Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1878-07-11
and being a gentleman, he would be com.

Proctor, for his part, was provokingly kind
gentle, and considerate ; he never resented
the rudest of speeches, he took no offence al
the most direct snubs, he did not obtrude bis
society on his young cousin, but was always
willing to do anything for her.
Cora, however, as she found herself grow
ing more and more to like the young man
became less sociable, and steeled herself
against any softening inAuence-indeed, she
seemed 80 committed to this line of conduct
now, that she could not abandon it without
losing dignity, proclaiming herself defeated
and telling her cousing in effect that she had
grown to like him. To maintain her obdu
rate demeanor toward her winning cousin she
continually required, to fan the fame of hel
resentment, by recalling her aunt's Language
on the cruel injustice done to her, and the in
science of man coming to "view" wife as
if she were an article for sale.
"Why does be stay?" she would say to her.
self. HE must see that he is not wanted.
wish he would 60. am sure he does not
want for hints. He can't stop for auntie
1 know I won't be civil to him-and there's
an end to it"
Speaking thus one day, mentally, but stamp
ing her foot literally, she heard Proctor's
voice uttering her name.
ut is splendid day." he said, smiling
"Won't you be kind to me for once, and have
a ramble over the crags with me before
go?"
The girl looked at him. There was nc
sparkle Of triumph in bis eyes, no mockiDg
line about the handsome mouth. She might
have yielded then if it had not been for his
closing words-"before l Co." The sudden
sinking at her heart made Cora set her teeth
hard and answer half sullenly-
II have something else to dol can't come
cousin Proctor"-she always used his sur
name.
every we'll. Goodbye then-I shan'1
trouble you much longer, my bonnie co.,"
He turned away, and vanished among the
trees; and then Cora ran away, and, hiding
herself sobbed as if her heart would break
An hour later she called Bar, and went out
for long ramble. going inland, because she
thought be had gone to the cliff. Luath who
had that morning been lamed with thorn
and had not yet recovered, was left behind.
When Proctor returned to the house at
sunset, Cora was not yet in.
"She is often as late as this" said her aunt
"and later too; suspect she has gone to-
wards the brook-it is favorite walk OF
hers"
"The brook that is damned up at the mill
that you showed me week or two ago r In
terrogated Proctor. .... ...~..
"The same" ....
He said no more, but went out again, and
this time took his way toward the brook.
The dusk was falling over the landscape as
he struck into the wide meadow at the foot
of which Aston brook flowed tranquility. As
be did 80 the deep bayng Of bloodhound
snote upon his ear. He paused one second
with whitening lips, and then breaking into a
feet run, was in two minutes at the bottom
of the meadow.
What was this? That brook that usually
flowed 80 gently was tearing past like mill.
race, foaming and leapiug and overAowing
it's banks, and across the angry flood came
nsairrttho buy uying ihouud, srraighr from ftr=
tie island all covered with trees and under.
wood, where Cora had passed many sum-
mer noon.
She stood now upon its verge, looking down
into the stream, a perfect picture, with her
long, rich curls floating round her, and her
hands locked; her attitude was half timid,
half defiant, but without fear, even in this
position of difficulty, possibly of peril
The deep bay Of the dog changing to
joyous bark made her look up to see her
cousins tall figure on the opposite bank. She
flushed deeply, but called out directly:
"The dam is broken-that's all. | would
cross, but that l fear I might get swept
away and Bar isn't so strong as Luarh, or
he should take me"
She was turning away, when Proctor's
voice arrested her steps.
"How long have you been an involuntary
Crusoe?" he said, seeing that there was no
danger.
"Four hours. 1t was all right when l
came, and suddenly began rushing like that. y
"What do you mean to do, then"
Perhaps it will 60 down presently-1l
wait and see," said Cora. "I'm quite safe
with Bar. Besides no one can cross"
"Nonsense-it is bare y three feet deep
but the current would carry you away like a
cockle.shell."
1T looks grand!" said the girl, again
looking down at the seething waters.
ut is grand enough; but you can't remain
there all night, bonnie coz. You must let
me help you over. l can keep my feet.
think; if not-well we must find some other
means"
"No," she said, hastily. "Please leave me.
I shall do very well"
It'll the dam is built up," said Proctor,
coolly, "or till some chance person passes
and can help you over the stream? / don't
want to lay greater claim to the right to help
you than a some one else has, but rhink
l am better able, being not only strong, but
active and sure-footed. I don't want you to
thank me, Cora; only want you to have a
little common sense. 1t is worse than folly to
STOP where you are. As a gentleman, as a
man, how can leave you ?"
Cora saw the force If his words. She hest.
tated, flush of shame crimsoning her cheeks
and brow. She had no fear for him and
Proctor detected easily the motive that kept
her silent. Taking action at once, the young
man stepped down into the stream. 1nvol'
UNFAIRLY the girl clasped her hands az she
saw him do so but moment showed that
her cousin was too strong for the angry wa
ters. In three more seconds he was by her
side.
"Come," he said, smiling. II think can
keep you out of the water-you are light
weight"
mo, no-you must have hand free," the
girl told him hurriedly.
There is no danger, my dear child, for
either you or me-"
His perfect confidence was reassuring
Cora was fearless for herself her apprehen.
sion had been for him. He took her up in
his arms and stepped back into the stream