Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1898-09-03
"What dreadful thing it is to be a

"What dreadful thing it is to be a
woman, especially in Ireland, where
men are only half civilized Pray, take
me back to the ballroom.
For several hours after she had gone
to bed that night Catherine lay awake
thinking of Patrick Blake. When at
length she fell asleep, she dreamed OF
him, and in the morning when she
awoke her brain was ringing with the
echo of his threat, IF you won't have
me, you shall never have any other
man."
The singularity of his manner puzzled
her, so did the strange coincidence Of
the mark upon his cheek. That she her.
self had been the means Of placing il
there she did not for a moment doubt,
and yet it certainly seemed very strange.
"After ALL" she said to herself, 81
am glad I have made no one but Cap
tain Kennedy acquainted with the fact
of my having struck the man. That
part Of the story l will continue to KEEP
to myself"
She walked over to the window and
looked out. The country for miles
around lay buried deep in snowdrift.
The little hamlets, with closed doors
and windows and snow laden roofs, lay
like black spots on the vast waste oi
white.
Scarcely soul was to be seen abroad,
for already walking was dangerous, and
still the snow was falling fast.
II shall not be able to leave the house
today" said Catherine to herself, and
at the thought she did not feel altogeth'
er sorry. The idea Of walking abroad in
daylight, escorted by armed police, was
by no means pleasant to her.
For whole week, therefore, she re.
manned prisoner. At the end Of that
time rapid thaw I'et in. The snow
dissolved and disappeared, leaving to
the view q stretch Of black bog land,
dotted with dripping thatched cabins
and oozy with the recent fallen rain.
Painting, after her long confinement,
for breath of fresh air, Catherine put
on her hat and cloak one evening and
walked in the strawberries surrounding
the castle. The boughs Of the trees were
dripping, and the ground was spongy,
but the air revived her and strengthened
the courage which week Of quietness
had brought. 1t made her form reso.
luton to walk daily in the grounds un.
til such time as ahe could shake off the
shackles of the police and drive abroad
alone.
One evening about a fortnight from
the time when tlis resolution was form.
ed she left the house to take her Gus.
tomary walk in the grounds. It was
not late, but the days were short, and
as she left the house she saw that stal
was already glimmering beyond the
peak Of distant hill and that night
was beginning to fall. The sky was Of
a blush gray, tlecked here and there
with floating mist, which settled in lit
tie clouds upon the hilltops, and the
wind which touched her cheek was like
an icy hand.
The police, patrolling before the
house, saluted as she passed by and
watched her disappear among the trees
of the park.
She had walked for about ten min.
utes. choosing a narrow pathway, and
was about to turn into an avenue Of
beech trees when there was rustling
and scufiing among the boughs. She
started. A man whose face was averted
from her was emerging from the dense
brushwood through which she had first
passed.
"Why, he has no right to be here, y
thought Catherine. Then she asked;
"What are you doing here? This part
of the park is quite private If you
want the house, it lies in that direc'
tion, and that is the pathway to the
road"
Thus addressed. the man half turned
toward her, touched his hat and moved
on in the direction of the castle.
Catherine moved on, too, pacing the
long beech avenue with erect head and