Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1911-09-01
CHAPTER II-Continued.

or blood In MS BODY seemed turning 70
fire. What! had he piled the cane SO
lightly that his enemy was already up
and doing again? Quickly he stepped
into the shadow of an adjacent wall
There he stood, seeing everything.
A light figure came tripping down
the steps of the lodging house-Slyph-
ide, wrapped in a Embroidered mantle
and powdered and rouged to a de-
-Sylphide, with black eyes dane
..g and red lips smiling, and no
trace of remorse or sadness on her
pretty, piquant face-Sylphide, as for
getful of the husband with whom she
had quarreled, and the child, dead or
dying, in the room above stairs, as If
such trifles did not exist.
AS she appeared the carriage door
opened, and Arthur Kenyon stepped
out on the curbstone. He seemed stiff
in the joints, and scarcely as graceful
as usual, but he bent gallantly and
kissed the danseuse's hand.
Il have been i'll all day." Greylock
distinctly heard him say, "but l was
determined that nothing should keep
me from seeing you tonight. Where,
may ask, is Bluebeard?"
Il do not know" answered Sylphide,
with an offensive little laugh, and /
do not care. We have quarreled."
Kenyon laughed also, and muttered,
Good" Then he handed the pretty
painted doll into the carriage, and Rob-
ert Greylock, there in the sheltering
shadow Of the wall, stood and watched
the pair ride away together.
If one kind thought still remained in
his heart for his foolish young wife, or
one hope of reconciliation, that
thought and that hope died then and
there.
"Go!" He flung the words scornful-
" after the receding carriage. Il
would not put out a hand to stop you!
Some men would follow, perhaps, and
send bullet through your lover, but
you are not worth the trouble, Mrs.
Greylock! have a presentiment that
this is my last glimpse of you-my last
on earth"
In spite of his stoicism, real or feign-
ed, he was in a state of mighty agita-
tion. He began to pace up and down
the pavement before the house like a
man distraught Gradually the night
air cooled the fire in his blood. He
grew calmer. Then he remembered his
child.
Mounting the steps, he opened the
door with a night-key, and ascended to
the chamber, two pair back-the room
where he had lived and quarreled with
Sylphide for the greater part of theil
miserable married life. Full three
quarters of an hour had elapsed since
her departure from the place. A shad-
ed lamp lighted the disorder which she
had left behind her-slippers kicked
from little feet, toilet articles flung
hither and thither, paint and powder
boxes overturned on the table, every
thing in untidy confusion. The sick
child lay in the cradle, and beside her,
as sole watcher and guardian, sat the
tousled hOusemaid, Martha, with a
dime novel on her lap to beguile the
tedious hours of watching. 1t was
Mrs. Iris's custom to dose her baby
with opiates and then leave her to the
care of this same servant, while she
went forth to dance in the ballet and
shine at the lively little suppers which
frequently followed the close Of the
play.
Greylock shot one look around the
chamber; then he advanced softly to
the cradle. The child lay under her
blanket, cold and white, with sunken
eyes and pinched, blue lips. Did she
still breath? He could not tell.
Martha, with her slip-shod heels on
another chair and her head on a level
with them, had dropped her novel at
its most narrowing scene. Romance
must yield to reality. Even hair-
breadth escapes and midnight murders
could no longer charm one who had,
since early morning, been at the beck
and call of a house full of importunate
dodgers. The girls unkempt head hung
recklessly over the back of her chair,
to the great danger of her neck, and
giving vent to snores, wild and discord-
ant. In short, this tired slave of the
establishment had fallen, at the very
beginning of the evening, fast asleep
at her post.
Greylock took in the situation at
glance. Since the child's hours were
numbered Martha had thought it a
waste of time and opportunity to re-
main awake for that doomed atom OF
humanity. And in the same spirit
Svlphide, the mother, had gone to the
theatre with Arthur Kenyon, leaving
her dying baby to a weary, Indifferent
maid. The medicine for the night stood
on the table. but who would now ad-
minister it to the failing, sinking child!
1t is the last feather, saith the prov
erb. which breaks the camelS back
Among the many things which strewed
the room Robert GreylOck was fortu-
nate enough to find a tiny hood and
warm shawl. NOiselessly he lifted the
baby from her cradle.
There was small danger of waking
d,
antly while he made his preparations
He tied the hood over the silky head
unable. even then. to detect any sign oi
life in the tiny creature, folded her limp
body i'm the shawl. and. kicking Sylph-
ide's gewgaws cOntemptuously out "'
his way. Robert Greylock left the un-
kempt maid to sleep on by the empty
cradle. and. unseen, unheard by an!
living being. he went off with MS
daughter. down the stairs and out ol
the house.
CHAPTER III.
The Refuge.
He descended to the cold. cherries
street. 1t CHANGED To be empty of any
i'm