Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1881-01-06

, part of your life in which have had no share
+ Could you ask for more than this -
! ''I could not. But believe me, Cyril, yo
. mistake your own heart. Your faith woul
not be as complete, as enduring as you nov
think. Some day you would weary OF this re
. serve, this silence which you could not under
E stand. The present would not suffice for you
! You would not he satisfied with a partial con
tidence. You would seek to win all, or care t.
have none. And then, what misery woult
! follow! could not gratify you. Coldnes
would spring up between us, and what wOult
become of your love?"
"IIow little you understand me - he warm
" reioined "Where love, trust. Wher
trust, trust wholly. Miriam, pledge yol
my word that would never make such an eft
fort to break through your reserve. Never, b!
; word or hint, would even remind you OF TIT
existence of it's cause Can't you believe me;
Can't you accept my pledge?''
81 believe you entirely-1 believe that you
mean every word that you utter; but think
YOU are under a delusiOn, and l dread youl
awakening to the TRUTH"
'Let me, at least. Judge for myself: If
am willing to hear risk, why should Eo''
seek to prevent HE ~
because your welfare is dear. to me-be-
cause want you to he happy and am sure
that you are not taking the right road to
happiness now."
'sAnd am quite sure that 1 could never
have any happiness in life to equal your love"
She sllook her head sadly; but she did not
answer this, and her silence gave him renewed
hope.
''Nlriam, will you try the experiment
Will YOU give me your promise, for some flu
ture time will not be eXacting-l will wait
us long us you bid me. Perhaps, by degrees
YOU will come to know me better, to find
that I am worthy of your confidence"
II know that you are worthy of everything
of more, much more that can give you"
IL WILDE grateful for what you do give
me ! Only promise me-promise me, Miriam
Will you not promise me? Only let me have
the future to look forward to-only let me
say to myself that one day you will he my
wife,
He knelt at her feet. lie kissed her hands
and slender wrist again and again. lie would
have kissed the very hem of her robe in the
fervor of entreaty, if she had permitted him.
But she hurriedly babe him rise, and begged
him to go away-to give her a little time TO
think
'sMy thoughts are all wild and confused, :"
she said. ''All this is so strange, SO startling
to me. 1t seems as if great revolution had
come into my life. must have little leisure,
| a. llGGlc Ol'l'Ol ioi io'SooioA'' - "1 0NN
you nothing more now"
'But you will-wllen I come again? You
ariU give me al answer?''
eyes, if you give me time"
II will do anything you want. How much
time doyou require How long shall wait =
'You may come to me again." she slowly
answered. Gin a week. BY that time | shall
have decided what it is best for me to do"
GA week 1t will seem an eternity but l
have promised to he patient, and | will. In
the mean time, you will at least let me hope -
''I cannot even bid you hope. In doing so L
might be deceivingyou.
"Well, then, give ME at any rate one salts
| faction-one happy thought to dwell upon, to
soften the torture OF suspense which L snail
endure Say to me, before go, Cyril, love
you.'"
''Did not tell you just now that my love
was dangerous gift 20 she rejoined. "But,
such as it is, give it to you; it yours"
'And you will let Inc kiss you, Miriam
Once. just aneo o?,l1r~
She bent towards him but instead Of meet
ing his lips, she pressed her own swiftly upon
his forehead "Now Co." she said hurriedly.
Our interview has lasted long enough. Re-
member, a week from now-not day, not an
hour sooner.'
They parted. and he went back to the Rec
tory in a tumult of mixed, bewildering
thoughts, half happy, half shadowed by dis
tracing doubts. She had confessed that she
loved him-that was enough to fill him with
Joy but she had refused to give him hope.
What was he to expect? Would her final an
swer crown him with delight, or fill him with
despair? Whichever way it was to be, it
was, inSlis anticipation the boundary of all
his aims and hopes in life. lie could not look
beyond. His future now was absolutely bound
up in her. His fate lay in her hands. His
misery or his welfare hung solely upon her de-
cison. All other projects, all other dreams
which had formerly engroSsed him, seemed to
fade into nothingness. All that was in store
for him now could have no significance, no
reality for him apart from her. His ardOr was
unbounded, his infatuation complete. He
could understand now how men could die for
love, though he had scorned such belief be-
fore
His DAYS passed now in sort of dream. He
slept, walked, dressed and ate his food as usual:
but he had almost completely lost mastery
over his own mind. lie could not pay any
attention to study. 1t was only by the most
violent effort that he concentrated his atten-
ton sufficiently to write few pages from
time to time of his sermon often tearing
them up after they were written. At last he
abandoned the effort. lie would read ser
mon from the pulpit Oh the coming Sunday,
confeSsing to the congregation that he had not
felt able to prepare one. He was, indeed, fever
ish and far from WELL Excitement and suspense
were overpowering him. lie counted the days
and hours that must elapse before he could
gain certain knowledge OF his fate. While
he was in this distracted state came letter
from DR.. ReXford, announcing the impossi-
bility of his return ut present to his parish.
| (',,ri1 tn n
place. He had been feeling very unwel, and
would not be able to resume his duties for
some til.,., so preferred remaining where he
was. Cyril Immediately wrote to accept the
proposition. lie had been dreading the neces-
sity for leaving the spot which was now the
centre of his dearest hopes.
And now let us take a glance at Miriam, and
see how she had been affected by the interview
which had left Cyril iii so agitated frame OF
mind.
If possible, her emotion and excitement far
out weighed his. No sooner had lie taken
leave of her, than she would fain have recalled
him. to revoke all that she had said. Why,
why had she been so weak as to give hir any
announcement ? Why had she suffered his
importunity to wiring from her that confession
of her love? And yet, it had been impossible
for her. ut that instant, to resist the pleading
| of her own heart For she did love this pure
hearted, enthusiastic young clergyman-this
boy, as he seemed to her, with his frank unds-
crplined heart and his ignorance of the world,
| his wonderful, rnquestioning faith in her.
! What, alas could he know or guess Of her
dark past? Little rocked lie of the breadth.
and depth, and impassibility of the gulf which
lay between them. How confidently did he
| stretch out his hand to clasp hers across it .
! How lightly did he cast aside all suspicion,
even when she told him of the existence of