Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1896-01-03


spoke to him when speech was peces-
sary. Chester treated him with marked
aversion; the colonel would not look at
him; only Armitage-his captain-had
a decent word for him at any time, and
even he was stern and cold. The most
envied and careless of the entire COM
mand, the Adonis, the beau, the crack
shot, the graceful leader in all garrison
gayeties, the beautiful dancer, rider,
tennis player, the adored of so many
sentimental women at Sibley, poor Jer-
rold had found his level, and his proud
and sensitive though selfish heart was
breaking.
Sitting alone under the trees, he had
taken sheet of paper from his pocket
case and was writing by the light OF the
rising moon. One letter was short and
easily written, for, with few words,
he had brought it to close, then fold
ed and in bold and vigorous hand ad-
dressed it. The other was far longer,
and over this one, thinking deeply,
erasing some words and pondering much
over others, he spent long hour. 1t
was nearly midnight, and he was chilled
to the heart when he stiff1y rose and
took his way among the blanketed
groups to the campfire, around which
so many of his wearied comrades were
sleeping the sleep Of the tired soldier.
Here he tore to fragments and scattered
in the embers some notes ard letters
that were in his pockets. They blazed
up brightly, and by the glare he stood
one moment studying young Rollins
smooth and placid features. Then he
looked around on the unconscious circle
of bronzed and bearded faces. There
were many types of soldier there-men
who had led brigades through the great
war and gone back to the humble bars
of the line officer at its close; men who
had led fierce charges against the swarm.
ing Indians i'll the rough old days OF
the first prairie railways; men who had
won distinction and honorable mention
in hard and trying frontier service; men
who had their faults and foibles and
weaknesses like.other men and were ag-
gressive or compliant, strong willed. or
yielding, overbearing or meek, as are
their brethren in other walks of life;
men who were simple in heart, single
in purpose and ambition, diverse In
characteristics, but unanimous in one
trait-no meanness could live among
them-and Jerrold's heart sank within
him, colder, lower, stonier than before,
as he looked from face to face and cast
up mentally the sum Of each mans
character.
His hospitality had been boundless,
his bounty lavish; one and all they had
eaten of his loaf and drunk Of his cup,
but was there among them one who
could say of him, "He is generous, and
stand his friend?" Was there one OF
them, one of theirs, for whom he had
ever denied himself pleasure, great or
small? He looked at poor old Gray, with
his wrinkled, anxious face, and thought
of his distress of mind Only few
thousands-not three years pay-had
the veteran scraped and saved and stored
away for his little girl, whose heart
was aching with its first cruel sorrow-
his work, his undoing, his cursed, self
ish greed for adulation, his reckless
love of love. The morrow's battle, if
it came, might leave her orphaned and
alone, and, poor as it was, fathers
plying sympathy could not be her help
with the coming year. Would Gray
mourn him if the fortune Of war made
him the victim? Would any one of those
averted faces look with pity and regret
upon his stiffening form? Would there
be any one on earth to whom his death
would be a sorrow but Nina? Would
it even be blow to her? She loved him
wildly, he knew that, but would she
were she to dream the truth? He knew
her nature well. He knew how quickly
such burning love could turn to fiercest
hate when convinced that the object was
utterly untrue. He had said nothing to
her of the photograph, nothing at all OF
Alice, except to protest time and again
that his attentions to her were solely to
win the good will of the colonel's fam
lily and of the colonel himself, SO that
he might be proof against the machina-
tions of his foes. And yet had he not
that very night on which he crossed the
stream and let her peril her name and
honor for one stolen interview he
not gone to her exultant welcome with
a traitorous knowledge gnawing at his
heart? That very night, before they
parted at the colonel's door, had he not
lied to Alice Renwick, had he not de-
MED the story of his devotion to Miss
Beaubien, and was not his practiced
eye watching eagerly the beautiful
dark face for one sign that the news
was welcome and so precipitate the
avowal trembling on his lips that 1t
was her he madly loved-not Nina!
Though she hurriedly bade him good
night, though she was unprepared for
any such announcement. he we'll knew
that Alice Renwick's heart futtered at
the earnestness Of his manner, and that
he had indicated far more than he had
said.
Fear, not love, had drawn him to
Nina Beauhien that night, and hope
had center I'd on her more beautiful
rival when the discoveries of the night
involved him. in the first trembling
symntoms of the downfall to come.