Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1905-12-15


bathed. and put on the dress of spot
less white she wore the night Ben
Cameron kissed her and called her a
heroine.
The mother cleaned and swept the
room, piled the torn clothes and cord
In the fireplace and burned them,
dressed herself as II for a walk, softly
closed the doors, and hurried with her
daughter along the old pathway
through the moonlit woods.
| At the edge Of the forest she stop
ped and looked back tenderly at the
|, little home shining amid the roses,
caught their faint perfume and falter-
ed:
| Lets go back a minute-I want to
see his room, and kiss Henry's picture
again"
mo. we are going to him now-I
hear him calling us in the mists above
the cliff" said the girl-"come, we
must hurry. We might go mad and
fall"
Down the dim cathedral aisles Of the
woods hallowed by tender memories,
through which the poet lover and
father had taught them to walk with
reverent feet and without fear, they
fled to the old meeting place Of Love.
On the brink Of the precipice, the
mother trembled, paused. drew back
a~d gasped:
Are you not afraid, my dear?"
mo; death is sweet, now," said the
girl. II fear only the pity Of those
we love-"
"Is there no other way? We might
go among strangers" pleaded the
mother.
I'VE could not escape ourselves! The
thought of life is torture. Only those
who hate me could wish that I live.
The grave will be soft and cool, the
light of day a burning shame"
Come back to the seat moment
let me tell you my love again." urged
the mother. Life still is dear while
hold your hand"
AS they sat in brooding anguish,
floating up from the river valley
came the music of banjo in negro
cabin. mingled with vulgar shout and
so~g and dance. A verse Of the ribald
senseless lay of the player echoed
above the banjo's pert refrain:
Chicken in de bread tray, pickin' up
dough:
Granny, will your dog bite? No, chile
MOI"
The mother shivered and drew Mar
ion closer,
"Oh dear! oh, dear! has 1t come to
this-all my hopes Of your beautiful
life!"
The girl lifted her head and kissed
the quiveriHg lips.
with what loving wonder we saw
you grow" she sighed, from totter-
ing babe on to the hour we watched
the mystic light of maidenhood dawn
In your blue eyes-and all to end in this
hideous, leprous shame!-No!-No! I
will not have 1t! It's only horrible
dream! God Is rot dead!"
The young mother sank to her knees
and buried her face in Marion's lap In
hopele IS paroxysm Of grief.
The girl bent, kissed the curling hair
and smoothed 1t with her soft hand.
A sparrow chirped in the tree above
wren twittered In bush, and down
on the rivers brink a mocking-bird
softly walked his mate with note of
thrilling sweetness.
"The morning is coming, dearest: we
must CO." said Marion. This shame
1 can never forget. nor will the world
forget. Death is the only way"
They walked to the brink. and the
mothers arms stole round the girl
"Oh, my baby. my beautiful darling.
life of my life, heart Of my heart, soul
Of my SOUL"
They stood for moment as II lis
tening to the music Of the falls. look
ing out over the valley family outlia-
| ing itself in the dawn. The first far
away streaks of blue light on the
mountain ranges, defining distance,
slowly appeared. A fresh motioaless
day brooded over the world as the
amorous stir of the spirit Of morning
rose from the moist earth Of the fields
below.
A bright star still shone in the sky,
and the face of the mother gazed on 1t
intently. Did the Woman-spirit, the
burning focus of the fiercest desire to
| live and will, catch in this supreme
moment the stars Divine speech before
which all human passions sink into ST.
lence? Perhaps, for she smiled. The
daughter answered with smile; and
then, hand In hand, they stepped from
the cliff into the mists and on through
the opal gates Of Death.
TO BE CONTINUED.