Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1921-10-18

There was a choke in his voice to-
ward the last. Bill Dale went 10 his
feet. His eyes were wide, but he did
not seem unhappy; and for that Eliza
beth was grateful. John Moreland sat
as Siill, with his bearded, viking face
as cXprcSSionlcss as though he had
known it all along.
"And so really am in my own
country cried Bill Dale. 81 am a
Moreland, and the MOrelands really
are my own people,"
ayes. you are in your own country,
and you are Newfoundland your
baby name was David" said John X.
Dale.
1t was then that John Moreland
spoke.
"Bill. when l fust seed you, you
made me think O. my brother the day
he was married. | amt never fO'gOt
that sartainly amt surprised none
at all. We didn't know about the
baby. Cherokee Joe told me the baby
had died"
"And now, son." pleaded old Dale,
his voice breaking, SAY that you for.
give me-"
Bin Dale, David Moreland's boy,
knelt beside the old sheepSkin-lmcd
rocker, took the old coal kings hand
in both his own and bent his head
over II.
ITS all right" he said thickly. ITS
all right"
Elizabeth Littleford arose and stole
blindly out Of the house. Her foot
steps led her, quite without her real
izing where she was going, across the
meadow and to the river above the
bl0wn.dOwn sycamore. And there on
that sacred spot, where she had first
felt her heart leap at the sound of
Bill nale's voice, she sank down in
heap in the snow and cried, and
cried.
Twilight was gathering rapidly, but
She did not notice it. She did not
notice, either, that the air was grow.
ing steadily colder with the approach
of the mountain night. To her
warm sun was shining above in
bright blue vault; to her the spirit of
summer was everywhere; in her ears
there was the liquid son" of a meadow
lark. the sweet twittCring of wood
thruShcS, the low hunImng of wild
bees The pouring of the crystal wa
terS between the two bOulderS above
the pool made music to her, and blend
ed with it she seemed to hear the voice
Of big, clean, strong man-
IL was thinking of the difference be-
tween you and some other women
know"
Then ray of hope shOne into her
heart Bill Dale was really More
land and, therefore, of the hill blood
even as she was of the hill blood, and
that should make them more nearly
equal She told herself that,hc wouldn't
br 50 apt To condemn her for being
able to take Il human life easily as
one of another Blood would be; he
would be more apt 10 understand. Ayd
vet, the women he had known were
gentle, tender and refined. like, for in
stance Patricia McLaurin. soon the
ray of hope died within her, and she
bent her head and sobbcd again.
one of her bare hands began TO
grOpc idly in the snow AT her side, ana
she did not feel the cold. Suddenly
she realized that her hand was iull
Of shavingS, whirtlings. Some man
had been sitting there whiting with
Il pocket knire--it must have been Il
man. for who ever heard Of a woman
whiting? She felt in the snow with
both hands. and found more Writings
seemed to her, lying there under the
Snow.
Then sh" wondered-wondercd who
il could have been.
It was quite dark now, brt the moo"
was not yet up. A great bright >,%r
n'a2yl above David Morclaud's torn
Ike & beacon fire. She heard the mui
rrd sounds Of slow masculine furi.
steps il lhc snow behind her. Shy
did not turn her head. In her SOU
She knew it could be but one man.
Ell D.leS head was down, and h.
moved as though he neither knew fol
cared wh!ther lie went. Then lie SAN
fNc Harl; heap on the rivers bank 10.
fore him. and he hatcl He ki.,T III
his soul that il could be bat one wom-
an.
Dale went on anI sat down on a