Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1911-08-29

- Stidli vi udlCe HluSlc WHICH lie Hdu
heard at a certain theatre on the pre-
ceding night was running through his
head, and the little mandolin straight =
way gave it voice. Through the hot
perfumed room the notes futtered and
whirled, like birds out of a conjurors
box, and Arthur Kenyon smiled to him
self as, before his languid, half-closed
eyes, the stage arose again, with its
lights and shifting scenes, and the
pretty, spangled figures of the ballet
dancers. He played the air quite
through-he had a passion for music
and had studied abroad with the best
masters-doubtless he might have
gained living at the sweet art II fate
had not made him a man of fortune
Then, still caressing the strings with
one hand. whereon a solitaire diamond
blazed like a living eve. Mr.. Kenyon
fell into a train Of thought which ran
something In this wise:
by Jove! how unspeakably pretty
that girl looked last night-like houri
out Of Mahomet's paradise The old
dancing masters little daughter more
than fulfills the promise Of her child
hood I loved her madly in those
callow days when I was learning the
terpsichorean art Of her pauper father.
My guardian. I remember, became
really alarmed for my safety at last,
and packed me off to Europe, bon gre
NAL gre-and all because of little iris!
That merry time comes back to me
most vividly. I can still hear the buzz
of the masters old violin-a Bergonzi,
by the way, In a state Of excellent pres
ervation-and the light tap Of Iris's
tiny feet, as she used to whirl around
that chilly, meagre room like a top
that had been set going and could not
be stopped. They were wretchedly
Door, and, worse yet, they were con-
tinually thrusting their poverty In ones
face. But, Heaven abovei how the
child could dance! and how pretty she
wasl Pity she had ever thrown her
self away on that unknown fellow,
.Greylock-that starving scribbler, with
his aristocratic pretensions, unsupport-
ed by dollar. Deuce take him! He's
as jealous as a Pasha. Does he know
that once I might have had his charm
ing wife for the asking? Yes, by Jove!
she was heartbroken when I was driv-
en- away to Europe. She sobbed upon
my breast, she kissed me, she wept till
her pretty eyes were as red as a rab-
bits. Do I regret the apathy which
left her then unwon? Do I regret the
daughter of &. the penniless dancing
master, who had not a second coat to
his back-the lovely little shallow-pate
so far below me In the social scale, and
whose one only ambition was to flirt
her spangled skirts on the boards Of a
stage? No, I think not: have a poor
opinion Of matrimony. even under the
best conditions, and mesalliance Ia
my particular adherence. So perverse
am / by nature that 1t Is the unat-
tainable which I covet most. I never
sighed for pretty Sylphide till I found
her the property Of somebody else" A
hear less laugh bubbled over his hand
some lips
1.-The Lady Jane, she thought 1t sair,
That she should see her lover nae
mari"
he hummed, still toying with the man.
dolin. Then he continued his reverie:
Poor little thing! she has not for
gotten me. I was sure Of that the first
night l met her in the green-room. She
grew red and white by turns-she
seemed ready to sink at my feet-such
women have no self-control. She was
desperately fond of me in the old days,
at the dancing masters; Is she fond Of
me still? 1t looks like 1t, surely. Now,
the question that disturbs me is this:
Shall I take myself out Of her way, or
shall remain here, a thorn in the side
of that glowering husband? Is the
game worth the candle? l scarcely
know. Strange to say, my doubts up
on this point increase with the certain
ty of my success"
He let the mandolin slip from his
hold again, such continued effort bored
him, and, throwing his dark head back
upon the pillow, he turned the vexing
problem languidly in his mind. From
this occupation he was aroused by a
knock at the door A colored servant
opened it.
"A gentleman to see Mr.. Kenyon" he
announced.
What name?"
He would give none, sir"
well, show him in"
Across the threshold of that luXuri-
Gus room stepped Robert Greylock, his
blond face a trifle paler than usual, his
level brows knitted ominously over his
steel-blue eyes.
Cad" muttered Kenyon, little Syl-
phide's husband. Wonder if he's come
in peace or war;"
He did not trouble himself to rise
and receive his visitor, but, keeping
his reclining position, he drawled:
How dye do, Greylock? l say, help
yourself to a chair. Quite a surprise,
and pleasure, of course. What can
do for yOu?"
The patrOnizing tone was highly Of
fensive Greylock advanced toward the
sofa. He was breathing curiously, but
he gave no other sign of agitation. AS
soon as the waiter closed the door, and
the two men were left together,
Sylphide's husband drew from his
pocket a bracelet in the form of SER
pent, set with emeralds and diamonds.
Are you the scoundrel who sent my
wife this thing?" he cried.
All! 1t was war, then; not peace.
Kenyon gathered himself up from the
sofa. and kicked the mandolin out OF
his way.
THAT thing, my dear sir" he an
swered. carelessly, was sent. not to
your wife, but to an old friend, Sylph-
ide, the artistic, as a slight token of my
admiration and esteem"
Your distinctions are too nice for
me-" sneered Robert Greylock, glancing
oround tho ronn for aompthlng which