Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1909-09-07

She turned her head to show him
the golden links coiled round and
round her polished, white throat.
See these curious charms" she
said; here Is a frightful dragons
head, with emeralds for eyes; here q
heart ready to squirt blood from its
veins Of rubies; here again golden
hand grasping a coral serpent Who
could have put these precious things
on a child left in a faded old shawl to
drown on the rocks of a seaside town?
do you spend many hours ponder
ing the mystery?" said st. John, smil-
ing and bending to kiss passionately
the white flesh under the chain, land
dreaming yourself a born princess
come to your own again? All, what a
lovely throat"
She WINGED at the caress and
changed color.
II told you," she said, slowly, that
1 would have no secrets from you. Is
it a lovely throat, Guy? Wait one
moment till I make it hideous?"
She snatched a vial from the man.
tel, dashed it's contents on the hand
kerchief and swept it swiftly across
her throat.
Now tell me-" she said, bending to-
ward him, pale as a spirit what do
you see?"
He looked and a cry escaped him
What did he see, indeed? A throat as
admirable in shape and tint as a piece
of sculpture, but streaked from chin to
ear with a bright line Of deepest GRIM
son like a blood stain-a wicked
frightful line, which, drawn sharply
upon that snowy skin, looked ready to
spout forth a red torrent.
Great God, Paulette, what Is that?'
said st. John, in a shocked voice.
1T is a birth-mark," she answered
WAS ever anything so hideous? The
brand Of Cain could not have been
worse, 1 think"
But, good heavens, how do you hide
| it, Paulette? l never saw it before
surely"
Jean Rale taught me the trick
long ago-a little paint deftly put on
and, 10! it is done. The sight of 1t
sickens me-flls me with untold hor-
rors. Would any one, seeing this
ever again call me beautiful?"
He stretched out his arms, but she
eluded them and ran again to the es-
critoire in the corner. When she re-
turned, white and unblemished shone
that charming throat, tenderly touched
by the yellow Of her splendid hair
every trace of the mark had vanished
And now," she said the blood run
ming back into her face, Il have ex-
hausted my budget Of confessions. IT
is now your turn, Guy"
His countenance changed.
"A bad suggestion. l would rather
not talk Of myself-least Of all to you
Let us try some other subject"
"Cest bien! Miss Nightingale the
cantatrice, gives a supper tonight af-
ter the play. Will you attend, If only
to scowl down my lovers, and keep me
in Gehenna with your jealousy?"
isn't Varneck one of Miss Nightin-
gales favorites?" asked st. John.
Il really don't know" she yawned;
its very likely" And then her yell
low head nestled against his knee like
a bright winged bird, and he drew her
to his breast and they sat in that
pleasant firelignt. while the melan-
choly winter day died swiftly with
out; two young idiots, sure enough
but inordinately happy.
1t mattered little then whether the
: founding of the shore was a princess
or a beggar born. 1t mattered little
whether the scene painter was an ex-
emplary young man or sad, fast-go-
| ing dog-they were drinking in with
contented, unquestioning lips their
small measure of happiness-it comes
in small measures to most of us-but
even in such quantities it should be
thankfully received.