Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1911-05-12

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| length, asked. He did not call her
Miss Wood" she was probably now
This morning" she said, ION the
Cynthia"
Again, that silence. 1t was broken,
at last, by him. You were about to
ask the way to"
Yes" Her eyes were strangely
bright she mentioned the desired
destination mechanically.
He indicated a path. Three to the
right; two to the left" He managed
to speak now in matter-of-fac tones.
He saw her figure straighten she was
annoyed by the encounter; annoyed!
The word sang in his brain; the
leaves, leaping to the wind, seemed to
rustic it; the overgrown cricket of the
hills mockingly to reiterate it. An
noyed-of course, naturally. What
else should he expect? But he had to
say something.
odd to meet again like this!" he
went on. But, after all, the world is
small" He uttered the platitude as
lightly as he could; it capped an in
terval.
Yes" she said. No more. He told
himself he was OBTAINING her, yet
clumsily stayed a moment longer. He.
Chatfield Bruce, clumsy! The immov-
able Buddha himself might have
laughed.
You had a good voyage?"
"Oh, yes"
Was there anything further to add
or to do? He lifted his hat; the Chi
ma" boy had come up with the grip.
She seemed about to speak and an in
slant he waited. Her hand suddenly
frightened. He saw it, surmised an i'm
patience and spoke more quickly.
You should have no difficulty in
finding it. Your way, mean," and
started to go. Whereupon she would
have spoken-told him she had heard
all-of the mysterious restorations to
Morrow-the otherN-would have ut
tered she knew not what words-his
name, certainly; she did speak that.
But the car of the incline near by
rushed down at that moment, swal-
lowing up the words with it's harsh
metallic rattle and rumble and she
stood alone looking down the path he
had gone.
At the wharf Bruce learned that the
scheduled hour for the boats leaving
had, at the last moment, been chang
ed; it would not go until the next
morning. He hardly listened to the
explanations for this sudden altera-
ton in the time for departure; it was
of little interest to him, whether it
had been caused by news of an out
break of cholera somewhere, the need
for fumigating the boat anew, or an
abrupt warning of typhOon signals.
The circumstance, alone, was OF mo-
ment to him: he found himself DOOM
ed to remain yet a while in the big
port, twelve hours, or more. Ordinar-
lily, he accepted these untoward Incl
dents of a travellers lot with unvary-
ing calmness and philosophy; but now
burning impatience consumed him.
What should he do with himself un-
til morning? How pass the remainder
of that afternoon; the evening? Ming
ling with the passengers at the club?
Listening to globe trotters' yarns over
whisky and tansan? Or should he go
aboard the stuffy little river boat and
remain there, to hear big tales from
the captain about former days and
the yellow pirates of old who made
life interesting for the little pioneer
steamboats,?
In an unexplainable state of mind
he sauntered on; he, Chatfield Bruce,
generally quick and alert, now discov-
cred in himself vacillating and dila-
tory Triplepatte. He experienced q
definite sense of Generalization and
weakening of an erstwhile incisiveness
of character, when without special mo-
tive. he got into one of the cars of the
inclined railroad, for no better reason
than that it just went somewhere, and
that such a destination seemed all
sufficient and satisfying at the pres
ent moment. He got out mechanically
at the last stop; climbed where he
had to climb, and walked where the
path led him. At a considerable ele-
walton, perforce he stopped; he could
go no higher
The world lay at his feet, superb,
wonderful-beautiful green and spark
ling blue-sward and sea, neither
| lovelier than the other and overhead
the dreamy azure, unbroken by even
a feather of a cloud. Bruce had Of
ten stood here and looked off. He had
surveyed the picture in many varying
aspects. Never the same twice, it had
wooed and won him in different allur-
| ing guises; but now he felt strangely
unresponsive. The hills were only
hills and the ocean but the ocean. He
sat down and plucked at the grass
then lay with his head in it and looked
up.
Azure; nothing except azure above!
Its monotony weighed upon him; the
tiniest puff ball of white he would
have welcomed. That blank dome
seemed, perhaps, like his life: an in
| definite space of nothingness. How
much time passed? An hour or two
hours? 1t may be, longer; certainly,
quite a while. He closed his eyes; the
sunlight. playing on his lids, caused
him to see red, intermingled with pris-
matte spots or blurs, shapeless, mean
ingless. For a considerable interval
he remained thus: the sun began to
dip in gorgeous triumph toward the
| horizon.
| Suddenly he sat up and listened.
| Il don't think I'll climb any higher.
my dear. In fact, believe I'll go back
to the Cliff House. near by. It's been
a strenuous day, and rest on the
balcony before dinner rather appeals
to me-"
The yoice-a mans-came from be-
low. And out-jutting granite rock at
Bruce's feet concealed the speaker-a
|