Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1886-07-14

| mlSSuS Is calm MISS Jenny pdu WOT0S; anu
sich blubberin' as is goin' on might fill a
copper"
Mr.. Strangfeld looked down with a scowl
of surprise into the seamy face of the hand
maid, and not choosing to risk any questions
in the hearing of the mentor Polls excite
ment was something to balance stout voice
upon-he sensibly concluded certain direc-
tions he was giving to one of the hands, and
walked to his house.
On entering the parlor he found Jenny
standing at the table, and her mother sob
bing in her handkerchief. He was man
with keen eye, but no sharpness of vision
did he need to know that he stood in the
presence Of sorrow the like of which had
never before darkened his home In the
| girls short recoil as he entered, the sudden
mutinous flash of the eye. that changed the
whole character Of the face, the swelling nos
tril and passionate resolution Of misery in
forming the whole figure Of her, he read it.
For, in truth, in the blight and shock that
had come to her with the news Mr.. Saunder-
son had brought, fear of her father was lost;
her recoil was an involuntary effort of in
stinct; firm in her misery she stood now, and
her eyes were steady on her fathers face.
Though his wife heard him enter the room
she would not lift her head from the hand
kerchief In her dread to tell him what
Jenny had done she gave the mischief more
sinister aspect than it need have worn by
preserving her weeping posture and silence.
He knitted his brows and clasped his hands
strongly, to preserve an evenness Of voice
and subdue the dull pain in his breast. But,
do what he would, he looked man striving
with might and main to prepare himself for
a shocking disclosure.
"Jane," said he, in low, hard voice, "did
you not hear my footstepss Why are you
crying, and what makes Jenny so white and
wild-lookingl"
He had turned his shoulder on his daughter,
and gazed at his wife only.
"Oh, Michael" quavered Mrs. Strangfield,
talking in her handkerchief. "Jenny hath
done mad thing. She has just now owned
it, and surprise makes a fool of me. But
thou must bear with her, Michael. Deceit
only is she guilty of-nothing worse, husband
You will show her mercy, Michael; for is
not she our only child! And the Lords truth
is in the saying, that. stolen waters are
sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant
"'But he knoweth not that the dead are
here, and that her guests are in the depths Of
| nell, QuOUtu cGlluSAcie, LII uccP
tones. "What has our child been doing!"
There was short pause, and then Mrs
Strangfeld, removing her handkerchief from
her eyes, and piteously looking at Jenny,
feebly answered.: "She has secretly married
the son Of DR.. Shaw"
Now most certain it was that Mr. Strang-
| field had expected worse confession than
this; for it is truth not fattering to the
sanity severity of such natures as his, that
their conjectures are apt to sink to the very
lowest deep of wrong doing, and stay there
until drawn up again By discovery into
pertinent bearings. For a moment, there
fore, he was visited by n sense of relief; for
not instantly could his mind get quit of the
foul idea so as to apprehend strictly the
meaning of his wife's words. But when once
mastered, it brought with it q food OF
amazament; and US though he discredited his
hearing Is though his daughter had under
gone some physical Transformation that be-
wildered him utterly, he stared at her; then,
in terrible voice, cried:
"Let me hear this from your own lips,
woman"
"Father, S true am Cuthbert Shaw's
wife"
He walked round the table to his chair a,
though intending to sit, but still stood
"When did you marry him!"
"When I was at my aunt Rachers"
"When you were at your aunt Rachel's!
| That is three weeks since. Give me the
day."
at was on a Wednesday, father-I do not
know the date. I forget" replied the girl,
trembling like one in an ague, yet never
shifting her feverishly lustrouS eyes from
her fathers face.
"You will have to remember the date
name me the church"
ut was in London-I cannot tell the name.
I will think presently" and she pressed her
cold hands to her forehead.
| "You remember nothing-neither the date
of your marriage, nor the church wherein
you were married" he said; and, looking
around him with pathetic manner of un-
certainty, he moved toward the door.
"Michael" exclaimed Mrs. Strangfeld in
whisper, laying her hand ON his arm, "where
art thou going!'
"To fetch the woman's husband, and ex-
anime him before thee. Let me CO." lie an
swered, fiercely, shaking her hand off,
aOh, Michael, you will not find him-he
hath left Greystone! Just now came a
| ReuUSudu W lOl Hill hSiS. ~ was
the news that overcame her. Poor Jenny
my little one!" and she sobbed bitterly.
He turned upon her as a man would on an
enemy.
"Gone" he shouted; then, subduing his
voice: "Gone, do you say. wifes"
"Yes Michael, indeed, indeed Not ten
minutes ago gentleman was here to tell us.
Mr.. Shaw has not been home all night; and
whether he is dead, or why he hath gone
Oh, Jenny! Look. Michael; she is dying!
Oh, help her! help herr"
The girl was sinking on the floor, when the
mother with bound was at her side,
and caught her as she fell. Bestowing
single glance upon the group Mr. Strangfield
strobe into the passage, seized his hat, and
| left the house.
With long, resolute steps he swung his
arms up the High street to the corner of the
road that led to Greystone school
The boys were at their games in the play
ground as he skirted the wall.
Mr. Strangfield walked to the house door
with a resolved step, and pulled the bell.
The servant examined his face curiously, as
if she would read tidings of Dr. Shaw's son
there, but hesitated when questioned if the
doctor could be seen.
"Tell him that l have come to talk TO nm
about the young MASTER" said Strangfeld;
whereupon the girl admitted him, but left
him in the hall, while she went into the study.
Then returning: "If you please, what name'"
But Strangfeld was in no temper for FORM
ality, even if he were one to admit its uses;
he put the servant aside and entered the
study, closing the door behind him
The room was darkened by the curtains;
yet there was light enough to disclose the
figure of DR.. Shaw, seated near the table,
his head lifted out of his hand, staring at the
unceremonious intruder. In an instant he
rose, and, drawing himself erect, exclaimed:
II have not the pleasure to know you, sir.
I desired the servant to obtain your name"
"My name is Michael Strangfeld, and my
trade be shipbulding. Pm deacon of the
baptist chapel, in George street, which is
better than saying that only bitter errand
could have brought ME into DR.. Shaw's
house."
"Be pleased to sit, said the doctor, coldly,
and stepped to the window and drew apart
the curtains.
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