Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1908-05-15
TffffH MAN
OUTSIDE
Bv CLARENCE BoUTELLE.
Bv CLARENCE BoUTELLE.

had died and left her alone in the
world There were tears in her eyes
as she told of those olden days, adding
the pathos of her personality to the
story which would have been pathetic
enough when told by any tongue
however prosaic. There were. tears in
eyes as he listened, for the
eloquence of truth was in her story
and it touched his heart.
After that she told him of her later
life, and the tales were more marvel
Gus still. l regret having to say that
Jahnway's tears ceased, and that his
eyes grew dry. Much Of what she
said was founded on fact" but her
words lacked the eloquence which APP
pertains only to simple and perfect
truth. And, though she proved herself
ingenious, her stories might have been
more remarkable than she made them
if truth is stranger than fiction.
Mr.. Jahnway rose at last The bells
OF London were ringing midnight.
Pray pardon me-" he said; Il had
no idea it was so late"
Nor had I. Good night. You will
call upon me in Naples, will you not?
shall expect you"
II will That isl will try to-if
go there"
Butt thought you said you were
going"
Did I? Perhaps 1 did. 1t is still
rs it? l am sorry"
Are you? Will you grant me one
last request before you say farewell?
1t is quite possible you may never see
me again"
why. Mr. Jahnway! l should
scarcely recognize you as the gentle
man whose acquaintance 1 made this
evening. You are positively gloomy
and gloom producing. You will have
me colder than this wretched fog made
me if you keep on in that strain. OF
course we shall meet again, and Iven-
ture to predict that we shall be the
best of friends-the best of friends.
And, Of course, l will grant any rea-
sonable request What do you wish"
"A few lines to remember you by, if
we never meet again.
She seated herself at her table. She
opened a drawer, and took out paper
and pen and ink.
''As you wish, except that it shall
be- until we meet again. What shall l
write?"
Whatever you please"
NO. | am not in the mood tonight.
| think l could not write anything orig
inal. Suggest something"
Very we'll Write this"
And he slowly repeated, while she
wrote:
Look, love upon my lips here;
You cannot hear them speak;
But is there need for that. dear?
Were words not always weak?
Look deep into my eyes. love;
l bravely face you now;
Have faith, because you cannot prove
The thought behind my brow!
Look. listen, reason we'll, dear:
You cannot know my soul!
Content thyself with what is here
Who may not claim the whole
Miss Bannottie looked up with an
uneasy little shiver as she finished,
and held her hand upon what she had
just written. instead of handing it to
him.
"Where-where did you ever see or
hear that?" she asked.
Il cannot say" he replied. Culture
photographers should make a note of
the fact that cannot" in such a con-
nection is equivalent to will not" nor
should they forget to mention that Il
do not know" is at least more straight
forward and definite, as well as usually
more truthful. than Il cannot say.D
1T is wretched poetry. Did you
know that?"
Il suppose so." he replied; though
l believe poetry is largely a matter of
taste. l don't pretend to be judge of
such things"
Il should hope motif you like that.
And the sentiment is simply atrocious;
did you not know that?"
Yes, l did know that" he said,
good night"
He reached out his hand. Perhaps
she did not see it, or did not understand
his meaning. for she did not take it.
She rose to her feet. She folded the
paper she had written. She handed
it to Mr.. Jahnway. He placed it care
fully in his pocket.
Good night" she said
He turned abruptly, without another
word, and hurried from the room and
from the house. The London fog took
his form into its cOncealing embrace:
the roar Of the London streets merged
the sound of his footsteps into it's eter-
nal thunder. Gone! gone, And Lur-
line BannOttie leaned against the mar
BILE mantel her face scarcely less white
than it, wondering whether it was not
an a NlNS'lll diNNi "''iiSN'' h''
rescue. and Jasper Jahnways visit
and whether she might not take up hel
life again tomorrow in peace and
comfort and triumph.
A dream?
Alas! no dream! A terrible reality.
a reality which set her a hundred new
tasks to do and hundred new prob
lens to solve, No dream,
Why did he stay?" she moaned. as
she drew herself into the depths of a
huge easy chair and covered her face
with her hands: "why did he stay? He
must have seen how | suffered and
how much | wished To be alone, unless
he was even binder than the most of
his sex. The heartleSs intruder. How
hate him; how l hate him. Curse
him, How | wish | had him here. fol
a half minute. within reach of these
two strong hands"
She held up the two strong hands
the long. 1.-THE fingers claSpng and
unclasping in impotent rage: two
strong hands-that had done wicked
work. not once but many times-but
as helpless now as they had been when
IaSner JahnWaV riSked his life for