San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1892-01-27

INC VI buc DIdNO iucu
women from whom she had sprung, the
old traditions, the old associations rose
in her excited fancy and arrayed them
selves on one side. Against them in
serTied ranks came compassion, all the
impulses of true womanhood toward self
sacrifice and love.
The loneliness of the crowded hotel
oppressed her; the consciousness of the
life that environed but did not touch her
gave birth to yearning to get away
from it all-out into the sunshine and
the sweet air, and the warmth and COM
fort of nature. If she could get away
into some still, leafy place she could
think.
Hastily arraying herself, she left her
chamber and descended the broad stair
way. She passed through the hall and
out into the sunshine of the busy street;
and Jim, who, unseen by her, was stand
ing in the clerks Office, turned and
looked after her. A troubled expression,
like the shadow of cloud, passed over
his face, and he followed her silently.
In the street it was better. There were
people, little children, sense of life, a
sense of humanity, and over all, around
all, the warm sunlight. Comfort and
help abounded. A woman, weighed
down with heavy burden, paused, be-
wildered, in the middle of a crossing
man helped her; child stood crying on
doorstep-a larger child soothed it; an
ownerless dog looked pitifully into
wpman's face-she stopped and stroked
its head with her ungloved hand. The
longing for the isolation of nature slow
ly gave place to a recognition of the
community of nature.
A quiet street branched off from the
crowded thoroughfare. Pocahontas
turned into it and walked on. The roar
of traffic deadened as she left it farther
and farther behind; the passers became
fewer. 1t was the forenoon and the
people We're at work; the houses rose
tall on either hand; the street was still
and almost deserted.
A man passed with barrow of flow
ers-roses, geraniums, jasmine; their
breath made the air fragrant. In a
stately old church near by some one was
playing solemn, measured movement.
Pocahontas turned aside and entered.
The place was still and hushed; the
light dim and beautiful with color; on
the altar, tapers burned before the
mother and child everywhere there was
faint odor of incense.
Pocahontas wandered softly here and
there, soothed by the peace, comforted
by the music. On one side there was a
small chapel, built by piety in memory
of death. Pocahontas entered it. Here,
too, lights burned upon the altar, she'd
ding soft, golden radiance that was
caught and reflected by the silver candle
sticks and the gold and crystal of the
vases. On the steps of the altar was a
great basket of roses, and through a
memorial window streamed the sunlight,
casting on the tessellated pavement a
royal wealth of color, blue and gold and
crimson; against the dark walls marble
tablets cleaned whitley. Near one of
them, tiny shield, a man stood with
his head bent and his shoulder resting
against carved oak column--Nesbit
Thorne, and the tablet bore the inscrip-
ton, ALLEN Thorne obiit Jan. 14th, 1S-,
atat years"
Pocahontas drew back, her breath
coming in short gasps; the movement of
the music quickened, grew stronger,
fiercer, with crash of chords. Thorne
did not move; his head was bent, his
profile toward her; about his pose, his
whole form, was look of desolation.
His face was stern, its outlines sharp, its
expression that of man who had had
hard measure meted out to him, and
who knew it, and mutinied against the
decree. He did not see her, he was not
conscious of her presence, and the
knowledge that it was so sent pang
through her heart. A wave of pity
swept over her; an impulse struggled
into life to go to him, to take his hand
in hers, to press close to his side, to fill
the void of his future with her love.
What held her back? Was it pride?
Why could not she go to him? His I'M
consciousness of her presence held her
aloof-made her afraid with strange,
new fear.
Footsteps neared, echoing strangely;
the music had sunk to minor cadence
which seemed to beat the measure of
their advance. The eyes of the woman
were filled with a strange expectancy.
Into the waiting place, framed by the
central arch, came the figure of man
strongly built, of noble air, of familiar
presence. Eyes brave and true and
faithful met hers gravely, hand was
outstretched toward her.
Pocahontas shivered, and her heart
beat with heavy, muffled strokes. The