Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1884-05-01

goose-a piece of irreverence which Marion
reproved as seriously as she could.
September came, bringing with 1t the
family from Chantilly, who were to stay fol
the wedding. Marion could now meet Car
roll with perfect calmness and no one tc
see the quiet, brotherly fashion in which he
treated her would ever have guessed what
had passed between them.
Happiness had restored the bloom tc
Lily's cheeks and the sparkle to her eyes
and she was prettier and more attractive
than ever. She had recently enjoyed Wis.
it from her brother, and was eXultingin the
fact that Carroll had prevailed upon him to
enter an excellent private school, where he
could obtain an education which would iii
him for a better station in life than he had
hitherto occupied.
But in spite of Lily's happiness, which
indeed seemed to fill her cup to overfoWlng
her eyes would sometimes rest on Marion
with certain wistfulneSs, as though there
were some secret thought awakened by he1
presence which troubled her. And once
when they were alone, she threw her arms
around MariOn's neck and kissed her, and
clung to her quite silently for little while
and when Marion raised her head, she saw
that her eyes were wet with tears.
"Why, Li!!y!" she exclaimed, "what is
the matter?"
"Nothing," said Lily brokenly, and try
ing to laugh. "Only l am silly, l suppose.
and love you so much-oh, so much! Bet
roll and baby. And I do long for you to be
happy, Marion-you can't think how I do
pray all the time for your happiness"
IL am happy, my child" said Marion
tenderly. ~ am indeed"
care you SIRE you are? Quite, quite
sure?"
"Quite sure. But what put such ques
ton in your little head?"
TO this Lily made no reply, only kissed
her again and then ran off. But though
Marion wondered, and thought several
times afterwards of her strange manner
the truth never occurred to her-that the
simple country girl, with wisdom she did
not impute to her, had guessed aoho was
c"rroll's ! first and dearest love- y
It was pleasant Summers afternoon in
the year eighteen hundred and eighty. A
long interval, you may think, to skip over
in the progress Of my narrative; but II
brings us the nearer, and without tedious
circumlocution, to its close.
On the steps at Warner Cove sat two per.
sons no longer in the fresh bloom of youth
though time had dealt sufficiently lightly
with them both to leave but few noticeable
traces of his progress in their faces. These
were Carroll Gray and his cousin Marion
he handsome, stalWart man, broader by
some inches than when we knew him last
with a slight, very slight, sprinkling OF
gray in his hair and whiskers; she with
added dignity and serious sweetness in man
ner and expression, a fair type OF refined
matured womanhood.
loft fn nfhQr
pany. Jessie and her husband with their
two children, having gone to spend couple
of days with Kate, who still lived in the
neighborhood and it chanced that theil
talk had turned upon old times. Half in
pleasure, half in sadness, they fingered over
the "reminiscences of the good old days
"before the war;" then gradually memory
travelled to a later time; and at last Lily's
name was spoken-for she too, was now q
part of the past alone. For five years the
quiet churchyard where they had laid her
with her little dark-eyed daughter on hel
breast-the only child besides the boy, that
she had ever borne.
"Marion," said Carroll, after pause, dur
ing which both had been busy with their
thoughts, 81 am glad to be alone with you
this evening, for it gives me chance tC
say something to you which has long laid
on my mind. 1t is about Lily"
eyes ?" rejoined Marion, interrogatively
"Yes. Before she died she had a long
conversation with me and you were its
subject"
He paused again. Marion waited for him
to 60 on, seeing by the expression ofhis face
that softening feelings were at Wor k.
"She told me-" he went on, "that she had
discovered-I knownot hoW-that you were
the one whom had confessed to her that
loved, before our marriage. l did not need
ed no hint of this from you !; and l am quite
sure that she received none from me. How
ever that was, she learned it somehow
guessed it, perhaps; God knows my life
was spent in trying to make her happy, and
in putting from her remembrance any pain:
full thought connected with what l had said
to her on the subject. And she aCaS happy
1 know she was; she told me so many
times"
"Indeed she was" said Marion in low
tone. "She could not help being So"
"And 1 could not help loving her. She
would have won my heart by her goodness,
and her sweet ways. don't think l ever
hurt her by one harsh word. 1t would
grieve me now bitterly to think that | had.
She told me, when she was dying, that l
had been her oil. At the same time, she
whispered that confession that l have told
you of-that she had found out, years and
years before, the secret Of my first love.
And Marion, she said something more"
Marion was silent; her eyes were fixed
on the setting sun, and her face was calm,
but her bosom stirred with vague unrest.
''Shall | tell you what it was""
She made an affirmative sign, still with
out speaking.
"She said, when / am not any longer
with you, you must go back to Marion:
Marion was the first, and her place should
have been with my dear love, to forgive
me for having taken it from her. Tell her
l did it innocently; and that it makes me
happy now to believe that she will not re.
fuse to take it back, though l have kept it
from her so long,"
Marion's face was hidden in her hands
her tears were flowing fast.
"Shall it be so?" Carroll asked her pres
emily. "MariOn, will you receivemy atone
ment now?"
"You have nothing to atone for, Carroll
You never did me any wrong. And as to
that angel child, you cannot think har-
bored one resentful feeling towards her."
"Towards her-never; nor did she sup.
pose that you did. She knew you to be
good, and true, and noble. She believed you
to be the best and purest of women, and
loved you most fondly. For that reason,
she wished to feel assured that you, and
none but you, would fill her place when
she was gone. And Marion, it is no harm
for me to repeat her words-the place was
yours first. Dear, my life is very desolate..
will you not come to me now and make it
bleSt 2"
And Marion put out her hand silently, in
token of assent. He clasped it in his, and
pressed on it one fervent kiss. He broke
into no lovers rhapsody, which indeed she
would not have cared to listen to; for the