Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1880-04-22
CHAPTER XIII-CoNTINUED.

tuence over her. buC ner Will WIS ds sIuo'
born as it was impatient; and bearing down
all obstacles, she made arrangements for leav'
ing the home Of her fathers, in the company
of an only sister. Just on the eve OF her de-
parture, the friend who was to protect her. an
American by birth, and who had endeared
himself by the suavity of his manners, and
the gentleness of his demeanor, died, leaving
my mother almost frantic at the disappolnt-
ment and the loss. To amuse her, as we'll as
to relieve the monomania that possessed her,
she was taken to England, and circumstances
being favorable, and my mothers health much
improved. it has ever since been my home"
"And you left her lhere-your mother =;
does she liver asked Mr.. Willoughby, in
tremulous sympathy for the young man, SO far
removed from a mothers care; stranger IN
strange land ..
81 left my mothers grave in England, sill" !"
said Graham, his voice sinking to deeper
tone.
"And your fAher, boy?" questioned Mr..
Willoughby, bending forward, in violent ex-
ctement.
II never saw fathers face, sir. He died
before was born"
A groan from Mr. Wilougbby testified his
interest in one thus doubly bereft.
"He was an -"
"Englishman, sir" said Graham, in reply
to Mr.. Willoughby's hesitating enquiry: You
will think it strange, sir; but not only never
saw my fathers face, but l never heard his
name from my mothers lips. She was so pas
siouately attached to my father, that the least
allusion to her loss, at once brought 1t so WV
idly before her strong imagination, as to over
whelm her in renewed agony. Consequently,
the name was forbidden to he ever mentioned,
and she never spoke of him to me. | know
that he was Howard, and mob e; but how
connected with that illustrious family, can
not say. But you can imagine the passion of
her love, and of her grief, and the irmness
of her indomitsble will, when tell you she
branded his initials OH My arm when lay an
infant in her arms and that burning memo
ry is all know of father.
"And was Graham not your fathers name?
said Ellen.
mo; but it is the name of my more than
father.s My mother was not only wealthy,
but very lovely, and Edward Graham, at
that time young officer, wooed her for his
wife. But nothing could change her allegi-
ance to the one memory. She would not
bury her grief in new ties. His love spent
itself on her child. became to him as his
own; and, if l am worth anything in the
world, it is his love and care that bles,ed me
with it. And yet, am along in the world
father, mother brother, sister, have none"
"Say not so, young man," said MIR. vii.
loughby. "Let US be to you what you have
lost. Learn to call Ellen, sister, and find in
me all -. Ellen, | am weak again; give
me water" And the excitement Of strong
feeling started the drops Oh his brow.
Dear uncle, you are suffering yet; you
should have kept your room to-day" And
she bathed the throbbipg head.
II am better again." said Mr.. Willoughby,
family. ut was imprudeut in me to rise
my nerves are yet weak Call Jerry, and |
will retire."
Jerry was quite easily found, considering
the want Of success of the last call, and bore
his master to lis chamber.
"Your uncle is extremely feeble to day"
said Graham, as Mr.. WiIloughby left the
room.
"Yes; he has never been quite we'll since
poor Andrew CHIg's death" replied Ellen.
eve seldom see such tenderness in our
rougher sex," said Graham. | noticed, while
was speaking of my early life, his sympa.
thy could scarcely be controlled"
"Yes, 1 remarked it. Many years ago he
was subject to a nervous excitement which
some strange freak connected with England.
We were at one time alarmed for his reason.
do not think he ever quite recovered from
the effects of that. There is, at times, trep
idation in his manner, which, to a stranger,
would be alarming; but we can generally
trace it to some excitement preceding"
"Well, | will not forget he told me to call
you sister. Sister! how sweet the word. 1t
will be an easy task. And you have no
brother. Might hope you will give me the
kindly name?'
IF you should merit it, perhaps So" she
replied, lightly vexed with herself for GRIM
soning under his words. But the tone spoke
more than the simple words, and the few
hours oftheir unreserved intercourse had made
them more familiar than days Of ordinary
companionship would have done. The men,
ory, too, Of that guarded miniature, made FL
len feel more at ease than she otherwise would.
Who could it be but some loved English maid
en-, and she felt sure that the generous heart
she was daily reading, could never prove un-
true to either affection or honor. Yet, day
after day, Graham gave himself up to the
fascination that was binding him, perfectly
satisfied his dream of bliss would have no end.
And Ellen-could it be possible she was not
woman enough to see his danger and feel for
him? She did, and hesitated, and trusted,
and strove against it; but it was impossible
to resist the trankness and impetuosity Of his
character. If she appeared cold he would
know the reason if she would withdraw her
self, he would follow when her frown wosfd
check some hasty word of tenderness, be would
petition forgiveness and ascribe the dispeas'
ure to the modesty that would have more
time for thought. They rode together, walked
together, sang together, sketched together
and Mr. Willoughby watched the familiar in
tercourse, and gradually returned to the Gus
tomary serenity of his temper, and gave HIM
self up to the destinations Of his young guest.
As Graham was with Ellen, so Mr.. Willough-
by was with Graham. He was unhappy ii
he absented himself single hour, unless he
knew he was with Ellen. Then in dreaming
reverie he would patiently await his return
So sped the time-to Graham, a dream OF
love; to Ellen, memory Of regret; to Mr.
Willoughby, a calm serenity he had long
been stranger to.
CHAPTER XIV.
Trifes, light as air,