Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1909-04-23
CHAPTER XVII.
The Author Speaks.

sunset- clouds the after-glow still I'M
yered. the river swayed with mufheo
utterance against it's brown banks
Tremulous murmurs filled the border
ing sedge-the fitting Of dusky wings
unseen life stin astir-sounds Oh the
midnight which only accentuated lts
profound silence.
The Mills stood up by the river
side. silent, too-big wheels and little
wheels hive from which the busy
swarm had flown. A strike was on
at Heron's, and none could foretei
when 1t would be of" In the count
ing-room of the establishment lamp
had Just been lighted, and there, at
high desk, sat Francis Heron, por1ns
over some account-books, and turning
occasionally to address his friend vi
Wan. who was standing in a window
near by, looking out on the river
Graham" he said, ''it's awfully gooo
of Won to constitute yourself my body
guard, as you have done ever since
the strike began; but really can
allow it. Go up to Wolfsden, and pass
the evening with the ladies. Rivers
has returned, and he will make you
welcome. Waiting here for me Is q
great bore"
mot at ALL" protested Vivian
where you go, go also; where you
remain, remain. Eternal vigilance Is
the price of safety. I do not like the
thought of leaving you alone in the
Mills after night fall"
pooh! Bruce, the watchman, Is
about"
Vivian groaned.
"That centenarian! What could ne
do against two score Of turbulent strik-
ers9 Heron, one would think that
some secret influence was abroad OF
late, among the Blackbirds' surr1ns
them I'D to all manner of evii-some
secret and malign influence"
Exactly, old fellow. For days l
have entertained the same idea, re-
piled Heron.
It is safe, / suppose, to lay the
credit of this strike at Joe Bagieys s
door,"
Undoubtedly he is prime mover
In the mischief; but have suspicious
Vivian, which I must not mention
even to you, until 1 find some shadow
OF evidence to sustain them. Most OF
my mill hands are fairly good feliows
or would be, at least, If Bagley was
suppressed. 1 cannot think that they
design to do me personal injury"
Vivian looked thoughtfully out on
the darkening river, already rejecting
the white lustre of the stars.
"Bag,ey, the girl Jaers lover!' ne
muttered. II dare say he owes you
some grudge, Heron?
He may have some imaginary grew
ance against me-" replied Heron. but
he's thoroughly bad. More than once
the rogue has been behind prison-ba !;
IL he had his just dues, he would De
there at this very hour. 1t Is pity
he was not permitted to get at my
strong-box the other night-Black Rlv-
or might have been rid of its chief
pest for some time to come. The most
that he can now do is to keep my
men at war with their work and wages
-impoyerish them, and embarrass and
torment me-"
Vivian said nothing. Perhaps ne
was thinking of the wild, dark girl
who had saved "the stronghold, ana
whose lover Bagley was supposed 10
be. With a vast show Of carelessness'
either real or assumed, Heron picked
I'D a newspaper from his desk, and
passed it to his friend.
"Since you insist upon remaining
here with me, Vivian, amuse yourselI
by reading the local items in this
Black River Bugle. You will find an
important event mentioned among
them-the engagement of Miss Ferrers
to the Englishman, Sir Griffin Hope
wood. Such a bit of news must have
been a godsend to the dull little Bu-
GLE"
Something in his voice made his
friend turn and stare at him. He was
smiling, but his lean face looked
strangely haggard and full Of care.
"The Bugle man states that the mar
riage is to be solemnized at Black RiV-
er," continued Heron, land that the
happy pair will sail at an early date
for England. 1 don't mind telling you
Vivian, that Miss Ferrers refused me
to accept the baronet. Why not? Nine
girls out of every ten would have done
the same. Don't look so grave. Men
die, and worms eat them, but not for
love, you know, though some OF us
certainly get a foretaste Of perdition
in the pangs that love brings. The
man who whines over such matters Is
a simpleton. So late?"-starting, as
clock over his head struck the hour OF
eight. by Jove! I have no heart fol
work tonight. I think I will put by
these account books, Vivian, and &c
back with you to Heroncroft."
Dol" urged Vivian.
Francis Heron deposited the books
in a safe in the wall, and was just
turning the key in his desk, when botf
men heard the swift bang of gate
light, flying feet, and then the door OF
the counting room opened, and on the
threshold, looking in upon the twain
stood Sergia Pole. A cloak Of glact
silk. trimmed with white ostrich feath'
ers, was hung about her shoulders
Underneath the garment shone a din
ner dress of pale blue faille, with
cluster Of Jacqueminot roses dropping
in the corsage. Her fair hair curlet
in large rings about her ivory brows
her full creamy throat showed through
the opening in the elegant cloak. A
wild alarm dilated her blue eyes ant
parted her lips. With an almost tragic
gesture, she extended one hand incaset
in a pale Suede glove.
"Oh, thank God! you are here!' she
cried. 81 feared I should not find you
The strikers are coming to burn the
Mills. Cousin Francis-Mr. Vivian
fly for your lives!"
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