Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1888-01-25
of reasonable fortune, with every reason to
believe that it would grow and multiply into
l.. L.

UtltSo tudU IL WOulu grow dLu lulO
moro than he should ever need.
While here Roger met with an accident,
which disflgured him so greatly that he felt
almost as if it were special providence. He
had rushed to assist III saving some people
whose escape from burning building was
c. off, and, after having brought them down
to the street in safety, burning timber fell,
striking him on the left side Of the face, and
burning it so that the scar which remained
almost destroyed the entire symmetry and
color Of that side of his face.
He moved away from that place and again
returned to New York, only now he bore the
name Of William Forney, and Suzanne III q
few years seemed to forget that she had ever
had another name. But did she really for
get9 Roger felt sure she had, for during
these whole ten years she had never made the
slightest mention, nor given one look that
might give rise to suspicion that she re-
membered. So Rogers mind was easy on
that score
Qse day Roger said to her quite unexpect-
nIy:
Suzanne, we are going to leave New York
and &c to Paris, a place you know nothing Of.
= WlzeS ao,you say7' t..-.s.....zg-. g. :
y
no matter where it is"
She said that calmly, and nothing in her
face showed a hidden thought, yet, after
Roger had gone out, her face saddened, and
q retrospective look came into the depths Of
her lovely violet eyes.
They reached Paris and Roger went boldly
about, knowing himself unrecognizable, and
on solid footing as far as his identity was
concerned. He was received as rich Ameri-
can Canadian who had made his fortune by
inventions relating to steel.
Roger went everywhere, and no one knew
him. lie passed the very judges who had
questioned him, he went to the concierge Of
his old apartment where Julia had left the
fatal money, and where he had lived so long,
but the concierge answered his triaing ques-
tions as if to stranger. He went to his old fac
tory. No one knew him. His uncle, Ber-
nardit, had sold tho factory just before his
death, which took place some two years be-
fore, and Rogers heart drew him toward tho
old place. 1t was the hour for dinner, and the
workmen fled past him, but though they
looked curiously at the man standing there,
mono Of them knew him, though he could
have called them nearly all by name.
This and the regret caused by the death Of
old NJ. Bernardit and his wife saddened
Roger greatly. This noble and kind old
couple had invented O story about having
put Suzanne in convent school, and the
neighbors never questioned its truth. So
everything conspired to aid Roger in his new
life.
One day Roger told Suzanne to not feel
uneasy if he was not home as early as
usual, that he wished to look at some coun-
try houses and might be detained. This was
while they were still at the Hotel Scribe.
The truth was that be wished to wait until
night fell and 60 to Vile d'Avray and kneel
by poor Henriette's grave, which he had
never seen, but which was holy ground to
him
All the late afternoon he wandered about
the little village into the woods behind and
beyond the house where he had lived. The
house was closed and the beautiful garden
Ind run to weeds. Desolation and neglect
were marked upon the place, and Roger
could not bear tue sight Of his once charm
ing homo thus gone to decay. He wandered
to tho edge of the town to the little grave
yard, but until night fell he dared not 60 to
the tomb nc searched. The moon rose and
| Dy us llRlU u6 ulSCOfCleO q 81 oNO oulAdSo
by an iron grating, and on the marble cross,
hidden by weeds that grew rank over the
Door martyr beneath, he found the name Of
his wife. He sank down and laying his face
ON tho Cold dump grass wept for his young
wife, whose death now seemed more real to
him than it ever had before He gathered
handful of the rank, coarse weeds and kissed
them and placed them in his pocket and rose
to 20, with heavy heart, for she had died
believing him guilty. He had turned to 60,
when lie thought he saw woman's figure
moving among the graves His heart stood
still, and he looked with wild eyes toward the
phantom, if such it was. He watched and
She walked from one grave to another,
searching everywhere and looking at all the
inscriptions on the stones as she went.
His heart stopped beating, as something in
her walk or movement told him that it was
his daughter, though long cloak and hood
drawn closely over her face completely hid
her from view.
II it was Suzanne, then she had forgotten
nothing! She knew all, and for ten long
wears had so dissimulated that he was en-
tircly deceived, in spite Of all the efforts ho
had made to discover her mind.
His emotion was so strong that he was
obliged to seat himself upon tombstone and
wipe away the thick drops Of cold sweat
from his forehead.
II will know if it is she," said he; II must
know. If it is really Suzanne she will go to
her mothers tomb"
As he was about to 20 back, there, near him,
stood the same dark shadow going toward the
gate.
"Madame, mademoiselle, for PHYS sake, ona
word"
The shadow heard, but that voice fright
ened her, for she began to run swiftly and
disappeared from view.
81 will know. I will be at the station and
await if necessary all night. He ran all the
way and reached the station, seeing no one
but NEIL on the way; but there was no one
there. The train did not leave for quarter
of all hour, and he waited and watched and
he waited and watched again until another
one had gone. Then he decided to go home,
and there he would surely find out if Su-
zanne was or had been out. When he reached
the hotel it was nearly II o'clock, and Su-
zanne was not in their common parlor. Then
the father went to Suzanne's bed room and
softly tried the knob. The door opened, but
the room was dark.
"She has not returned" thought he, prey
to violent agitation.
Just then the voice Of Suzanne broke the
stiffness:
us that you, fathera"
A Joy beyond words beamed in his eyes as
he heard that voice. She was there asleep
quietly in her bed and he had aroused her.
So he was mistaken. He thanked God i'll his
heart
ayes, dear, it l. thought heard you
cry out"
"No, father, was asleep"
"Sleep again, my darling; sleep" And so,
glad and reassured, the father kissed the
daughter and retired
Suzanne gave u sigh Of relief when lie was
gone, and said: "He did not know ME, hap
PLY"
Roger had not been deceived, for it was
Suzanne who had been in the cemetery and
kissed the cold iron that surrounded the
grave that held n mothers precious clay.
TO BE CONTINUED.