San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1892-01-22

'"Pr1ncess," he sald, meeting the hon.
est, agonized eyes squarely, II want to
tell you the story of my marriage with
Ethel Ross, and of my subsequent life
with her. had not intended to harass
you with it until later, if at all; but now
l deem it best you should become ac-
quainted with it, and from my lips. 1t
will explain many things.
Then he briefly related all the miser-
able commonplace story. He CLOSED
over nothing, palliated nothing; bearing
hardly now on his wife, and again on
himself, but striving to show throughout
how opposed to true marriage was this
marriage, how far removed from per-
feet union was this union. Pocahontas
listened with intense, strained interest.
following every word, sometimes almost
anticipating them. Her heart ached for
him-ached YEARLY. Life had been so
hard upon him; he had suffered so.
With woman's involuntary hardness to
woman, she raised the blame from
Thorne's shoulders and heaped it upon
those of his wife. Her love and her
sympathy became his advocates and
pleaded for him at the bar of her judg-
ment. Her heart yearned over him with
infinite compassion.
If Thorne had kept silence and left the
matter there, and waited until she should
have adapted herself to the new condi-
lions, should have assimilated the new
influences which crowded thick upon
1,,,-a hna,, Lo4tar Int la
could not keep silent-he had no patience
to wait. He could not realize that the
things which were as a thrice told tale
to him had an overwhelming newness
for her. That the influences which had
nodded his thought were very far re-
moved from the influences which had
made her what she was. He could not
understand that, while the world had
progressed, this isolated community had
remained stationary, and that the prin-
ciples and rules of conduct among them
still We're those which had governed his
world in the beginning of the century.
He saw that her sympathy had been
aroused, that she suffered for and with
him, and he could not forbear from
striving to push the advantage. He
went on speaking earnestly; he demon
strated that this marriage which had
proved so disastrous was in truth no
marriage, and that its annulment was
just and right, for where there was no
love, he argued, there could be no mar
riage. With all the sophistry, with all
the subtle arguments of which he was
master-and they were neither weak nor
few-he assailed her. Every power of
his brilliant intellect, every weapon of
his mental armOry, all the force of his
indomitable will was brought to bear
upon her-and brought to bear in vain.
Calm, pale, resolute, she faced him
her clear eyes meeting his, her nervous
hands folded tightly together. She
would not give way. In their earnest
ness both had risen, and they stood fac
ing each other ON the hearth rug, their
eyes nearly on level. The mans hand
rested on the mantel and quivered with
the intensity of his excitement. The
woman's hung straight before her, mo-
tionless, but wrung together until the
knuckles showed hard through the tense
skin. She would not give way.
Thorne was startled and perplexed.
Opposition he was prepared for, argu-
ment he could meet and possibly refute,
tears and reproaches he could subdue-
but dumb, quiet resistance baffied him.
Suddenly he abandoned reason, cast self
control to the winds and gave the reins
to feeling If he could not convince
her through the head, he would try a
surer road-the heart. Though proof
against argument, would she be proof
against love? He knew she loved him.
He felt it in every fiber of his being,
every pulse of his heart-and he was de-
termined to win her at all hazards. His
she must be. His she should be.
my lover he murmured, extending
his arms with an appealing tenderness OF
look and gesture. Come to me. Lay
your sweet face on my breast, your dear
arms around my neck. l need you,
Princess; my heart cries out for you and
will not be denied. l cannot live with
out you. You are mine-Inine alone,
and claim your love; claim your life.
What is that woman? What is any
woman to me save you, my Darlington
only? My Lowell My love! 1t is my very
life for which am pleading. Have you
no pity-no love for the man whose heart
is calling you to Gomez
Pocahontas shivered and bent slightly
forward; her face was white as death,
her eyes strange and troubled. The
strength and fire of his passion drew her
toward him as a magnet draws steel.
Was she yielding? Would she give wayt
Suddenly she started erect again and
drnru hack arain All the emotions,