Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1909-11-12
What do you want?" said the We


man.
A feeting crimson overspread the
small, colorless face.
ITO see," answered Paulette, "the
lady who lives here-Mrs. Arnault."
Land alive! She's gone!"
The visitor seemed about to sink
where she stood.
Gomez" she echoed, family, when
where?"
when? A week ago. miss. Where?
Not knowing, couldn't say. There
came man here one night, and the
next morning she took Miss Sibyl and
!Rebecca Hardin and started. I was
left to take charge for the present"
Anguish and dismay were blended in
Paulette's face.
"Oh, is there not a single refuge left
me? Surely you must know where
can find her!"
mo more" replied the woman, stolid-
lly than the dead in their graves!"
In a blind, uncertain way, Paulette
turned from the door and retraced her
steps back to the gate.
Where shall go now?" she said to
herself; "oh, God, where?"
The wide world was before her. 1t Is
sometimes hard to choose from so
much. She stood holding the gate in
her hand, her heavy veil hanging like a
shield before her face, when she was
stumbled against by some person just
entering, flushed, eager, hurried-a tall,
blond, bearded person. who, recoiling
from the violent contact, looked down
on her in surprise.
Your pardoni" he muttered, and lift
ing his hat, hastened on to the cottage.
Paulette stared after him. She rub
bed her eyes. He had changed but lit
tie since the day he knelt to her In his
first hot, boyish passion--Serle Varneck,
an unexpected ghost, indeed, from her
dead and buried past. The sight OF
him there first amazed, then perplexed
her. Then-on such slight pivots do
our destinies turnover her rushed a
sudden memory Of the old Puritan city
sitting so stately beside its bay, and in
a moment her purpose was formed.
"Serle Varneck!" She whispered the
name with a shudder-it was so closely
allied in her thought with that other
which was like gall and wornwood into
her soul.
She looked back into the garden, but
the blonde figure had disappeared in a
turn Of the path. What can he be
doing here?"
She turned listlessly from the cot
tage and plodded back to the station.
She seemed to herself now like a boat
cut loose on a great sea- Crossing the
ferry, she stepped into an omnibus on
the other side, where her small figure
was crushed directly into corner, un-
needed by all, and so went rattling up
broadway toward the Twenty seventh
| street depot.
There this pale young wanderer made
her way to the ticket office and pur-
chased her ticket, looking over her
purse for the first time with serious
| thought to its contents. Little had she
taken with her from Hazel Hall save
her despair and anguish. A few dollars
only-so few she could count them on
her fngers-stood between her and ut
ter want. She entered the car, found
a seat to herself, and wrapped in her
shawl her face still closely hidden, Pau
Ilette sat, voiceless, motionless, while
the train started out upon its way. No
sleep came to her that night. She kept
her wide-open eyes turned tirelessly
outward to the chill dark through which
she journeyed. Her heart lay burning
and smarting like a coal Of fire in her
bosom. One monotonous, ever-recur-
ring thought stirred her dull brain.
Whatever she is, or has been, she Is
nv mother. am an outcast now from
all but her I am branded, nameless
and accursed. Where can find her. I
ask nothing but to creep into her arms
and die"
So through all the night she sat,
wild, broken visions fitting before her
sight, first Of this Jewish Magdalene
mother, then of the brown, reproachful
| face OF Arthur Guilte, and the white,
furious one Of the old general, and,
most terrible of all, st. John, as she
had seen him last at the tryst In the
pavilion. In the gray, early morning,
with a rumble and jerk and jar, the
train swept in to its destination. More
dead than alive Paulette Strengthened
her cramped limbs once more, arose
mechanically and descended to the plat
form of the chill, dark, dreary Wor-
cester depot. Houseless, homeless,
alone, she stood again in the city
where she had lived long, pleasant
years with Jean Rale-where she had
erred and triumphed, loved, or fancied
she loved, and suffered-stood on its
damp pavement and looked up at the
sunrise, dappling with rose and anne
thyst tints the conscious east. The first
hum and stir of vast human hive just
springing into life filled the air. Pau
lette like lost pleiad slipping down
infinite chaos, drew her veil again, and
walked swiftly, aimlessly away.
:, She turned from street to street, look
ing over her shoulder like one fearful
Of pursuit She was filled with half
delirious dread of seeing there the
cruel, dark face of st. John. Utterly
lost and bewildered, she neither knew
nor cared whittier she went.
Louder grew the hum around her
wheels ratified over the pavement, pc
destrians began to crowd past, up and
down. Paulette had eaten nothing for
hours, and as she went on a great faint
ness and giddiness took possession of
her.
Where am -" she thought, with a
!, thrill of dismay. whittier am l going
Where shall rest?"
AS she looked she found she had
reached an open space before a great,
gray building, fianked on either side by
the teams of suburban farmers-Quin-
cy Market, in fact. with its greedy
> crowds of buyers and sellers swarmins