Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1906-07-17

FAREWELL! In this cold world we
shall never meet again. I do not tell
you to forget me, for know that is
impossible. No matter what grief may
overshadow me, no matter what sin or
shame may degrade me, I know that
you will love me, and every prayer
that ascends for your own redemption
will be mingled with a fervent aspi-
ration for the wretched girl who loved
both wisely and we'll, and yet loved
where it was worse than death to wor-
ship"
Alone in his barrack-room, Aaron
Burr read and reread the wild and des-
pairing confession of the wronged and
injured girl. The big tears gathered
in his eyes and rolled slowly. very
slowly, down his wasted cheek.
Poor Margaret" he said, "ours
has been a stormy love-rocked by
wintry winds in its cradle, and scorch-
ed by blasting llghtnings in its prime.
Who would have dreamed that the
meeting Of two hearts so young, so low
ing, so fitted for each other, could have
engendered the mighty woes that have
SCARED and blackened both! What
had we done to be marked out as the
victims Of a curse more terrible than
that which the rebellious angels drag
ged down on themselves? We met
each other and we loved. If that
meeting were a sin, 1t was not ours.
We did not plan it. 1 knew not of your
existence, and If you had ever heard
my name, 1t was coupled with the
epithet of traitor. Well do 1 remember
the first time I saw you! Well do /
remember how you nestled to the pro-
tecting side Of Mrs. Putnam, and
glanced at my uniform as at a badge
of infamy The flush Of health and the
bloom Of innocence were on your cheek,
and when that short visit ended, was
a captive for eternity. Was that
guilt? It was not so esteemed in Par
adise, when the enraptured Adam
walked from his long repose and knelt
in trembling ecstasy at the feet Of his
|
teemed when Jesus, on his pilgrimage
of atonement, whispered forgiveness In
the ears of Mary Magdalene, because
she loved much Why should the same
thing which wiped out the remem-
brance of her sins bring sorrow and
tears to us? Oh, how little do we
know! how less than little do we un-
derstand of the purpose that placed us
here and drag us on, blind and power
less through the fretful years Of a
troubled existence! How poor and
weak is that free will Of which we
boast! how dim and underlined the mar
row boundaries Of its power! Blown
about by every passion, yielding to ev-
cry temptation-the sport of circum-
stance and the tool Of chance-what Is
left to our own choice? what is regu-
lated as We could wish? Free will, in
deed! Is Margaret Moncrieffe free
when she knowingly crushes every
bloom Of happiness and walks with open
eyes to a living grave? Was I free In
that hour when I forgot that she was
the daughter of my countrys foe, and
knelt and worshiped at her feet? Am
l free now? Can tear her image
from my heart of hearts forget her
love: forget her grief; forget what she
has already borne; and steel myself
against that which she must still en-
dure? Can do this. and live? oh,
no. I can bear disease, and pain, and
poverty, and foul suspicion; I can
struggle on even under the maddening
knowledge that her head is pillowed on
another breast than mine; but I can
not bear to forget--I dare not cease to
love. l know not what Is before me;
but know that when l am called upon
to embark in the shadowy ship that
waits for passenger souls by the shore
of time, 1 shall carry with me love
that has known no change or abate-
ment from that moment when our lips
burning VOWS were sealed and sancti-
fled by our hearts enraptured assent
l shall go on, silent and accomplishing,
and seemingly contented as the other
worms about me; but there will be an
inward longing, a slakeless thirst for
which ambition has no cure and ex-
citement no relief; hopeless gangrene
of the SOUL rotting and fostering until
the confines of life are reached and
the freed spirit shakes off the dust but
not the memories of earth.
| PITY met you say, Margaret. God
knows, I have deep need of sympathy
for myself! but not so great as yours;
and all that an overburdened heart has
to bestow is freely, fully given. DO
not scorn mei'-Not l! though you
were stained all over with crimes and
vices as black as those that disgraced
the foulest daughter Of the Medici. l
should only mourn that man had the
an erring, wicked thing; and shudder
at the inscrutable justice that slumbers
while the ministers of hell are torturing
child of God into crime. Scorn you!
What right has any mortal man to
wear that word upon his lips? Tempt
him in the height Of his power and the
pride of his wealth offer him some
glittering bauble that he thinks beyond
his affections, bruise him, trample on
him, and what does he become? A
vile and loathsome thing, wallowing in
crime and fattening on corruption.
How dare he talk of scorn for the sins
of another. whose own are mountain
high, and whom it needs but a breath
of temptation to bloat with infamy!
Yet 1t may well be, Margaret. that you
will feel that sting from those who are
more guilty than you are. 1t may well
be that the tyranny of opinion will
drive you from indiscretion into crime,
and then judge you according to that
hollow hearted humanity which looks
only at the fruits and makes no allow
ance for the seasons that produce them.
Yours Is a terrible ordeal God grant
that you may pass through it not ut
terly blasted! But whether pride and
power, or shame and sin shall cluster
about you, there is one heart which