Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1908-07-28
BvETTA w. PIERCE.
1. j. 5TB%tS555ES j. j. f. j. j. + j. j. +

I He changed color.
But there's something I must say"
he began, then stopped. 1t was Jacks
misfortune that his courage always
failed in the presence Of the sailor
girl. He was keen enough to see that
she had not the smallest suspicion Of
his passion.
Then say it, please" she answered,
with resigned air, "and let me go my
way"
Not here!" faltered Harold. Take
me along the cliffs with you. am
| Jealous of that letter, which is so i'm
portant that must be dismissed with
out a word. From whom does 1t come"
Il do not know" scanning the post
mark again. MY mother had kindred
in Massachusetts-yes, in Boston; but
they are strangers to me, and, dare
say, do not know that 1 exist"
Perhaps some absent cape lad has
taken it into his head to attempt
correspondence, suggested Harold,
with forced lightness.
Il know few cape lads" she replied,
somewhat coldly, "and none who would
presume to write to me-"
She hurried off down the street. He
followed, growing desperate as it be-
came evident that she meant to leave
him.
"One moment" he painted, just at
her shoulder "Since you'll give me no
bottar obapna ,,ouSt fall Won aS hest
1 can. I'm awfully in love with you,
Miss Hillyer! Don't answer me now"
as she turned upon him a look Of
blank astonishment think Of it lit
tie, and tonight 1 will come to the
fshhouse de nee. l will see you there"
He was gone before she could open
her lips. Though he had visited at the
cove for weeks, she had never regard
ed him as a possible lover. Bess Hill
yer's fancy did not
Lightly turn to thoughts of love-
More surprised than pleased, she set
her face toward home. Soon the small
village was left behind her. She took
the cliff path, and there, in a little hol-
low, with no living thing to behold her,
save a lonely crow flying over the
windy waste, she opened the strange
letter, and read as follow:
"A few years ago, in searching the
genealogy of the Ellicott's, I discovered
your existence. Without much trouble
have traced you to an obscure fishing
town on the coast of Maine. You are
the daughter of Elizabeth Ellicott and
the grandniece of my late husband, ex-
Governor Ellicott-in fact, the only
person Of his blood now living. can
not say whether you know anything
about your mothers family connections
or not-probably not, for many years
ago there were dissensions among the
Ellicotts, and younger branch drifted
from the elder into poverty and OBJ
scurity, and all communication ceased
betwixt the two. Your mother was an
offspring of the impoverished branch.
Two things only 1 know about you,
Elizabeth-you are still young enough
to educate properly, and the blood OF
the famous Ellicott's flows in your
veins l am a childless old woman,
rich, unhappy. and without heirs. Come
to me! l offer you a luxurious home,
the qualification Of all your future
wishes, and a fortune that is reckoned
by millions. hope you are pretty and
tractable; but even If you are neither,
l shall welcome you for the sake Of the
Ellicott blood. 1 ask only that you VIII
devote yourself to my comfort and
pleasure while live, and at my death
all that I possess shall be yours. You
will see that a great opportunity is
now knocking at your door. If you
conclude to accept it, inform me, and
will instruct some trusty person to
take you in charge and bring you di-
rectly to my house"
The name and residence Of the writ
er followed: also a postscript, in which
Elizabeth Hillyer was urged to care
fully consider the proposal above
made, and to reply at her own conven-
ience. Bess folded the delicate, violet
scented sheet, and slipped it back into
the envelope.
She had never heard much about her
mothers people. but the little that re-
NAMED in her memory corresponded
exactly with this letter. And now she
was invited to leave her poverty and
obscurity and become the heiress of the
Ellicott millions! Without the quick
ening of a pulse, she went on to the
cove.
Twelve o'clock was striking when
she reached the cottage. She gave
giddy Rose her ribbons, and then. find
ing that nobody knew anything about
Andy. she Jared forth to seek him on
the beach, and came back to the noon
dinner leading the poor unfortunate
as though he were a child Not word
did she say about the fortune which
| had been offered her, until Uncle Caleb
arose from the table and stepped out
into the porch to light his pipe. Then,
| beckOning to Rose, she followed him,
sat down at his knee. and quietly open
ed and read Mrs. Ellicott's letter.
Dead silence succeeded the reading.
Poor Andy had flung himself down in
the sun a few yards away, and, with
hands clasped over his head, seemed to
be doing. 1t was Rose who spoke first.
Scorchng tears filled her eyes. Her
lovely face was cOnvulsed with those
two unworthy things-envy and jeal-
ousy.
oh" she gasped, 'why couldn't l
have been born Elizabeth Ellicotts
daughter and this rich woman's rela-
tive? There is nothing for me in the
wOrld-everything is for Bess! And l
love ease and money, and pleasure and
fine clothes. a thousand times more
| than BeSS does. Oh-Oh, you cannot
go-yOu shall not go, Bess, and leave
me here alone with Uncle Caleb and
| that dreadful Andy"
She flung herself on the floor Of the
porch, and began to cry, with all her
might. Uncle Caleb dashed down his
pipe Indignantly.
Shame. Rose-shame, you spoiled
hahyi Who deserves a fOrtin' who