Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1907-06-28

enough. i all Ill IIldl sic says, oh>
more. care very little for Aunt Del
or gran'ther, and 1 detest Porgy Rocf
and its barren solitude.
Watched the beacon for gran'thel
the first half Of the night. The see
was. very quiet, only the breakers
doomed on the other side Of the island
Large and bright the stars shone II
the deep purple sky. UP in the tower
the lamp famed with steady light
through the slow hours. A ship went
by, with pale wings spread in the star
lit silence.
Shall I ever see him again?
Wednesday.
Before the sun had reached meridian
he came along. In Rube Dexters boat
I was Just pushing off from the land
ing-place.
Where are you going?" he cried
eagerly.
ITO catch q string Of mackerel fol
dinner" l answered.
Delightful! Pray let me go with
you."
sat stiff and ungracecious while ne
scrambled with more speed than grace
into my dory.
"Will you permit me to take the
oars?" he asked.
mo-" I replied. Il probably know
how to use them much better than you
do"
Now am I annihilated, indeed" ne
said, with a gay laugh. "At least, let
me humbly beg permission to help you
secure the mackerel."
He looked like young viking, with
his broad shoulders and blue eyes, and
hair as fair as flax.
Have you had much experience IN
fshing?" I queried, scornfully.
"Yes," he replied, II know all about
lobster traps, and weirs, and drag-nets,
and travis. I have been pollocking
and haddocking and haking with your
friend Rube Dexter. A week at Gin
derville has transformed me into a
purely amphibious creature"
A little bird, somewhat larger than a
sandpiper was lowering over the wa
ter near by. l nodded toward 1t.
"That is a sea-goose," I said; land
wherever you see 1t, there you will find
mackerel."
What am 1 to do? Command me"
Drop the anchor"
Down it splashed over the boats side.
"Now mind your tackle. There's a
box Of bait under the seat"
We had struck a shoal Of fat, mot
tied beauties. How fast we drew them
in! The sun glowed hot overhead, a
land wind combed the current into
languid ripples. Trouble very often
with Mr.. Fleetwood's tackle, and con-
stant appeals to me for help.
"I think you are tangling 1t purpose
ly," 1 said, at last, with stern suspi-
cion. He colored to his eyebrows.
Like the father of his country, /
cannot tell a lie," he said; and then
seized upon the hands which he had
called so often to his aid, and pressed
them to his lips. There are tempta-
tions, Miss Hart, which no man could
find 1t in his heart to resist"
I snatched away my hands. 1--WE
will fish no more today" I said, with
high displeasure. He drew in the an
chor meekly, and we started back to
the Light.
Pray, what brought you to Porgy
Island again today?" I demanded. He
gave me a reproachful look.
Pardon me, Is that quite-quite po-
lite, Miss Hart? Is it hospitable? You
brought mel I came because I could
not help myself any more than that
silly sea-goose can help following the
mackerel shoal."
Some birds flew over the boat at
that moment, uttering a sharp, queer
cry. 1t was like a woman's name
Maud! Maud"
He started violently. 1.-THE deuce!" I
heard him mutter. He does not like
the name, perhaps.
What sort Of a bird is that?" he
asked.
Il do not know" I answered, care
lessly 1.-THE same, maybe, that Ten
nyson's young man had in. mind when
he said:
"'Birds in the high Hall garden,
When twilight, was falling;
Maud, Maud, Maud, Maud,
They were crying and calling.
Il have cousin by that name" he
said, with a short laugh. II could
have sworn that it was her voice over
head. Pray let me take my turn at
quoting Tennyson."
And then, with his bold eyes fixed
steadily on my face, he said over these
lines in low, effective tone:
"Is there a voice coming up with the
voice of the deep from the strand,
One coming up, with song, in the
flush Of the glimmering red?
Love that Is born of the deep coming
up with the sun from the sea,
Love that can shape or can shatter
life till the life shall have fled?
Nay, let us welcome him, Love that
can lift up. life from the dead.
Keep him away from the lone little Isle.
Let us be, let us be.
Nay, let him make 1t his own, let him
reign in it-he, 1t Is he
Love that Is borne Of the deep coming
up with the sun from the sea-
l spoke not word. We landed, and
he carried the mackerel up to the
house. Aunt Deb sat at her big wool
wheel in the kitchen--such things are
still used along the Maine coast-and
being in a hospitable mood, she invit-
ed Mr.. Fleetwood to dine with us for
the second time. Grand'ther also urged
him. He stayed. Dinner-broiled
mackerel and potatoes, fried lobster,
and one of Aunt Debs famous Indian
puddings.
After the meal. grand'ther carried
him up to the tower, to look at the
light. Determined not to encounter
him again, went off over the chaotic
rocks, to the furthest end Of the Is
land, and hid myself among the lodges
there in the Mernaid's Chair-a dan
gerous cleft, scarcely above high water
mark. The gulls and know the place
we'll