Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1882-02-16

Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.
THE HOUSE ON THE HILL.
BY HERBERT JOHNSON.
CHAPTER VIII.

Mr.. Erskine, after little more talk with
Hardy, concerning the information ne had re-
ceived, hastened on towards his own house,
full of troubled thoughts. He deeply regretted
his absence, at time when this fresh disaster,
coming upon the Mays, would seem to nave
made the presence Of near and rellabefr
especially grateful to them. E[e pictured to
himself poor, overburdened Sophy, and her
frail. HELPLESS mother, crushed by their accu-
mulated sorrows, with no sustaining hand to
help them bear the burden; and blamed HIM
self for the selfish regard for his own feelings
though. indeed, his conduct had been prompt
ed by admirable motives, which had taken him
from their side. He scarcely waited to dlsbur-
den himself of his travelling appointments,
and take little refreshment, before hurrying
to see them, in order to acquaint them with
his return and find out in what way he could
serve them best.
He reached the house. 1t looked solitary,
with the front windows closed and the vines
trailing over the porch, and the little foWer-
garden in front, wore neglected air. LIE
knocked at the door, There was no response,
but opening it gently, he walked in. Every
thing looked as usual in the sittmg-room. The
chintz-covered sofa, wheeled near the fire
place-for the days were growing chilly now
the books neatly arranged on their shelves,
Sophy's work-stand, and OH the table bit of
unfinished work lying, as if it had been hasti-
ly thrown there and left. He sat down in
low chair by the table and waited patiently.
>&s ,o,f or r6
the hall the door opened. and Sophy came in.
He saw, at glance, that she was looking i'll.
Her face was thinner than it had been when
he left her, and absolutely devoid of color, and
the dark circles around her eyes told of sleep
less nights and many tears. She started slight
ly as she perceived him, and faint flush rose,
for an Instant, to her cheek then her eyes
drooped, as if she were afraid to meet his
glance.
ssI did not know you had returned" she said,
in low, spiritless tone, as he took her protfer-
ed hand
II am but just come. How is your moth
er ?-how are you both %
81 am well, thank you. Mamma is feeling
little stronger than usual to-day. But her
n6dltQ QOeS HoG lulpIOFe.
II was sorry to hear, as came through the
village, that she was still so far from we'll. I
met old Hardy, and he spoke to me about
you.'
"He told you, then, suppose, of our recent
loss 20
eyes am deeply grieved to hear Of it."
''It does not seem to make much difference.
Nothing can make our life sadder than it has
been for long while past" she said, in drea-
ry tone. "Only the dread of what it may en-
tail upon us, haunts mamma continually, and
is bad for her. For myself, don't care.''
There was silence. Her subdued, istless
air, the weary indifference of look and tone,
the dropping attitude that showed how entire
ly the old, cheerful ight-heartedness had been
crushed out of her, touched him more painful
ly than any violent display of emotion would
have done. He watched her as she sat before
him, her hands lying idly in her lap, her fair
young face, with it's tears OF SORROW, bent
down, her heavy eyes resting Oh the floor, and
his heart ached with an inexpressible yearniRg
to comfort her, to gather her into its shelter
ing care and bid her weep no more 1t was
the rich storeof an overfowing love to offer
her, and yet dared not speak the words that
would place them at her command.
'sYou spoke just now," he presently said,
''of the consequences your losses might entail
upon your mother and yourself. May ven
ture to ask what you meant 20
eyes. don't mind telling you anything.
Won oro cuoh q oood friend to nS and ALWAYS
seem to be able to give advice Indeed,
meant to consult you on this very MATTER" she
replied, rousing herself from her abstraction
and, for the first time, meeting his glance.
'tYou know, of course, now, that we can't
keep on living as we have DONE"
GLOW 20 he asked.
eve have no longer any income, and though
ourexpenses here are small, we cannot keep up
even this plain establishment, without some
settled means Mamma, know, has a little
railroad stock, which she is willing to sell, but
think she oughtnot to. 1t will be something
for her to depend upon, in any unforeseen
emergency and at the best, the money she
would receive for it would only hold out for {
few months, and then we would be as badly of
as ever Now, you know there is nothing tc
prevent my working. / couldn't earn much
I am afraid, by sewing but can teach. Pap;
gave me very careful education, and I dare
saw. I know as much as most gOverneSSeS
At anv rate, I could teach little children
though, perhaps l would get too trifing a sal
ary to make that of any use. What do yo'
think %
ST +b;nl- - ba cold fin6inr if difficult +