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

L
Mercy Dill.
Her eyes were closed; the blacl
| lashes clung heavily to her marble
cheek. Her golden hair, spread out OF
the pillow, made a sort OF mockint
glory about the CHASTITY rigidity Of hel
face. All her own garments had beer
removed, and others OF fine linen SUD
stituted, so that she was as white q!
Elaine when she drifted down the riv'
er to her burial.
Cullen Sardis stepped forward ant
looked down at her as she lay--the cir
who had saved his life, the girl wht
Mol DILL in dying, had left to his care
There was something more than curl.
osity in his eyes-something more
than the natural interest which M
might be expected to feel in this young
person.
What does the surgeon say OF herr
he whispered to Mrs. Phillips.
He says that her life hangs by
thread" =,
"The wound was dangerous, them
Mortal, I'm afraid, sir. She Is un-
conscious, as you see. cannot bear to
look at her; yet she frightens me; she
is the picture Of death. I am sure she
cannot live"
He bent over the insensible girl
touched her hand, laid his fingers on
her slim, almost pulseless wrist, then
retreated silently from the chamber
The old gray clerk and his gentle-fac :
ed wife meekly followed the man OF
money below stairs.
1.-The person who attempted my life
is dead" said Cullen Sardis glancing
significantly at Phillips. Il owe this
girl a debt of gratitude which must be
suitably paid. / shall send to you i'm
mediately the best nurse to be found In
the city. / shall rely on you to do your
utmost to save her. No pains nor ex-
pense must be spared; 1t Is Of the
greatest Importance to me that sne
should live. My dear old friend, de-
pend upon you in this emergency; see
that you do not fail me-"
Phillips grasped the hand which his
employer held out to him In earnest
appeal. No words were spoken, but
Cullen Sardis knew well that he had
enlisted these people, body and soul,
in the cause of the wounded girl who
had been thrust so abruptly upon their
protection. II money and skill and
watching could save her, then would
she be saved.
Not many hours after, plain hearse
followed by single close carriage,
bore all that remained Of Moll Dill out
of that city, where she had suffered
and sinned 80 much to a quiet grave
In a lovely green corner Of Woodlawn.
The close carriage contained two gen.
tlemen-Cullen Sardis and the old
clerk who shared all his secrets. This
pair stood by in profound and sullen
silence and witnessed the outcast's bur-
ial, after which they returned to the
city, and the banker departed at once
Sotv 1t ov-1 hn
leaving Mercy Dill to the charge OF
Jacob Phillips and his wife.
Day succeeded day. Autumn had
come, and Mercy lay in her white
chamber, sinking, fainting, dying IN
the agony Of fever and delirium. Now
she was a child again, starving and
freezing in some North End attic with
her wretched mother; now she was
flying from her dark, wicked persecu-
tor, Discordo; then 1t was Val Blacks
name upon which she called with pite--
Gus pleading-the lover who had loved
her for little space and then left her
to her fate, while he himself went
away to fortune and happiness over
the great sea. Sometimes she was sew
ing for bread in her chamber at Seedy
Court, singing her Gospel hymns and
in the midst of her delirium and weak
ness her glorious young voice would
break free and ring through the dark
ened chamber, sweet as an angels
from heaven. Sometimes she was dead,
and lying stark and motionless IN a
cool, green grave, and she heard the
stealthy footsteps Of the world over
her head, and the whisper Of voices
that seemed afraid to disturb her re-
pose.
TT is time to telegraph again to Mr..
Sardis."
her beautiful hair?"
mo flowers in the room, Mrs. Phil
lips-the doctor will not allow It,"
Mercy tried to lift her hand. The ef-
body. She shrieked aloud. Some one
rushed to her side, bent over her and
held a glass to her lips.
Where am II" she tried to ask; but
her hollow voice was thin as voices
from the grave.
with friends, my dear child" was
the answer.
THAT cannot bel have no friends" "
protested Mercy, and fell asleep with
the words on her lips.
After many days she became aware
that she was lying in some downy,
white place, full Of warmth and silence
that cautious feet trod about her
anxious, kindly faces watched her. She
was not dead; on the contrary, she
was drifting back from the dark gates
toward life and strength again. At
first her mind was too feeble for ques-
tions; but one day she awoke and
found q man standing by her bedside.
You are better" he said, gently.
She did not answer, only looked up
at him attentively, conscious In the
midst Of all her weakness that some
where she had seen that face before.
You are better" he repeated. you
will soon be we'll"
who are you?" said Mercy.
1.-The person whose life you saved,
answered the man.
Where is my mother?" she gasped.
BE calm. Do not think Of her. By
and-by you shall know ALL"
AS her strength returned many facts
dawned upon Mercy's comprehension.
She was In some blessed refuge where
she was being cared for most con-
stantly, most tenderly. The tall,
strong woman who was always by her
lady who often leaned down and kiss
ed her and called her dear child" was
the mistress of the house. The cold,
grave gentleman who appeared not
only at long intervals in the chamber,
and who came from some unknown
distance, was the man she had seen l.
the banking house of Sardis & Co., the
man her mother had sought to kill
yea, it was Cullen Sardis himself, for
she heard the name frequently spoken
by the small, gray lady. Every mo-
ment a great, guardian watchfulness
compassed her about. She was fed
upon strange delicacies; rare fruits
and flowers appeared daily on the ta-
BILE by her bed. For the first time In
her life she felt the blessed delight of
being protected cherished, thought Of.
Aye, truly, she was with friends!
One morning the little gray woman
came to her side and said, sweetly:
Now that you are growing stronger
my dear, 1 think l had better tell you
who we are, and how you chance to be
with u.s." which she at once proceeded
to do.
Mercy gazed at her with great, hol-
low, moon-like eyes.
You are all very, very good" she
faltered, feebly. I'm afraid l can new
er thank you as l ought. Why Is Mr.
Sardis so kind to me?"
Good gracious! my dear child, OF
course he feels very grateful to you
it would be strange If he did not re-
piled Mrs. Phillips, hastily. with all
hia ueolth he "a q man Of great good