Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1908-05-15

= did promise: he insisted, as though his
} other self was only waiting for him to
finish before rising up to argue the
plorable, dismal place in which to live,
| with its fogs and its rain and its mud
and that Naples, though he had never
seen it, must be far better.
He came to his lodgings. He took
his key. He let himself in. He light
ed his lamp. He gave the fire vigor-
lous poke or two, for the night and the
room were chilly.
He glanced around the room with
some complacency. He was rich, but
he had not thought it wise to pay for
much Of luxury or elegance; there was
Everything for comfort - everything
that convenience could require, how
ever, and the man was pardonable for
the look Of pleased pride with which
he regarded it.
"A pleasant place to live in," he
said, rehectively "if 1 had some one
with whom to share it. If she were
only good and pure and true, and l
could win her, how happy we could
be here together"
You see she received no name as he
lSpOke Of her. But we needn't remain
long in doubt as to whom he meant.
His thoughts were finding it hard to go
back beyond the time when he saw
Lurline Bannottie in danger, and hur-
ried to her relief: he was already be-
ginning to count the events in his life
forward and back from that one, and
to base his hopes and plans and dreams
! for the future on that circumstance,
as we'll as to reckon them from it as
the initial and superlatively red letter
day of his personal calendar Once
But no matter! If a man has re-
Imained a bachelor, and chosen the life
of a wanderer, because of something
in his life so sad that he never re-
Ilates it, we ought, perhaps, to respect
his silence and keep an equal silence.
When he forgets his past, with the
tears that were wept, the vows that
were plighted, and the grave in which
love sleeps, perhaps we ought to forget
too. When he scorns his voluntary
bachelorhood, when he begins to think
Of the delights of home, it is perhaps
unnecessary for us to ask whose were
the tears that flowed. whether the
vows were kept or broken, or who lies
lin the grave, far away on n tiny tropi-
cal island, where the noisy clamor OF
the waves is eternal. With Jasper
Jahnway as he Is, and as he will be,
we have to do largely in this history;
and l grant you that what man has
done and suffered, what he has thought
and said. index largely what he is and
prophesy pointedly what he will be.
But when q man sits down to plan
how he may win the coveted love of
a woman he instinctively distrusts-
Suspects-almOst despiseS; when he
allows himself to think how he may
frighten and coerce when he cannot
succeed by gentler and manlier means;
when he deliberates on the future
which may be his with one whose ac-
quaintance he picked up in London
1 think we may put the earlier vol
umes of the record Of his life reverent-
ly away, shut and lock the door upon
them, and at least say, sadly, perhaps
but none the less firmly, mot yeti"
Mr.. Jahnway spoke again soon:
"A pleasant refuge, this. and safe
one, If one had been so unfortunate as
to have been concerned in any-any-
any accident! Authority might hunt
long for guilt which had deliberately
lost itself in London. l wonder wheth-
er Lurline Bannottie could learn to
love me? | wonder whether she had
anything to do with the-the-the
death of Constance Craig? l wonder
whether I have the means of proving
lit? l wonder-I wonder"
Do you, Mr.. Jasper Jahnway, do
lyou? | wonder, too! l wonder if a
man may have a guardian devil-as
well as a guardian angel? l wonder
liz two attendant spirits are fighting
for the possession Of your soul tonight?
] wonder if you have strength to resist
the allurements OF temptation? l
wonder If you will escape?
He speaks again:
Il found an awful document-a hor-
rible letter. 1t had neither date nor
signature. but many a jury has done
less justifable things than it would be
To hang the writer of it as the murder
er Of Constance Craig. l sent it to
Prier He would use the evidence, and
use it mercilessly Of course
He rose then. He got cigar and
lighted it, He smoked with an inten-
sity of effort which spoke volumes Of
the nervous strain there was upon him,
land the difficulty he had in restraining
lit Thus for five minutes. Then he
threw the cigar away. He spoke to
himself once more:
Il found a photograph, later. 1t
was close to the place where l found
the letter 1t was stained-discolored
faded; but it was the picture of
I.urline Bannottie: there is no doubt
lof that. There were three StanZaS of
lpoetry upon it, the same poetry die
tated to her to write tonight l exam
ined it with care; it was in the
handwriting of the fearful confession
III found: the one who wrote it killed
Constance Craig. l wonder whether
lLurline Bannottie wrote it, or wheth-
Ter she did not l was careful to
stand. tonight. where l could not see
the lines as she wrote them; l do not
think l could have kept a calm face
under her glances, if l had seen the
writing, and so been certain, no mat
ter which way that certainty had de-
cided the question. II have only to
burn this folded paper, burn it and
never go where l can see writing of
hers again. in order to never know.
Do | love her too much-or too little
to let her gO?'
He rose and replenished his fire.
And vet, there were great drops of
sweat standing upon his forehead.
Il have the picture here-here in a
| waternrOOf case where | nut ii when