San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1892-01-23

child to Brooklyn and placed him under
the care of a sister of his fathers, gen.
tie elderly widow who had known sor-
row. His house he put in the hands of
an agent to rent or sell, furnished. only
removing such articles as had belonged
to his parents. The house was hateful
to him, and he felt that should the beau
tiful new life of which he dreamed ever
dawn for him, it must be set amid diff
ferent surroundings from those which
had framed his matrimonial failure.
Still in Difference to the Cumberland
prejudice, the remarriage of Ethel
Thorne took place very quietly. 1t was
morning wedding, graced only by the
presence of few Indifferent relatives
and a small crowd of curious friends.
The two Misses Cumberland, handsome,
heavy browed women, after much dis
cussion in the family bosom and some
fraternal persuasion, had allowed them
selves to be seduced into attending the
obnoxious nuptials and shedding the
light of the family countenance upon
the i'll doing pair. Very austere and for
bidding they looked as they seated them
selves, reprobatively, in pew far re-
moved from the chancel, and their light
was no better than the veriest darkness.
Twelve hours after the marriage had
been published to the world another
marked paper was speeding southwark,
addressed this time to Pocahontas and
accompanied by thick, closely written
letter. Thorne had decided that it would
be better to send messenger before
this time to prepare the way for him.
In his letter Thorne touched but lightly
on the point at issue between them,
thinking it better to take it for granted
that her view had modified, if not
changed. The strength of his cause lay
in his love, his loneliness, his yearning
need of her. On these themes he dwelt
with all the eloquence of which he was
master, and the letter closed with pas
sionate appeal, in which he poured out
the long repressed fire of his love: "My
darling, tell me l may come to you-or
rather tell me nothing; / will under
stand and interpret your silence rightly.
You are proud, my beautiful love, and
in all things l will spare you-in all
things be gentle to you; in all things
save this-I cannot give you up; will
not give you up. will wait here for
another week, and if do not hear from
you will start for Virginia at once
with joy and pride and enduring thank
fulness."
Pocahontas took the paper to her
mothers room, the letter she put quietly
away. She would answer it, but not
yet; at night-when the house should be
quiet she would answer it.
The lines containing the brief an
nouncement were at the head of the list:
MARRIED.
CUMBERLAND-THoRNE.- the Church of
the Holy Trinity, Sept. q, 49,, by the Rev.
John Sylvestus, Cecil Cumberland to Ethel
Ross Thorne. both of this city.
Mrs. Mason laid the paper on the little
stand beside her chair. "My daughter"
she said, looking up at the girl seriously,
"this can make no difference"
"No, mother" very quietly, "no differ
ence, but thought you ought to know"
In her own room, at night, when the
house was still, the girl sat with the
letter in her lap thinking. The moon
light poured in through the open window
and made map on the floor, whereon
slender shadows traced rivers, mountains
and boundaries. In the trees outside
the night insects chirped, and bats dart
ed and circled in the warm air.
If only she could think that this made
a difference. She was so weary of the
struggle. The arguments which former
ly sustained her had, with careless itera-
ton, lost their force; her battleworn
mind longed to throw down its arms in
unconditional surrender. Her upbring-
ing had been so different; this thing was
not regarded by the world in the same
light as it appeared to her; was she over
strained, opinionated, censorious? Mes
bit had called her so-was he right
Who was she, to set up her feeble judg-
ment against the worlds verdict-to
condemn and criticise society's decision?
Divorce must be-even Scripture al
lowed that; limb must be sacrificed
sometimes that life might be saved.
True, the process had always appeared
to her in her ignorance an operation of
cruel anguish, from which the patient
came halt or lame or blind for life, but
what if she should be wrong2 What if
the present crablike propensity for the
renewal of the missing part was the
natural and sensible condition. This
wicked woman-this wife who had reck-
lessly thrown aside life's choicest gift
was happy; she had replaced her Topped
off limb with a new one, and it was well
with her. Norma had said long ago
that "any woman who trifed with her