peace,
| or anything beyond great blank? This
one hour ended-whaB was to come
| nextp
He let her set some twenty stitches
| into her work in silence; then he began
to talk to her in a quiet, easy way about
| his home news, and about Gabrielle'S
engagement especially. She let her
work drop on her knees almost uncon-
| sciously as he told her Of that, and the
gray eyes fixed themselves on his face
| in their eager interest and surprise.
| She began to ask him questions, at first
shyly and hestatingly, then more and
| more naturally; by degrees the face be-
| gan to look like her own face once more,
| paler and thinner, but with the old light
coming trembling back into it again
that had been out of it utterly all
| through those hopeless months. He
said to her at last suddenly, after a good
Hhile-,'Doesn't this seem pleasant and
natural, Esther" and then as he asked
her that the tears rushed up, and she
could not answer him. He had ar
rested the words upon her lips by those
words of his.
They had been sitting apart till now,
but after he had said this he rose up
| and went nearer to her. He had been
talking hitherto as he might have talk
ed to any familiar friend of whose in
terest in what concerned him he was
tolerably assured; bat it was inevita-
BILE that an end to this must come, and
he brought that end now. He went up
to her suddenly, and stood looking at
her for two or three moments as she
worked: then all at once-"My darling"
he said, II have been very desOlate
,rrit ant you. - md nrrnst nn the hand