Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1878-07-11
an inoffensive dandelion as if it had been hi

| fOOr Cora u one was more unhappy Lnhu
ever that evening. After the service he had
rendered her on that day, it was impossible to
treat her cousin as she had treated him be-
fore, and yet she shrank with something like
terror from the au1ende honorable. He, how.
ever, did not presume upon his claims to her
consideration. He did not ask for music, be
did not speak to her more than usual, and,
when they were separating for the night, he
went up to her, as she stood moodily by the
window looking out at the sea, and held out
his hand with bis customary gentle "Good-
night, Cora"
Generally she simply replied coldly, "Good'
night" sometimes resigning her hand to him
for second, sometimes not even looking
round. On this night her heart beat fast, her
lips trembled, her eyes were full. She longed
to say "Please, forgive me" but the words
would not come. She flushed and paled in
breath, and kept her face turned to the win
dow, for she dared not let him see it.
"Good.night," Proctor's soft voice repeated,
without a shade of reproach in bis tone. He
saw the struggle. Was'it only child's sor-
row and shame because of injustice, or was it
something more that kept her silent and mo-
tionless?
She stretched out her hand then and laid it
in his
"Good-night, cousin Proctor" she said, in
whisper, for she could not trust her usual
voice.
His slight fingers closed round the little
hand he held it for a second, and then, act.
ing perhaps on the impulse of the moment,
drew its owner toward him, and, STOPPING
kissed her forehead.
She did not resent his conduct, but the
color rushed over her face, and strange, ter.
ri6ed look came into her eyes. Whatever
the light that had been let in upon her heart,
whether entirely from without or partly also
from within, and, turning away, be Quilted
the room.
The next morning was bright and sunny, a
glorious autumn day, and, early as Cora vas
in the breakfast room, Proctor was there be-
fore her, reading Shakespeare. He greeted her
with his usual smile, rising to shake hands
with her, as always; and Cora, feeling
ashamed in his presence, stole out to the ter
race, and there remained till her aunt came
down.
After breakfast Mrs. Lynn rose, and, turn.
ing to Proctor, said
"Must you really leave US so soon, Allan E?
Cannot you stop little longer"
II fear not-nay," he added, laughing
slightly, II think I am de trop."
Mrs. Lynn's face flushed angrily. Cora
rose abruptly, and went to the window; her
eyes were dim again, her lips trembling she
was ready to burst into tears. But she would
not give way, and for many minutes after Mrs.
Lynn had left the room she stood there, till
she felt her face would not betray her /; then
she looked round. Proctor was reading Shak
speare again.
when do you wish to go out I" she asked.
He looked up.
whenever you like Cora or not at all, if
you would rather not
"No; I have made promise, and l will
keep it."
"She left the room, Bar and two or three
other dogs following her.
Then tr0UD1ed shadow fell on Proctor's
fine face He threw down the Shakespeare,
and got up and paced the room slowly till she
came hack.
"If in vain," he said to himself-''if in
vain 4! Have l been rash She is such a
child And must break my heart over
such dream an this? Ay, the die is cast {;
her picture brought me here, and she herself
has kept me here. Here she is."
She came in with her hat placed carelessly
over her rich curls, her hands guiltless of
gloves, and her dogs at her heels, as always;
she hardly moved without them.
"We will 60 out this way, by the terrace"
she said; and they stepped through the
French window. crossed the lawn, and were
soon on the cliffs.
"Where are you going, Cora ?" asked Proc.
tor. presently, after they had traversed about
half mile in silence.
II don't know" said the girl, without rails.
ing her eyes; Il came with you-not you
with me"
"Ahl but the lady always leads Howev-
er, If you wish me to be guide, why propose
the overhanging rock at Errington, about
mile further on. 1t gives such a splendid
view of the sea-"
"Very we'll" agreed Cora.
And little more was said till the Hanging
Rock, as it was called was reached. There
was a low bench within about twelve feet of
the verge of the cliff, and on this they both sat
down, and Proctor began carelessly tracing
figures in the sand with his stick.
Miss Lynn soon grew restless. She was too
troubled in mind to enjoy the beauty of the
view or be exhiarated by the warm sui and
balmy air, and too embarrassed in her cous.
in's presence to resist the temptation to run
away for time.
"Come, Bar and Bran !" she called, jump
ing up. II am going for run down that
slope, Proctor" And away she went, run
ming feetly for little distance, but presently
dropped into saunter.
Proctor dropped his figure drawing for
moment and looked after her, with curious
smile creeping over his lips, and then be went
on dreamily with his employ never
offered to follow her. So ten minutes, per-
haps quarter Of an hour, passed, and then
Cora, who had vanished over the cliff, came
slowly back, swinging long piece of sea
weed in one hand, while the other held
long bunch of wild flowers and heather that
she had plucked. She came right up to the
beach and paused-her shadow fell across
Proctor, and he looked up.
"Well," he said, coolly, "back at last" and
be went on with some geometrical sign.
Cora's eyes followed the point of the stick,
and she thought vaguely of Blaise Pascal
working out geometrical problems in the dust
of his lumber.room floor; but she did not
move.
Bar went up to Proctor and rubbed his
nose against him, planting the mark of his
paw over an elegant triangle.
"A new sign in geometry" observed Allan,
caressing the dog, and idly commencing
fresh triangle. "Do you want to leave this