Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1907-09-20
CHAPTER III.
The Madness of Despair.

above him in rank and those below, 10
he one of the finest officers in the SER
vice.
He was not exactly popular in the
general acceptation Of the term; ne
was too reserved and too much OF
martinez to be that, but he was uni
versally respected.
There were stories in the army that
at one time he had been a very diner
ent man, far more genial and for once,
strange to say, these stories had q
substratum Of truth.
Colonel Gray, then a lieutenant just
out Of West Point, had married a wo-
man he adored, a woman who adoreo
him. At that time he was stationed
at Governors Island, and there follow
ed eight years Of the utmost felicity
that is accorded to mortals here be-
low.
Then the blow fell upon him which
turned the whole course Of his life.
His beloved wife died. leaving a little
son about seven years old. The loss OF
the one who had been more than half
OF himself, seemed to him to call a
halt in all that he was and all that he
cared to be.
The boy. who was the pledge OF
their mutual love, instead Of being
comfort to him, became just the op-
posite, recalling as the child did all
that he had loved and lost.
The life amidst the old surroundings
became unbearable to him. He applied
for and obtained a position on the
frontier, where he distinguished HIM
self in more than one hotly contested
campaign. But, expose himself as
ed life. Although he was always In
the front OF the battle, one or two in
significant wounds were all the out
ward tokens of his bravery.
He had risen, step by step. until he
held his present honored position.
But during all these years, nearly
twenty. he had never seen his only son.
Not that he was an unkind or neglect
full father, so far as providing all
creature comforts for Wallace was
concerned. He had sent the boy to
the best schools and afterward to
Harvard college, determining that at
all events he should have the best ad-
vantages that his own pocket could
afford.
Letters passed between father and
son, letters not devoid Of kindly feel
ing on both sides, but still they had
never met since that bitter day when
one lost his wife and the other his
mother.
But after the two daughters Of his
old friend became his charge, and the
colonel came to understand something
of what filial affection meant, he be-
gan to long unspeakably for his only
his blood.
His letters grew more and more low
ing and finally 1t was arranged that
the son was tc come to his father.
But the former never arrived, and
from that day to this the colonel had
heard nothing Of him. He had writ
ten east but could obtain no informa-
ton further than that Wallace had
started for Montana.
1t was a great cause Of anxiety to
the colonel and a mystery which he
could not solve. And yet there were
close to him several people who could
have enlightened him to a very large
extent.
Among these were Florence Sher-
wood, who certainly knew much more
about his son than he knew him
self, and Dorothy Dunbar. who could
have given him valuable information,
and probably would have done so. had
her lips not been sealed by her sister.
The true inwardness Of the case was
this: While Florence Dunbar had
been at school near Cambridge, she had
met Wallace Gray, then a student at
Harvard. An intimacy grew up be-
tween the young people, fostered by
the fact that they were In way con-
nected, since Wallaces father was
Florences guardian, and this intimacy
gradually ripened into love.
When Florence and Dorothy, at the
end of their school days. decided to
start for Montana, Wallace accompan-
led them. This was partly through
his own inclination and partly through
the mandate of his father of which we
have already spoken.
All went we'll until they were with
in twelve hours journey Of Fort Ter
ry, when the stage coach was attacked
by Indians What happened then we
have already heard related by DR..
Sherwood, and his account Of the oc-
currence was substantially correct.
The young man who had played the
part Of coward. even when his be-
trothed was in deadly peril. was Wal
lace Gray.
Florence was quite conscious Of his
pusillanimity, and. although she could
not kill the love she felt for him (such
is the constancy of woman), all re-
spect for him died then and there
within her breast. She swOre to Sc
crecy Dorothy, who. half-fainting with
fright as she had been. knew nothing
of Wallace's cowardice. but thought he
had been killed by the Indians, and
from that moment strove to drive
away all thought of her first sweet
heart.
When DR.. Sherwood had proposed to
her, more to have a mistress of his
house than anything else, Florence had
accepted him. listlessly thinking that
it mattered but little, and perhaps the
best thing she could do was to have an
assured home for herself and her sis
ter.
Matters went on smoothly enough
until one miserable day. miserable al
least to her who was the wife Of an
other, when there appeared at Fort
Terry a new recruit who had enlisted
under the name of Ralph Jordan, but
who In reality was none other than