Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1909-10-19

| 6S.
"Then, I tell you frankly. Mis-!
Sibyl, she would see you dead sooner.
CHAPTER XIX.
"'Sleep, baby, sleep!
Thy father watches his sheep,
Thy mother is shaking the dreamlant
And down comes a little dream OF
thee
Sleep, baby, sleep!
"'Sleep, baby, sleep!
The large stars are the sheep,
The little stars are the lambs, guess
And the gentle moon Is the shepherd.
Sleep, baby, sleep!"
The sun had slipped-a ball Of pur.
plish fire-behind the apple trees. II
was time for the doctor to come, and
the woman in black, with a bit Of sew.
ing on her knee, and her hands claspe6
upon 1t, sat under a honeysuckle vine
and sang in dreamy voice this lula
by. Beside her, tanning off the big
white moths with his hat, and watch.
ing the sunset beyond the doctors
humble cabbage garden, sat Mr.. Trent
looking none the worse for his acci-
dent Of the preceding night.
"a charming little lay" said he, let
ting his gaze wander over the figure
Of his companion, Ito sing, even with
empty arms"
| She started, drawing a deep breath
THAT was my babys song," she an
swered, simply.
Indeed" replied Trent, from behind
his hat. II concluded from your dress
that you had met with a loss"
Dimple gathered together her bits OF
sewing and began to fold them UP.
Its very sad to bury children" re-
marked the lawyer, as If he himself
had passed through the trial any num-
ber Of times.
II am sure it must be-" answered
Dimple.
Twenty-four hours had Mr.. Trent
been at the cottage enough to
discover that the doctor and his wife
and he now felt curious.
you are not, then mourning for
child?" said he.
For. one. only darling child" she
answered, rising to go, mot dead, but
stolen from us many years since"
Mr.. Trent drew up his languid body
with an air Of lively interest.
Possible? All. don't go. beg you;
there Ia yet no sign Of the doctor.
Now, really? A stolen child? Very
romantic, I am sure. How was she
stolen, and by whom?"
In obedience to his earnest gesture,
Dimple resumed her seat She glanced
out at the empty road, and then at
her guest.
"Moppet's loss is no secret" she
said; "but there is another story in
volved in hers-a very singular story,
and am not sure that Philip. would
like me to repeat 1t to q stranger"
"Oh, do not, then!" cried Trent, po-
litely; tell me nothing which does
not concern yourself. You call me a
stranger. Presumptuous soul that I
am! I have been a night and day
under your roof, and your great kind
ness has already made me feel like an
old friend"
Dimple pondered.
You are very good to say it. Guests
are rare at the cottage, for Philip and
are quite alone in the world. Our
darling was stolen from us by wo-
mana mad woman, Philip says; he
can never believe her to be anything
else-one who writes US a dreary le'-
ter yearly, by which We know Moppet
still lives, but no more; who asks Lf
us as the price Of her restoration some
thing which it is utterly impossible
for us to give"
Mr.. Trent looked blank.
II do not in the least understand
you," he said.
She twisted a spike of honeysuckie
round her hand.
II think I must, then, begin at the
beginning" she unused. 1T Is not a
story that you will ever be likely to
repeat. Eighteen years ago the doctor
was called one night to attend lady
taken suddenly i'll while travelling.
She lay at house two miles away on
the seashore road, a stones throw above
the beach. She had for a companion
a man in undress uniform, who gave
the name Of Captain Forrest--hcti-
tious, as we had afterward good rea-
son to know"
And then Dimple went over the
whole story, and ended by bringing
forth to Mr.. Trent, who sat brushing
away the moths with his hat the batch
Of letters from the desk and the ring
found under the hearth Of Hannah
Duffs house.
"The efforts we have made to dis
cover our tormentor," she said, "the
sorrow we have suffered, the tortures
Of alternate hope and despair can new
er be told and still Moppet today Is ds
hopelessly utterly lost to US as she was
seventeen years ago.
Mr.. Trent opened and read the let
ters one by one. Their monotony
seemed not in the least to tire him.
He took up the ring and examined 1t
with the air Of a connoissuer.
"A very costly and elegant jewel"
he remarked. your foes are evidently
people Of wealth, and probably Of po-
sition. 1t sounds like a romance, and,
after the fashion Of the same, Mrs.
Cover, trust your daughter will be
restored to you safe and sound"
How" sighed Dimple, ARE we ever
to give that cruel woman back her
child when we know nothing Of it?"
Trent watched her as she stood, like
some sorrowful Madonna, in her black
dress, with the last sunlight on her
face.
And you and our good doctor" he
said, "have borne to live on all this
while in the home where you lost her!