Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1913-02-21

again at the house Of his clerk. Th'
autumn was far advanced then, th'
trees were bare and covered with slee
! and snow. The banker found Mercy
seated in an easy chair before glow
ing CRATE, clothed In a dress OF some
soft, black material, which Mrs. Phil.
lips had provided for her. Her beau.
J tiful face was as white and shadowy
as a waning moon, and in its wasted
contours the violet eyes looked super.
naturally large and dark. All her gold.
en- length Of hair had been shorn away
and the remnant Of 1t chung in fringe
Of babyish rings and curls about hel
throat and forehead, giving her an odd
childish air.
4 Il rejoice to find you out Of danger
said the banker, in a peculiarly gentle
voice. II have come all the way from
New York to talk with you"
She lifted her large, patient eyes. IT
was an angelic face, and Cullen Sar-
dis felt its beauty and innocence as ne
had felt nothing before for many q
long year.
Il am glad you are come" she an
swered, simply. II have much-very
much to thank you for. Oh, sir, what
would have become Of me but Tor
your"
He grew very grave.
i But for me you would not have
been hurt at all. You received your
wound in my cause, remember. The
least could do was to provide proper
care for you. I am in your debt, my
child, not you In mine. doubt II can
ever quite cancel accounts with you. !
came here today to hear the story OF
your life, Mercy. Tell 1t to me, and
lomit nothing-try to forget nothing. l
want to know everything possible con-
cerning you."
| Mrs. Phillips, who was sewing in a
window, arose at this juncture and left
the room. Mercy and her new friend
were alone and together. He drew a
chair to the fire and sat down expect
antly. Mercy fixed upon him her
great earnest eyes.
you knew my mother?" she said.
A curious change swept his high
bred face.
| "Yes-many years ago."
| And she tried to kill you! Oh, sir,
she must have been mad!"
| Quite likely-sometime we will
talk about that; but first must know
how and where your life has been liv-
ed. Mercy. Begin-I am inpatient"
She had nothing to conceal. Begin.
ming with her first recollections OF
poverty and want in a North End ten
ement-house, she went on through the
succeeding years, faithfully relating
their whole story Of misery and priva-
tion-all that she had endured with
Mol Dill, until she arrived at the few
months spent with the Blacks at Seedy
Court. Here her voice faltered, and
the painful color arose In her white
cheek; but something in Cullen Sar-
dis's face encouraged her to proceed
the deep pain and sympathy OF his
look made her feel that he was sorry
for her, and was profoundly stirred by
all she said.
"Go on" he urged, as she hesitated;
keep nothing from me: I am more
anxious than I can tell you to hear
your whole story"
She told him Of Val Blacks love, Of
her attempted marriage, Of her i'm
prisonment by Discordo. her escape
and her last interview with Moll Dill,
pregnant with such unexpected results.
The banker arose from his chair and
walked across the chamber like man
unable to control himself. Presently he
paused by her side.
"The scoundrel!" he cried. Have
you no clue to his whereabouts? What
was he ke?-this Discordo."
No. Mercy had no clue; but she de-
scribed his appearance 30 accurately
II
start.
"A striking portrait! ! know per-
son who might answer to 1t very we'll,
were he a vagabond teacher Of music
instead Of a gentleman moving In the
highest circles of society. AS 1t Is, !"
with a faint smile, II think I can
scarcely accuse him Of being Discordo.
These Italians bear a marked resem-
blance to each other, and have sup.
pose, the same tricks Of speech. 1t
would be we'll, perhaps, to offer re-
What punishment would you like to
mete out to him, Mercy?"
| She shook her fair head.
| None. I am safe-he can harm me
no more, and I wish never to see his
face again or hear his name. Don't try
to find him. Is 1t not better to let him
go-to forget him altogether"
Cullen Sardis laid his hand on the
back Of her chair.
And that other person-Valentine
Black who was once a clerk In my
banking house. have taken pains to
learn something about his change OF
fortune, Mercy. / know mems hearts,
and 1 fear he was only too ready to be
deceived by Discordo, and wash his
hands Of you when his rare luck came.
My poor child, do you love him still?"
| Her bosom heaved, her small hands
worked convulsively; then great
storm Of pent-up sobs shook her from
head to foot. The banker, alarmed be-
yond measure. caught her In his arms.
Mercy Is 1t as serious as this? He
Is an English baronet. He has forgot
ten your very existence by this time.
A great, hulking lout, If I remember
rightly-not the man to take any girls
fancy. Dear child be calm-you will
do yourself injury"
| she wept as II her heart would
break. It was many moments before
the storm passed; then, with a great
effort, she looked up at the banker, a
strange, solemn light in her great, wet
eyes.
He was the first person who ever
cared for me In the least-who was
ever kind to me. I am glad-oh, so
glad!-for his fortune-glad that he
will never be ill-paid or overworked or
pinched with poverty more. If he has
wronged me in any way, forgive MIN
freely, freely! 1 bless him from my
heart; from my heart I pray that he
will be happy in his new life. Men are
not always happy, I suppose, even
though they are rich and great. 1t Is
as If he were dead, you know, and
passed into another world; but l shall
never forget him-never, never!"
| Cullen Sardis took another turn
around the room.
| You are young, Mercy; you have
much to learn" he said, almost stern
| ly. Your life, I see, has been one long
torment, without a single bright spot
anywhere In 1t. To me your courage
and endurance seem marvellous. You
brave, patient girl! You noble heroic
girl! Would to God l could have res
cued you from your misery long ago,
Don't look so startled"-and here a
sickly smile crept over his ag1tated
| lips-"I should be an migrate, indeed
If I did not henceforth regard your
welfare as my own. Now that we have
disposed Of your past Mercy, let us
discuss your future"
| My future!" The tears thickened
in her mournful eyes; her sweet, spir-
itless mouth dropped; she looked at
the glowing fire, twisting her white
fingers nervously together. 1T will be
like my past, suppose. shall go back
to the old work, somewhere; ! shall
earn my bread again, somehow"
Never" He smiled down upon her,
his cold aristocratic face wearing such
a look as neither wife nor daughter
| had ayar seen upOn IT, Never Mercy!