Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1875-09-02


ever, been warned of the probability of such
attacks, she restrained her first terrified i'm
pulse to summon the aid Of physician, and
calling her daughter to assist her, raised
Claribel from the floor and laid her upon a
lounge. After the application Of sundry rem
edies, usually employed in fainting-fts, they
had the satisfaction of seeing the deathly pal
lor give place to more natural tint, and after
one or two slight struggles, Claribel, with a
deep sigh, opened her eyes, and fixed them on
Madam Bernstein's face, with an expression
of surprise and inquiry, but without the dull
vacancy that had heretofore marked their
expression.
"Where am n" she asked, after a moments
silence.
"Ich verstehe nicht. Octie, my child, come
and talk to her" said the good lady, treasured
by her collected manner, though she did not
comprehend the question and Octavia, moth
ing 10th, quickly obeyed.
"You are with good friends" she said in
soothing tone, taking Claribel's hand in hers
Do you feel better now?"
Attracted by her kind and pleasant face,
Caribel looked earnestly at her, but made no
reply. She felt bewildered, and put her other
hand up to her forehead as if to clear away
the mists that seemed to obscure her brain.
"Please tell me where I am, and what is
the matter with me-" she said at length. Il
feel as if were dreaming"
"You have been unwell," replied Oetavla
"that is-you have had an accident, and they
brought you here.'
can accident!" echoed Claribel. "How-
where2 Who brought me?"
"a gentleman-a friend" said Octavia,
confused, and not certain how much it would
be right to enlighten her. while dreading
questions that it might be painful to answer.
Again Claribel was silent, trying in some way
to connect her present surroundings with any
thing that she had ever been familiar with
before but the efortwas an unsuccessful one,
and it was in a tone of distress that her next
question was asked.
"Will you please tell me your name?"
"Octavia Bernstein. Oh! mother" said
Octavia, nervously, "she is going to cry-what
shall i do2 Must tell her all about it?
0"I don't know-whatever you think, my
child" responded Madam Bernstein, who in
moments of uncertainty usually depended
upon her daughter. Claribel, hearing the
consultation in foreign tongue, and growing
more and more agitated, clasped her hands
and looked piteously from one to the other.
"Do tell me what is the matter !" she cried,
entreatingly. HAS anything happened at
home? Why am l in this strange placer?
"Where is your home, dear p asked Octavia,
by way off etecting diversion.
"At Briefly Farm-don't you know the
place? Near Yorkvile-the Vaughn place.
My sisters and live there"
II have never been there" said Octavia.
eve have only lately come to Columbia"
"Is this Columbia ?"
"Near 1.-THE town is close by US. Don't
you remember about leaving homer"
"Leaving home! I never left home-1 don't
remember anything at all, after Dolly's we'd
dinghy sisters wedding. Since that night
everything seems confused-I don't know how
long ago it is, or anything about it feel as
if 1 must have gone crazy" said Claribel, set
ting up and speaking with energy.
didn't you leave home with-with your
father?" asked Octavia, hesitatingly.
"My father! why, my father has been dead
since was little child" was the astonished
reply. II have only my sisters-six of them ;
everybody knows US at home. Is nobody
here that know?'
"Herr Wagner was here-heis is coming back
Tomorrow" replied Octavia.
"Who'"
Octavia repeated the name, and related the
circumstances under which Caribel had ar
rived at their house. The surprise and per-
plexity of the latter may be imagined, as she
listened to the relation of drama in which
she had unconsciously played so singular a
part, and sort of terror mingled with her
bewilderment as the conviction flashed over
her that she must in some way be the victim
of plot, the mystery Of which she could by
no means fathom.
81 don't know any such person. never
was on the railroad--the whole thing is false
from beginning to end," she exclaimed, excl
tedly, while Octavia, drawing back looked at
her mother in dismay at what she supposed to
be an outbreak of her mental disorder, sud-
denly called into play. II see that you don't
believe me, she added, quickly, catching sight
of the exchange of glances, "and l don't know
how to explain the truth-it is all puzzle to
me; but you can write home, or let me write
to my sisster--that will make everything
right"
"What does she say, Octie?" asked Madam
Bernstein.
"She says, mamma, that the whole thing is
false; she has no father, and she does not
know Herr Wagner, and she never went on
the cars at all and she lives with her sisters,
at some place, and wants to write home"
"Oh dearw said Madam Bernstein. "But
all that is nonsense, of course. The poor thing
is wandering"
"Do you think so? am inclined to be-
lieve what she says Suppose the man who
brought her here was an impostor? ?"
"Oh my child, could he have beena But
he talked so plausibly. Mein GoH! Suppose
he was a robber-an assassin! Oh! would
that had never listened to him! Octavia,
why did you not counsel me to turn him
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