Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1909-10-01
BY Eta w. PIERCE.

lips, loud and low, plalntlNc dIiu JoS
full. to every one Of which the dark,
shady shore answered with a sweeter
echo.
Presently a bird from the willows OF
the landing place started in his dream
and began to mock these siddy trills
this hurly Of cries and calls, and
then a faint breath puffed along the
smooth surface Of the lake-combed II
into a ripple; another followed, after
which a brisk breeze broke full upon
them, spread the canvas and sent
them dancing away through the moon
light, the boat coquetting with Its own
shadow like a lovely woman.
WAS not that well done?" laughed
Varneck.
"Hush!" said Sibyl. breathlessly'
"hark!"
The whistling had ceased, but In its
place arose a vibrating strain OF the
sweetest, saddest music she had ever
heard. 1t seemed raining down with
the moonlight She looked up quickly.
What is that?" she cried. Am l
awake or dreaming? Is the night en-
chanted?"
He pointed upward to the mast OF
the boat. She saw fixed there an
Aeolian harp, its strings responding
plainrively to the wind that now
shivered and sighed across them.
Fancy me dead" said Varneck. half
sadly, half lightly, "and this my soul
speaking to YOU"
With her white, unjeweled hands
clasped on the leopard skin, her face
like a piece of sculpture. Sibyl sat and
listened. Not a sound could be heard
far or near as they sailed, save that
wild harp, swept as by spirit hands.
At last a wind-blown scud passed
across the moon. It was not dark, but
tender, luminous gloom had super
seded the clear brightness Of the night.
Varneck turned his head suddenly and
looked at his companion.
Only a few feet divided them IN the
boat. She felt those two intense eyes
as the flowers felt the fervid sun. Her
blood for a moment seemed stagnat-
ing. then she was choked and suffocat-
ed with the swift, fiery rush 1t made
through all her veins. She dropped
her proud face to avoid his look, and
leaning over the boats side, dabbled
her fingers in the ripples.
The stars leaned low to watch them.
AS the wind rose the voice Of the harp
at the mast grew higher and wilder.
II seemed to sing 81 Storm and sor-
row, of great waves crashing on lone
some beaches, of shipwreck, destruc-
tion-the anguish Of loss.
Fiither and thither they drifted,
speechless, motionless. Hour after
hour went by. Sibyl's voice was the
first to break the spell.
Ought we not to turn back now?'
she said, in low tone; 1T must be
late"
what" he answered, reproachfully;
ARE you tired thus soon Of the lake,
the harp, and-me?'
Thus soon?" she faltered. LOOK
at your watch; but, no-there Is
clock striking in the town. Listen!"
They did so. With a thrill Of dis
may, Sibyl counted twelve distinct
strokes.
Midnight" she stammered.
Indeed, 1 had no idea Of it," an
swered Varneck. II could go on like
this forever"
| The little boat danced back to the
pier. The moon came out again cold
and pure from her shifting clouds.
Sibyl dared not look at her COM
panion, but kept her eyes fixed on the
lights still burning for them in the old
house far up the great garden. AS
they stepped out upon the pier, she eth
er did not see or quite disresarded the
hand he extended to her. Her foot
slipped on the rain-wet plank. She
thought herself falling, and with cry
stretched out her arm-round, dimpled
like a oaby's, whittier than the moon
light; its loose summer drapery blown
back almost to the marble shoulder.
Varneck seized it, held it for a mo-
ment, then bent and covered it with
smothering kisses.
"Sibyl!" he cried, sharply-"dar-
ling!"
| He snatchad her up to him, pressed
her down into his breast. His bee rded
cheek touched hers, his quivering lips
/ hnr
then rested upon them in a deep,
breathleSs kiss.
Silence! The cold moon overhead,
the harp vibrating in the wind, and
in the willow shadows of the little
pier, with locked hands, silent, drink
ing in this deep, sweet daught OF
heaven.
| Suddenly Varneck started. His hand
dropped from Sibyrs. His voice, as he
spoke, sounded harsh and strained.
"Come!" he muttered, Il am a
wretch-a villain! You will take cold
here-come!"
He turned and conducted her swift
ly up the walk to the house. They en-
tered the hall together. With
limbs sinking beneath her, her head
all in whirl, she would have passed
him and gone on up the stair, but he
held her back He was deadly pale
and could hardly command his voice
to speak.
"Sibyl, l leave Beechwood on the
first morning train. 1 ask you to trust
me for one little day, then l will be
with you again. l will explain all. My
heart is full. but I must not say
have now no right to say more thar
this Trust me, Sibyl! l beg-I en-
treat you, trust mel"
He raised her hand to his lips, press
ed it in his own, dropped it and hur'
ried away.
She heard him go in the gray, chilly
dawn Of the next day. She heard th'
hall door shut and that firm step echt
off down the walk.
!, She sprang from bed. and. running
to the window, looked forth through