San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1891-12-10

near Sucn Iunelul music. a dream
like, INTERPRETATIONS satisfaction of
the senses dulled the keen self
knowledge of body and soul for one
short moment. In the stormy play
of his troubled life there was brief
interlude of peace. He tasted the
fruit of the Lotus, his lips were moist
ened in the sweet waters of forget
fulness.
The lady spoke at last, and the
spell left him, not broken, as by
sudden shock, but losing it's power by
quick degrees, until it was wholly
gone.
Il will answer your question by an
other" said the lady. Let your re-
ply be the plain truth. 1t will be
better So"
ASK what you will. l have moth
ing to conceal"
"Do you know who and what | am?
Do you come here out of curiosity. in
the vain hope of knowing me. having
heard of me from others?"
"Assuredly not" A pale flush rose
in the mans pale and noble face.
"You have my word" he said, in the
tone of one who is sure of being be-
lieved, THAT l have never, to my
knowledge, heard of your existence;
that / am ignorant even of your name
- forgive my ignorance - and that |
entered this house not knowing whose
it might be, seeking and following
after one for whom | have searched
the world, one dearly loved, long lost,
long sought"
1T is enough. Be seated. / am
Unorna."
"Unorna?" repeated the Wanderer
with an unconscious question in his
voice, although the name re allied
some half forgotten association.
"Unorna-yes. 1 have another
name" she added, with a shade OF
bitterness, "but it is hardly mine
Tell me your story. You loved-you
lost-you seek-so much | know.
What elsep"
The Wanderer sighed.
You have told in those few words
the story of my life-the unfinished
story. A wauderer | was born,
wanderer / must ever be, until at last
| | find her whom / seek. | knew her
in strange land, far from my birth
| place, IN city where | was known
| but to few, and | loved her. She
loved me too, and that against her
his daughter wed with one not
OF her race; for he him
self had taken a wife among strangers.
ard while she was yet alive he had re-
! pented of what he had done. But
would have overcome his reasons and
! his arguments-she and | could have
overcome them together, for he did
not hate me, he bore me no ill-will.
We were almost friends when l last
took his hand. Then the hour Of des-
tiny came upon me. The air OF that
| city was treacherous and deadly. |
had left her with her father, and my
heart was full of many things, and Of
| words both spoken and unuttered. |
fingered upon an ancient bridge that
! spanned the river and the sun went
down. Then the evil fever of the
south laid hold upon me and poisoned
the blood in my veins, and stole the
consciousness from my understanding.
Weeks passed away, and memory re-
| turned, with the strength to speak. |
learned that she | loved, and her
father were gone, and none knew
WHITTIER. l rose and left the accused
city, being at that time scarcely able
to stand upright on my feet Find
ing no trace of those | sought, | jour
neyed to their own country, for |
knew where her father held his lands.
l had been i'll many weeks and much
time had passed, from the day on
which l had left her, until l was able
to move from my bed. When reached
the gates Of her home, / was told that
all had been lately sold, and that
others now dwelt within the walls.
! | inquired of these new owners Of the
land, but neither they, nor any OF all
those whom / questioned, could tell
me whittier / should direct my search.
| The father was a strange man, loving
travel to find change and movement
restless and uusatisfied with the world,
rich and free to make his own caprice
his guide through life; reticent he
was, moreover, and thoughtful not
given to speaking out his intentions.
! Those who administered his affairs in
| his absence were honorable men, bound
by his especial injunction not to reveal
his ever-varying plans. Many times
in my ceaseless search | met persons
who had lately seen him and his
daughter and spoken with them. l was
ever on their track, from hemisphere
to hemisphere, from continent to