San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1892-12-08
came embarrassing.
enid Won find George VvellTs'

! contented."
did you enjoy your stay there?'
mo; enjoy nothing. All places are
the same to me. But pleasant thing
happened" His face lightened up with
the memory as he recalled it.
What was thatS" she asked expect
antly.
George nearly killed man for me-"
Miss Tenant shuddered.
That was horrible" she said.
Il tell you it was fine" he cried. 1T
! is so good to know that one will do
something for you. shall never forget
that"
But there are other and better things
to do for one."
II don't know what they are" he said
| modify. George is splendid fellow.
He would have killed the man quite if /
had wanted him to-"
you are not yourself when you talk
in this way" said Lima. You hurt
me-"
Il don't want to do that. There are
hurts enough in the world now," he an
swered.
Poor fellow" she breathed softly.
Don't" he said impatiently; '"don't
do that. l don't want to be pitied.
Don't pity me. can't stand that"
"Oh, how you have sufferedr' she
continued, not heading his appeal. "Does
| George understands
Eyes. He would not let-that-be
done again; he cares for me now"
"And do you think that no one else
cares for your
For moment the blood tingled in his
veins, and he bent toward her with a
quick, searching look. But he was
quickly himself again-calm, composed,
expecting nothing He would not let
himself be deluded again by any fancy.
He would expect nothing, hope for moth
ing, from any man or woman. Then
there would come no more disappoint-
ment.
NO." he said shortly, II don't expect
any one else to. That man he struck
said | had the prison look'-that l
would always have it. One can't care
for man with the prison look"
"Yes, can; l do, Ogden. 1 can't
bear to see you like this"
mo, you can't care for me; you pity
me, that's all, he answered modify.
He got up to go. Lima placed her
hand in his.
You will come and see me again,
will you not, tomorrow"
did not tell you? l am going away
to England"
AT once?"
Il had meant to start tomorrow"
Must you? Is there any need?'
There is no hurry. Nothing that l
do is important"
Then you will see me again.
He promised and went away.
Once more by himself and there began
an hour of struggle as bitter as any that
had come before in the whole course of
Chalmers life. When Lima Tenant
had said that she did care for him it had
demanded the whole strength of his ma
ture to keep from reaching out and TAX
ing her in his arms and telling her the
whole story of his love, and how the
| sacrifice of those long years had been
made for her sake. Now he thought
over her words and the look in her deep
eyes, and if he could have Invested him
self of the narrowing belief that her
kindness had been only prompted by
| pity he would have gone back then and
asked her to be his wife.
He walked on and on through the
| long night. Should he ever be able to
| throw off this feeling of abasement that
was now always with hin-to hold up
| his head among men, to believe that he
could be valued by them at his real
worth, instead of being pitied and
Stunned because of what he had been?
| He wished he might never have to see
men any more. The stars shining above
him were quiet and cOngenial compan-
| ions. They asked no questions; they
let their light shine out as freely for
him as for any.
He stopped beside the still river and
watched the reflection of the stars in its
silent bosom.
"a man might go down there" he
thought, land sleep with them and be
| quiet and still and content forever. |
wonder if that would not be best after
| all?"
But no; that would not be right to-
ward George, who had sent him on this
business and trusted him with it. He
would attend to that first; then, maybe,
he might-rest.
And then George would care, too; he
knew that now-had known itever since
he struck that detective fellow.
Lima had said she cared too. But did
she? How could he tell? She had done
nothing for him. Perhaps she had never
had the chance; well, he would give her
| one now; he would ask her to marry