Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1907-07-05

| She turned in the saddle, recognized
him, waved one gloved hand derisively.
The next instant, presto! what a
change was there! Like a flash of
black lightning, Ranchero, the wild,
western born steed, sent by Gilbert WYE
to his daughter years before, flung out
his heels. and was going in cloud of
dust, down the winding Dale road.
Shirlaw could ride like a Centaur.
He had lived in the saddle for weeks
sometimes. He smiled calmly to him
self. He was sure to overtake her be-
fore she could reach the bridge, half
mile away.
But he had reckoned without his
host. Ride as he would, he did not
overtake her, and when he reached the
bridge, a dim, distant cloud Of dust
alone showed him the way by which
she had vanished. The road now left
the Dale, and branched off among
green fields and bits Of quiet, shadowy
woods: but still, only that black streak
of ever-receding lightning, that distant
dust cloud - that far, tormenting
glimpse of a lovely figure, sitting the
saddle as gracefully. as easily, as
though she had been born in it!
His blood was up. He set his teeth
he urged Lispenard's favorite horse
as the beast had never been urged be-
fore. All in vain! Was 1t mocking
laugh that fioated back to him, or only
the wind whistling and cutting through
his ears. as his foaming horse flew on?
Verify. no Apache had ever led him
such a chase? Somebody had told
him that this western girl could ride
like a cowboy. throw a lariat, use the
branding-iron, do anything, and he
was ready to believe it all now.
Fuming, chagrined, he kept on,
through ways that grew more and more
unfamiliar, up hill and down dale, for
seven long miles, at least-to Shirlaw
they seemed a score. She had passed
beyond his sight now-he was simply
following Ranchero's trail.
Presently he plunged into the dark
depths Of a pinewood, where the dew
had not yet vanished, and 10! there, In
a cool hollow, stood Ranchero, nibbling
at low. bough, and in the saddle sat
Mignon, smoothing his jet-black name
with one hand. calm, smiling, no flush
on her perfect face, no sign Of disor-
der or undue exertion-the most pro-
voking piece Of serenity and self-pos-
session that ever tormented a crest
fallen gallant.
How red you look" she said, sweet
lly, as Shirlaw dashed into the hollow:
"and see your poor horse-he is cover
ed with foam. Now Ranchero has
scarcely a wet hair" fondly stroking
the crow black beast.
Shirlaw grew redder yet with morti-
fication.
81 thought 1 knew how to ride" he
stammered, but you put me to shame.
You are like a prairie wind"
Where did you leave Maud Loftus?"
she asked, innocently.
AT the gate Of Rookwood. And now
I find that l am a veritable Babe In
the Woods. am lost. I seem to have
galloped five-and-twenty miles, at
least. must throw myself upon your
guidance If you scurry away on an
other flight, l she.i never be able to
find my way back to Lispenard's tow
er"
A cloud had passed over the sun.
The wood grew dark; an ominous hush
filled it. Now and then thunder NUT
tered in the distance, or fitful gust
shivered through the tree-tops. Shir-
law, dusty, parched with thirst slipped
out of his saddle, and went up to
spring which bubbled near by under
gray, messy rocks, with a guard OF
crisp ferns nodding around it.
Before he was aware Of it, Mignon
dismounted also, and stood by his side,
fair as a lily in her long green habit.
"Oh, for a drinking cup!" she said
lightly.
He gathered a handful Of chestnut
leaves, twisted them into an emerald
cup, and, on bended knee, presented II
to her, dripping with coolness. The
thunder still muttered, and the dark
ness deepened among the pines. but
neither needed 1t. She drank the clear
spring water, and Shirlaw carefully
folded the leaves and put them in his
pocket.
1.-The touch Of your lips has made
them too precious to throw away he
said.
Confused, she turned toward Ranch
ero, as If to mount. simultaneously
came a sheet of flame, a deafening
crash. Shirlaw flung himself before
Mignon, and the next instant, the
chestnut tree, from which he had
plucked the leaves for the cup, fell,
riven from crown to root, straight
across the little spring, only few feet
from the spot where the two stood.
Shirlaw caught Mignon in his arms
as she fell back. white and stunned.
ooh, my darling, my darling!" he
cried, wildly, ARE you hurt?"
He dashed water upon her from the
spring. She opened her brown eyes in
bewildered way. Another moment
and the fateful words were out:
II love you, Mignon-I love you!
Will you be my wife,"
There, in that lightning -smitten
wood, under the black, frowning heaV-
en-, she gave one little cry, and let her
fair head sink against the breast which
had interposed betwixt her and the bolt
of death.
"Mignon, one word!" he painted. with
his face to hers. do you-can you,
and with growing desperation, viii
you love me?"
And Mignon, trembling with happi-
ness in the arms that clasped her, and
with no foreboding of coming evil,
family murmured the words that Shir-
law so wished to hear-"I love you.
AS they turned their horses heads
back toward Rookwood, in that su-
preme state of mind known only TO