The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1889-12-04

ssI've a great mind to try" said Sophy,
drawing quick breath.
Nine o'clock, of a starry August night
the night of the ball at Swamp Basin
and shadow, stealing softly down
the butternut shaded walk, which was
not the shadow of tree or bough. Sophy
Allerton mad succeeded in creeping out
of the house without disturbing Uncle
Joshua Hale's conscience sweet slum-
bers.
"There!!" cried Sophy to herself, be-
fore she had reached the big white pine
tree at the Cross Roads. ~ forgot to
blow out my candle, and it's too late to
90 back now. But it's all right; 1t Will
burn down to the socket and 60 out.
And. after all, it will be no very great
waste. for the candle was only an inch
long
And so Sophy kept on her way to
where Lizzie Larkspur and Albert Bates
that young lady's sturdy cavalier
were awaiting her coming, not without
impatience.
We'll, the ball was q grand affair, as
country balls go, with plenty of lights,
bunting, evergreen boughs, and fddles.
Sophv had never danced so much at one
time in all her life before; and all was
going "merry as a marriage bell, when,
Standing by the door, tanning herself
after ouadrille, she heard a man, who
had ridden up on horseback, say some.
thing to another man about "big fire
up toward Lees Valley.
"Fire!" cried sophy, eagerly. "What
fire? Where is it?"
The man could not exactly say. he
was stranger in these parts. But as
he rode through the little settlement OF
Lees Valley he had heard tldlngs OF
lonely farm house being just burned 10
the ground, and its only tenant, asolltary
old man, burned to death. -,
Every drop of blood in Sophy Aller-
toms veins seemed to CONCEAL to ice as
she listened to this unconscious messen-
ger of evil tidings. Poor, helpless 0n-
Gle Joshua And the candle she had so
carelessly left burning! At once her
mind reverted to every possibility OF
evil; she could see the red shafts of lurid
flame rising upward; the clouds OF
smoke; she could hear Uncle Joshua.s
unavailing cries for help, and it was all
through her wild, wicked folly!
She looked around for Lizzie and Al
bert; they were whirling through the
mazes of polka at the other side OF the
floor.
eI can't wait for them," she muir
INJURED, unconscious that she was speak
! ing aloud, and catching up the shawl
that lay nearest, she muffled herself IN
its folds, and set off, all alone, through
the starry dark of the summer morning.
For it was well-nigh on to three o'clock
by this time.
And, through all the surging confusion
of her thoughts, one horrible reflection
rose up constantly. If Uncle joshua
dear, kind Uncle Joshua, who was the
only father she had ever known-lay dead
in the ashes of the burned farmhouse,
what better was she, Sophy Allerton,
than murderess2
It was only about five miles, and Sophy,
like most country girls, was a good
walker, but the last mile, after she had
passed the old stone church, with its
square tower, seemed actually intermina-
BILE.
Hush! Footsteps! No need to shrink
behind the tall growth of elder bushes
that skirted the road, for in another sec
ond she recognized the round-shouldered
figure and slouching gait of Obadiah Car
stairs.
"Wall, I vum!" quoth that parsonage.
':Blest if didn't think you was aghost!
Been to the ball, eh?"
She caught his arm. "Tell me, Oba-
| diah-the fire"
"Just come from there" said Obadiah.
"All burned to the ground, and Eliaklm
Hawley only just saved. He would go
back arter that old leather money-bag O
his n. Serve him right to let him burn,
I say if he was so sot on it."
Sophy caught for breath. "Then it
was not our house?
"Your house! No, not bya long chalk.
It was Eliakim Hawley's, down by the
Valley postof1ice. And you was afeerd
it was yourn, eh, poor child2 No, no;
your house is all safe enough. Coin
home, eh9 WALL" with chuckle,
"young folks will be young folks, and I
won't tell your uncle nothin' about IT."
Sophy colored an angry and mortified
scarlet.
"I shall tell him myself" said she.
And when Uncle Joshua opened his
kindly blue eyes on the soft light OF the
summer dawn, his niece was kneeling
sobbing by his bedside.
"W6y, sophy, child7" cried Uncle
Joshua, scarcely certain that he was not
vet wandering in the mazes of dream.
"What's the trouble?"
And Sophie confessed all to him-her
temptation, her fault, the horrible hours
of remorse she had endured, her relief
and gratitude when she learned at last
that God had been more merciful to her
than she deserved.
"Oh, uncle!" she sobbed, III will
never, never attempt to deceive you
again, if you will cnly forgive me this
once"
And Uncle Joshua's tender kiss upon
her brow sealed the pardon without any
necessity of words.
Poor Sophy! she had learned through h
bitter experience that, however rose