San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1893-11-10

But Winsome felt that she had already
said too much. She laughed and shook
hands with the captain, who held her
fast and kept insisting on the lads
name" Then she was obliged to walk
slowly about the garden with the old
lady, who picked generous bouquet to
send to Miss Penelope, while Winsome
could have screamed with nervous i'm
patience. She longed to be alone-alone
where no one could see her. She pulled
her veil over her face.
Feared of freckles:" asked Mrs. Pea
body. Oh, how every one noticed every
thing! And there was a message to take
and another kiss before she got away.
Il don't know as ever saw Winsome
Douglass act so sort of hity tity before, ''
said the old lady as she went into the
house again.
'Sairy," responded the old gentleman,
I'm right. There's lad at the bottom
of it. She don't care for shipping news.
Gals don't take an interest in anything
like that unless the beauX are mixed up
with it"
"Ah," said the old lady. "Ah, may be
you are right, captain, but whatever it is
it has spilled her manners. Naturally her
manners is pretty"
Poor Winsome, hurrying along the
road with her big bunch of marigolds
and peoples, lady's slipper, southern
wood and spice pin&s, with her veil over
her face and her heart beating like a
%,;,, bo,,,,,o,. 1r,oo lilo ono haCila h,r
self. Her first thought was that Jack
was ill or dead. Not for moment
could she believe that he was not all that
was good and true and honorable. Oh
yes, something terrible had happened to
Jack. Before she reached home, how
ever comfort came to her. She remeIn,
bered that letters were sometimes lost
Jack had written, no doubt, and some
thing had happened to the letter, not to
Jack. She would herself write at once
write to Paris, where he thought they
would make their long stop, and having
made this resolution she ran the rest of
the way home, tossed the bunch of flow
ers to Miss Penelope, forgot the message
Mrs. Peabody had sent completely AMI
sat down at her desk without taking off
her bonnet.
What beautiful, trusting letter she
wrote to Jack, but she was inexperienced
in foreign correspondence, and she was
greatly excited. When she slipped the
letter into the little postoffice box, it was
addressed thus:
MIR. Jack Archer, Paris. To be kept
until called for" =
Poor Winsome had hesitated for mo-
ment about these last words. Jack had
said something about 'Poste restante,'
but she feared the spelling of French
words, and celebrating over this forgot
to add France" and so, with a 2-cent
stamp upon it, her precious missive was
carried to one of the many small towns
of America which have been named aft
er the French capital, and there waited
to be called for until it became the joke
of the loungers, who amused themselves
by examining the mails after the free
and easy fashion of the place. And many
time had the question when is that
Teller going to come for his letter. been
asked before the dead letter Office sent it
back to Long Dock, where there was no
longer any one of the name of Douglass
to receive it, but we anticipate again
hope faded in Winsome's bosom. She
was always going to the postofficer and
coming home pale as a lily and with
dull heaviness in her once bright and
dancing eyes.
She refused to weep, and her heart
beat heavily in silence. If Jack had
been an inConstant lover, she could-or
at least she thought so-have plucked up
a spirit, forgotten him and scorned him
and been happy once more. But he was
her husband. They had taken those sol
emn vows which only death can dis
solve. 1t could never again be as it was
before with her. Never! Never!
Poor Miss Penelope. How she watched
the girl How she grieved over her pal
lor, her dependency. Sometimes she
thought of the young cOllegian who had
spent so MANY evenings in the little par