San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1891-06-06

to have done, whatever it might be.
This, of course, is not quite the same as
saying that 1.-The American Castellani"
las he was sometimes styled was a man
whom women could afford to trust.
There We're stories about him-never
fairly authenticated, however - that
pointed to a different conclusion. If we
give ear to the gossip of the world, who
would escape? Harry Trent was man
of the world, and he was highly Gull
tured, fastidious man. Low intrigues
would not come in his way; on the other
hand. he made no profession of saintship;
he went to church, and was privately
charitable; for the rest, you must take
him for what he appeared, and he was
taken for an uncommonly fine fellow.
But to return to the marriage ques-
ton. The opinion gained ground that
Harry Trent contemplated matrimony,
though no seer was found bold enough
to point out the particular woman who
was to enjoy the good fortune of being
made his wife. Some fancied it might
DC tiO L1dltSOlllC 4NOW oIIcdIlS "luOW,
Sally Matchin, who was known to have
been on terms of cordial friendship with
him for many years, and at whose house
in West Eighteenth street he was often
seen. But experienced critics objected
that, had she been the destined bride,
she would have become Mrs. Trent long
ago-the acquaintance was now too old
to issue in that manner. A few enter
prising spirits threw out suggestions
looking toward Olympia Raven, beau
tiful girl of eighteen, and cousin of
Harry's by marriage. But Olympia was
really too young, even for Harry, and
besides, he had quietly made known his
intention of inviting her and her mother
to come and live with him-which, it
was agreed, he would scarcely have done
had he meant to wed her; nor would he
have settled an income of eight thousand
a year on the mother and daughter had
he looked forward to becoming the
formers son-in-law. So one hypothesis
after another was advanced and rejected,
and at the end nobody was wiser than at
the beginning.
The house was completed in what
seemed, judged by our standards, a W on
derfully short time, for it was ready to
be lived i'll before the end of the winter
season of 1S70-say il carnival time.
But Harry Trent had himself superin-
tended the work in all its stages, and
had seen to it that the workmens hours
of rest did not exceed their hours Of la
Dor. And yet, when all was done and
February was drawing to close, he
still delayed moving in. 1t may have
been merely accident; it may have been
that he was waiting for Olympia Raven
and her mother to get ready, or, posi-
bly-for all men have their weak side
he was the least bit superstitious and
was haunted by recollection of that
old proverb, when the house is built
death enters in" But he was strong
and healthy, in the full enjoyment of a
life that had never met with serious
failure or disappointment. In every
thing he attempted he had been success
full, and either prudence or naturally
happy temperament had kept him from
spelling his nerves and digestion by too
anxious and assiduous labor. If ever
the afternoon slope of a mans life prom
ised to be sunny, easy and prolonged, it
promised so to him. He had built a
house perfectly adapted to his. needs:
it was ready to receive him; his many
friends, impatient for the house warm
ing, were counting the days that had to
elapse before Lent came and postponed
the celebration to a remote Easter-and
still Harry Trent made no sign. What
was the matter with him?
He had, in fact, visited the house al
most every day, letting himself in with
his passkey, and sauntering through the
beautiful rooms, where fires were kept
burning in the open CRATES by the care
takers in charge. He contemplated the
interior from all points of view and in
all moods, sometimes tentatively max
ing slight modification of arrange
ment, which he was as likely as not to
restore the next day. He seemed loath to
persuade himself that all was really Just
as he would have it, and yet he could
devise no improvement. So might a
lover study the face of his mistress,
afraid to believe that her lovely features
were absolutely without flaw, or so
might any mortal regard the most nearly
perfect earthly achievement, unable to
suggest any lettering of it, and yet
vaguely conscious that, in some way,
nothing of this. earth could be perfect
indeed.
The twenty-fifth of the month ar
rived and found the situation unchanged.
Harry Trent had on that day gone to
afternoon tea at Mrs. Matchin's, it being
her day at home, and had remained till