Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1873-03-27
gu Original Sturg*
Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.
FLORIMOND:
OR,
DIVORCE OR No DIVORCE
BY MRS. CLARK WARING.
CHAPTER x.

MRS. sUMMERVILLE MAKES HER EXIT.
"Florimond," called Mrs. Summerville's
weak voice, proceeding from her sick bed,
"Florimond, will you come and read or repeat
to me? I am weary, my child, and thy voice
falls on my melancholy spirit like the music
of David's harp to Saul"
"Thank God, possess the power to soothe
YOU in any way" said Florimond, and she laid
down her own book, "Benton's Anatomy of
Melancholy" and leaning afectionately over
her grandmother, asked what she would like
her to read.
"Some simple thing" said the invalid,
(which will not excite my mind, but elevate
my thoughts and soothe me. Something, l
think, from Cowper-
The child-lke sage,
Sagacious reader of the works OF Cod
Florimond read for an hour, and I think
there never was any one who could read like
Florimond. At the expiration of this time
she knew, by her grandmother's quiet breath
ing, that she slept. So, slipping on tlp-toe
out of the room and down stairs, she called to
Berta, who was romping on the green sward in
front of the house, her light curls flying in the
air, her cheeks like vermilion and her dark
eyes Cher mothers own eyes) sparkling with
animation.
"Berta," said her mother, "put on your hat,
darling, and 60 with Charity to the convent.
Tell Madame Ignatius, mamma is very sorry
she cannot come, as usual, this afternoon, as
grandmother does not seem so we'll, even as
Yesterday. Tell her the arrangement now, is
to start to the plantation tomorrow, ifgrand-
mamma is strong enough for the journey, so
she must come, if possible, to bid us good
bye"
Berta ran for her hat and Florimond sat
on the steps, watching with the swelling heart
of proud mother, her lovely child, as she
danced rather than walked down the avenue.
But when the servant and the child were
fairly out of sight, she returned to the sick
room. Mrs. Summerville was still asleep, so
she resumed the reading of the book she had
thrown aside an hour before, until IN the
waning light, she could no longer distinguish
the printed characters. Then Florimond sat
idly looking out on the fast descending twl-
light. From this reverie she was aroused by
the noise of Berta's return. Florimond ran
down stairs to meet her.
"Oh mamma mamma" cried Berta, ex-
citedly, II have seen my uncle"
"Your uncle! What uncle?'
"Her. uncle, who said his name was MIR.
Henry Dandridge," said Charity.
"And, OH mamma, he gave methis," said
Berta, producing beautiful locket of antique
workmanship, set with precious stones; "and
he said my papa sent it to me, and his hair is
in one side; and when papa comes back home
his picture is to be put in the other side"
"Where did he send it from ?" asked Flori-
mond.
"From far off place, ma'am," said Chari-
ty. 81 cannot call the name"
"Mexico, I suppose" said Mrs. cambridge !;
"but Charity, have not often told you never
to let Berta speak to strangers on the street"
81 could not help it, ma'am," )" said Charity,
abashed. II took her hand and drew her
away, but he told me to mind my place and
not interfere with him, for he was her own
uncle and had the right to speak to her."
"And was that all he said?' enquired Mrs.
cambridge.
"Oh no, ma'am he walked to the very gate
with Berta, and he asked her if she did not
want to see her father and did not want to 60
and live with him-and that her grandfather
and grandmother Dandridge and her aunts
were crazy to see her. And then he asked
when her birthday came, and Berta said she
did not know; so l told him it was sometime
in April"
"And, mamma" put in Berta, che told
Charity fshe would find out exactly the day,
he would give her five dollars, and he would
give me very pretty present"
II told him, ma am, that-ah-Mrs. Dam
dridge-"
81 wish to hear no more, Charity" said
Florimond. II have heard quite enough of
Mr.. Henry Dandridge's sayings and doings."
Slowly she assembled the steps, the open
locket in her hand, with its lock of nut-brown
hair. There was displeasure and grave an
noyance on Mrs. Daudridge's face, and the
little Berta, who knew so we'll how to read
the expression of her mothers features looked
up at her pleadingly and asked
Mamma, are you angry with me?'
"No, my sweet child" said her mother,
with mostened eyes, straining the little form
to her heart; "but what shall do when they
take you from me?
"Who will take me from you, mammal"
"Your father, my child; or what is worse
in his absence, your fathers relatives
IL who gave you birth will be powerlcss."
"But I will not leave you, mamma" said
Berta.
"My child, they will force you to CO."
"Then I will die," said the child, "and you
can hide me away in little grave"
"Do not talk so, my child" cried Flori-
moud, shuddering; "but better even that,
than to give you up to them. No, my child,
she cried, smothering her in kisses and tears,
"they shall not have you. Let me die, oh
nv Goblet me die irstp'
When Florimond returned to the sick room,
Mrs. Summerville was awake, feeling much
refreshed from her long slumbers. She con-
versed quite cheerfully with her granddaugh-
ter, and made the little Berta lie beside her
on the bed, that she might inhale the fragrance
of her sweet young lips, feel the embraces of
her soft white arms, and listen to the prattling