Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1880-05-06

"Dear Ellen, let it plead on then, and will
no longer urge it, till we meet here tonight"
Give me till you return" she whispered.
II will promise all you wish them"
"To night, dearest" he urged.
"No, Henry give me more time for thought.
This suddenness start'es me. Do not doubt
me. Twill be prepared. But come" said she.
rising,". slI be- missed. Let me return" "
He drew her arm within his.
"You will go back with me?" said she,
stopping and blushing.
"if you do not fear me, Ellen /; for I fear
no mortal" said he proudly.
"As you will" she replied, replacing the
hand she had withdrawn. "lt is better per-
haps. I cannot brook anything clandestine,
and this I trust is our first and last secret
meeting"
Except one, Ellen" said he, pressing the
hand that had rested on his.
any faith will not even make that excep-
tion," said she, smiling. 81 trust some hap
py fate may prevent its necessity"
"You acknowledge its necessity, then? Do
you know I came very near quarreling with
you, for what Graham would call your rea-
sonableness, this morning?"
"Do not try it again, Henry" said she, her
eyes filling with tears, II cannot bear it."
How he cleared the bright drops away, any
lover can tell you but do not think it fair
to betray any more of Ellen's secrets. l
know her smile was warm and blushing when
entering the breakfast room, on Davies arm,
she found Mr.. Willoughby and Graham had
been awaiting them some time, and the
breakfast growing cold from the delay. Mr..
Willoughby took his seatin frowning displeas'
ure-Graham in contending emotions too
chaotic to be analyzed. Fortunately for El-
len, her calmness seldom deserted her, and
the rosy hue of her cheeks might be attribu-
ted to the early morning walk. Davie was
really the only assured one of the party. He
talked to Mr.. Willoughby-spite of cold
courtesy laughed with Graham, who COM
mitted more solecisms in etiquette than he
had ever been guilty Of, and sustained and
relieved Ellen on all occasions.
"You have stolen Aurora's roses this morn
ing Miss Ellen" said Graham. "You must
have had pleasant walk"
"Come Graham, do not compel Miss Ellen
to utter civil politeness. Ofcourse you oblige
her to say yes, as accompanied her."
Graham elevated his brows, and Mr.. Will
loughby frowningly said
II thought Ellen was aware that did not
approve of these morning walks"
"Permit me, sir, to bear the blame in this
case. I argued for long syne, and she is too
true to friendship to refuse such memories"
replied Davie, looking fxedly at Mr.. Will
loughby.
Miss Ellen" said Graham, with some bitter
ness
"Only determined one," replied Davie,
ere Ellen could reply. "Camp life, if it
taught me nothing else, taught me power
of will"
II am disposed to think with a celebrated
psychologist, that heritage has more power
over our constitutions and character than all
the influences from without, whether moral
or physical" replied Graham.
''Then you would make the parent answer
for the sin of the child" replied Davie.
"Certainly, I do, to very great extent,
answered Graham "The practice Of the pa
rent becomes the passion, the irresistible i'm
pulse of the child, and when these strong
impulses are connected with feeble will,
then madness ensues which, l hold, should
make such ofsprings irresponsible. The child
is no longer able to distinguish vice from vir-
tue, and in SHINING the curse rests upon the
parent"
"You are advocating a cruel doctrine,
Graham" said Mr.. Willoughby. Suppose
such children should be separated by death,
or otherwise, from their parents, would their
sins, in that case, be chargeable to those pa
rents2"
"Inasmuch as they derive their mortal and
mental constitution from them. If passion
holds the helm of my nature, reason is often
wrecked, and if my parents gave me such pi'
lots, let them suffer the loss, he said with
bitterness, almost violent.
"You are wrong, Graham. "Circumstan-
ces may have put the curbing of these heady
passions beyond the parents control. Then
it would be unreasonable to charge them with
the faults or crimes of their child" said Mr..
Willoughby.
II see, sir, we shall agree but to disagree" "
replied Graham. This is my theory, and if
you will notice the different varieties of races,
the Celtic, the Teutonic, your own Aborigi-
mes, you will find the law of like producing
like, holding good. If peculiar forms of dis
ease are transmissible, such as mental aberra.
ton, Inflammation, &C., why not the pas
sions-even the idiosyncrases of parents2 l,
myself, trace very peculiar one in my own
constitution, to direct heritage. It is what is
generally denominated pride of birth, and
takes its peculiar character from a morbid
sensitiveness to honor, that would make me
punish as crime, anything derogatory to
the blood of Howard or D'Este." Mr..
Willoughby started violently. 81 could calm.
ly Judge and condemn my own father, were
he to prove false to its incest distinction and
suffer no other pain, than the shame of his
blood mingling with mine"
'sIn such case, would not love, like chari.
ty, serve as cloak ?" said Mr.. Willoughby,
tremulously.
"No, it would but magnify the crime. A
spirit Of revenge would take possession Of my
heart against one, even were that one my pa
rent, who could be recreant to the high soul
ed virtue. Were it possible, I would drain
every drop of such dishonored blood from
my veins, and thus annull all duty, as his
crime had annulled all affection between u.s."
"Would no repentance-a life Of sorrow
teach at least forgiveness?" said Mr.. Will
loughby.
mo. I might forgive him in his grave,
because then would forget him; but his
life would be curse to me, as his memory
would be a reproach," replied Graham.
"The honors of name is trust lent from
generation to generation to guard and rev.
erence, and the man that fails to transmit
such trust pure and unsullied, commits