Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1913-02-18
THE AMERICAN COUNTESS
By ETA w. PIERCE.


less face, but still she dld not speak
OF what use could it be to handy words
with this hag?
Sally waited a moment, and. finding
that the prisoner wss not inclined to
converse with her, she said curtly:
Rap on the wall If you want anything,
and I'll come" and then she retired,
carefully locking the door behind her.
| Mercy had no appetite, yet she fore
ed herself to eat little Of the food,
knowing we'll that she would need all
her strength. What was to be done?
How could she send word to Val OF the
vile durance she was in, and warn him
| to have faith in her, and believe no
falsehood Of Discordo's making? It was
a question not easy to answer. Escape
she must; but how?
Wearily. hopelessly the day dragged
on. At noon Sally appeared again, with
tolerable dinner for the prisoner. She
| cast her ferret eyes about the chamber
to make sure that all was right there,
| and silently departed as she had come.
The afternoon waned. Darkness
gathered on the wooded hill behind the
haunted house, and in Mercy's forlorn
prison. Despairing, worn out with per
plexity, fear and sorrow, she saw the
night fall again. No lamp was allowed
her. in her den, and presently the gray
rats began to scampsr about the floor,
and all the obnoxious noises of the
preceding night made themselves
heard with new violence. A high wind
was blowing, and the shrieks in the
chimney, the rapping and scratching
on the roof, became appalling. The
gaunt fir-tree outside Mercy's window
thrust its arms against the pane like
some black ghost. A dozen demons
seemed glibbering in the walls and at
the door. Below stairs, old Joseph and
his wife were shivering and shaking In
mortal terror. Cowardly and supersti-
tious, both believed in the murdered
farmers ghost, and expected to see 1t
walk at any moment into the kitchen.
Plainly, life at the haunted house was
likely to be as unpleasant to them as
to their prisoner.
THE foreigner will have to pay for
all this, old woman" quavered Joseph
as the importunate sounds made the
two draw nearer together over the
fire; that's how console myself. When
I hears a groan, I says, Five dollars
for that strain on my nerves! and
when gets a big scare and trembles,
I sets 1t down at ten. Mr.. Discordo
will have a fine bill 20 settle afore hes
done with me. Oh, Lord! what's that?"
Far UP the rickety stair the tumult
Of knocks and groans-loose shingles
Tapping on the roof and dead boughs
pounding the clapboards-grew deafen-
ing.
take the candle and come with me,
man." cried old Sally, starting up; ten
to one the girls escaping! If we lose
her, what'll your fine gallant say?'
Hanging fast to each other, the two
stumped up to Mercy's door, upon
which Sally raped loudly, calling out:
Are you here, Mercy?"
81 am here" answered the girl from
within.
do you see any DANCED spirits?"
cried Sally.
Il hear them," answered the girl dry
ly. ~
do you want anything?"
mo; go away. I would rather be
with ghosts than with you."
The two retreated, muttering, down
the stairs.
AS for Mercy, she had enough real
terrors to think about, without con-
juring up imaginary ones. She CROPPED
her way to the corner, where stood the
four poster on which murder had once
been done, and flung herself down upon
1t.
wal, VAL" she sobbed, softly, in the
darkness, clasping her slight hands as
If in prayer, wherever you are to-
night have faith in me! Let no one
set you against me. will escape from
this place, I will return to you, or
will die
Then she fell at once into the deep,
dreamless sleep of utter exhaustion,
and, while the lean rats scampered
about the floor, and the noises went
on in chimney and roof, slept undis-
| turbed till morning light.
The second day brought no change in
Mercy's situation. While Val Black
was searching stubbornly for his miss
ing betrothed, and listening, silent and
morose, to the dark hints thrown out
by Miss Affry and the London lawyer,
Mercy sat in the dusty, rat-infested
| chamber of the haunted house, think
ing over impractical plans Of escape,
and singing her brave gospel hymns,
amid the maledictions Of Joseph and
his wife, to whom this sort Of music
was particularly offensive. She was
forced to abandon all hope Of exit by
the window. 1t was nailed with great
care, and as every unusual noise
brought the alert Sally instantly to her
chamber, she felt that any attempt to
force the sash would at once attract
the attention Of her keepers.
On the third day Mercy proceeded to
investigate the chimney, and found, to
her dismay, that two stout, horizontal
bars of iron had been placed across the
| opening, and wedged so firmly that no
power Of hers could move them. Alas!
Discordo had indeed made fast his
prison before he brought thither the
unhappy victim.
| Another day passed-another and
another The fear of Discordo's return
weighed upon Mercy like terrible
nightmare. Sally's step upon the stair
often made her heart stand still; not
a moment was she free from this ov-
err -whelming terror. And by night,
strange dreams Of Val assailed her. He
was no longer her fond and faithful
lover; a broad gulf parted them. He
was drifting away from her. He had
abandoned her to Discordo. One night,
as she lay asleep on the bed OF murder
in the corner, while the rats raced
about the floor and the wind blew the
gaunt fir-tree noisily against the clap
| boards, Mercy dreamed of great ship
moving on the sea. She heard the rat
| tling of its cordage. the voices OF the
sailors; and on it's deck, looking like
some prince who had just found his do
minions Ooh, strange vagary OF Sleep!
she saw her lover, Val Black. She call
ed to him, but he turned his face from
her, and would not answer; ana Wnen
she, with loves persistency, repeated
her cry with bitter tears, she heard mis-
familiar voice, answer, in proud dis
pleasure: Il am done with you; you
are nothing now to me-" Whereupon
Mercy awoke with a cry of anguish
and such sudden heaviness Of spirit as
banished sleep from her eyes for the
rest Of the night.
And at that very moment, far away
on the restless Atlantic, Sir Valentine
Arbuckle moody and sleepless, was
looking from his stateroom window UP
at the great stars that kept watch over
the sea, thinking-thinking, not OF
Deepmoor Hall and his new wealth and
grandeur, not of anything which lay
before him, but of his low-born love
the girl who had, as he supposed, de-
ceived him so basely, whose beautiful
face, wan with some mysterious re-
proach, seemed ever at his shoulder
ever before his shuddering eyes. He
would never see that face again, he
said to himself; neither would he for
get it on this side of the grave.
For eight long days Mercy pined In
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