Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1907-08-20

i
ing her notice. All things in the tow.
er Of the Beast had been made subser.
Went to Beauty.
For the first day or two she was toe
dazed and bewildered to Think mucf
about her marriage. A nervous terror
of the Yves still held possession Of her
On the third morning a wedding-gift
arrived from Abel Lispenard-nothine
less than the deeds conveying to Mig
non herself all right and title to the
whole estate Of Rookwood. The home
! OF her ancestors belonged unreservedly
now to Lispenard's wife.
''Your uncle and his son have left
the place" the Frogman wrote, land
the house will be closed till you, Its
owner, order otherwise"
He had put her enemies under her
feet.
Mignon went to a window Of the
tower and looked across the river
Yes, silence and loneliness reigned
there. The shutters Of the old man.
sion Were closed and the grounds wore
"a deserted air.
"In spite Of all that has passed, Un-
Gle Philip" sighed Mignon, Il pity
you now!"
Then she wrote a little letter OF
thanks, that seemed, somehow, very
stiff and formal, and sent it to the
man at st. Margaret's Home,
At the end of week she began to
adapt herself to her new conditions.
Shel caressed his fawning dogs; she
sat down to his piano and struck
few notes, but the sound frightened
her-Lispenard seemed standing at
her very side-so she rose hurriedly
and closed the instrument.
She went to his library and spent
long hours among the priceless brio
a-brac there, and the wealth OF books
gathered from every country. AS II
under a spell she wandered through the
grandeur Of his marvellous rooms, and
the bloom and fragrance Of his great
conservatories, where tropic summer
reigned, in vivid contrast to the wintry
New England landscape outside.
She would stand before her mirror
and say to the pale, beautiful Image
reflected in 1t, you are Mignon wye
no longer. You have married that
strange man, Abel Lispenard; do you
not know?" But the words always had
an odd ring in her ears. and brought
sometimes a smile, sometimes a shud-
der with them.
One day she opened a drawer in his
library table, and came upon a photo
graph of Victor Shirlaw. Handsome,
debonnaire, the life-like face Of the
brown captain looked, as Of old, upon
his Tilted love. Long and wistfully
Mignon gazed upon 1t. She did not
weep, she did not even sigh. She was
amazed at her own lack Of emotion.
HE Is nothing to me now" she
murmured, drearily. II am but seven
teen, and yet 1t seems that I have al
ready outlived love. He Is as dead to
me as though he lay under the grave
yard sod.'
And then she put the photograph
back in the drawer, and turned the key
upon it.
Regularly each day a message arriv-
SlR from Lispenard-brief but always
kind and full Of solicitude for her COM
fort. Was she we'll? Did she lack
anything? Had she any ungratified
wishes? AS for himself, he was still
at the home, comforting Laurent in his
last hours, and following through
trusty agents the clew to Lillan's lost
child. So many years had passed since
its disappearance that he found the
search beset with great difficulties.
At first Mignon read these messages
listlessly; then with growing interest.
In her enchanted tower the girl-bride
began to feel a lively concern in the
fate Of Lillian Lispenard's child. Some
times, Of windy nights, she fancied the
ghost Of the dead beauty walked In
the fast closed chamber at the end OF
the corridor. She seemed to hear her
sighs and fieeting footsteps. Perhaps
the spectral creature was likewise
looking for the baby lost on that sor-
rowful return from France, long years
before. Lispenard entered into no de-
tails. Mignon vaguely wondered what
clew he had obtained, and how long
his quest would continue; but she had
no opportunity to ask these questions,
for she did not answer any Of his dali
ly messages-indeed, he had not re-
quested her to do so.
And did Beauty in the tower OF the
Beast never think Of her father? Of
ten, and with anxious yearning. In
the queer, enchanted sort of existence
which she now led, the thought of Gill
bert Wye intruded constantly. Where
was he? Why did he not write to her?
Sometimes she would sit before the
log fire in the drawing-room, with
Lispenard's dogs around her, and weep
wildly at the remembrance of her
childhoods idol. Sometimes she would
stand for hours in some window and
strain her great brown eyes into the
distance, praying passionately for him
to come back to her, or, If that might
not be, for some news of his fate Mig
mons heart was still as true as steel
to the father who had vanished so
mysteriously out Of her life-vanished,
never more to return.
1t was a chilly winter day. Mignon
dined early, and then went out into
the grounds with the dogs and wan
dered about there for long time, seek
ing rest and finding none.
There was no snow on the earth,
save pallid heaps, dwindling here and
there in low hollows. The level sun
sank red and low behind the brown
lawns; the winds were all at rest.
That oppressive stiffness which is
known only to a. winter landscape,
brooded over everything. Mignon was
dawdling about Lillian Lispenards gar
den, watching the sparrows picking up
the scattered seeds, when, Of sudden,
she heard a footstep, the soft swish
yha nH