Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1900-03-24

"You see. am old. but do not for
get my friends. They call me crazy.
My own girl has joined In the cry
against me. But | have mind enough
left to remember the things that are
worth remembering. remember the
love and gratitude owe to every
member Of the Broxton family. have
tried to serve Thomas. but his faith In
you was not to be shaken. You lost
some papers the night his father died.
You did not make q very thorough
search for them. think you pre-
ferred to have them lost. But they
were found and brought to me. The
Lord put them as weapon In my
hand. | read them. and bid them.
81 meant to give them to Thomas
when he should come Of age and your
control Of him cease. But lost them.
l think I know how. but can't say
where. You see. my poor head plays
me tricks sometimes. 1t Is not as
serviceable as 1t was when you were q
boy, Horace.
"In the envelope you lost there was
an unfinished letter from Rufus Brox-
ton to his son. went up to the house
at night to give 1t to him. He was
asleep, poor laddie, and | twisted 1t
about some flowers that had laid over
his fathers picture as my poor tribute
Of love.
"You see, I wanted him to have that
letter, but l did not want you to know
about it, for then you would know
where the other papers were. So re-
sorted to q clumsy trick to make him
believe there was something super
natural about his getting the letter,
and then l knew he would hold his
tongue. Some time or other Tom and
l will have a good laugh about the
BroXton ghost.
~ carried all the papers with me
when | went up to the Hall. was
afraid to leave them behind. was
afraid Malvina would get hold Of them
and give them to you. Malyina ls on
your side. so had to be sly, oh. 80
sly, Horace. But ] lost the papers.
They are lost, lost, lost!
II see the CLEAN Of triumph In your
glazing eyes, Horace. But know
the papers all by heart. will tell 1t
all in open court some day If the dear
Lord will only leave me here until
Thomas comes back. will swear that
you could not give title to Broxton
Hall, and then Thomas can get 1t back.
But, oh. grow so weak, and Thomas
tarries so long!
81 don't want to 60 before Thomas
comes. l may die tonight. ] may die
tomorrow. I've used my last strength
to drag myself to your bedside. He
who forgave the dying thief upon the
cross can forgive you, too, and he will,
Horace. If you will only make restitu-
ton to that poor boy. He Is a God OF
mercy, in whose name | make this ap-
peal"
Gasping as one coming out Of deep
waters does, Olivia threw herself upon
the bed and stretched sheltering arms
about the SICK man.
Father. father, forgive me! ought
to have protected you better. | was so
frightened l could neither move nor
speak. 1t Is just poor old crazy Mother
SpIllman. | shall call Reuben to take
her home"
He was breathing stertorously. His
eyes were fixed on the stern white face
Of his accuser. Terror was legibly In
scribed on every line Of bis pallid
face. He looked beyond Olivia, as II
her loving voice had not reached him.
1t reached the old woman, who gave
start of surprise and said in gentler
tones than she had yet used:
81 am sorry you were close by. child,
but | had duty to perform. 1t could
not be put Off any longer"
Olivia pressed her hands tenderly
UPON her fathers wide stretched lids
and whispered caressingly In his ear.
There. dear. don't look at her. 1t Is
only poor old Mother Spillman. who
does not know what she Is talking
about. They ought to keep her under
lock and key"
Stretching her hand for the bell on
the table by the bed, she rang sharp
summons for Reuben on it. She rose
from the bed and turned with gentle
dignity toward the old woman.
"Mrs. Spillman. have rung for Reu-
ben to see you home. Miss Malvina
will be dreadfully frightened about
you"
She was as an autumn leaf In the
strong current Of the relentless old wo-
mans will. AS a candle will some
times burn it's brightest before flicker
ing to it's death. Mother" Spillman
temporarily recovered the strong In
dividuality that had made her as the
minister's wife the terror Of every evil
doer in her husbands parish.
Girl. am sorry for you. truly sorry.
but have work to do. For his sake"
nodding her white head toward the
bed. keep your man at distance.
Your promise. Horace. There Is yet
time. Do not go into the presence OF
your Maker with a sin burdened soul.
You know whether my words are the
words Of truth or the rawlings OF
crazy old woman. You know, and
cI,o ro ico1 ono loDp orrn n mint SOL