Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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f*'- j S / w -fk lewis m. gbist, Proprietor, j ^n Jnkpentient Jfamilg ftetospaper: Jfor l|)t ||roin(jtion of f|t political, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of' t|e jSontj). |TERMS?$2.50 A TEAR, Ct ADVANCE. VOL. 27. YORKVILLE, S. C., ^THURSDAY, JANUARY 6, 1881. NO. 1. ' * * N????????w?mmmmm?m?lmmmmmmmmm * ??^3^1 - ....... I , T J t-_ J X..?4. ??+ JU (Nginal ^torn. Written for the Yorkvilo Enquirer. $. THE LADY OF LINTON BY WALTER MOtGAN. CHAPTER H. Mrs. letter contained news of un v usual interest. Nothing fcss than the en gagement of her oldest daujjiter to a talented though struggling young larver, who had foi some time past been paying his addresses tc her. The mutual attachm?t of the pair had been no secret, aud the enfigement was not unexj?ected, as alt relatives concerned on both sides viewed the affair fith approbation. Still, the positive settlemen' of what had been so long pending was a matte of excitement tc the quiet circle, and Mrs. II>j>e wrote as if her heart was full. Of courseJdie said, no definite period had been fixed yet, or coul(t\be fixed, for the marriage. George's prospects worp still too uncertain, and Leila was so young they could afford to wait. She said nothing of the pang it vpulcl cost her to give up this dear .and helpfuDldest girl, who had so long been her compaihm anxt stay ; but Cyril coukl imagine all tiat she would feel. "It would be a good tiing if I could get a parish somewhere, with a decent salary/' he thought to himself. 'Then I could make mother and the girls eonfortable, and Leila's marriage wouldn't affct them much. Besides, she and George night even live with us for a while, if we had r<om. One more in the family couldn't make much difference. A house like this, for insance?that would be very cosy and nice. I wouldn't be sorry to have this parish fall int> my hands. But it's not likely that Dr. lhxford entertains any idea of giving it up." He went to bed will his mind so full of thoughts of home, thafthere was no room for any others to intrude, aid visions of the dear familiar faces there honed through the night around his pillow. ^Vth the morning light, however, came anothr vision?that of the white, sorrowful, sfttue-like countenance which had so deeply impressed him on the evening liefore, and wiose impression lie could not efface from his mmory. I do not know that lie tried very li.rd to efface it. There was a sort of pleusur&le excitement in lingering over it; in coinciding all sorts of vague fascinating fancies lith it, such as, for instance, the idea of luring it constantly before him; of being able t( feast his eyes on the rare beauty of those features; to drink in the glances of the deep yes whose language lie could not yet read ; t? listen to the sweet, yet all too sad tones of the low, liquid voice, which had seemed aicli music to his ear. Surely, lie thought, it would be happiness to have such a privilege as this ! And lie pic tured to himself a tiie when the brightness and coloring of a newjoy should illumine that j?ale face ; when it giould be irradiated by smiles whose light slould beam upon hit a. Foolish Cyril! lie woulered off into heaven knows what wildernes of dreams, following a very ignis fatuusoi imagination, until he knew not what ground he stood upon, llad he fallen in love with Lady Hejhurn ? Had one evening of her society sutited to turn him mad ? It seemed madness, truly, to indulge in thoughts like these. She, a widow of ten years' standing; older than himself by several years, his superior in sink, immeasurably removed from him by a total difference in all their surroundings?hew could it be possible that she would ever, fa- a single instant, admit the idea of what he was rash enough to dwell upon in his seeret thoughts ! It has often been said, aal justly, that a young man's early fancy is ilways the more fatal when it liaa tier its object, a woman considerably older than himself* Wherein tltti, special fatality consists, I am lot philosopher enough to determine; but lnaiy cases might be cited to prove the truth of :he statement. A boy's fancy for a girl may le easily overcome; but a boy's liking, or live, for a matured woman, usually takes "too teep a root to lie thus destroyed. It may be that the boy and girl, standing on a common platform of youth and inexperience, he feelsthe equality between them, and regards, thoughadiniringly, without reverence; while the wonan, who is his superior in age and in the knowledge of the world, is raised above his level. Sie occupies a position which he has not yet attiined. lie feels that she has a wisdom and experience of which he knows nothing, and her higher attainments commaul his respect, as veil as his affection. In her he sees a being ol superior order, who is not to be lightly or irrelevantly approached. She is invested with a peculiar importance 111 Ins eyes. Her love is a thing not easy to be won, and for thisreasorthe feels that lie would stike much, very much, to win it. Of course it is in comparatively rare instances that a joung man really falls in love with a woman nuch his senior. lie may care to marry her from motives of interest, even if she be plain or otherwise unattractive, but not from motives of affection. It is only where she is irvested with some rare perfection of i>ersor or mind, that his fancy is taken captive, and, thus captured, finds itself fettered by almost indissoluble bonds. Happy for the shy yet eager lover when the object of his worship is noble, and worthy of so fresh and pure an ofering ! Cyril wondeed how soon it would be fitting for him to acc pt Lady Hepburn's invitation to call ui>on lur.. Had she really been in earnest about it, ?r had she merely tendered it to him for politeiess' sake V At all events there could be nothiig in the way of his taking advantage of it. The position he occupied at present in the parish was, in itself, sufficient to gain him tie privilege of being admitted as a visitor, into my household numbering itself among his comregation. Yes, he would certainly call ujon her?would certainly call soon. There iould be no impropriety in his going soon?n once, if he wanted to. He thought aboutit all that day, and finally decided to go tin next evening. It was so lonely tramping alout the roads after dusk, that he resolved tohire a horse; but when 011 his way to some sables near by in order to make an arrangemeit to this effect, he encountered Col. Gainsboo, who stopped to speak to him. "Glad to met you,'' said the Colonel, in his bluff, good-tejpered way. "I was just on my way-to see yoi. - Not-to iniy yot a visit, -but to mention scmething which I omitted to say to you when \)u were at our house. I wanted to tell you tut we've got plenty of horses eating their lutds off at home, and as long as you're hen I'll be glad to place one of them at your disposal. I know Hex ford has taken his wfci hiio. Not that you'd have found him of much service, for lie's a poor old beast." Cyril expr?sed his thanks for the opi>ortline offer, ;Al liefore they parted. Colonel Gainsboro arruged to send a suitable animal over within th next hour or two to the Rectory stable. 'You needn't trouble yourself about the can uf hiui," lie added; "I'll send a man to see f.ll aliout that, .lust ride as much as you vujt, and don't lie afraid of giving him too much exercise ; it'll do him good." Accordingly, soon after Cyril got back to the Rectory, tie promised steed arrived; a line-looking bay well-formed and gentle, promising to l?e a valiable addition to the conveniences and .contorts which tiie young clergyman was alreadyin possession of. He had a strong affection ur horses, but had never been fortunate enougi to own one. He patted ' Conrad's'' gins*- arched neck, made friend? with him by lettiig him nibble some mouthfids of fresh gnss from his hand, then had him consigned t< the stable to await his convenience. anticijating with pleasure the mam hours lie ex 1*21til to spend in the saddle, during his stay. When the tint he had appointed for his vis it to Linton Timers arrived, he set out, having dressed hiiisdf with unusual andelaboratt care. Without having much vanity in hi: composition, ie feltan agreeable consciousnes: of looking wel ; but all such personal feelinj. vanished, and l?ec;une merged into the fai more absorbiig thought of the presence lit was soon to tjiter, as le drew near to his ties filiation. Hit heart btat fast as the sunimii of the gray olt Towers came in view, and in voluntarily hechecked his horse's si>eed ant proceeded at ; more eisurely gait, as if tt gain time to treicomethe gathering nervous ness that threatened tt mar his composure ant self-possession Reaching tie door h- dismounted, and learn ing from the ?ld butkr that Lady Ilepbun h was at home, gave his horse in charge to a servant, and was ushenjdoli rough tlie spacious entrance hall into a large drawing room, where : everything looked equally elegant, stiff and cold. Cyril experienced a feeling of discomfort as his eyes wandered around him, while awaiting the appearance of the lady of the house. It seemed a different atmosphere from that which he had imagined must surround liisdivinity, aiul he recalled Lady Hungerford's ! remarks concerning the gloomy seclusion in which she kept herself always enveloped. '" Doubtless she feels too sad to care to sur round herself with cheerful objects,*' he re Hected. "But what a mistake! In brooding , | thus continually over past misfortunes, she : j will gradually lose all sympathy with her fellow >; beings, and become insensible and cold." 1 After a little delay the door opened, and ; Miriam appeared. She welcomed him grai eiously aud gracefully. There was more animation than usual in her look and tone, and i for the first time, she permitted her soft, white > hand to rest for an instant in his, as she ex pressed her pleasure at seeing him beneath her roof. i "I wonder why they brought you inhere,*' i she said. "I never sit here myself. The room is so large and cold. Will you come into my I littlejJHtlor, where I always spend my evenings?or the library ?" "Wherever yon please. Lady Hepburn. It | can make 110 difference tr? "nie,v replied Cyril, feeling his surroundings already glorified by her presence. She led the way into a*pretty, cheerful apartment, small by comparison with the first, but still a good deal more spacious than the room which, in Cyril's own home, was used as dining room and parlor in one, and which was all they had there for general use. She invited liirn to take possession of a low, luxurious chair, and sat down in another just opjKisite to him, near enough for him to catch easily every inflexion of her subdued voice, yet not so near but that he could please himself by watching, without rudeness, the expression of her face as she talked. A delightful hour of conversation ensued. A11 hour of, j to him, almost unmixed happiness. I say almost, because although her presence was sufficient to constitute very nearly perfect enjoyment, lie felt a little, just a little sense of not being quite equal to the occasion ; a sense of her superiority over him, and a fear that he might not appear to advantage in her eyes. Yet there was nothing in her manner to give rise to such a feeling 011 his part. It was perfectly frank, natural and easy, and so much more cordial and friendly than it had lieen 011 the occasion of their previous meeting, that it seemed as if she were trying to place him on a more intimate and sociable footing, and make him feel at home. When an hour had passed, lie arose, reluctantly enough, to go; but she detained him. "I cannot let you go without, at least, a cup of tea,'' she said ; and ringing the bell, she desired that refreshments should lie brought. Cyril cared little for any refreshments, but it was a new enjoyment to sit tetc-a-tcte with her at a little round table just large enough to accommodate two, to he helped by her delicate hands, to be admitted to the pleasant familiarity attendant upon so informal a repast. Once, in taking his cup from her, his hand accidentally touched hers, and the color swept over his face like a girl's. "You have not seen my library yet," said Miriam, as they rose from the table. "It contains some valuable books, and if there should be any among them that you care to read, Mr. Hope, they are quite at your service." They went into the library, stocked from door to ceiling with volumes of every size and sort; a collection brought together by several successive generations of Ilepburns, and comprising literature adapted to every age and fancy, from the huge calf-bound folio in which scholars would revel, to the light novel suited to a lady's parlor table. Cyril's eyes wandered : over the well-filled shelves with delight, perI haps with a little touch of envy. What would it lie. not give to have allatj^ulieposalv Lady Hepburn urged him to select something, and after some hesitation he took down a volume of Carlyle's essay?., and George Eliot's "Adam Hede." "Iam not in the humor for anything very profound," he said, half apologetically, as if he thought she might wonder at his choice. "If my mind can grasp Carlyle, it is as much as it is equal to just now; and as to a novel once in a while, I find it refreshing, especially from a baud like George Eliot's." "That is a point T can't discuss with you," answered his hostess. "1 rarely look into a book, and know little of the comparative merits of different authors." "Don't you read? Then how do you manage to pass your time ?" Cyril involuntarily exclaimed. "I pass it chiefly in thinking," was her quiet reply. Then she added, a sombre look passing over her face, "though I do not know but that I might be more wisely employed. Thoughts are gloomy companions sometimes?in my case, always." A brief silence ensued. Cyril regretted that he had asked the question. Lady Hepburn, however, seemed almost immediately to recover her equanimity, and opening a door opposite to the one by which they had entered, said? "This is the music-room. Would you like to look at. it V There is a large collection of music here. The late Lady Hepburn was, I believe, quite a musician." "What a delightful room," rejoined Cyril. It seems a pity you should never use it." She smiled a little. "Yesterday, for the first time, I tried over some of my old songs," she said. "And you are going to sing them for me now," eagerb cried Cyril. "Would yo like it ?" "IIow can jou ask me ? You know that I would have pressed you the; other evening, only you seemed so resolved not to sing." "I distrusted my own pow^s. Besides, there are some people 1 cannot tsmg for," replied Miriam, as she sat down to the piano. Cyril's heart fluttered. He, then, was not one of these people. She would siifg for him. Happy exception! He stood beside her and turned the leaves. She sang in a sweet, but hint powerful voice, two verses of a little ballad. She was certainly not in practice, and her tones as well as her lingers, were tremulous ; but what did that matter? She was singing for him, and for him alone. He was the privileged one to enjoy what she denied to others, and this knowledge sutliced to make him absolutely content. He had overcome his diffidence, his self-dlstrusf now. He could feel a thorough, unqualified enjoyment of his j present position. It was growing late: but no matter, he could not go yet. At his re-1 quest she sang again and again, her voice j | seeming to gain power and steadiness as she { j went on. At length, in spite of his remon-; ! strance, she rose from her seat. "I cannot sing any more," she said. "I have come to the end of my rcpnrtoire. Hut I j shall continue to practice, now that I have be- < ' gun, since I find that my poor performance can give any one pleasure." "And you will sing for me whenever I I come ?" ; "Yes. for you. But you must promise not . I to betray me to any one else?to Lady Hun| gerford, for instance. If you should, she , would give rue no peace." Cyril's eyes, resting on her for an instant , j with an ardent glance, lietrayed his delight at I +1.:,. rxV Lot* liuv fuvnr TMmV I . I 11IJ 111(11 K U| IJfl Jill, III I Id f i'! amij .! said what his lips did not venture to utter, 11 "Von make me the happiest of men." Did !! Miriam read what was passing in his mind ? [ | A faint Hush colored her cheek. She looked i away, and assiduously commenced laving some .! scattered sheets of music in an orderly pile on [ the piano. ' I must go now," said Cyril, with a linger' ing regret in iiis tones. "Lady Hepburn, may I come again ?" "Certainly, Mr. Hope; I shall always be glad to see you." His horse was ordered. Again, for an in* stunt, he held her hand at parting. He could i not resist the impulse to press it slightly in his ?: own ; and then, feeling agitated and happy, he r mounted and rode away in the moonlight, r | leaving her standing by the window, where, * from the shadow of the curtain, she watched - his figure as it retreated from view. t "IA?or, foolish boy," she muttered below her - breath, as she turned away,at last, when he 1 had disapi?eared at a turn in the road. "How ?; easily he betrays his heart. For the first time, - I am loved?2?after all these long, loveless, I dreary years! And I could?but for?" She left the sentence unfinished. Hut that - night a rare thing happened. Her pillow was i wet with tears. ; \ CHAPTER VII. If Cyril bad been at all in doubt concerning the nature of his sentimeuts for Lady Hep| bum, that evening spent at the Towers ban! ished all such doubt from his mind. He no I longer cared to disguise from himself the fact ; that he loved her?loved her with a force and : intensity that mastered his whole being. lie did not resist this new, overwhelming power, but rather yielded himself to it with delight. It l>ecame the one object of his thoughts, the : sole consideration which usurped the place of j all other interests, all other aims. Xot that j he flagged in his church duties. On the contrary, he applied himself to them with fresh assiduity, for his conscience would not have ; 1 ** ... ' - 1 1 4.1 | allowed mm any rest 11 ne naunegiecieu mem, ; | and with :ui uneasy conscience his happiness in the new aim of life would have been marred. I Now, when he had read and studied for an allotted length of time, and given sufficient j attention to the preparation of his sermon for the ensuing Sunday, he could yield himself without restraint to the dreams and hopes with which he built himself a beautiful fabric for the future. A fabric with but an unsubstantial foundation, but which, in these early ardent days, looked fair and strong to him through tiie glamour which dazzled his eyes, lie longed to throw himself at Miriam's feet, to discover whether she knew and returned his love ; but he dared not try the experiment yet. Too much eagerness, too much precipitation might ruin his chances of success. Itather would he wait, and try by gradual means to arrive at the discovery of what lie so desired to find out. He visited often at the Towers?so often that at last people l>egan to find it out, and to comment accordingly. And Miraiu did not forbid him. She took a strange pleasure in his visits. His presence was like sunshine coming into her life, a life that had 1 leen so dark and so drear. I Ie was so ardent, so frank. All his impulses were so generous, all his ideas so unhackneyed, so fresh. To listen to him, to watch his candid ' face, seemed to freshen and revive her own cold, crushed heart, to fill it with warmth and light. It was a gratification she could not deny herself. She learned to watch for, his coining with joy. She did not, would not pause to consider whether she was doing right, to ask herself what would come of it all. And yet, had she so paused ! Surely if she had an atom of conscience left, it would have forced her to forbid him her house?to forbid him ever to look upon her face again. At last she did say to him one day, with a strange tremor and blush? "Mr. Hope, you must not come here so often. I am afraid?I know?that people think it strange. I know that remarks have alreariv been made." "And why should I cate for that ?" he impetuously cried. "Lady Hepburn, if you permit my visits?if they are not distasteful to ; you?what does it matter to me what other people think V" Slie shook her head. j "But it ought to matter to you. You must not do anything to bring unpleasant remarks upon yourself; to compromise your position?" "Compromise! What a word to use I Do I compromise my position by loving you ?" he burst forth. The declaration was made, lie felt as if he had suddenly and without premeditation leaped over a mighty yawning ! gulf, and now stood trembling, wondering at his own daring, upon the other side. , Miriam turned from him, clasping her hands. "You do not mean it?you cannot 1 mean it," she said in a strange, stifled voice. "Don't say it again !" 1 "And why should I not say it again ? Lady Hepburn?Miriam?forgive me. I know I am j very presuming, very rash; but I coidd not ! have helped saying those words just now, after J what you had told, if I had known I must die for my presumption. I know there is a wide difference between us?" "A difference ! Yes, there) is a difference f indeed ; you know not how gfeat. But not in the way you mean," she hurriedly added.- * "Don't talk of presumption; that is all nonsense. But you must not sjieak to me of love. 1 There is no such thing for me in this world." 1 "There is?there is. It is here in my heart, < and you can never drive it out," he passion- i ately rejoined, as he seized her unwilling hand, 1 and pressed his lips to it again and again. "I loved you from the first moment I saw you, 1 and I can never love any one else?never; 1 never!" 1 "Poor boy ! poor boy !" 1 There was an infinity of pity in her voice? j an infinity of anguish too. Cyril could not 1 fathom her thoughts?could not read the < struggle that was going on in her heart ; but < be did read in her face the signs of some in- i describable inward torture, too profound for ] him to understand or alleviate. Could it be ] grief for the deall alone that moved her thus ? i "Miriam ! Is a memory?a shadow of the past?always to stand between us? Would you let it destroy my life ?" he cried. "Others have loved and lost, and loved again. I would not have intruded upon your sorrow had I not known how long a time had passed since you were called upon to bear it. Had I not hoi>ed that the lapse of years had snfticiently softened it?" "The lapse of years," she interrupted, "can never soften my trouble. I must bear it with me to my grave." "And have you no pity for me ? Have you no faith in the power of my love to shed some brightness 011 your desolate life ? Miriam, I ask for so little. I only want to be near you, to have the blessing of your presence to cheer and help me on with my work, to be an inspiration to me. I will be your slave?will do all you command me, and seek only what you choose to give me in return. Let me love you, ! or I shall die." "Great heaven ! And do you, then, really love me in this way ?" she asked, turning to | him with wonder in her eyes, blending with j the anguish they still expressed." "All! if I could only tell you. If you could only guess how much !" "Why, why did fate ever throw me in your way ?" she cried, passionately. "Why should I be the one to mar and destroy your young life ? Have 1 notenough to bear already, that this additional burden should be laid upon me ?" "Do not mar it?do not destroy it. He, instead, its crowning blessing and happiness. Oh ! Miriam, only grant my prayer, and earth I will hold nothing else for me to wish for." | "My poor boy, you are so ignorant. You i know not what you ask. The prize you covet is worthless. What you wish to attain would , turn to Dead Sea fruit in your grasp. My love, j if I should give it to you, would bring you no j blessing with it, but rather a curse." She shuddered as she spoke, and drew lier hand i away. But Cyril, in the blindness and eager-, ness of his desire, did not half listen to her | words, and certainly did not half understand j them. He was lient upon conquering lier objections ; upon proving to her that it was her ! own mistaken fancy which erected this barrier between them. "Miriam," he persisted, "tell me this one thing. Could you love me, if your past love? if the memories which haunt you?did not stand in my way V" j She glanced at him for an instant, and a - -ex 1 i ? i. ? i.? ?... u\' M _ SOT It lit *1 IOOK UcUUO III IU I It I fVfS. I IS, SlltJ | tremulously answered. "Yes? I could." Full of ardent delight, lie again caught her 1 hand in his and kissed it. "Since you admit that," he exclaimed, "banish the memory! from your heart. Let not the dead past crush ! and blight the living present. You cmthl love rue, Miriam?you run love me, if you will." She was silent, tier hand lay unresisting in his clasp. A mighty conflict was going on within her. At last, with a great effort, and in a changed voice, she spoke again. "Listen," she said. "I will tell you something, ami then you can judge for yourself what dangerous ground you are treading ujion. ; There is a secret attached to my past life j which I can not?dare not?ever betray to any living mortal. Should I marry, the knowledge of what I cannot reveal would remain locked ; up in my own breast, so linnly that no arts, no I persuasions could ever wring it from me. Not i even i/our affection could conquer my silence ! on this subject?silence which must be as deep as the grave, as lasting as my life. Would you i take to your bosom a wife with a secret like this ? Could you be happy, knowing of this reserve which must never be broken through?" ; t "Yes," exclaimed Cyril, unhesitatingly. "Yes, I could. Only assure me that your j heart is mine?that I have no secret rival in j ; your affections?and I could bear anything. 1 ! ! should respect the necessity which you feel for j concealing a past trouble?a past error, it j might be. I should have sufficient faith in I you to suspect nothing, to accuse you of noth-' ! ing but what you yourself might choose to revpal. I would be content in the fullness of my love and happiness, to draw the curtain of i complete oblivion over all that concerns that part of your life in which I have had no share. Could you ask for more than this V" "I could not. Hut believe me, Ctyril, yon mistake your own heart. Your faitli would not l?e as complete, as enduring as you now think. Some day yon would weary of this reserve, this silence which you could not understand. The present would not suflice for you. You would not be satisfied with a partial confidence. Yon would seek to win all, or care to have none. And then, what misery would follow! I could not gratify you. Coldness would spring up between us, and what would become of your love ?" "Jlow little you understand me!" he warmly rejoined. '' Where I love, I trust. Where I trust, I trust wholly. Miriam, I pledge you my word that I would never make such an effort to break through v'our reserve. Never, by word or hint, would 1 even remind you of the existence of its cause. Can't you believe me? Can't you accept my pledge ?" ''I beiieve you entirely?I believe that you mean every word that you utter; but I think you are under a delusion, and I dread your awakening to the trilth." "Let me, at least.^uulge for myself. If I am willing to bem risk, why should "von seek to prevent me ?'^ 1 * "Because your welfare isjdear to me?localise I want you to lie happy ; and I am sure that you are not taking the right road to happiness now." "And I tun quite sure that I could never have any happiness in life to equal your love." She shook her head sadly; but she did not answer this, and her silence gave him renewed hope. "Miriam, will you try the experiment ? Will you give me your promise, for some future time ? I will not be exacting?I will wait as long as you bid me. Perhaps, by degrees you will come to know me better, to find that I am worthy of your confidence." "I know that you are worthy of everything; of more, much more that I can give you." "I will be grateful for what you do give me ! Only promise me?promise me, Miriam ! Will you not promise me? Only let me have the future to look forward to?only let me say to myself that one day you will be my wife." He knelt at her feet. lie kissed her hands and slender wrist again and again. He would have kissed the very hem of her robe in the fervor of entreaty, if she had permited him. But she hurriedly bade him rise, and Itegged him to go away?to give her a little time to think. "My thoughts are all wild and confused," she said. "All this is so strange, so startling to me. It seems as if a great revolution had come into my life. I rmtxt have a little leisure, 11 little opportunity for reflection. I can tell you nothing more now." "But you will?when I come again? You will give me an answer ?" "Yes, if you give me time." "I will do anything you want. How much time do you require ? How long shall I wait ?" "You may come to me again," she slowly answered, "in a week. By that time I shall liave decided what it is best for me to do." " ' " ? ? _i. . i,,,* r I "A weeK J ll will serin an eiriniij , uuk a tiave promised to be patient, and I will. In the mean time, yon will at least let me hope ?" "I cannot even hid you hope. In doing so I might he deceiving you." "Well, then, give me at any rate one satisfaction?one happy thought to dwell upon, to soften the torture of suspense which I shall mdure. Say to me, before I go, 'Cyril, I love pou.'" "Did I not tell you just now that my love was a dangerous gift ?" she rejoined. "But, mcli as it is, I give it to you; it is yours." "And you will let me kiss you, Miriam ? Dace just oneo ^ - - ? Site bent towards him ; but instead of meetng his lips, she pressed her own swiftly upon lis forehead. "Now go," she said hurriedly. 3ur interview lias lasted long enough, liemember, a week from now?not a day, not an lour sooner." They parted, and he went hack to the Rec;ory in a tumult of mixed, bewildering thoughts, half happy, half shadowed by discracting doubts. She had confessed that she oved him?that was enough to fill him with oy; but she had refused to give him hope. What was he to expect ? Would her final answer crown him with delight, or fill him with lespair V Whichever way it was to be, it was, in^iis anticipation the boundary of all lis aims and hopes in life. He could not look jeyond. His future now was absolutely hound up in her. Ilis fate lay in her hands. IIis misery or his welfare hung solely upon her decision. All other projects, all other dreams which had formerly engrossed him, seemed to fade into nothingness. All that was in store for him now could have 110 significance, no -entity for him apart from her. Ilis ardor was unbounded, his infatuation complete. He could understand now how men could die for ove, though he had scorned such a belief be lUIC. 11 is days passed now in a sort of dream. He slept, walked, dressed and ate his food as usual, jut lie had almost completely lost mastery jver his own mind, lie could not pay any ittention to study. It was only by the most violent effort that he concentrated his atten:ion sufficiently to write a few pages from ,ime to time of his sermon ; often tearing :hem up after they were written. At last he ibandoned the effort. lie would read a sermon from the pulpit 011 the coming Sunday, jonfessing to the congregation that he had not frit able to prepare one. lie was, indeed, feverish and far from well. Excitement and suspense .vere overpowering him. lie counted the days ind hours that must elapse before he could lain a certain knowledge of his fate. While le was in this distracted state came a letter rom Dr. Rexfonl, announcing the impossibility of his return at present to his parish, ind requesting Cyril to continue to fill his lace. He had been feeling very unwell, and ivould not be able to resume his duties for (oine tin..*, so preferred remaining where he ivas. Cyril immediately wrote to accept the imposition. lie had been dreading the necessity for leaving the spot' which was now the entre of his dearest hopes. And now let us take a glance at Miriam, and M*e how she had been affected by the interview which had left Cyril in so agitated a frame of mind. If possible, her emotion and excitement far mit-weighed his. A'o sooner had he taken leave of her, than she would fain have recalled liin, to revoke all that she had said. Why, why had she been so weak as to give liir any uicourageiiient ? Why had she suffered his importunity to wring from her that confession if her love? And yet. it had been impossible for her, at that instant, to resist the pleading if her own heart. For she did love this pureliearted, enthusiastic young clergyman?this hoy, as lie seemed to her, with his frank undisciplined heart and his ignorance of the world, liis wonderful, unquestioning faith in her. What, alas! could he know or guess of her lark past? Little recked he of the breadth, mid depth, and impassibility of the gulf which lav between them. IIow confidently did he j stretch out his h;iiul to clasp hers across it ! How lightly did he cast aside all suspicion, even when she told him of the existence of a secret which must forever place a harrier between him and her. Love so generous, so loyal, could not but awaken love in return. The difference in their age seemed to her a matter of no moment. Since he did not regard it, why should it trouble her ? Hers was a beauty which would not quickly fade. She had sufficient faith in the power of her own attractions to believe that she could easily retain his affection. It was not the fear that he would! tire of her which had prevented her from yield-1 ing it an unconditional return. [TO UK (,'ON'TIXrKD. ] fjfcfj" Mrs. Cross, known in the world of letters j as "(ieorge Kliott", died in London the 22nd , ultimo. Ilex maiden name was Marian Evans, i She was the linest female novelist that has j ever lived. Among her best works are "Adam llede", "Middlemarch", and "Daniel Deronda'1. ffc/j' When a boy walks with a girl as though he were afraid some one would see him, the girl is Ins sister. If he walks so close to her as to nearly crowd her against the fence, it is the sister of some one else. t \ * IrtbccUaucDus Reading. THE WORK OF THE LEGISLATURE. The following is a list of the Acts and Joint Resolutions passed at the recent session of the Legislature, which are of general or local inj terest: An Act to incorjKJrate the hoard of trustees of the Associate Reformed Presbyterian Synod of the South. An Act extending until March next, the i time within which bills of the Rank of the j State may lie funded, and to provide the mani nor *\f fnmlinnr flio anmo An Act for the incorporation of trustees for the Presbytery of South Carolina. An Act to provide for a public guardian of the estates of minors, idiots and lunatics, and to define the powers and duties of such guardian and to lix his liability. An Act to determine and i>erpetnate the homestead. This Act provides the means of carrying out the constitutional amendment. An Act to charter the Monroe and Lancaster Railroad. An Act to raise supplies and make appropriations for the fiscal year commencing November 1, 1SS0. An Act to make it a misdemeanor to entice or persuade a laborer to leave the employment of another, or to employ a laborer under contract with another. An Act to authorize and require the re-running and re-marking a portion of the boundary line between this State and the State of North Carolina. An Act to conform all Acts of incori>orations to charters granted under the general laws to the provisions of the Constitution. An Act to provide for the appointment of a commission to consider and suggest amendments to the Constitution of the State. An Act to make appropriations to meet the ordinary expenses of the State Government for the fiscal year commencing Noveml>er 1, 1880. An Act to provide for the api>ointment of a commission to amend and simplify the mode of assessing and collecting the taxes of this State. An Act to amend Chapter CXXVTII of the General Statutes, entitled ''of offences against the i>erson," and to declare the law of homicide in dueling, and to provide for the punishment of the saine. An Act to bar the right and claim of dower to a widow who accepts the distributive share of her deceased husband's esfcte. An Act to authorize the tfpgointaient by the Governor of a conimissiou'wm^vrith the adjutant and inspector-general, shall constitute a board to revise the militia laws of the State and report to the next seaaion of the General Assembly. Joint Resolution authorizffigaiid directing the treasurer of York county to apply cettrin funds to payment of coui>ons on county bonds due January 1, 1881. An Act to amend the Act to secure landholders and persons making advances. This Act provides that an index shall lie kept in the ofiice of the clerk of the Court, in which index are entered all liens on crops, and this indexing gives a lien on the crop when the rent and advances exceed one-third of the crop. The landlord or person making advances has had, hitherto, a lien on one-third of the crop without indexing. An Act to aid and encourage, immigration into this State by returning to immigrants the taxes paid by them for five years. An Act to regulate appeals from Trial Justices' Courts in criminal cases. An Act to amend an Act entitled "An Act to prohibit the sale of seed cotton between the time of the setting and the rising of the sun, and to regulate the sale of seed cotton," ap- , proved June 8,1877. An Act to provide a punishment for carrying any deadly weapon concealed about the' person. An Act to further regulate the sale of intoxicating liquors in this State. An Act to extend the time for the funding of the unquestionable debt of the State. An Act for the incorporation of the trustees of the Presbytery of South Carolina. Joint Resolution to authorize the Comptroller General to disuse of certain railroad and bank stock and to pay over the proceeds to the Treasurer of York County. An Act to require all railroad companies in this State to construct and keep in repair an adequate stock guard or cattle gap at every point where the line of railroad of any such company crosses the line of any fence in this State. An Act to incorporate the Rock Hill Cotton Factory Company. An Act to collect into one Act the modes prescribed for the probate of deeds and other instruments in writing which are by law required to be recorded. An Act to ratify the amendment to Section .'12, Article II of the Constitution of the State of South Carolina relating to the homestead. An Act to provide for the revision, digest and arrangement of the Statute laws of the State of South Carolina. This Act raises a commission of three persons, who are to be elected by the Judges of the Supreme Court and Circuit Courts, and who shall codify the statute laws of the State and rei>ort, if practicable, to the General Assembly at its next session. LAWS OP THE STATE. The following Acts were passed at the recent session of the Legislature : TRAFFIC INT SKEI) COTTON. An Act to amend an Act entitled "An Act to prohibit the Sale of Seed Cotton between the time ot the setting and the rising of the Sun, and to regulate the Sale of Seed Cotton, approved June S, 1877. lie it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the State of South Carolina, no / met and sitting in General Assembly, and by the authority of the same : Section 1. That Section 1 of an Act entitled "An Act to prohibit the sale of seed cotton between the time of the setting and rising of the sun, and to regulate the sale of seed cotton," approved June 8, 1$77, be, and the same is hereby, amended by striking out, in the last line of the said section, the last three words thereof, to wft: "of any day," so that said section shall read: "That on and after the passage of this Act. it shall not be lawful for any i>erson to buy or sell, or receive byway of barter, exchange or trallic of any sort, any seed cotton between the hours of sundown and sunrise." THE WIUSKY LAW. An Act to further regulate the Sale of Intoxicating Liquors in this State. lie it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the State of South Carolina, now met and sitting in General Assembly, and by the authority of the same: Section 1. That from and after the passage of this Act, no license for the stile of spirituous or intoxicating liquors shall be granted in South Carolina outside of the incorporated cities, towns and villages of this State, and it shall be unlawful for any person or persons to sell such liquors without a license so to do. Skc. 2. Xo license for the sale of intoxicating liquors shall be granted by any municipal authorities in any city, town or village in this State, except upon the payment by the person applying for the same to the treasurer of the county in which such city, town or village is situated, the sum of one hundred dollars, in addition to the license charged by such city, town or village, for the use of such county,* to be applied to the ordinary expenses of the county : Provided, that all licenses for the sale of intoxicating liquors granted within the limits of the City of Charleston, the said sum of one hundred dollars shall be paid by the parties obtaining such licences to the treasurer of the said City of Charleston, for the use of the said city, instead of to the treasurer of the county of Charleston: Provided, however. that the amount now charged by the said City Council of Charleston for a license for die sale of intoxicating liquors, shall not be reduced in consequence of the foregoing provision, but that the aggregate of the license fees charged under this Act, and under the ordinances of the said city for the sale of intoxicating liquors within the limits of the said city shall not, at any time lie less than two hundred dollars. Sec. .'1. That hereafter the sales of all wines, fruits prepared with spirituous liquors, bitters or other beverages of which spirituous liquors form an ingredient, lie, and the same is here | by, prohibited within the limits or this state, I except in the incorporate limits of cities, towns and villages, where they shall only be i sold Minder the same terms as intoxicating 1 liquors as provided for in Section 2 hereof. Sec. 4. Any person violating any of the provisions of this Act shall, upon conviction thereof, be fined in a sum of not less than two hundred dollars, or imprisoned for a term of not less than ten months, or both fined and imprisoned, in the discretion of the Court try: ing the case. i Sec. o. This Act shall not take effect as to j any licenses already granted in any county, ! city, town or village, until such licenses now [ granted shall expire. Sec. i?. Nothing in this Act contained shall j be construed to authorize the issuing of any license for the sale of intoxicating liquors, in | any city, town or village, within this State, where the sale of such liquors is now or may I hereafter l>e prohibited, either under Act of | the General Assembly or by ordinance of the I respective municipal authorities of said city, ! town or village. PERILS OF THE KAIL. SOME It EC EST RAILROAD ACCIDENTS. A fearful and stul accident happened to the I passenger train on the western division of the Carolina Central Railway, on Wednesday afternoon, 22nd ultimo, by which several persons lost their lives, and others were severely wounded. What added to the horrors of the .iflf.i;., tin? f-wf Hi;if t.hp i?irs took Iir*? soon after tlie accident and consumed the bodies of five men. The Charlotte Democrat publishes the following particulars of the .accident: "The mixed passenger and freight train which left Shelby at 2 o'clock 011 the 2*2nd of December,,fell into Indian Creek trestle, three and a half miles west of Lincolnton, with frightful results. The trestle is 00 feet high. The train was made up of two passenger coaches and three box cars, all of which were consumed by tire caught from the stoves. There were five white and four colored passengers 011 lioard. Only two of the white passengers and the Conductor wdre recovered from the burning debris. The names of those saved are: Capt. H. 1\ Johnson, conductor; Bichgcrd Limebrick, foreman of Schenck, Ramsoutf & Co's cotton factory, in Cleveland county. /formerly a citizen of Stafford county^ V*.; ?. H. Gritfin, salesman of Austell, Nichols A |Co.,of New York City. All three of these are more 01* less injured, but are not considered dangerous. / Those who were burned Ut the wr^ek. are J. | F. Bloom, mail agent, of OharlolMf; BillMcKenzie and James Warlick, colored brakesmen, of Lincolnton; F. W. Smith, salesman of Benedict, Hall & Co., of New York; S. W. Goodson, of StatesvfUe, agent of the Piedmont & Arlington Life Insurance Company of Richmond, Va. / The body of Bill M&Kenzie was taken from the horning train lwdty-disfigured. No other of the dead bodies recovered can be recognized. ' / The ejigine crossed the trestle in safety, and the engineer aprfi fireman consequently escaped unhurt. It is impossible at pi^ssent to account for the accident?Whether the (trestle gave way, or whether the care jumped the track and carried the trestle down. . J \ The United States mail ai withe express freight, were both desfcrdyed, except the Express Company's safe, which was,recovered after the burning of thecan" 1 * " On the day before Christmas, a freight train and a delayed passenger train on the ^Air-Line Railroad, collided about ten and a half miles from Atlanta, in DeKalb county, Ga. ^eter Keys, the engineer, and Jim Comns (colored), the fireman of the passepger engine, were killed. The two engines telescoped, and are a total wreck. No other person was injured. Trains were delayed several kouw toy the debris on the track. Another frightful accident happened on Tift same road on Monday? the 27th ultimo. It occurred about 7 o'clock, A. M., 500 yards west of Paw Creek trestle, 9 miles west of Charlotte. \ Two freight trains, of the usual size, left Charlotte that morning in sections?one about fifteen minutes behind the other. At Paw Creek trestle fourteen cars of the forward train, Engineer Anthony, broke loose and stopped, after running a short distance. In the rear were Flagman Bob Griffith, of Charlotte, and six passengers, three of whom were colored. "When the detached cars stopped. Flagman Griffith jumped off, and, having told the trainmen to notify the passengers that they had broken loose from the remainder of the train, immediately started back to signal the second section, which he knew must be only a few miles behind. He had not gone back far when he heard the approaching train blow, and then realized the fact that he could proceed no further because of the trestle, which is 150 yards long and very high. He waived his Hag as the engine, in charge of Engineer Wisenberry, came in sight, and the engineer expressed his recognition of the signal by immediately blowing on brakes, but his train was heavy, and he was nearing the bottom of one of the biggest grades on the road. Hence it was impossible to stop. As soon as he realized this fact, and before crossing the trestle, he reversed his engine and continued to blow on brakes. Realizing the catastrophe, lie left his seat, and standing in front of the fire box with his hand on the lever, awaited the shock. It came, and he was partially knocked down by a stick of wood from the tender, but was otherwise unhurt, though almost entirely shut in by the mass of debris which was thrown against' the engine. His life was probably saved by the fact that the rear of the tender was thrown to one side, thus diverting the full momentum of the train from the engine to the side of the cut, against which the shattered cars were piled up. ah the passengers in the. cab of the foremost section were either killed or seriously injured. Thomas A. Gaither, of Charlotte, escaped with broken ribs; but Philip S. Whisnant, also of Charlotte, Charlie Sellers, of Gaston county, X. C., and a negro named Ned Stroud, were instantly killed. The wreck caught fire and burned up, and at least one man was burned alive, as his cries could be heard, but nothing could lie done for him. Mr. Gaither was the sole survivor of the passengers in the cab. THE GLUCOSE BUSINESS, and how jamaica rum and tomato catsup are made. The census officers, instructed to take statistics as to the industries and manufactures of New York City, have about half done their work, and some interesting details have leaked out, among others the facts concerning the extent to which glucose is used in adultering sugars and syrups. About $<><),000,04)0 worth of sugar is refined in Brooklyn every year. It is almost certain that by the time this sugar reaches the consumer, one-sixth of it is no more sugar, but glucose, a cheap imitation which is used more extensively every day. Glucose is made by treating corn starch with sulphuric acid ; the acid is eliminated, a sweet insipid syrup remaining which is almost colorless and costs one-half of what molasses does. If this syrup is allowed to stand for a while or is boiled down, it will become a white, hard mass something like wax. The dealers in syrups mix the glucose syrup with the dark grades of molass 1 i i.i ........ es ana produce a uchuuiiu guiueii nyiup wmcu sells letter than the refined pure syrup and costs one-third less. The sugar mixers allow the syrup to harden and then mix it with their sugars, improving the color so that it will sell well, but diminishing its sweetening power. Some chemists contend that glucose is harmless, while others attribute diabetes to its use. Whether deleterious or not, its use seems to have no limit, several big New York dealers having established glucose factories, of their own within the hist year. At present, the sugar sold as "new process" sugar and to be found at every grocer's, is nothing more than sugar liberally adulterated with glucose. So long as the manufacturers do* not put in too much glucose no one will object; one-fifth glucose and four-fifths sugar will be acceptable. But witli sharp competition comes the temptation to put in more and more glucose, until the time may come when we shall have four parts glucose and one part sugar. The origin of the glucose business was in 1804, when a certain German chemist named Goesling sold what he called a secret for making corn syrup, to a New York company? the Union Sugar Company?for 1600,000 and actually got nearly that amount in cash. The company Degan wont aim uau juou tumm vuu its first lot of syrup when Goesling died. Soon i after that it was found that the syrup made from com would not "stand," as it is called, in the trade. It candied or solidified, Goesling had some secret to prevent this, but it died with him. The company sold their stock of candied syrup to the Tribune to make ink rollers out of and wound up its affairs, losing about SI,000.000. When Goesling sold his patents there was a reservation in the city of N Buffalo, where a company had previously bought from Goesling the right to manufacture com syrup by his process. The company * met with the same difficulties; the syrup would not stand. But instead of giving up. the business, they went to work to find out what could be done with their product. They soon discovered that, when mixed with molasses, it improved its appearance without injuring it, and that when candied it could be with lr iv frradp. sugars with an enor mous profit to the mixer. It also found a ready sale among beer, vinegar mid wine makers. In a suit just ended as to the ownership of .certain shares in this Buffalo company, the fact was brought out that the average yearly profits of this one factory are at least 31,000,000 uiwn a capital of S400,'000. Glucose is now made in enormous quantities in Glen Cove, Long Island, in Detroit and in Chicago, where $-2,000,000 are about to be inv< ited in a new factory. A sugar dealer gavi me JnV ^ morning a bit of glucose to examine and taste. It resembles wax, in apt?earance, as I said. It cannot be crystalized. Its taste is insipid :uid slightly sweet. So far as its sweetening qual-# ities go, it is hot much better than so much ' chalk. But it costs only four cents a pound, and is, therefore, destined to play an important part in commerce. Among the queer industries unearthed by the statistic takers, are many in which the cost of the raw material is put down in the schedules as nothing. Few people know that large quantities of so-called Jamaica rum are made from old shoes, but in New York and Brooklyn this indnstry was found to be well developed. There are men who buy from the ragpickers all the old shoes collected in their rouud& The good bits of leather are cut off ^ and told for patching up cheap shoes. The rest is treated to some kind of mysterious distillation, and by the aid of pure spirits comes forth in the form of Jamaica rum. A liquor dealer told me that this article is sold not en much to the saloons as to the druggists, who pride thenoselves on the quality of their rum. I A momifanfnror nf tnirilifn natsilT) ig also '* among those who pay nothing for raw material. This man does a business of $18,000 a year, according to his own account. Every year, in the canning season, he sends tube to the firms who can tomatoes, and collects the peelings of the tomatoes. These he grinds up, seasons and sells as tomato catsup,, which it is. . Sam Houston's Romance.?An interest- .*< ing fact has just been made public in regard to Sam Houston. It is well known that in 1828 he married and the next day resigned as Governor of Tennessee, abandoned his bride and went to the Cherokee Agency and thence to Texas. The mystery is now explained after half a century. It appears tliat as the wedding-ceremony was neing performed, Governor Houston noticed that his bride appeared ill at ease. After the ceremony he took her aside and asked her the cause of her agitation. She declined to answer; but he pressed her for an explanation, assuring her that no barm should result to her, and she finally told him that she loved another man who happened to be poor, and that her parents, blinded by Houston's position, had forced her into an unwilling marriage. Houston bade her farewell at once, and.-the uexLcaerning, without a word of explanation to bis friends, he went away. His ,wife, who yet was not his wife, obtained a divbrce, as he had told her to. and married th a man she loved. The story it told by the rpfnfster, wbowws Itopstom'spaitorlccra to 1861, and lis made in answer to an article ?4 published^recently m the St, Louis Giobe-Dcm- * : ocrat in which it is intimated that Houston . fled from Tennessee with, the intention of forming a southwestern Empire in Texas. That might explain his flight, but it does not explain his abandoment of his bride, who was young, beautiful and accomplished, which the present story does. And as it is sufficient explanation, and came from General Houston himself, having been made by him to the lady he subsequently married, it is probably true. It is as romantic as anything that ever was invented, and is another verification of the old adage that the truth is stranger than fic tion. Tiie Columbia Seminary.?The Presbyterian people of South Carolina and Georgia, after a struggle of several years to keep open their Theological Seminary, which formerly had an endowment of some 6250,000. and had and has still a Theological library of 20,000 volumes, were obliged at last to close the institution by reason of the loss of a great part of its endowment during the war and the jersecutions which followed it. But with true Christian courage, they resolved, this autumn, to re-endow and re-open the institution. The Synod of South Carolina resolved to raise 620,000, notwithstanding its poverty, and the Synods of Georgia and Alabama pledged their share of aid also. In hopes of raising some 610,000 by an appeal to theiir bretliren in other Synods hiiving no local interest in the school, Dr. Girardeau was urgently requested to become their spokesman. In fulfilment of their mission he appeared before the Second Presbyterian church of Louisville last Sunday morning. The result of his eloquent appeal, seconded by the pastor, was a contribution of some 61,800, which will probably reach 62,000 when members absent on Sunday are heard from. This is certainly a most graceful tribute to the perseverance and courage of their South Carolina brethren. It is to be hoped that their brethren in Nashville, Memphis, St. Louis and New Orleans will do as generously. When it is remembered that this is the school in which Drs. Thornwell, Adger and Palmer, formerly, and Drs. Woodrow and Girardeau more recently, have figured as professors, it is not surprising that our Presbjderian people feel an interest in it.?Louisville Courier-Jour ml. A New County.? A public meeting. 7as held at Roddey's Hall on last Thursday morning, with' the view of taking steps to secure a new County with Rock Hill as the Countyseat. Colonel J. M. Ivy being called to the chair, stated the object of the meeting. lie was followed by a number of gentlemen who gave good and substantial reasons for the formation of a new County. On motion of W. B. Wilson, Jr., Esq., it was unanimously resolved as the sense of the meeting that the present constitutional requirement of 625 square miles as area of Counties should be so changed as materially to reduce it, and that the chairman appoint a committee of eleven (himself to be included) to take the matter in charge, of which a delegation from their number were requested to proceed to Columbia to consult with the members of the Legislature as to the mode of securing the de sired result. The Chairman appointed on said committee Messrs. W. 13. Wilson Jr., J. R. London, S. E. White and T. C. Robertson, W. L. Roddey, J. R. Davie. Other gentlemen will be added to the committee hereafter. The meeting then adjourned. The spirit of the meeting evinced a strong and unanimous feeling in favor of a new County with its court house at Rock Ilill. The following day Messrs. W. B Wilson, Jr., J. R. London and T. C. Robertson visited Columbia in the interest of the proposed change and upon their return reported most encouraging results.?Borh Hill Herald, tyrd tilt. HatT Mark Twain, having been asked to contribute to the newspaper issued at the fair in aid of abused children in Boston, wrote: "Why "v ~ should I want a 'Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children' to prosper when I have a ^ baby down stairs that kept me awake, several hours last night with no pretext for it but a desire to make trouble? This occurs every night, and it embitters me, because I see how needless it was to put in the other burglar alarm, a costly and complicated contrivance, which cannot be depended upon, because it's ^ always getting out of order and won't go; whereas, although, the baby is always getting out of order too, it can nevertheless be depended on, for the reason that the more it gets out of order the more it does go. Yes, I am bitter against your society, for I think the idea of it is all wrong; but ii you start a Scociety for the Prevention of Cruelty to Fathers I will write you a whole book," *