Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1874-02-12
gu 0rigiual Sturg.
Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.
DESTINY;
HOUNDED DOWN.
BY NELLY MARSHALL McAFEE.
CHAPTER XIII.

Meanwhile, Irving McDonald-tne manu-
some and unprincipled rous, who had left no
dark deed undone in the calendar of crime
was writhing and storming secretly, because
having called on Cecilia the day after the
eventful opera night, she had sent him mes
sage to the effect that she would no longer
receivehis attentions attentions which ne de-
sired now, more than at any previous time in
his life-to offer in sober and serious earnest ;
for nov he was in love with her more really
more passionately-than ever before! And
he longed to make her his wife, as he had
never longed for any earthly thing. His soul
was devoured by jealousy, and the unfading
thought, by day and night, with him, was how
he could dispense with the presence and the
power of his rival, without exterminating
him from the face Of the earth.
Irvings ancestors were Italian on his moth
er's side, and Spanish on the paternal. He
inherited many lawless ideas and ways, which
cling to race as certainly as deformities and
talents do through generations of families.
It had been the rule of his life never to hest
tate to put out of his way any and every OBJ
stacle that opposed his wishes. If he could
not move them by fair means, he thrust them
out by foul'ones He was the handsomest
man of his age and time, as we have said be-
fore, and thoroughly trainedin every particu'
lar of social etiquette and elegance; but he
had not throb of religious feeling. His soul
was dorulant-had always been. This was
all the more remarkable, because he had been
educated at the Jesuit Collegein Georgetown,
District of Columbia.
The good priests who had trained his mag
ni6cent mind, and taught its owner the quiet
elegance of manner that distinguished him,
failed, signally, to impart to his heart any
sort of religious sentiment. They had not
been remiss in this particular branch of his ed
ucation they had striven to teach the holy
truth but to their gentle instructions he had
ever turned the deafest ear, and refused to be-
lieve in any thing they believed in.
Without faith in the Eternal, was it sur
prising that Mcdonald should lead life thor
oughly immoral and vicious, especially when
his handsome face, his elegant person and the
lavish expenditure of money, marked him out
as one of the "very respectable members of So
ciety?" He liked this adulation he was fond
ofexciting the admiration and winning the at
lection of the fair sex. But hitherto it had
been source of the keenest delight to him to
sport with this affection when once won, and
finally to wound and crush it.
The quaint old adage says: cts long
lane that has no turn" His lane had been
long and green ; but the slowly-revolving days
and nights had brought him sharp upon his
turn, and found him wholly unprepared.
Even in Bristol it was not so bad as this.
That was annoyance-it was rebelling against
bondage; but this was grief-despair !! He
could not understand the decree that compell-
ed him to love, without hope, and through
this passion to suffer as he certainly did suf-
fer! And the woman he loved! Why he
could absolutely count the weeks upon his
fingers when he might have won her for HIM
self-won and welded her. Now, she neither
spoke to nor looked at him, and denied all
his visits-rejecting every overture leading to
a resume of the entente cordiale.
The man absolutely became monomaniac.
His one thought-his one dream-his one de-
sire-was Cecilia. He would sit, for hours
at time, rejecting on her charms of person,
and striving to recall the symphony of her
splendid voice. Why, he had not only lost a
lovely wye, but failing to win her, he had lost
a companion and friend! Married to such
a woman as Cecilia Fessenden, he could have
attained any emminence that pleased him.
O, what padman, what fool, he had been
But was she really lost-utterly lost-to him
Had this accursed Kentuckian any honorable
and serious intentions toward Mrs. Fessenden
Perhaps, after all, the man was insincere; or
perhaps he meant nothing. Perhaps he was
only amusing himself with "season" Airta-
ton with the beautiful widow? More than
likely was the. latter supposition; and he
would not torture himself with doubts until
he had compassed the whole truth of the mat
ter. He was resolved upon this much. This
done, he was master of the situation.
But how to proceed to get at the truth
That was the question that staggered his wits!
It almost distracted him! He could not 60
to her upon such an errand, even if he could
aain admittance to her house, and that was a
present impossibility. Elsewhere there was
no opportunity, even if she recognized his ac-
quaintance, and that she did not do. He
turned idea after idea over in his mind; but
nothing suited him that was feasible All
that did suit him was intangible. He grieved
over this, from early morning to the gray Of
twilight, without arriving at any definite con-
clusion.
One evening, he dressed himself with uuu'
sual care, and went to the opera. Had he
not been engrossed with the disappointment OF
failing to find Cecilia in her box, his vanity
would have been in state of high elation
over the admiring glances that were thrown
at him, taking in every part of his toilette,
from the faultless dress,suit and exquisite
gloves, gold lorgnette and handsome hair, to
the halfblown moss.rose in his button-hole.
He left after the second act; for then he
knew there was no hope of Mrs. Fessenden
making her appearance that night. He
missed Clarence Gadbury, too u; and halfmad-
dened with jealousy and the wine he drank
at his late dinner, he hurried out of the house
and directed his steps, without delay, toward
Mrs. Fessenden's hotel AS he neared it, he