Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1876-01-27
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A THRILLING STORY OF WESTERN LIFE.
BY MRS. HENRY IDEAS.

BY MRS. HENRY DEAS.
CHAPTER VIII.
Having made this brief depression, We Will
now return to Esther and the other inmates
of the little household, which had become en-
shrouded in so dark cloud of sorrow and
suspense.
It was now midsummer. The tropical veg
citation of the valley was at its richest point
Flowers of wonderful magnitude, beauty and
variety we're scattered far and wide, delight
ing the eye, and filling the soft air with their
subtle and penetrating perfume The atmos'
phere was perfect; the midday sun, which
might otherwise have been too ardent, being
tempered by refreshing breezes from the sur
rounding mountains, which protected this ia
vored nook alike from too oppressive heat
and from the rigour of the cold northern
blasts. Had Raymond been with her, how
: would Esther have revelled in all this lowell.
ness, which dawned on her uuaccustomed eyes
like glimpse of the storied Arcadia, reali'
zine what had hitherto seemed but the flights
of fancy, or the rainbow pictures Of dream.
But alas his presence was wanting, and
without him at her side to point out Natures
charms, and be her companion in their enjoy.
ment, they fell almost unnoticed upon her
senses, all dulled and untitled as they were to
appreciate them. One absorbing thought,
haunting her day and night, excluded glad
ness from her heart. Yet the intense love
she bore her child sustained her, and prevent
ed her yielding, without restraint, to the bur.
den of her grief In his infant. features she
was consoled to trace daily-increasing re-
semblance to those of his father; and she nev-
or wearied of gazing upon them, as they de-
veloped in beauty and intelligence. He was
child of much promise; large, active and
vigorous, and early manifested unusual pre-
cocity both of mind and body. He was the
light of his mothers eyes, the centre of her
saddened life. No wonder she poured out
upon him with almost idolatrous ardor the
full tide of the affection which had no other
channel to flow into, since its once most fond
ly cherished object had been removed.
To Picciola, too, the little fellow was a
source of great interest and delight. She con-
stituted herself his nurse at those rare times
when he was not under bis mothers care, and
her devotion to him was almost equal to that
of q near relative.
One day Esther was sitting near the front
door, watching her young attendant as she
walked to and fro with the baby in her arms,
wheu she pe-oei~ea-sssse+- A lss4.sss, on Aasaa-
back, advancing toward the house. A con-
siderable time had elapsed since she had seen
him last, and her heart beat with the hope
that he might possibly bring her some tidings
in regard to her husband.
He saluted her, as usual, with much defer.
ence and noticing the child, spoke few
words of admiration of its beauty, as it lay
asleep in Picciolas arms Then, at Esther's
invitation, followed her into the parlor, to rest
and partake of some refreshment after his
ride.
Her feelings in regard to this man we're no
wise changed. They were curious complica.
ton of dislike, fear, and desire to propitiate,
for she felt as if in some way he we're mixed
up with Raymond's fate, and as if there rested
with him her sole chance of ever finding out
anything at all about him. She had the species
of horror in approaching him that she might
have felt in regard to snake or other rep.
tile: vet an instructive dread of making him
her enemy forbade any manifestation of her
repugnance and dislike, which, in former
days, she had scarcely cared to conceal. His
glance, his voice, his smile, the touch of bis
hand, were alike hateful to her; but she en-
dured them all with show of courtesy, hard
as it was for here to assume it.
After the exchange of some desultory re-
marks, the Spaniard said, lowering his voice
as he glanced toward the open door
"sehora, would gladly speak few words,
in private, of much import to you. Can ven.
ture to do so here, or will you retire with me
to another room ?"
"You may speak here without fear of be-
ing overheard" replied Esther, resolved not
90 out of sight of Picciola, who was, howev'
or, too far of for their voices to reach them
"Good. Understand, then, that I come
here to-day to offer you suggestion-a prop
osition-which I desire you very seriously to
consider; and as my time is limited, I must
present it to your notice at once'
"Is it-does it relate in any way to-to my
husbandw faltered Esther.
"No, Sehora. Of him I can give you nc
news. / have already, ere this, tried to con
vince you of the improbability of my ever
obtaining any information in regard to him. ,
II can never cease to hope" murmured Es
ther, the shadow of renewed disappointment
sweeping over her face.
Hopes, alas! too often are deceptive,
said the Spaniard. els it wise to cherish them
when they are so liable to be destroyed?"
ut may not be wise," she replied, "yet
cannot relinquish them, nor would l if
could" ......
Sand yet," he rejoined, glancing at he'
dress, which was black, "you wear, outwardly
the emblem of despair"
"Not of despair, but of sorrow" said Els
ther. "This dress corresponds with the gloon
I feel, yet it does not indicate the total sur
render of hope"
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