Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1879-05-01
peaceful around her. faint hum Of life

tinkle of bell, an occasional whistle or cry.
A pair Of birds, settling themselves for the
night, twittered softly and contentedly in the
boughs overhead. The solitude, the tranquil
atmosphere, soothed and refreshed her, and
laid her turbulent emotions at rest.
Suddenly, light approaching step startled
her from the dreamy mood into which she had
lapsed, and turning her head she perceived
Lucy Melton coming down the lane, which
happened to be short cut home from Mrs.
Philipson's house. She recognized her face
as one she had noticed in the sewing circle,
and an aggressive feeling Immediately waken-
ed up within her. But Lucy's pleasant, &C.
nial smile seemed to protest against it.
"Resting, Miss Ray7" she volunteered, in q
cheerful tone. cts lovely evening, isn't
itf"
EYES," said Rachel, stifay. She rose from
her bench as she spoke.
care you going to the hotel now :" pursued
Lucy. Because am going in that direc-
ton, and we can walk together"
Rachel would fain have declined, but cour-
tesy forbade Besides, there was no resisting
the frank cordiality with which the suggestion
was made. It savored neither Of condescen-
sion or patronage, but expressed the simple
unaffected kindliness of friendly heart
"Have you lately come to Drowsieville?" ?"
asked Lucy, as they walked along.
II only arrived last night" was the reply.
"And do you like ita But, of course, that
is foolish question. You have had no time
or opportunity to judge Of il yet"
ut does not matter much whether like it
or not" said Rachel. "If I can find any en-
ployment here, I must remain"
"Must your Then l hope you will like il"
said Lucy, pleasantly.
as it your home ?" asked Rachel, after q
brief pause.
"Yes. I was born here, and have lived
here all my life. must say" Lucy added,
with little laugh, II should not be sorry to
change che scene for while-I am getting
just little tired of the place, though, of
course, ! am fond of it, too, simply from asso
ciation."
"Do you believe in that sort Of thing ?"
asked Rachel abruptly.
"In what sort Of thing?"
"In the charm of association instance,
liking certain places or people merely because
one is accustomed to them"
"Yes, if they are at all nice. As to disa'
greeable people, l know very few, am happy
to say; and as to places, as l said before, l
know none other but this"
"And do you.like everybody heref :"
"NearHy everybody; some more than 9th
ers, of fcourse l have several intimate friends,
my schoolmates most of them, and one am
especially fond Of, Rebecca Carey. You
would like her too, / know"
"Do you go to school ?" asked Rachel in
surprise.
ayes. Do look too old p laughed Lucy.
II am just seventeen. But mean to stop at
the close of this term"
"some people, at seventeen, seem to have
lived a hundred years." muttsred Rachel,
half to herself. 1t was an odd remark, made
in rather an odd tone, and Lucy could not
forbear an inquiring glance at her face but
its expression was unfathomable.
II don't feel as if I had lived hundred
years." she said lightly.
"No, suppose not. Why should you p
There's the hotel yonder, and I may as we'll
say goodbye" said Rachel, stopping short.
"Well, will see you again. l will come to
see you, if you will let me-" said Lucy, cor
daily.
81 do not know yet where I shall be, after
tonight" waa the not very gracious response.
Then with sudden change Of manner, a sof.
tening of her whole look and air, she added
tremulously, II I'm so grateful to you-you
are very kind"
"Kind not at ALL only wish,"-began
Lucy, but the other was gone, not pausing to
hear the conclusion of the sentence.
"What strange sort ofperson," meditated
Lucy, as she walked home rather fast, for it
was getting dark. However, she Is lady,
that's clear. There's refinement in her look,
her accent, and everything. ] mean to hunt
her up, wherever she moves to, and find out
something more about her. I think, when
one knew her, she might be very NICE"
1t was not so easy to "iind out" anything
about Rachel Ray though as to the matter Of
her change of abode, people soon became
aware of that. She took tiny room in small,
orderly, lonely cottage in the suburbs Of the
town, owned by a widow in poor circumstances,
who was very glad to let her one spare apart.
ment to a quiet, respectable lodger Mrs.
Philipson's promise of hunting up work for
her was fulfilled. She carried her some plain
under-clothing to make up, and it was 80
promptly and beautifully done that more was
Immediately forthcoming, and soon she had
as much occupation Of this sort as she could
desire. But though she gradually grew famil.
lar with the faces of the different customers
or patrons, rather-and with their names and
places of residence as we'll, nothing like 60
ciability was established between herself and
any of them. Not that they scorned her.
She was too evidently and thoroughly a lady
for that, and there were many Of them who
would fain have become her friends, if she
would let them. But she entrenched herself
behind q barrier of reserve that was not to be
broken through. About her own life and her
belongings she was absolutely silent, giving
them no clue as to where she had come from,
or what had induced her to seek this remote