Cheraw chronicle. [volume] (Cheraw, S.C.) 1896-2005, 1921-09-01


ernor, Lord Mallow, Is much to blame.
On him lies the responsibility to him
must go the discredit. For myself, l
feel his enmity on every hand.
suffer from his suggestive opposition;
I am the victim of his dark moods.
"If / want a concession from To-
cal council, his hand Is at work against
me; II l see him in the street, GET
a courtesy tossed, as you would toss
a bone to a dog. If l appear at the
kings ball, which Is open to all on
the island who are respectable, l am
treated with such disdain by the vice
roy Of the king that all the island Is
agog.
"He does not spare me in his re-
citals to his friends, who carry his
speech abroad. His rancor against me
Is the greater, I know, because Of the
wealth I got in the treasure ship. to
prevent which he tried to prohibit my
leaving the island, through the with
holding of a leave-ticket to me. HIS
argument to the local authorities was
that / had no rights, that l am MUIR
derer and a mutineer, and confined TO
the island, though not on parole. He
almost succeeded; but the man to
whom I went, the big rich man, In
tervened successfully-how l know
not-and I was let go with my per-
mit-ticket.
"What big things hang on small Is
sues! If my Lord Mallow had pre-
vented me leaving the island, l
shouldn't now own a great plantation
and three hundred negroes. shouldn't
be able to pay my creditors In good
gold Portuguese half-johannes and
Spanish silver, and give no heed to
the existence Of the bitt, which, as
you perhaps know, Is equal to five
pence In British money, such as you
and 1 used to spend when you were
queen of Ireland and I was your slave.
"Then 1 worshiped you as few wom-
en- have been worshiped in all the days
Of the world-oh, cursed spite Of life
and time that l should have been
jailed for killing your bad father Aye,
he was a bad man, and he is better
In his grave than out Of 1t, but 1t puts
a gulf between you and me which
nothing will ever bridge-unless 1t
should some day be known I did not
kill him, and then, no doubt, 1t will
be too late.
"On my soul, I don't believe I put
my sword into him; but If did, he
we'll deserved 1t, for he was worse
than faithless to your mother, he was
faithless to his country-he was
traitorl 1 did not tell that story Of
his treachery in COURT did not tell
it because Of you. You did not de-
serve such infamy, and the truth came
not out at the trial. ], in my view,
dared not lest it might injure you,
and you had suffered enough-nay,
more than e!!ough-through him.
II did not go to the United States,
as you asked me to do. Is 1t not plain I
could not? My only course was to
avoid you. You see, your mother
knows the truth-knows that was
Jailed for killing your father and her
divorced husband. Therefore, the only
way to do was as did. could not
90 where you were. There should be
hid from you the fact that Erris Boyne
was q traitor. This Is your right,
in my mind. Looking back, feel
sure I could have escaped Jail If
had told what l knew Of Erris Boyne;
and perhaps 1t would have been bet
ter, for / should, no doubt, have been
acquitted. Yet l could not have gone
10 you, for 1 am not sure did not
kill him.
"It seems strange to me that 1 am
as near to the United States here In
Jamaica, or almost as near, as one
in London Is to one in Dublin; and
yet one might as well be ten thousand
leagues distant for all It means to
her one loves in the United States.
Yes, dear Sheila, l love you, and /
would tear out the heart of the world
for you. bathe my whole being In
your beauty and your charm. hun
ger for you-to stand beside you, to
listen to your voice, to dip my prison
fingers into the pure cauldron Of your
soul and feel my own soul expand.
l wonder why it Is that today l feel
more than ever felt before the rare
splendor Of your person.
'For I have always loved you, al
ways heard you calling me, as If from
some sacred corner of a perfect world.
Is 1t that yesterdays dissipatlon-yes,
l was drunk overnight, drunk in a
new way. / was drunk with the
thought of you, the longing for you.
l picked a big handful Of roses, and
in my mind gave them into your hands.
And I thought you smiled and said:
"'Well done, good and faithful
servant. Enter Paradise
$50 | followed you to your home
in the Virginian country. 1t was
dream, all except the roses, and those
l laid in front Of the box where keep
your letters and sketch l made of
you when we were young and glad
when | was young and glad. For
am an old man, Sheila, in all that
makes men old. My step is quick
still. my eye is sharp, and my brain
beats fast. but my heart is ancient.
am an ancient Of days, without hope
or pleasure, save what pleasure comes
in thinking Of one who must ever
- from, ofnr I u.nnInr