Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1911-10-31
CHAPTER XXI.
At Cats Tavern.

dark face in the cracked mirror Oh tne
dressing room, preparatory to mount
ing the short stair to the stage.
How are the mighty fallen!" he
unused, as he fastened a rose in the
buttonhole' of his faultless dress coat.
ITO what base uses have we come, at
last-my voice and I? Was 1t for this
that studied with the best masters
in the palmy days Of my youth and
wealth? Heaven above! l was then
the possessor of millions. Now find
myself strolling over the country with
a screeching troupe Of third-rate sing
ers. Nothing more is needed to COM
plete my humiliation save a hand-or-
gan and a monkey"
He shifted critically at the rose,
twisted its green leaves a little more
to one side, then smiled.
well, one must have money. An
empty purse is an unanswerable argu-
ment. At least, the travelling troupe
has been the means Of bringing me to
Blackport, to breathe the same air
with my beautiful, my peerless dar-
SIldll see uSh Sioii
make her mine forever"
1t was the night of the concert. A
large audience crowded the town hall
of Blackport. The roof was just ring
ing to the final notes Of a duet. Down
the short stair bounced the pair Of
singers. 1t was time for Regnault to
ascend to the stage and warble his
first song.
In orthodox evening dress, gloved,
perfumed, the handsome tenor made
his bow before the footlights, and with
one lightning glance swept the sea Of
uplifted faces below.
Yes, she was there, with her grand
father and Sir Gervase by her side.
The aristocracy of the villa had actu-
ally come to listen to a company of
travelling singers. For this Ethel was
responsible. By dint Of much coaxing
she had lured Godfrey Greylock to the
place.
1T is an absurd whim, I know,
grandpa" she said, feverishly, but I
want to go-I must go And, if you
love me, you will come with me-"
Really, Ethel, did not suppose you
had such wretched taste" her grand
father had answered, severely. You
must go to mix with the rabble of
Blackport and listen to lot of squall-
ing vagabonds VINO probably cannot
sing q note correctly. 1 am surprised
at you"
But all the same he went with her,
and Sir Gervase, who, of late, had be-
come as her shadow, followed her.
So it chanced that the first faces on
which Regnault's eyes rested were the
three from the villa Further on, in
the same row, two other persons held
his attention: Mrs. Iris Greylock and
the brown waiting woman who seemed
to attend her everywhere. The demon
of ennui had driven forth the lady of
Rose Cottage this night. Even the
Orpheus Concert company was pref
erable to the solitude and monotony
of her den in the Woods.
With her pretty face judiciously
touched with rouge and blanc-de-
perle, and her evening toilet quite
overpowering in style and texture,
Mrs. Iris sat swaying her painted sat-
in fan and covertly watching the villa
party, Just as the duet ended and Reg
nault started up on the stage, like
handsome jack -the-boX Then,
what a change was there! At sight Of
the dark, graceful tenor, Mrs. Iris
stared blankly and clutched Hannah
Johnson's arm. Under all its rouge
and powder her face put on the hue OF
abject fear and utter horror. Reg
nault's eyes met hers. She could not
fy-she dared not scream. He saw
her-he recognized her-the look that
flushed into his face told her that
she was lost!
Was he also disturbed? Yes; the
sheet of music trembled in his gloved
hand. Only for an instant however
then he recovered himself, and stand
ing there like a faultless Apollo, he
fixed his eyes on Ethel Greylock, as If
her was the only face in that crowded
hall, and out broke his voice, like
silver trumpet.
lie sang SOlely W llCl-ooli6 CT i4N-'
with fervor unspeakable-yea, with
his whole heart in the hackneyed, yet
ever beautiful lines-the call of the
lover to his beloved:
"'Come into the garden. Maud,
For the black bat, Night, has flown
Come into the garden, Maud,
l am here at the gate alone,
And the woodbine spices are waited
abroad,
And the musk of the roses blown "
He flung a world of passionate joy
and exultation into the words:
"'Oh, young lord lover what signs
are those
For one who will never be thine,
Put mine. but mine. so l sware to
the rose.
For ever and ever mine!"
Sir Gervase would have been very
dull indeed if he had not discovered
something extraordinary about this
singer. and the fervor of his sOng-if
he had not seen that his American
cousin was trembling with suppressed
agitation, and changing color in an
alarming way.
She is coming, my dove, my dear.
She is coming. my life, my fate
oh. the triumph of the cry! He call
ed her-she must go! Ethel shudder-
ed and grew terrified-not at sum-
mons that was expected, but at the
sudden dread which overwhelmed her
Was her courage ebbing? Did she
hesitate to give up wealth, home, kim
dred, for Loves sake? 1t could not be
surely she had not turned coward!
Where real love exists, is there ever
room for cowardice?
The song ended. There was a burst
of applause, and in the midst of it Sir
Gervase Greylock uttered an eXclma-
tion and sprang to assist Mrs. Iris
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