Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1907-07-09

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Tom Dexter give him the telegram
but she disdained to ask questions. II
her bridegroom chose to have secrets
from her, she was certainly too proud
to inquire into them.
So the meal passed. At its close Es-
ther went back to her own chamber.
With a formal bow. Fleetwood parted
from her at the foot Of the stair, and
then strolled FORTH. calm as to out
ward appearance, but inwardly dis
tracted, to smoke cigar upon the
beach.
Esther stood at her narrow window,
herself unseen, and watched him pac-
ing the gray shore, her heart sinking
miserably the while. What could the
matter be? Had he already ceased to
love her? Was her beauty fading?
All, she knew only too we'll that by her
beauty she held him! Involuntarily
she glanced toward a little glass on
the wall. No! the flawless features, the
creamy whiteness the splendid lustre
Of eyes and hair were all unchanged.
She could not fail to associate his al
tered manner with that conversation
concerning her father and Aunt Deb on
the beach, but what had she said there
to agitate or enrage him? 1t was all
very mysterious and very distressing.
Alas for Esther!
Darkness gathered. By this time
Fleetwood had flung away his cigar
and was lying fiat on the sand, with
small regard for his good clothes, star
ing out at sea and meditating on the
situation. His thoughts. though un-
pleasant, were certainly absorbing.
Hour after hour went by unheeded.
At last, his resolution was formed
With a sombre but determined face,
he arose and went back to the inn.
Stopping only to give hasty order
to the landlord, Fleetwood hurried up
che painted stair to Esther.
He found her sitting in big, chintz-
covered chair by the open window.
The room was very still-the melan-
choly voice Of the incoming tide alone
sobbed through the half-open case
ment. A lamp burned on a tall, old
fashioned bureau in a corner. By its
light Fleetwood approached his bride
with bated breath.
She did not move nor speak. Her
shining head, with its weight Of silky
hair, dropped, like some weary child's
against the bright chintz. She had
been weeping, for the tears clung still
to her black lashes, and her lovely
mouth wore grieved look. Her shape
ly hands had fallen listlessly on the lap
of her gray dress. Esther was fast
asleep.
He stood looking down upon her
with a face as pale as ashes. Oh, the
fatal beauty that had lured him to
forget honor-Maud-kind
thing! Never had he felt it's power
more strongly than at this moment!
He was glad that she was unconscious
like all men, he dreaded scenes. He
seized pencil and paper, and while she
slumbered on, dreaming. perhaps, OF
the happiness of yesterday. in great
haste and with a shaking hand, Guy
Fleetwood scribbled these incoherent
words:
"A terrible mistake has been made,
but how can 1 blame you for 1t? My
mother is dying. and I must hasten to
her without further delay. I am glad
that I find you sleeping, because am
thus spared the anguish Of a farewell.
To take you with me Is simply impos-
sible. My mother, as have told you,
does not know of my marriage, and
feel compelled to spare her the knowl-
edge of it now. God only knows what
1t costs me to part with you thus, Tor
| love you-must always love you bet
ter than my own life, though you
were ten times your fathers daughter
Remain at this inn until l can return
until can settle in my own mind the
best course for us to pursue"
He placed his we'll filled purse upon
the tall bureau with this note, reserv-
ing for himself only money enough TOT
his travelling expenses to Canada. AL
ready he heard the carriage which was
to convey him to Barton rattling un-
der the inn window. He bent over his
bride as she slept on, fair and uncon-
scious-gazed upon her with wild, de-
vouring eyes, as If to impress every
line of that fatal beauty forever on
his memory-turned away, only to turn
back and gaze again. Then he bent
down, and with a stifed groan i'm
printed one last kiss on the sweet, un-
needing lips, after which there was
sound of stealthy, retreating steps,
the soft closing of door, and Guy
Fleetwood was gone from the old inn'
and Esther, in her armchair by the
window slept on, the bride OF week.
but deserted now and alone.
To Be Continued.