The Chesterfield advertiser. [volume] (Chesterfield C.H., S.C.) 1884-1978, 1921-09-08
Hltssta'atiof,s by

o"" - Sa"e W rove IL. But IL was
years before my wife loved 1t. She
didn't like children then But she does
now. She is paying now, and l am
paying. Don't you understand, Bill
don't you understand"
There was choke In his voice TO-
ward the last. Bill Dale went to his
reet. His eyes we're wide, but he did
not seem unhappy and for that Eliza
beth was grateful. John Moreland sat
as still, with his bearded, viking face
as eNpressiOnless as though he had
known it all along.
"And so l really am in my own
country" cried Bill Dale. ~ am a
Moreland, and the Morelands really
are my own peoplei"
Yes. you are I'm your own country
and you are Moreland-and yorr
baby name was David" said John *.
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. l amt never rogut
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-"
Bill Dale, David Moreland's boy,
knelt beside the old sheepskin-lined
rocker, took the old coal kings hand
In both his own and bent his head
over Ii.
IT'S all right" he said thickly. "Its
ell right"
Elizabeth Littleford arose and stole
hlindly out of the house. Her foot
steps led her, quite without her real
izing where she was going, across tie
meadow and TO the river above the
blown-down sycamore. And there ON
that sacred spot, where she had first
feit her heart leap ut the sound of
biiI Dale's voice, she sank down in
hemp In the snow and cried, and
cried 4s
Twilight was gathering rupi,iiy, nui
she did not notice IT. She did not
notice, either, that the air was grew
Ing steadily colder with the approach
OF the mountain night. To her a
warm sun was shining above IN a
bright blue vault; to her the spiril of
summer was everywhere; In her ears
there was the liquid song of a meadow
lark. the sweet twittering of wood
thrushes, the low Summing 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 1t she seemed to hear the voice
Of big, clean. strong man
II was thinking Of the difference be-
tween you and some other women I
know"
Then a 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 he wouldn't
be so apt to condemn her for being
able to take n human life easily aS
one of another blood would be; he
would he more apt to understand And
yet, the women he had known were
gentle. tender and refined, like. for in
ray of hope died within her. and she
bent her head and sobbed again.
One. Of her bare hands began to
grOpe idly In the snow at her side, and
she did not feel the cold. Suddenly
she realized that her hand was fun
Of shavings, whittlings. Some man
had been sitting there whiting with
pocket knife-it must have been a
man. for who ever heard of a woman
whiting? She felt In the snow with
both hands, and found more whittlings
there were bushels Of whittlings, II
seemed to her, lying there under the
snow.
Then she wondered-wondered who
II could have been.
II was quite dark now, hut the moon
was not yet up. A great, bright star
blazed above David MOreiand's tomb
like a beacon fire. She heard the muf-
fed sounds OF slow masculine foot
steps In the snow behind her. She
lid not turn her head. In her soul
she knew II could be but one man.
Eli r-ie's head was down, and he
moved rs though he neither knew nor
cared whittier he went. Then he saw
ibe dark heap on the rivers bank he
fore him. and he halted He knew In
his soul that II could be hut ore wom-
an.
Dale went on and sat down on
stone the size of small barrel that
law at thp riyar'e rim,