Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1908-07-14
A LEGEND.


A LEGEND.
A Very Romantic Story of Loves
Waterloo.
The massive door has swung behind
us, the echo of its closing shudders
through the silent church and dies
away, and leaves no sound TO bear us
company save the slow, insist"~t tick
ing of the belfry clock. The long June
day is drawing near it's close, the nave
is still light, but the chancel is already
shadowy and dark; and it is there,
among the swiftly gathering gloom
that, led by a story told us at the rec
tors luncheon table, we set ourselves
to seek the legends central point.
On the north side of the church. be-
hind the chancel with its tiny choir
stalls, we come upon a narrow door
hidden among the towering organ
pipes. 1t opens on winding flight OF
wooden stairs, still covered by a fad
ed crimson carpet, moth eaten and
trodden into many a hole. The steps
are steep and narrow, and one Won
ders somewhat that long generations
of the squire's race should have car
ed to mount them so laboriously week
after week. But once within the
small apartment at the top one feels
perhaps less surprise; for here is GER
tainly a sense of dignity and Of with
.drawal from the vulgar herd, to an
extent unusual even in the seclusion
of faculty pew" The little room
is lighted by a window of its own; be-
low this is a cushioned form for the
house servants use. In the rooms
centre stands a massive oaken table
upon which might rest my lady's sum
shade and the squire's gold topped
stick. And lastly, in the foremost
rank of all, are ranged three velvet
cushioned elbow chairs. The occupants
of these commanded what perchance
they thought the only view fit for their
august eyes TO rest upon-the worship
ers in a precisely similar pew upon
the south side of the choir; and even
the sight of these might be shut off
by drawing a curtain, the rings OF
which still cluster on long brass
rod. The parson turned his back upon
them as he preached, and little of the
sermon could have come their way;
while plebeian congregations in the
nave could catch but fleeting glimpses
of aristocratic profles high above their
heads.
And yet the legend we have heard
today as lingering still about the pew
in which we stand-though somewhat
threadbare, like the carpets and the
faded cushions OF. the chairs-shows
that at least fate granted them no re-
spite from the woes of common men.
Just over ninety years ago these pews
were held by two families linked close
by friendly intercourse and neighbor-
ing estates. Upon the faded velvet of
these elbow chairs sat week by week
the squire and my lady and their only
son, while in the fellow pew across
the choir worshipped with his mother
less daughter an elderly man-the
squire'S equal as to lineage, though of
impoverished purse. The young folk
fell in love, as young folk will. Their
elders mutually approved the match,
and in due course-early in 1876
the wedding day was fixed for June.
The lover was a soldier, it is true, but
was not Napoleon, that disturber of
the peace of nations safe in Elba ?
Then like a thunderbOlt from a blue
sky there came the news of his escape,
the call to arms, the hurrid partings.
And as this couple said their sad fare
wells the girl sobbed out the fear that
never again would she see her lover
in his wOnted seat. He, moved by the
boastful pride of youth and hope,
swore to sit there before three months
had gone. And April came and went,
and May, and half of June, until the
18th of the month had dawned. There
was no morning service here, for the
rector was a pluralist and served an
other church six miles away. But 3
o'clock heard the bells pealing and saw
the congregation in the seats, the
squire and his lady with the empty
chair beside them, and across the choir
the young girls drawn and anxious
face.
The Psalms and the Magnificat were
duly said, and as the Nunc Dimittis
came in turn there rose a cry that
hushed the alternating voices of the
startled rector and his clerk. The girl
stood for a moment with white face
and horror stricken eyes and unprais-
ed hand that pointed toward the emp
ty chair, then dropped in a dead faint
upon the floor. And at that instant on
a Belgian battlefield an officer beside a
square of British infantry fell forward
on his face and moved no more.
The squires lineage has died out
long since: the pew is desolate, though
still untouched. OF those who would
have told the tale with due credulity
not one remains-the ancient sexton
and the son to whom he handed on his
work are gone. Can il perhaps be true
that at the moment of the lovers
death such strong desire arose within
his heart to see again,
The Norman march, the chancel
softly dark,
The braSseS black and red"
as Shadowed forth his unSubStantial
form for one brief instant in its won't
ed place? This is question which
we find it hard to answer, as we leave
at last this legend haunted pew and
breathe again the fragrance of the
summer twilight as we cross the rec
tory laWm-LOndOn Globe.