Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1913-03-07
THE AMERICAN COUNTESS
By Eta w. PIERCE.

Il called carriage, and conveyed
her straightway to the house Of q
friend, where for three weeks after she
lay Ill almost unto death. Already the
swift poison was working In my veins
Her wild, dark eyes had done their
work. / loved this waif Of the water
this girl altogether unknown to me--I
had not learned so much as her name
then-with as mad and unreasoning q
passion as ever laid waste mans
life.
In the days Of her convalescence
she told me that she was without
friends or kindred; that she was the
daughter Of q poor, vagabond scene-
painter, who had died by accident a
few days before her attempted suicide.
She herself had been upon the boards
during his life, but only for a season
she had no talent. She was kinless,
penniless. despairing; and her sole
wish was to die. And this was all that
infatuation, cared to know. A week
after her recovery-don't start, my
dear child-I married Marie Dill; for
that was her name, and all that she
had said of herself was true. married
her, Mercy, openly, honorably; there
by calling down upon myself tre-
mendous tempest Of righteous in
dignation from my arlstocratic kins-
folk, my shocked and amazed friends.
It did not matter in the least. I was
in love, heart and soul. / had Inherit
ed princely fortune, which held in
dependent Of all relatives, and I was
ready, like another Antony, to fling
the world away for the woman of my
choice.
81 carried her to a home crowded
with every luxury which wealth could
purchase; made her wild dark beau
ty to shine resplendent in costly jew
els and rich fabrics; / surrounded her
with servants; / lived only to crafty
her whims and caprices. She was my
idol; was her slave.
For few months this FOOLS para
disc continued-yes, till your birth,
Mercy-for, though your heart may
not have told you the fact before, am
your father, my darling, and you are
my child. Then came my awakening,
swiftly and surely. First the tried old
family servants limited the fatal truth
to me; then began to see 1t for my
self. The woman that I had married,
the wife that adored, she who sat
at my board and bore my name, and
Of whose beauty I was so inordinately
proud, the mother Of my child-was
the willing slave Of drink. Whether
the vice was acquired in the luxury OF
her new surroundings, or born with
her, q black taint In her blood, In
herited, perhaps, from her vagabond
father I do not know, nor can 1t mat
ter. Suffice 1t to say that with this
frightful discovery the whole fabric OF
my happiness tumbled about me like a
house Of cards. God keep me from the
memory of that time! After your
~ n n
ter and take possession Of her. She
was simply ungovernable. For you she
cared nothing; and If she had ever
felt any love for me-which / greatly
doubt-it was now gone; consumed In
the unholy, terrible passion which had
gained complete control Of her. The
disgraceful scenes in my home, the
continual attempts which she in her
frenzy, made upon my life; the natur-
al death to which she brought my love
Il shall not speak Of these things to
you, Mercy. Life with her became un-
bearable. The nightmare Of shame and
horror which had fallen upon me was
too heavy to breathe under. l turned
to the law for relief In good time 1t
divorced me from her, and gave me
the custody of my child She left me,
.reathing threats Of vengeance.
For q few months all went we'll. i
saw from the very beginning OF your
little life that you were as unlike your
mother, in looks and nature, as morn
ing is unlike night. You had the blue
eyes and yellow hair Of my own race
i used to thank Heaven devoutly for
that-used to pray, too that you would
continue to grow unlike her, and i'm
perfect as the prayers were, cannot
but conclude that they were heard.
\ 40 ND ~ MI
which this unhappy termination OF my
married life had created, drove me al
| last abroad. You were left, with your
nurse, to the charge Of a relative whU
had pledged her word to guard you
| faithfully till my return. Neither OF
us could apprehend danger to you
from my brief absence.
| "One day, when / was wanderins
through Italy, seeking rest and finding
| none, word came to me that you were
| lost stolen gone nobody knew
whittier. Some person or persons hao
entered your nursery by night. while
your attendants slept, and carried yot
noiselessly away. An open basement
window, which careless servant had
left unfastened, the shred of a dress
hanging to it's sill, print on the
thick carpet of a woman's small foot
smeared with the mud Of the street
alone told the story of your abduc-
ton.
Mol Dill had taken you from me
wreaked upon me the vengeance which
she had promised; but at what cos'
| to you, my innocent child! Every pos
| sible effort was at once made TO ap'
prehend the woman md secure hel
unlawful prey, but in vain. l sailed
Immediately for home. For weeks anc
months l searched diligently for you
believe it, Mercy, II is Gods truth
Knowing Moll Dill as I knew her, dc
you think l could willingly have re-
signed my child to her future care
But, cunning as a fox, she eluded al
pursuit; and after a time, l say 1t re.
gretfully, remorsefully, I grew tired o.
the search. All hope Of finding yol
seemed lost; the rewards which / Of
fered for your recovery were useless
and as new purposes and events
crowded into my life, the past became
into!erable to me, and everything con
nected with it. 1 abandoned you t.
your wretched mother.
TT was not long before l contracted
a second marriage-one in my OWL
station of life, and my first unhapp!
union ceased to be spoken of-wa
forgotten or ignored by the world, ant
men. The second Mrs. Sardis, thougi
fully conscious Of that plague-spot II
my life, has never once alluded TO II II
ali the years that we have lived TO
gether. Her daughter, your sister, Il
entirely ignorant Of my first marriage
AS for Moll Dill, she never crossed m!
path, nor did l know whether she wa
living or dead until the day OF her re
lease from Deer Island three year
ago. Mercy, my child" With or:
he opened his arms. Strange that MO!
Dills daughter should have touched ;
chord in this mans nature that EtheI
the countess, had never found, AM
never would find now. "On the niSh
of your unhappy mothers death,
knew you were my child he salo
Mercy, come to me!--to your father!
She sprang into his arms. She wa
pressed closely to his heart. With VIVA
great, heavy strokes that heart bea
against her owni
Parent and child were united, a
last. For more than two years Nero,
had loved this man as her benefactol
her friend Of friends; and now to fin
in him the father whom she had neve
known-this was joy unspeakable.
You were called Mabel in you