San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-02-20
MISS BRETHERT0N
By MRS. HUMPHREY WARD,
AUTHOR OF ROBERT ELsMERE."
"'We shall see,' he said; 4 Will ind out
something about that too before long
And so he has"

"'We shall see,' he said; 4 Will ind out
something about that too before long
And so he haS!"
August 1919.
Paul has been devOting himself more ana
more to the beauty, Mr.. Wallace and look,
ing on with considerable amusement and in,
terest; and this afternoon. finding it in.
Uolerable that Miss Bretherton has not even
bowling acquaintance with any of his favor.
tie plays, Angler, Dumas, Victor Hugo or
anything else, he has been reading aloud to
us in the garden, running on from scene to
scene and speech to speech, tranSlating as he
went--she in rapt attention. and he geStlCu.
lsting and spouting, and, except for an Occa-
sional queer rendering that made us laugh,
getting on capitally with his English She
was enchanted, the novelty and the excite
ulsnt of it absorbed her; and every now and
then she would stop Paul with a little i'm
pcriOus wave of her hand and repeat the
substance of speech after him with an i'm
petuous elan, an energy of comprehension,
which drew little mods of satisfaction out Of
him, and sometimes produced strong and
startling effect upon myself and Mr.. Wallace.
However, Mr.. Wallace might stare as he
liked; the two people concerned were totally
unconscious of the rest of u.s. until at last,
after the great death scene in the Mutt
Blanche, Paul threw down tho book almost
with a sob, and she, rising with burst Of
feeling, held out her white arms towards an
imaginary lover, and with extraordinary
skill and memory repeated the substance of
the heroneS last speeches:
"'Achillc, beloved, my eyes are dim-the
mists Of death are gathering. o Achille! the
white cottage by the river-the nest in the
reeds-yOur face and mine in the water-the
blue heaven below us in the stream-O Joy,
quick! those hands, those lips! But listen,
!steaI it is the cruel wind rising rising; it
chills me to the bone; it cholies, it stiles me!
| cannot seq tho river, and the cottage is gone,
and the sun. o Achille, it is dark, so dark
Gather me close, beloved! -closerl closerl o
death is kind-tender, like your touch! |
have no fearS-nOnep
She sank back into her chair. Anything
more pathetic, more noble than her intona-
ton OF those words could not have been
imagined. DesfOretS herself could not have
spoken them with more simple, more
piercing tenderness. | was so confused by
multitude Of conflicting feelings-my own
impressions and yours, the realities of the
present position and the possibilities of the
future-that forgot to applaud her 1t was
the first time had had any glimpse at all of
her dramatic power, and rough and imDer
feet as the test was, it seemed to me enough
have not been so devoted to the Francois,
and to some of the people connected with it,
for ten years for nothing One gets kind
of insight from long habit, which, think, one
may trust. Oh, YOU blind EuStacC, how could
vou forget that for u creature so full of print
tive energy, so rich in the stuff Of life, moth
ing is irrcparable! Education has passed her
uy Well, she will so to find her education
She will make a teacher out of every friend,
out of every sensation Incident and feeling,
praise and dISprase will all alike tend to
mold the sensitive, plastic material into
shape. So far as sac may have remained
outside her art; the art, no doubt, has been
conventional appendage, and little more
Training would have given her good con-
ventionS, whereas she has only picked up bad
and imperfect ones. But no training could
nave given her what she will evidently soon
develop for herself, that force and fame of
imagination which fuses together instrument
and idea i'll one great artistic whole. She
has that imagination. You can see it in her
responsive ways, her quick, sensitive emo
LiOn Only let it be reused and guided to
certain height and it will overlap the bar
ciers which have hemmed it in, and pour
itself into the channels made ready for it by
her art.
There, at least you have my strong i'm
preston. 1t is, in many ways, at variance
with some of my most cherished principles,
for both you and are perhaps inclined to I
overrate the value of education, whether |
technical or general, in its effect on the indi |
viduality. And, of course, better technical |
preparation would have saved Isabel Brother |
ton an immense amount of time; would have |
prevented her from contracting a host of bad |
habitS-all of which she will have to unlearn. |
But the root of the matter is in her; of that |
| am sure, and whatever weight of hostile |
may be against her, she will, if |
he keeps her health-as to which am some |
times, like you, q little anxious-break |
through it ali and triumph. ]
But if you did not understand her quite,
YOU have enormously helped her; so much |
viii tell you for your comfort. She said to |
ne yesterday abruptly-we were alone in |
our gondola, far out on the lagoon-'Did |