Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1886-01-14
Au Original Storg.
Written for the Yorkvile Enquirer.
AN UNQUlET LIFE.
BY STANLEY STCLAIR.
CHAPTER III.

BY STANLEY STCLA1R.
CHAPTER III.
Magdalen's feelings, as she drove off with
Mrs. Fairfax, were those of unqualified eX-
ultation and delight. AS the carriage reach
ed a curve in the road which hid the Asyl-
um from view, she mentally registered a
VOW that she would, if possible, never set
ewes on it again. She had too much conf
dence in her own capabilities to fear such
Mrs. Fairfax. Already she secretly measur-
ed her will with that of the frail, gentle
lady at her side, and believed her own to be
the stronger of the two.
Mrs. Fairfax, after one or two common
place remarks, sank back among the cush-
ions and relapsed into silence. She looked
weary and preoccupied, and Magdalen, OF
course, did not venture to interrupt her
reflections. A half hours drive brought
them to the house which the young giFt gTt
already regarded as her future home. II
was a large, handsome residence in quiet
street.-the same in which we first made the
acquaintance of its mistress prior to her ILL
fated tourney with her husband to Nova
Scotia.
IIl-fated, indeed. Richard Fairfax, after
an apparently wonderful Improvement IN
health, had experienced sudden unexpect-
ed return of his former malady, which in
q few DAYS ended his life. While Emily
was still stupefed by her loss, lay stricken
and prostrated beneath the blow, came the
tidings of the mysterious disappearance OF
little Hilda, the thought cf whom had been
her mothers sole remaining solace: She
returned home, the shadow Of her former
cheerful self, to find that Ellen Stevenson,
the nurse, had just died of brain 3eVer,
brought on, as the physicians said, by agl-
tation, exciteme. and self-reproach con-
sequent upon the baby's loss. Thus, with
in a few weeks, she was deprived of hus-
band. child and faithful friend-for such,
indeed, Ellen had been, although in an
humble station in life; her experience, good
sense and kindly disposition rendering her
an invaluable aid to the young bride who
came at the age of eighteen to her hus-
bands house, to assume the novel respon-
sibilities of married life.
The deepest mystery still hung about the
child's abduction; mystery which the most
vigilant search, the most careful inquiry,
had failed to clear up. Four months had
now passed since the event, and Mrs. Fair
fax had lost all hope, although the matter
was still in the hands of the detectives, who
were untiring in their efforts to obtain a
clue. Large rewards had, of course, been
offered, and if the child were alive, she
would certainly some day be found-so said
those who had undertaken the search. But
her mother believed her to be dead. She
had accepted that conviction almost from
the first. The continued suspense and strain
upon her nervous system had so greatiy ~ un-
dermined her health that an entire change
of scene was pronounced necessary, and she
had waited, as we have seen, only until she
could effect suitable arrangements to close
I'D her establishment and 60 abroad.
On reaching home she conducted Magda-
len at once to the room she had appointed
for her use. It was pretty little chamber
in the third story, simply but suitably fur
nished, and with u cheerful outlook. But
Magdalen, who had caught sight, in ascend
ing the stairs, of more spacious and luXu-
rious apartments, felt momentary sensa-
tion of discomfort, and wondered why Such
cramped quarters had been assigned to her.
Her first proceeding was to exchange her
gingham frock for her Sunday suit, which
looked better away from the Asylum than
when it figured as uniform among all the
rest. 1t fitted her shapely figure well, and
the color and style were becoming, though
the texture was not fine. Magdalen was
not handsome, but she had a good form and
carriage, a thoughtful, intelligent face, and
a clear, soft brunette complexion. 'If |
only had some scarlet ribbons ~ she thought
regretfully, as she pinned her collar with
her plain brooch. "HOwever, it doesn't
matter much what l wear at present, and
after while -"
She fell to musing on future possibilities,
and remained in reverie for some mo-
ments, until a knock at the door aroused her,
and neat looking colored girl put in her
head with the announcement that dinner
was ready. Magdalen fancied that her tone
lacked respect, and assumed her most state
lyair as she swept from her room In answer
to the summons. It was reported in the
kitchen that "the young lady from the 'sy-
lum had mighty stuck-up manners" The
first impression that she made on the do
mestics of the establishment was not a ia
vorable one.
Dinner, with Mrs. Fairfax, seemed to be
mere form. She scarcely more than tasted
what was put upon her plate. Magdalen,
though she really had good appetite, fear
ed to commit breach of good manners by
eating too heartily, especially as it was en-
barrassng to her to have no one to keep her
in countenance, and she was just debating
within herself whether to take another slice
of delicious chicken-pie, or to lay down her
knife and fork, when there was ring at the
bell, and "Mr. Burton" was announced.
Mr.. Burton proved to be slender, rather
distinguished-look young gentleman, a
cousin Of Mrs. Fairfax. He was invited to
sit down to dinner, the hostess assuring him
that Miss Frost had not yet dined, and thus
encouraged, Magdalen allowed herself to be
helped to the pie. Mr.. Burton, on being in
troduced, bowed politely to Miss Frost, then
turned his attention to his cousin, directing
his conversation wholly to her, and appa-
rently forgetting Ma gdalen's presence, for
he did not even once look at her again.
"He probably knows I am the compan-
ion," thought Magdalen resentfully. "No
matter; he shall treat mea as an equal before
very long"
After dinner they retired to the parlor.
Mrs. Fairfax took some knitting, Mr.. Bur-
ton drew an easy chair near the sofa and
made himself comfortable, and Magdalen
quietly stationed herself in the low, broad
seat of a recessed window, where she could
look out on the street. There was not much
to be seen; an occasional equipage drove
by, and there were few passengers on foot.
But in spite of the feeling of discomfort she
had already experienced, she found herself
so much happier to be sitting here than in
her accustomed place at the Asylum, that
she cared little for view. The aristocratic
atmosphere into which she had been trans
planted was thoroughly congenial to her.
How nice it was to dine at six, instead of
half past one, and have nothing to do but
to amuse oneself the rest of the evening
At the Asylum, they were now just sitting
down to their tea. She recalled with lit
tie shudder of distaste the long narrow ta-
bles with their coarse cloths, the heavy
china plates and cups, the huge stacks of
thick bread and butter at regular intervals.
Was it possible that she should ever sit at
those tables again? No, surely; if by any
effort. any exercise of discretion, on her
0ort s,,o could avoid such q fate it never