Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1911-09-05
Fortunate Greylock knew every inc


he had idled golden hours away in
shooting sea-fowl and making love to
that vixenish gypsy, Mercy Poole.
"Remember!" Her shrill, angry voice
rang in his ears still. What a hornet
the girl was! He did remember all the
love- making passages which had oc-
CURED between them, but with no re-
gret and much impatience.
Deuce take her!" he said to himself;
who would have thought her such a
tempest? She makes no end Of a row
lover a little dead-and-g nonsense.
1 may have promised to marry her-it's
quite possible-I was just that sort of
an idiot. But what then? A man can
not always keep a promise, however
honestly made, and that match would
governor as the one by which out
ragged all his ideas of the eternal fit
ness Of things in the aristocratic Grey
lock family"
He reached the end Of the marsh, and
came upon a piece Of ground full Of
abandoned salt pits. The half-shroud-
ed moon glimmered on surrounding
heaps of debris, tumbling sheds and
pools of frozen water. A hill lay be-
yond, and a road. Climbing to the
latter, Robert Greylock found himself
on the border of what seemed to be a
tract of forest
| He did not attempt 10 look for an en-
trance gate, but at the nearest point
made for the high stone wall which in
closed the waving trees, and vault
ing to the top, dropped down, like
some stealthy thing, into the grounds
of Greylock Woods.
Full plumed evergreens murmured
over his head. Walks and avenues
stretched everywhere through the
darkness. He plunged into the su-
perb growth of trees. This was part
of the goodly inheritance which he lad
forfeited by his marriage with the
ballet dancer. Where was she at that
moment? Whirling over the stage In
paint and tinsel and fluffy skirts, to
the applause of such men as Arthur
Kenyon; or laughing and flirting with
the creole and other kindred spirits
over oysters and wine, after the sue
cess of the night? His blood boiled in
his veins For such light, doubtful
creature he had relinquished birth
right which many a prince Of the Old
World might envy.
Would she care when she returned to
her lodgings and found the sick child
gone? Not she. She would say to Ar
thur Kenyon. How good of him to re-
lieve me of the trouble Of its death
and burial!"
| And then he began to ponder. II
living, that frail, neglected baby was
sole heirs of the tens of thousands,
the millions, of Godfrey Greylock, retir-
ed banker, uncompromising aristocrat.
She seemed to gather value in the eyes
of this careless young father, as he
considered the fact. And he had left
her to die with two strange women,
| in a miserable baby farming estab-
| lishment and no living being but him
| self knew of her whereabouts. This
thought brought him face to face with
a startling possibility. Sudden deaths
were common enough. Suppose that
heart disease, or some kindred evil,
should carry him off without mo-
ment's warning? And suppose the child
should live, and not die? What, then,
would become of her? Who would
know where to find her? Would she
not be lost as utterly as If the sea had
swallowed her up?
Involuntarily Greylock raised his
hand to a notebook in his breast-pock-
ct.
"As soon as l reach light" he NUT
tered, Il will write down Judith Blacks
address, so that, in case of accident to
me- my relatives may be able to re-
cover my daughter, and either provide
for her future or give her a decent
burial"
Alas! by the time he reached the
place where the address might have
been written other matters had driven
that trivial duty from his mind. He
never thought Of 1t again.
He was impatient now to meet his
father. Along carefully kept paths he
hurried through the vast grounds. Dead
boughs ratified like dry bones overhead.
The fitful light of the cloudy winter
moon only served to make the dark
ness visible. He crossed a bridge which
spanned an artificial sheet of water,
passed greenhouses and gardens, in
closed in espaliered walls, then climb
ed a great knoll, and came to a slop-
ing lawn, and there, in the very heart
of the woods, was the house, a massive
roof and a square tower, all painted a
deep dust-brown color. solitary
light cleaned from one of its lower
windows.
Thank God" said Robert Greylock,
as his eyes fell on the real spark,
that's in the library-my father Is
still up"
The next moment he was at the
| door. Inc Dell JInBleu SHARPLY uiiuei
his hand. No reply; evidently the SER
wants of the house were in bed. He
rang again, and after more delay a
kind, elderly face, in lace cap, look
ed anxiously through.
"Open the door wide, Hopkins" said
Greylock. 1T is l, Robert"
She staggered back, as if overcome
with amazement or CONSERVATION, or,
perhaps, both.
Heavens above!" she cried. Il
thought l knew that ring! Oh, Mr..
Robert, what brought you here?"
MY two legs" he answered. and
pushed back the door and her resist
less body with it, and stepped boldly
} into the hall. Hopkins had been
housekeeper at Greylock Woods since
Roberts boyhood. Il have come to
} see my father, Hopkins. He is here,
| know, and still out of bed. Make