Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1922-07-28

"F0 Like TO SC-lO GSGTH u rSil1S.
would De flung an1 right" The boy
blushed, and the colonel went on
earnestly:
- can think Of nothing in the world
that would make me quite so happy
ITS no use" the boy said trembling
ly. "but I'll never forget what You
have Just said as long as live, anu
no matter what becomes Of me, I'll
love Barbara as long as l live. But,
even If things were otherwise, Ia
never risk making her unhappy even
by trying. Pm not TT for her nor
for this life ] can't get over my life In
the v.o0as and among the Indians
I cant explain, but l get choled
and l can't breathe-sucl n longing
for the woods comes over me
and | can't help me. must go-and
nothing can hold me-"
"Your father was that way" said
Colonel Dale sadly. You may get
over II, but he never did. And 1t must
be harder for You because OF your
early associations. Good night, and
God bless YOU" And the kindly gentle
man wns gone.
Erskine sat where he was. The
house was still and there were no
noises from the horses and cattle In
the barn--none from rOosting peacock,
turkey. and hen. From the far-away
quarters came family the merry mel
low notes Of q fiddle, and farther Still
the song of some counting negro return
ing home. A drowsy bird twittered in an
ancient elm at the corner of the house.
The flowers dropped In the moonlight
which bathed the great path, streamed
across the great river, and on up to It's
source In the great yellow disk float
ing In majestic serenity high in the
clOudless sky. And that path, those
flowers, that house, the barn, the cat
tie. sheen, and hogs, those grain-tields
and grassy acres. even those singing
black folk, were all--all his If he but
said the words. The Thought was no
tcmptatiOn--it was mighty wonder
that such a thing could be. And that
was all Il was-a wOnGer-to him, but
to them It was the world. Without
It all. what would they do? Perhaps
Mr.. Jefferson might soon solve the
problem for him. Perhaps he might
not return from that Wild campaign
against the British and the Indians
he might get killed. And then
thought gripped hin and held him
fast-he need not come back. That
mighty wilderness beyond the noun
tainS vas his real hOme-Out there
was his real life. lie need not come
back, ard they would never know.
Then came thought that almost
made him groan. There was q light
step in the hall, and Barbara came
swiftly out and dropped on the top
most step with her chin In both hands.
Almost at once she seemed to feel his
presence. for she turned her head
quickly.
"Erskine" AS quickly lie rose, en-
baraSsed beyond speech.
"Come herel Why, you look guilty
what have YOU been thinliing?" He
was startled by her intuition, but he
recovered himself swiftly.
81 suppose I will always feel guilty
# | have made you unhappy"
"You aavcn't made me unhappy.
don't know what you have made me.
You saw how I felt II you had killed
MIN, hut you don't know how l would
have felt if he had killed yoH. |
don't myself
Size began patting her hands gently
and lsc!plcSsly together, and again she
dropped her chin into them with her
eyes lifted to the moon.
81 shall be very unhappy when you
are gone. ! wish you We're not going,
hut | know that YOU are-you can't
help it," Again he was startled.
'Whenever You look at that moon
over in that dark wilderness, l wish
you would please think of your little
couSin-will youi" She turned eagerly
and he was too moved to Spc3k-he
! fonly howeI his head rs for a prayer