San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-11-07

gin afresh when you come to us to-day
Shall WEI" he said. And with that he
looked into her face,-the frank clear
eyes having a touch of something rath-
er like amusement in them.
They were approaching place where
the road parted. She had made no re-
ply to him, and, after few moments
"Our ways lie in different directions
now, SUPPOSED" he said. "You are
going home, are you not? have bust
ness up this way. | shall not see any
of them till two or three O'Clock, so, if
| you find my sisters note waiting for
| you, you had better send an answer to
| it. And then, when you have told them
| you are coming, get out of the house as
| fast as you can. VIII you do that?" he
asked her frankly, as he held out his
hand.
IF she really writes to me-" she said
quickly.
There is no doubt that she will write
| to YOU" This came with a sudden
| laugh. II see you don't give me much
credit for speaking the truth yet; but
never mind,-well come to better I'M
derstanding presently. Good-by.
shall see you again in few hours"
And then he raised his hat, and they
went their separate ways.
He was content enough as he went
| his: she, on the contrary, as soon as she
was left alone, was beset and over
whelmed with self reproach.
II was wrong to yield. What does it
matter though he tempted me?" she
said to herself. ~ had no right to yield.
God bless him for his kindness!-but if
had but had strength to reject tiff
/ was not such a coward, and did not
cling so to the thought of being with
| them. Oh, it is not too late perhapsl l
have given him my promise, indeed
| but if it were right to draw back" .
But then suddenly, as she thought of
drawing back-as the little momentary
happiness seemed already to be begin
ming to slip past her,-all at once it
seemed to her as if she could not bear
| it, and she began to cry passionately-
what have done that l should not
| be happy like other womenp My life
has been so hard and bitter! What have
| l done that when kindness is offered to
me should not be allowed to stretch
out my hand and take itY" And in
| kind of agony she walked along the
road, accusing man, and almost God, of
| injustice las she had done before nOw)'
in the anguish and bitterness of her
| heart.
She has passed already through many
paroXySms of this sort, and had endur-
ed them without finding the comfort
| that she was able to find to-day in the
| drop of sweetness that was mingled
with all her bitter. II have told him
the truth, and yet he trusts me, she said
| to herself after little while; and then
| by degrees this comforted and Gained
her. For, hard as her lot might be, had
IL. o1 ~
| she had found friends like these?-above
| all the rest, one such friend? a.,
Miss Dunstan's letter was lying Oh
| her table when she reached home,-a
warm-hearted letter, with couple of
loving lines at the end of it from Ga
brielle. Even if he had not asked me,
| how could l say no to them?" she
thought when she had read it; and then,
allowing herself to hesitate no longer,
| she opened her desk, and sat down to
| write her answer;-and it was only
| then, as she began to write, that for the
| first time another thought came to her
| that brought the blood into her face,
| and made her stop at the first words: it
was the sudden remembrance of George
Gilbert.
Suppose he knew her story, and, for
his friends sake, should choose to in
| terpose, and stop what she was going to
do! she thought. She knew that, if he
chose to stop it, and at this moment
were to come into the room, and say to
her-"Y GU shall not become more init
| mate with the Dunstans, or will no
| longer keep your secret" she should be
helpless: if it were in his power to say
| this to her, she was at his mercy. But
sCas it in his pOwer2 The unhappy wo-
| man sat with her face buried in her
| hands, crushed under the weight of this
new fear.
For a little while all her courage
seemed to die out of her. She said to
herSelf-''I cannot face i'll cannot run
the risk. will write to them, and say
| cannot Gomez And once even she
took up her pen. and began note that
should say this,-but she could not
write it. Her heart was urging her to
go to them; and, in the end, in spite of
fear. in spite even of her conscience,
her heart prevailed. "He cannot know
it." she said to herself. Il am so full
of cOwardice that l fear hundred
things L have no need to fear" And
then for little while she sat still and
thought of how during these weeks If
she should go to them) she would try to
reward them for their goodness by serv-
ing them, and giving her heart to them;
and then at last she wrote her answer
you have taken from me, amongst
you, all power of resisting your kind
ness, J." she wrote. II would say No to
you if l could do it, but l do not know
how to say No: so l will come if you
will have me, and will be ready at the
time you propose" AUNT Susan had
suggested that they should send the
carriage for her at four o'clock.) II
fool . if rrnrn talrinn q hnnninaSS that /