Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1882-02-09

s'My child, cannot tell. No one is sure OF
anything-sxcept- he paused.
$50 on,' she said below her breath. Her
face was white, her eyes, fixed supplicatingly
upon him, seemed to read his very soul with
the intensity of their gaze.
Except that the ship he was on is lost, OF
rumored to be lost. She was wrecked, from
all accounts, on the tenth of May, off the
coast of one of the Farce Islands. That is all
1 can tell you."
"Wrecked-and those on board 20
He could not tell her that they we're supposed
to have utterly perished. How could he slay
the last spark of hope lingering in her heart %
Their fate is unknown" he slowly said.
1--WE hope to learn something of them before
long"
Sophy was silent. Still white and fearless,
she sat motionless before him, her breast heav-
ing, her small fingers tightly interlaced AT
length she asked, "When did you hear this 20
s'The first intelligence reached here about a
week ago. The latest papers-those which ar
rived Saturday-confirmed the news.''
''Can see the papers 20
IL have not got them. They were only lent
me-"
''You must get them for me. want to see
them must see them," she continued, excl
tedly, fancying she read reluctant expression
in his face. 81 must read them for myself.
Please bring them now-at once"
1t was useless, he saw, to oppose her. He
knew we'll enough where the papers were to be
found, and he went at once and brought them
to her. He turned to each successive account,
placing them before her in the order in which
they came, and watched her as she read them.
She scanned them eagerly, breathlessly and
when she had finished, exclaimed with ring
of relief in her tone
"It is not hopeless nothing is positive. 1
suppose it is true that the ship was wrecked !;
but it is likely, very likely, that many Of her
crew were saved. And Harry was such a
splendid swimmer-so helpful and so strong J!
o, I am sure he could have saved himself. He
has been in SIS great danger before"
Mr.. Erskine did not say, what every one
thought, that in such storm, and at such
distance from land, even the most expert
swimmer could scarcely have chance of es-
cape.
sHe was hold and clever enough in the wa
ter,' he rejoined 'I can testify to that.'
'sYes-you know you have proved that, {"
she eagerly cried. "Don't you see, if any one
had chance it would be he ?''
eyes, see that"
"And don't you think it likely, don't you
think it very reasonable to suppose, that he was
saved ? You know people who can't swim,
even, live for days in the water on bits of
wreck and surely some other vessel must have
come along in time to help some Of them, and
he would be among the last to give up. Yes,
Ihope-I must hope still. I see no reason to
despair. am sure will hear news of him
before long,
She spoke apidly, excitedly; feverish flush
had taken the place of the panor on her cheek.
What use would there have been in gainsaying
her fond hopes L? He felt too surely that she
was deceiving herself but he had no wish to
hasten her certainty of the truth. 1t was
likely that it would come soon enough.
''We will hope, " he said, gravely and gently.
s'And pray-yes, you will help me pray for
his safety. God is good. think-I am sure,
he will hear my prayers Oh, Mr.. Erskine, if
thought 1 should never see Harry again, 1
should pray to die ~
She burst into tears now, and wept passion
ately. The sudden outbreak relieved and
calmed her overcharged heart. When it was
over, she looked and spoke naturally again.
She even smiled family, as she said
ssEven this news is less trying than that
long, terrible suspense. Was it not terrible
Now know why Harry did not write. But
shall hear from him now before very long ; my
heart tells me that I shall. Perhaps he may
come himself, soon."
Poor child thought Mr.. Erskine, as he
walked home; these vain hopes will make the
reality all the harder for her to bear. But
what if they are not vain ? What if her lover
does return?
He looked searchingly into his own heart.
There was that there which disturbed him,
which caused him a new, painful unrest.
Doubts of his own integrity had begun to
assail him. His firmness of purpose, hitherto
50 rigidly maintained, was threatening to give
way. Suppose-he asked himself-it lay with
him to decide Harry's fate. How would the
issue be determined? Could he, still follow
ing the honest, single aim he had vowed to
pursue, hope and pray unselfshly for Sophy's
happiness happiness which would be
death to any lingering idea he might have en-
tertained, of her future being settled in differ
ent way? For he was but mortal. He had
superhuman control over his lOngings and
desires, the natural emotions God had implant-
ed in his breast With the thought of Harry's
death had come another, subtle, tempting,
dangerous fatally dangerous to his peace,
and try as he would lie could not Danish it.
He knew himself well enough to believe that
living, tangible object, he would never try to
supplant that object-never cast one obstacle
in the way of that happy love, OF betray his
own weakness. But with the object removed,
might there not be a possibility of realiza-
ton of the dreams which had only vaguely
foated through his mind? And thinking
thus-here was the point that touched him
and made him tremble-could he search his
heart and say, II do not desire my riral's DEATH"
1t was terrible question-a question that
had suddenly seized upon him and forced him
to look it in the face. And he was not man
to shrink from such an encounter, or thrust
the duty of determination aside. A stern,
rigorous pride of integrity had ever made him
prone to hold communion with his inmost
soul, jealous of one treacherous thought, one
unworthy purpose, finding foothold there.
He would have plucked out all eye, or cut off
right hand, sooner than suffer his being to