Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1912-12-20
Heaven knows, but not at all marvel

ous."
| She answered not a word, neither
did she look at him. Indeed, to Mercy
Dill, who was gazing straight at her, 1t
seemed as If Miss Affry was reluctant to
meet her nephew's smiling eyes. She
arose abruptly from the table.
mo, there's nothing marvellous about
you and I, VAL" she said; I'VE are poor,
humble people. and we shall be just
that, dare say, till our dying day.
Since you made no mention of 1t, Mr..
Sardis did not raise your salary, sup
poser"
He shook his head.
Never mind, lad; we will go on
nicely as we are for while longer"
| With Mercy's help, Miss Black swept
her tea things quickly out Of sight, and
then the three seated themselves
around the pleasant lamp. while the
rain beat on the curtained window, and
the wind shrieked through the dark
court outside. Miss Affry took up Val's
evening paper, still damp from the
press.
Like all old women" she said, smil-
ing, II am fond of news. Val, you may
tell Mercy about Dante and Beatrice,
while I read the deaths and marri-
ages"
She put on her steel-bowed glasses
and opened the sheet and Val, nothing
loath to act upon her suggestion, es-
pecial!y as Mercy turned up to him, n
lovely, inquiring face, leaned back In
his chintz- covered chair and began the
story:
Beatrice was the daughter Of Folco
Pontinari, a wealthy citizen Of Flor
ence, and was born about the year
1866. Dante saw her for the first time
at a banquet in her fathers house. 1t
was a May-day festival, and she wore
a blood-red dress, and inspired the poor
poet with sudden and violent passion.
He had reache the mature age Of nine
years, she was twelvemonth younger;
but they were old enough to love-at
least Dante was"-And so on-Mercy
al interest and attention, Val delighted
| with the role Of narrator.
| She sat In a low chair on his right
| hand. The soft color pulsed in and out
of her upturned face, the lamplight
slanted off her rich, curling, clinging
hair and shone in her large, wide-opcn
eyes, brimful now Of pity and sympa-
| thy for a pair Of lovers that had been
dust and ashes for six hundred years.
| Val looked at her so closely that he be-
gan to grow confused; his voice shook
he jumbled his Guelphs and Ghibelines
recklessly together. Suddenly half
smothered cry from the other side OF
the table, cut short the story Of Dante
and brought both the young people to
their feet.
Aunt Affry had fallen helplessly back
in her chair, the evening paper lay on
the floor beside her. Her withered face
was colorless, and she was shaking in
every limb.
Heavens! Aunt Affry, what is the
matter?" cried Val, shocked at her
strange look.
"Nothing-don,t--n t--nind-ne,2" gasped
Miss Black. "A sudden pain-that Is
ALL"
Mercy ran to her side.
"Oh, how white you are, and how you
shake! Let me help you. Miss Black"
But the old spinster put her gently
back
mo, my dear, it's past now. Take
your paper, Valve read enough for
tonight-more than enough. There!
that will do. am quite right again"
| Val stared at her in amazement. He
had never before seen her so pale and
shaken. He took the paper suspicious
ly and looked over its contents, intent
upon convincing himself that no item
in the evening news had given her this
singular fright. He found the usual
medley of politics, the usual amount Of
foreign and domestic intelligence, but
nothing of particularly agitating ma
| ture-nothing in the least likely to
blanch Miss Affry's old face or make
her tremble. Val was constrained to
believe in the sudden pain. He went
back to his chintz chair, and Miss At
| fry as If ashamed of her own weakness
snatched up her knitting nervously and
went to work.
Over her old face certain gray
shadow had fallen-something which
robbed it of all its cheerfulness. 1t was
there while she talked to Mercy; 1t was
there while Val read aloud, with great
power and feeling; some grand pas
sages from Dante; II was there while
she watched her boy in an odd, intent
way, and, as 1t seemed, with some new
purpose in her mind. Both her nephew
and her guest saw the change in her,
and felt instinctively that some un-
pleasant element had entered into the
little room; but neither had the slight
est clew to the mystery.
The clock struck nine, when Mercy
arose and bade her friends goodnight.
Val followed her into the narrow hall
and closed the door betwixt himself
and Miss Affry. A lamp on the landing
above, shone down the old oil-c!oth
covered stair and made light by
which the two could see each others
faces.
Mercy" whispered Val Black.
With her foot on the lowest stair she
turned back to look at him. Broad
shouldered, red-haired, unhandsome he
was, but now sudden glory had leap
ed into his rugged face, and transfigur-
ed it, so that 1t no longer seemed COM
monplace or plain.
wait, Mercy" he pursued, getting
swift possession of one slim hand, 81
have had no gift from you on this. my
birthnight"
Her head, ripping over with gold
bronze hair. fell on her breast.
And If you have not" she faltered
you know the reason why. l would
have been glad-oh, so glad!-to have
given you some token-if could"
He pripped her hand fast