San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-02-19

He followed that figure through scene after
scene; be saw primroses in its hand, and the
pale spring blue above it; he recalled it stand
ing tense and still with blancbed cheek and
fixed appealing eye, while all round the June
woods murmured in the breeze; he sur
rounded it in imagination with the pomp
and circumstance of the stage, and realized
it as u center of emotion to thousands. And
then from memories he would pass on to
speculatlons, from the scenes he knew to those
he could only guess at, from the life of which
he had seen little to the larger and unex-
plored life beyond
And so tho days went ol, and though he
was impatient and restless, yet indoors his
work was congenial to him, and out of doors
the sun was bright and all the while certain
little god lay hidden, speaking no articulate
word but waiting with a mischievous pa
tcnce for the final overthrow of one more
poor mortal
At last the old postmistress, whom he had
almost come TO regard as cherishing a per-
sonal grudge against him, ceased to Tepulse
him, and after bis seven years of famine the
years of abundance set in. For the space of
three weeks letters from Venice lay waiting
for him almost every alternate morning, and
tho heathery slopes between the farm and the
village grew familiar with the spectacle of a
tall, thin man in a rough tweed suit strug-
Cling as he walked with sheets of foreign paper
which the wind was doing its best to fitch
away from him
The following extracts from these letters
contain such portions of them as are neces-
sai'y to our object:
CASA MINGHETTI.
"MY DEAR EUSTACE-I can only write you
a very scrappy letter today, for we are just
settling into our apartment, and the rooms
are strewn i'll the most diStractIng way with
boxes, bOokS and garments; while my maid,
FelIcic, and the Old Italian woman Caterina,
who is to COOK and manage for us seem to be
able to do nOthIng-nOt even to put a chair
straight or order some bread to keep us from
S.arving-without consulting me. Paul. tax
ing advantage of a husbands prerogative,
has gone Off to flaner on the piazza while
his women folk make life tolerable at home;
which is q very unfair and spiteful version
of his proceedings, for he has really gone as
much on my business as on his own sent
Lim-feelirg his look of misery, as he sat on
a packing case in the middle Of this chaos,
terribly on my mind-to see if he could find
the English consul twhom he knows little,
and discover from him, If possible, where
Your friends are 1t is strange, as you say,
that Miss Brerherton should not have written
to Inc; but incline to put it down to our old
Jacques at home, who is getting more and
more imbecie with the weight of years and
infrmities, and is quite capable of forward
ing to us all the letters which are not worth
posting, and leaving all the important ones
piled up in the hall to await our return. 1t
is provoking, for, if the Bretherton party are
easily spend all our time in looking for each
other; which will, indeed, be lame and i'm
potent conclusion. However, | have hopes
of Pauls clevernesS.
And now, O'clock There is no help
for it, my dear Eustace. | must go and
instruct Caterina how not to poison us in our
dinner tonight She looks dear old soul,
but totally innocent of anything but Italian
barbaritieS III the way of cooking And Felicie
also is well meaning but ignorant, so unless
wish to have Paul on my hands for week
must be off. This rough picnicking life, in
Venice, Of all places, is q curious little ex-
perience but made up my mind last time
we were here that we would venture our
precious selves in no more hotels. The heat,
the mosquitoes, the horrors of the food We're
too much Here we have a garden, a
kitchen, a cool sitting room, and if | choose
to feed Paul on lisane and milk buildings,
who is to prevent me!
Paul had just come in with victory
written on his brow. The English consul
was of no use; but, as he was strolling home,
he went into ST. Marks, and there, of course,
found tbem In the church were apparently
all the English people who have as yet ven
tuIed to Venice, and these, or most of them,
seemed to he follow ing in the wake of little
party of fou? persCns-two ladies. gentle
man and lame girl walking with a crutch.
An excited English tourist condeScended to
inform Paul that it was the great English
actress, Miss Bretherton,' who was creating
all the commotion. Then, of course, he went
up to her-he was provoked that he could
hardly see her in the dim light of St Marks
introduced himself and described our per-
plexities. OF course, she had written. ex-
pected as much Jacques must certainly be
pensioned off Paul thought the other three
very inferior to her, though the uncle was
civil and talked condescendingly of Venice
as though it were even good enough to be
admired by WOrrall. 1t is arranged that
the beauty is 10 come and see me tomorrow
if, after Caterina las operated upon us dur.
ing two meals, we are still alive. Good
night and good-by."
VENICE, Aug. z.
'Wen, l have seen herl 1t has been a
blazing day. | was sitting in the little gar
den which separates One-half of our rooms
from the other, while Caterina was arrang
ing the dejeuner under the little acacia arbor
in the center of it, Suddenly Felicie came
out from the house, and behind her a tall fig
ure in a large hat and a white dress. The
Gp,ra hold ont hOt hands RI mo in, q cf.yIial