Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1907-01-22

| loi VI lhC liiiC "LCh i AZ W
take pay for It. You don't understand
this. perhaps. and can't give you any
reason to make 1t more plain. But so
do-and when Humphries had done
speaking, l would have given some
thing handsome to have had him talk
1t over again. When I have him in my
power. he shall do So"
THE Indian blood! 1t will show It
self anyhow!"-Was the involuntary
exclamation Of the old woman.
"Ha! what's that, mother!"
ASK me not"
! "Ay but WILL must: and hear
me once for all-you tell me the truth,
on the instant, or you never see my
| face again. I'll go to the Indies with
Sir Charles Montague, that's making
up a regiment in Charleston for that
country
Beware. boy-ask me not-any
thing else. You will hate me II tell
you. You.will leave me forever"
"No-don't be afraid. Come, speak
out, and say-was my fathers name
Blonay?"
"Blonay was my lawful husband,
boy. when you were born" said the
woman. evasively. ..
LAY, that may be we'll enough" he
exclaimed. yet be no son of his.
Speak the TRUTH mother, and no two
bites Of a cherry. Out with II ALL
you can't 4vex me by telling 1t. Look
here-see this wound on my arm
when II begins to heal, rub 1t until
It unscars and grows red and angry
again. I like the pain Of 1t. It's strange,
know. but It's my pleasure; and so
I lock to be pleased with the story you
shall tell me- Was Blonay my father?"
He was not"
"Good!-who was?"
ASK no more"
"Ay. but WILL must have 1t all
so speak on"
"I will not speak 1t aloud-I will not.
have sworn it."
you must unswear II. I cannot be
trifed with. You must tell me the Sc
cret of my birth and all. care not
how dark, how foul, how unlawful
you must suppress nothing. This
night must give me the knowledge
which have wanted before-this
night you speak 1t freely. or lose me
forever"
The woman paced the apartment
convulsively, undergoing. at every
moment. some new dransition, from
anger and impatience, to entreaty and
humbleness. Now she denounced the
| curiosity Of her son, and now she i'm
plored forgiveness. But she cursed
or implored In vain. He lay coolly and
sluggishly. utterly unmoved, at length,
| upon the bed; needless Of all her
word, and now and then simply as
sur!ng her that nothing would suffice
but the true narrative Of all he wished
to know. Finding evasion hopeless,
the old, woman seemed to recover her
own coolness and strength with the re-
solve which she. had taken, and after
a little pause for preparation, she be-
gan.
Med Blonay. 1t is now twenty nine
years fince you were born"
Not quite. mother, not quite-twen-
ty-eight and some seven months.
Let's see, November, you remember.
was my birthday, and then I was but
twenty eight; but go on, it's not i'm
portant-"
"Twenty-eight or twenty-nine, 1t
matters not which-you were born
lawfully the son Of John Blonay, and
as such he knew and believed you.
Your true father was an Indian Of the
Catawba nation. who passed through
the Cypress the year before on his way
to the city"
go on-the particulars"
ASK not that-not that, boy; pray
We" ... ..-. ....
"All-all"
Il will not-I cannot-it was my
wickedness-my shocking wicked
ness! I will not speak it aloud for
worlds"
Speak 1t you must, but you may
whisper 1t In my ears. Stoop-"
She did so, passively as 1t were, and
In a low tone. broken only by her own
pauses and his occasional exclama-
tions, she poured into his ear dark,
foul narrative Of criminal intercourse,
provoked on her part by a diseased
appetite, resulting. as 1t would seem,
in punishment, in the birth Of mon
ster like himself. Yet he listened to
1t, II not passively, at least without
any show of emotion or Indignation:
| and as she finished. and hurrying away
from him threw herself into her old
seat. and covered her skinny face with
her hands. he simply thrust his fingers
into the long straight black hair de-
pending over his eyes, which seemed to
carry confirmatory evidence enough
for the support Of the story to which
he had listened He made no other
movement but appeared, for while,
busy In reflection. She every now and
| then looked towards him doubtfully,
and with an aspect which had In 1t
| something of apprehension. At length,
| rising. though with an air OF EFFORT
from the couch. he took a paper from
his pocket which he studied a little
while by the blaze In the chimney, then
approaching her, he spoke In language
utterly unaffected by what he had
| heard
"Hark. ye mother. I shall now go
back to the camp. It's something OF
risk, but nothing risk, nothing gain;
and II run a risk, it's for something.
go back to blind Singleton, for
shall tell him all the truth about my
coming here. He won't do any thing
more than scold little, for the things
common: but If he should"
What. my son?-speak!"
No" he muttered to himself, mo
danger Of that-he dare not But you
come, mother,-come to the camp by
sunrise. and see what you can. You'll
| be able to prove | was with you after