San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1893-03-24

did he and my mother separate: why
did she drive him out: Whom can
trust? Is every one liar? What does
this mean? Answer me, Voltaire! An
swer me or shall die
Voltaire looked and did not answer.
To answer was a terrible revelation to
make to this innocent girl. Faith was
putting the old fellow to very cruel
works.
Speak said Lucy again, more pas
sionately than before, and her voice eX-
pressed the birth of new force within
her. Speak! What have you to say
of my mother? | dread some new sOr-
row. Tell me what it is or l shall die. e
Again these pages refuse to listen to
the few dcplorable words of his reply.
He whispered the secret of her mothers
disloyal life.
Il will not believe it," said the horror
stricken girl.
She did believe it.
She had touched the clew. From this
moment she knew the past and the pres
ent-vaguely, as pure soul may know
the mystery of sin.
For the moment she felt herself
crushed to deeper despair that before.
I@She recognized the great OverpowerinS
urgency Of fate. She could not know
that this recognition marks to the soul
its first step into conscious immortality:
and that the inevitable struggle to con
quer fate must now begin in her soul.
What can | do?" she said; and she
looked guiltily about the chamber, as if
every object in that house were the &C
complete of sin.
Run away with me to your father"
said Voltaire.
She shook her head weakly. She was
great, great way yet from any such
exploit with her infant will.
No" she said; Il must obey nv
mother That is my plain duty. She is
pledged and | am pledged to this mar
riage. | must submit" Tears again,
strong for her.
But suppose your father should tell
you to obey him and not submit" Vol
taire propounded. Suppose he should
help to run you off"
How can he?"
Il will steal off tonight to Fishkill
and see him."
You risk your life"
"Poh"
'Poh!" is not word to use to young
lady, Mr.. Voltaire. Yet perhaps nothing
could express so we'll as that explosive
syllable how much and how little he
valued life when the lady's happiness
was at stake.
But | didn't want Miss Lucy to be
frightened, of course" says he to Major
Skerrett, $50 | told her | was safe
enough in the Highlands, and when
got here | didn't believe Major Scram-
mel would let me be shot for spy"
Here he gave a mOnstrous sly look
Peter Skerrett again felt his cheeks
burn and his forehead tingle, and the
stilled Muse of History reports that che
uttered phrase indicative of reprehen-
sion and distrust.'
In short, he said to himself, "Scram-
mel! damn the fellow"
Certainly! Why not? But it must not
be forgotten that it is Scrammel who
suggested this expedition. Voltaire told
Scrammel of the marriage. Scrammel
would do one of his meanest tricks to
be himself the bridegroom. And his
scheme seems to be in fair way to for
bid the banns.
And SO guileless Lucy BrothertOft had
consented to her first plot. Her accom-
plice was to shift the burden of weak
ness from her shoulders and throw it
upon her father. Meantime she was to
take her place at the great dinner party
and be a hypOcrite for the first time.
How guilty felt that innocent heart!
How she dreaded lest some chance word
or look might betray her! What tor
ture was the burning blush in her cheeks
as she began to comprehend the woman
she must name mother!
How she trembled lest that woman's
cruel eyes should pierce her bosom, see
the secret there and cOnsign her, with,
out even the appointed delay, to the ar.
dent bridegroom. She knew that she
should yield and obey. Now that fol-
the first time she was eager to have a
will of her own, she saw how unframed
and inefficient this will was. Horror OF
her mother and loathing of her be
trothed each repealed her in turn She
seemed to see herself praying for mercy
to the woman, and she coldly refusing
to listen; then flying across the stage
and suppllcating the man to spare her
and he instead triumphing with coars,
fondness. All, unhappy lady! with NJ
friend except that stout hearted ole
squire, shining by night through tn,
Highlands and lodging sentries at risl
of a shOt-a shot, that startling trOchee