Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1914-07-07
CHAPTER XIX
Two Letters.

Always her mirror had told her ina
she was beautiful; but up to this mo-
ment her emotion had recorded moth
ing stronger than placid content. Now
a supreme gladness filled and tingleo
her because her beauty was indisput-
able. When Martha came to help heI
dress for dinner, she still sang. 1t was
a wordless song, a melody that every
human heart contains and which finds
expression but once. Elsa loved.
Doubt that arch enemy of love and
faith and hope, doubt had spread its
dark pinions and flown away into yes
terdays. She felt the zest and eXhil-
aration of a bird just given it's free
dom. Once she slipped from Martha S
cunning hands and ran out upon the
gallery.
Elsa, your waist!
Elsa laughed and held out her bare
arms to the faded sky where, but a
little while since, the sun had burned
a pathway down the world. All in an
hour, one small trifiing space Of time,
this wonderful magical thing had
happened He loved her. There had
been hunger for her in his voice, in
his blue eyes. Presently she was 60
ing to make him feel very sorry that
he had not taken her in his arms,
then and there.
"Oh, beautiful world"
ELSA, what in mercy's name pos
sesses you?"
II am mad, Martha, mad as March
hare whatever that is!" She loved.
People will think so, if they happen
to come along and see that waist.
Please ccme instantly and let me fin
ism hooking it. You act like you did
when you were ten. You never would
stand still"
Yes, and / remember how you used
to yank my pig tails. 1 haven't really
forgiven you yet"
Il believe it's going home that's the
matter with you. Well. 1 for one shall
be glad to leave this horrid country.
Cinnamon everywhere, in your room,
at your table, under your feet. And in
the streets, Cinnamon and Malays and
Hindus, and l don't know what other
Outlandish races and tribes.
Why, what's this?" cried Martha,
bending to the floor.
Elsa ran back to the room. She gave
a little gasp when she saw what 1t was
that Martha was holding out for her
inspection. 1t was Warringtons let
ter of credit. She had totally forgot
ten it's existence. Across the face of
the thick Manila envelope (more or
less covered with numerals that had
been scribbled there by Warrington in
an attempt to compute the interest at
six per cent?, which contained the
letters of credit and identification as
written in a clerical hand the owners
lame. Martha could not help seeing
it. Elsa explained frankly what it was
and how it had come into her posses
sion. Martha was Mortified.
ELSA, they might have entered
your room; and your jewels laying
be so careless?"
But they didn't. I'll return this to
Mr.. Warrington in the morning; per-
haps tonight. if l see him at dinner"
He was in the next room, and we
never knew it," The final hook snap
ped into place. We'll, Wednesday our
boat leaves" as if this put a period
to all further discussion anent Mr..
Parrot & Co. Nothing very serious
could happen between that time and
now.
"wednesday night" Elsa began t"
sing again, but not so joyously. The
petty things of every day life were
lifting their heads once more, and of
necessity she must recognize them.
She sat at the consul-generars table
informally. Thre was gay inconse-
quential chatter, an exchange of recol-
lections and comparisons of cities and
countries they had visited at separate
times: but neither she nor he men
toned the chief subject of their
thoughts. She refrained because Of
a strange yet natural shyness of a
woman who has found herself; and
he. because from his angle of vision
it was best that Warrington should
pass out of her life as suddenly and
mysteriously as he had entered it.
Had he spoken frankly he would have
save Elsa many a bitter heartache,
many a weary day.
Warrington was absent, and so
were his enemies If there was any
truth in reincarnation, Elsa was con-
fident that in the splendid days Of
Rome she had beaten her pink palms
in applause of the gladiators. Pagon,
she was all of that; for she knew
that she could have looked upon Nal
lows face with more than ordinary
interest. Never more would her
cheeks burn at the recollection Of the
mans look.
She was twenty-five; she had wait
ed longer than most women; the
mistake of haste would never be hers.
Nor did she close her eyes to the fu-
ture. She knew exactly what the
world was, and how it would act. She
was not making any sacrifices. She
was not one Of those women, lightly
balanced, who must have excitement
in order To exist; she depended upon
herself for her amusements With
the man she loved she would have
shared hut in the wilderness and
been happy. one of the things that
had drawn her to Arthur had been
his quiet love of the open, his inter-
est in flowers and forests and streams.
Society, that division of classes, she
had accepted. but to it she had never
bowed down. How very well she could
do without it. She would go with him
and help him build his bridges, help
him to fight torrents and hurricanes,
and To forget That he had hidden
her farewell was nothing. She would
seek him. In her pursuit of happi-
ness she was not going to permit false
mUdcsty to intervene.
In her room she wrote two letters.
The one to Arthur covered several