San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1891-12-26

nor a mother" UnOrnas voice grew
sad with each syllable.
They had entered the great CORR
dor in which their apartments were
situated, and were approaching Beat
rice's door.
''My father died last week." Beat
rice sai3, in very low tone that was
not quite steady. II am quite alone
here and in the world"
II am very lonely, too" said
Unorna MAY l sit with you for
while?''
"Wnl you. indeed?" eatrice ex-
claimed. II am poor company, but
! shall be very glad if you will come
in"
She opened the door and Unorna
entered
81 only came this morning" Beat
! rice said. as though to apologize for
the disorder.
And do you expect to be here
| longp" Unorna asked, as Beatrice
established herself at the other end OF
the sofa.
81 cannot tell" was the answer. Il
may be here but a few days, or may
have to st month"
II lived here for years" said
| Unorna; thoughtfully. i suppose it
would be impossible now-I should
die OF apathy and hamilton. was
young them"
| Young them" she exclaimed. You
are young now."
Less young than / was then"
Unorna answered, with little sigh,
followed instantly by smile.
Il am FIVE and twenty" said
Beatrice, woman enough to try and
force confession from her new
acquaintance
Are your uld not have
thought-we are nearly Of an age
quite, perhaps, for l am not yet
twenty-siX. But, then, 1t is not the
years." She stopped suddenly. I
Beatrice wondered whether Unorna
were married or not. Considering
the age she admitted and her extreme
beauty it seemed probable that she
must be. 1t occurred to her that the
acquaintance had been made without
any presentation, and that neither
knew the others name.
"Since | am little the younger"
she said, Il should tell you who I
am"
Unorna made a light movement.
She was on the point OF saying that
she knew already-and too we'll.
ii am Beatrice Varanger."
Il am Unorna." She could not
help a sort Of cold defiance that
sounded in her tone as she pronounced
the only name she could call hers
"Unorna?" Beatrice repeated cour-
teously enough, but with an air Of
surprise.
''Yes-thats all. 1t seems strange
to youP They call me so because
was born in February, in the month
we call Unor. Indeed, it is strange.
and so is my story-though it could
have little interest for you"
Forgive me-you are wrong. 1t
would interest me immensely-if
you would tell me little of it-but
am such a stranger to you"
81 do not feel as though you were
thai Unorna answered, with a very
gentle smile.
You are very kind to say So" said
Beatrice, quietly.
She related her history, so far as it
I was known to herself, simply and
graphically, substantially as it has
been already set forth, but with an
abundance Of ancedOte and comment,
which enhanced the interest. and at
the same time extended its limits in
terspersing her monologues with re-
marks which called for an answer,
and which served as tests of her COM
paniOn's attention.
Then you are not married."
Beatrice's tone expressed an in" ro-
cation, and a certain surprise.
No." said Unorna," II am not
! married. And you, if may ask?"
NO" said Beatrice in an altered
voice, Il am not married. shall
never marry"
A short silence followed, during
which she turned her face away.
81 have panied you. said UnOrna,
with profound sympathy and regret
Forgive me! How could l be so
tactless!'
How could you know" Beatrice
asked simply, not attempting TO deny
the suggestion. But Unorna was suf-
fering, too. She had allowed her.
self to imagine that in the long years
which had passed Beatrice might have
forgotten. 1t had even crossed her
mind that she might, indeed be mar
ried. But in the few words, and in
the tremor that accompanied them, as
! well as in the increased nallOr in