Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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YORKVIHE ENQUIRER. ISSUED SEMX-WEEKLT. i. k. heists S0J8, Pabiuhen. [ % 48?'l8 4f?r ft* promotion njf ft* fotitinal, ?o*ial, ^jrijnltnp! and Commercial Interests of fh* |ropl*. { ESTABLISHED 1855. YORKvTLj^.sTC., PrRIDAY, JANUARY 81, 1913. "jfO. 9. * ' *****" ? ? *" * ? -- m m I #A1*4kAI> a tfV MAAM m.amU I l\AI*(n#AM<lAnd A# * W ? VamIb 5. ? ? I THE AMERICA I | | By ETTA ? Chapter XVI?Continued. Miss Affry caught quickly at the law- , yer's meaning?yea. read his thoughts , in his face; and without any inten- t tiolal treachery to Mercy, ranged her- ] self promptly on his side. I "Mr. Finch is quite right, Val," she said, with decision. "I don't know what you mean," an- j swered Val, staring blankly from one to l the other; "I am going home to Mercy. 3 Do you think I shall postpone my mar- 1 riage because of anything I have heard here? Not at all. Let me speak to old < Phillips a moment and then we'll be t off." He went out with his great, strange j news, and Mr. Finch walked straight t up to Miss Affry and looked her keenly r in the face. ? "Who is this girl?" he demanded, i "Speak quickly." J "Her name is Mercy Dill. sir. She's ? handsome and good, sir, but"? c "But what?" i "She's very poor, as Val says, and worse than that, she's the daughter of \ a woman who's been before the courts ^ for drinking?a walking gin-bottle sir." j B "Great Ood! and his wife will be the c " future lady of Deepmoor Hall! This comes of your bringing him up in ig- t norance of his birth. How could you al- t low him to become entangled in such a y fashion? Quite inexcusable! Marriage c with a low person would be your nephew's ruin. Sir Godfrey would nev- > er forgive me if I should countenance c it. Do you love the boy? Do you seek _ his best interests? Then help, me to s find some means by which he can be c saved." c Aunt Affry began to whimper. "She's as pretty as an angel, sir. 8 When you see her you'll not wonder at f Val's choice. I will do what 1 van. I y must act for his good, of course. Tes, y I know that everything is changed c now." j "Such a mesalliance would ruin you t both with Sir Godfrey. A new will c would be made and everything but the F entailed property would be snatched 8 from your nephew. It would destroy him socially, also. Merciful Heaven! t he must not throw himself away like 0 this!" Miss Affry had no time to answer. a The return of Val to the inner room cut t short the conversation. "Come!" he cried, with feverish haste F and the trio departed at once from the $ banking-house, leaving Val's fellow- ^ clerks lost in wonder, envy and amaze c at the supreme good fortune which had j, overtaken that beggar Black?Black, j the fellow whom they had all snubbed a without mercy?the great red-haired, r loose-jointed clown, who hadn't the T faintest sign of blue blood about him. T And he was actually the heir of an n English nobleman with no end of man- ^ ore and guineas. It was simply In- a credible?It was abominably unjust! Meanwhile Mr. Finch had called a j( carriage, and determined, in the pres- a ent critical state of affaire, not to lose sight, even for a moment, of Affry e Black or her nephew, he entered the e vehicle with the two, and rolled off to t Seedy Court. j, Few words were spoken on the way. s As they drew up at the door of No. 10 r Mr. Finch cast one comprehensive look r around him, then followed his compan- ? ions into the house?into the humble r sitting-room which Miss Affry had left r In such trepidation an uour or two be- a fore. "Call Mercy," said Val. t Miss Affry went to the foot of the stair r and called accordingly. No answer. e She ascended to the landing above, and j, rapped at the door of the back cham- f ber. No answer. t "Mercy," cried the old woman, "come v down?Val Is here and he has news for r you?great news!" f No voice replied. She opened the door a and looked into the room. The gray t wedding-dress was lying on the bed, j with the little maker's needle still shin- c ing in an unfinished fold. On the sill j of the open window bloomed the boxes t of flowers which the girl loved. Over . all shone the mournful light of the , waning afternoon?but Mercy herself j was not there. Not there, nor In any j other part of the o'd lodging-house. Ten minutes after, Miss Affry with a j pale, scared face, burst into the shabby j sitting-room, where Val was stalking to and fro mad with impatience. I "Mercy's not in the house!" she j cried; "I've looked everywhere, Val. ( What can have become of her? I don't ? understand it?do -you? She's taken her J hat and shawl, and she's gone, I say? j don't stare at me like that?she's y gone!" , CHAPTER XVII. 1 A Mystery. I "Gone. Whither?" "She must have stepped out on some < errand after I left the court," said Miss Affry. j "Errand! What errand?" cried Val, a great pang of nameless fear stabbing through his heart. "How can I tell?" "Speak to the other lodgers?they 1 may know something about her." "There's not a single lodger in the 1 house, Val?no one but Mercy is ever j here by daytime, as you know well." ' He rushed up the stairs, two steps 1 at a bound, and Miss Affry followed. J Evidently her simple statements were ' too much for him to believe. When, 1 however, he had proved their truth ] when he had searched, called, and 1 shouted but found no Mercy, he plant- ' ed himself before the old woman, with 1 a pale, dazed face. "What does this mean?" he demand- ' ed. ( "The Lord only knows," she answer- 1 ed, irritably. "One thing is certain ' you've gone clean daft, as the Scotch say, laddie. Now, let me tell you, if ' you marry that girl tonight, you will J repent it till your dying day. Take < time?take a few days, at least, for 1 deliberation Val. Think of Moll Dill as the mother-in-law of the future Sir ( Valentine Arbuckle, of Deepmoor Park! ' Oh, Val! you have never seen the plac< yet, you know nothing of its grandeur ?I do. Listen to Mr. Finch?to me"? | For the first time in his life he re- i puisea ner?riung on me eager nanus which she laid upon his arm. "Stop! I thought it all over that night when you read of the death of Sir Godfrey's sons?when you told me my real name and gave me my mother's wedding-ring. It's very strange, but you don't seem to understand that I love Mercy. Come, she cannot have gone far, she will be back in a moment. Good God! she must! Is anything missing from her room?" "Only her hat and shawl, as I told you. Let us go back to Mr. Finch." They returned to the sitting-room where they found the London lawyer standing at a window, plunged in troubled thought. He had found the heir of Deepmoor, but in what peril! And how was he to be extricated therefrom? Miss Affry advanced to his side, and placed in his hand the "marriage lines" of Christine Black, remarking, as she did so, that the wedding-ring was in the possession of Miss Dill, who had gone out upon an errand, and would be in again directly. Val unable to contain himself, began to walk up and down the floor, turning, at every other step, to look anxiously to the door. "You see how we live," he said to Peter Finch, with a shrug of his high shoulders. "We have always been like this, or a great deal worse. I am more American than English, and shall be I dare say, to the end of the chapter. iN COUNTESS | '. PIERCE. | f KH^KKyKN>l?XyKH>? Fou need not expect to make a suc t'ssful aristocrat out of me. It's only l few weeks ajrn vn:i know thnt Annr (V-ffry first told me that I possessed luch a thing: as noble blood. Left tc nyself, I can swear I should neve' lave suspected It." Mr. Pinch smiled Indulgently. "When you reach England?when rou once find yourself at Deepmoor, >elleve me, you will begin to realize four true position; the old Arbuckle >lood in you will make Itself felt" Aunt AfTry had fallen into an arm:hair, and was having a Joyful cry all :o herself. "Deepmoor!" she sobbed. "Oh, Val, rou can't think how grand you will be here! What a rent-roll the old barolet had?what family plate and jew>ls! What timber there was in the >ark?what splendor everywhere! And pou will be 'my -lord.' My head spins is I think of it! Now, laddie, don't? lon't go to spoiling everything by an insultable, headstrong marriage!" Val wheeled about and looked at her vlth keen eyes. "In Heaven's name, what has turned 'ou so suddenly against Mercy?" ho lemanded. "Nothing has turned me against ler," said Affry, boldly; "that's not he proper word, Val. I speak only for 'our good. Val Black, the poor bank lerk, might marry whom he liked, sven a girl from the gutter; but not Valentine Arbuckle, the heir of a barmet. Can you take her to Deepmoor -can you present her to Sir Godfrey ls its future lady? You know you ?n't?vmi know that evorvthlnc In hanged now." "Exactly!" put in Peter Finch, who aw like Miss Affry, that be must imtrove his opportunity. "Stop, I beg of 'ou, and reflect a itittle. Even the oung person herself, under present lrcumstances, cannot, in reason, obect to a delay. My dear sir, for your incle's sake?for the sake of the grand ild family whose last male represenative you are, I entreat you to conilder well what you do." Val ran his fingers through his red lair till it stood up like porcupine luills all over his head. "And you think my uncle would be ingry at this marriage which I pro>ose to make?" he demanded, roughly. "More than angry?he would besimily furious," answered Mr. Finch, with leclslon; "for he is a born aristocrat, vlth all the peculiar prejudices of his ilass. He has sent for you to come to ilm?to comfort and console him durng his last days. You owe some conideration to him and to your father's tame, do you not? I must protest, vith Miss B!ack. against any step vhich is likely to embitter Sir Godfrey .gainst you?any messalliance which nay fill you with regret and chagrin in ifter years." Val looked steadily at his companons. His commonplace face had grown lmost grand. "You say that everything is changd," said he; "I am not changed?I am xactly the same person that I was wenty-four hours ago. Come, you two lave entered into an alliance, offen ive and defensive, I see. You both nean one thing. Yoi; want me to break ny word with the sweetest, loveliest rirl on earth because I suddenly find nyself the heir of a lord. Why, the lobler a man is by birth, the more ishamed he ought to be of a mean acion. You ask me to have conslderaion for the pride and prejudice of a elatlve who helped to drive my fathr and mother to ex.le and death?who tas left me unrecognized for twentyive years, and for whom I do not care he flip of a finger?hi Heaven's name ?rhy should I??but none for the wonan I love with all my heart, and have aithfully promised to marry. Your irguments are good, I dare s*y, but hey don't affect me. I tell you franky that the girl from the gutter, as you all her?to me she seems both a herone and an angel?is more precious han your titles, your ancestral blood rour Deepmoors. As God hears me, I vant no delays, and I will have none. Neither friends nor enemies shall part ne from Mercy. You mean well, but rou don't understand the case at all. I ove her, and I am going to marry ler!" He said it with a quiet resolution hat was simply appalling to his two isteners. Neither could find voice to ipeak, hut Aunt Affry gave the lawyer i look which said plainly, "All is lost!" \8 for Val, with tne air or one wno las settled a matter, he strode to the vindow and looked anxiously out. Already the sunset shadows stretched ong and dark in the court. "This is passing strange!" he cried n a fever of wonder and anxiety; 'where is she?where can she be, Aunt \ffry?" "I'm sure I haven't an idea," said \unt Affry, In a?i aggrieved tone; 'don't ask me." Val seized his hat. "I can't stand this?it is too much. I'm going to find her," he said, and rushed out of the house. Whither should he go? Never was i man more comp-etely at a loss. Mercy had no friends no acquaintances. No amount of loneliness had ever brought her to mingle with her fellowcreatures of the "gutter." Her hard, bitter life had made her shrink from rather than seek associates. Val did not know of a place on earth where she could possibly be detained at this hour. He tore oft* to the Aid Society rooms, only to find them closed for the night. By this time the sun had set; the city streets were already growing lark. Val hurried back to Seedy Court, confident that Mercy must have reached the house before him; but no! Miss Affry had spread her tea-table and lighted the oil-lamps in the little sitting-room; but Mercy was not there. Mr. Finch and the old woman occupied the place alone. "What! you haven't found her?" cried Miss Affry. .-taring aghast as Val entered. "No." he answered. Thev looked at each other, and both grew pale. It wis plain, beyond all question, that something: had happened?but what? No ordinary matter could keep the girl from home?from her lover, at the very hour appointed for her marriage. Mr. Finch was the only person who tasted the tempting: supper. His legal mind remained calm amid the general disturbance. He could scarcely be expected to sympathize with Val in his fierce anxiety and, indeed, he did not; he simply preserved a grave silence. As it is clearly necessary to first catch your hare before dressing him, so the lawyer perceived that it would be wise to find the girl before raising further objections to Val's marriage with her. Unless she appeared soon, the obnoxious union could not take place this night, at least, and the prospect of any delay, however brief, he hailed with secret joy. "Most extraordinary!" said Mr. Finch to himself: "but for the honor of the Arbuckle name?for the sake of this half-civiliztd young hot-head who is as ready to ruin himself for a pretty face as was his father before him?yes; and for the sake of his posterity, I hope to Heaven he will never set eyes on the g'rl again." One by one Miss Affry's lodgers? brought home, like errant fowl, by the fall of night?began to scrape their 'eet at the door, and ascend the stairs with more or less noise. Every fresh arrival was a signal for Val to give a wild start of expectation and a plunge into the hall, from which he returned ! again and again, blank and pale with disappointment Clearly he had tor( gotten his new prospects, his new name even. When eight o'clock struck he snatched up his hat again. "I am going to the police station," he said, hoarsely. "Pray let me bear you company," cried Mr. Finch, with great cheerfulness; "I wish to send a cable dispatch to Sir Godfrey, at Deepmoor. He must be told at once that his nephew is found, and that we may be expected to appear before him shortly in Lincolnshire." The two departed together. Alone in her shabby sitting-room, Aunt Affry sat down to await their return, and to think over the events of this extraordinary day. Mercy's disappearance I namlpTori anH amafaH hoi- PTPotlv "God forbid that any evil should overtake the child!" she said to herself with a shiver of dread, "I am very fond of Mercy, though I don't want Val to marry her?though it's against all sense and reason that he should marry her now. But I will be a good friend to her; she shall never suffer want again?never! I will send her to school?Val will let me, I know?I will fit her for a teacher or something. She shall never again sew for a living? Where is she?where can she be? Why did she go away at such a time, and without leaving any message behind her? Oh, dear! oh, dear! I know that something is wrong; I feel it in the very marrow of my bones!" Something was wrong, for Val searched till the night was past, and throughout the length and breadth of the great city. No tidings could he anywhere glean oif Mercy Dill. In the gray, foggy morning the distracted lover, still attended by Mr. Finch, stalked into the sitting-room at Seedy Court, where Miss AfTry was keeping sleepless vigil, and, haggard, breathless, exhausted flung himself into the nearest chair. There was scarcely a look of easy-going Val Black left in his pale face. "She's not here?" he said, hoarsely, glancing around the room. "Why do 1 ask that?I know she's not; but I've heard of her." "How?what?" gasped Miss AfTry, in wild alarm. Val thrust his hands into his pockets, and dropped his head upon his breast?the picture of gloom and despair. "I went first to the station-houses," he said, "then to the Aid Society folks, and the preacher at the Mission and not a soul could give me the smallest information about Mercy. The earth doesn't often open and swallow a per son bodily; and so It occurred to Mr. Finch that somebody right here?some body in Seedy Court might know of her disappearance. We came back to our starting-point, and knocked at every door, rousing people and making inquiries, and at No. 9, we found a woman who gave us a clue." The words began to stick in his throat, and Mr. Finch, who looked mortally tired and disgusted, made no attempt to help him with the narrative. "Speak, Val!?what is it?" urged Miss Affry. "It's a cursed mystery?that's what it is!" cried Val with a red, wrathful, gleam in his hazel eyes. "According to the woman, a close carriage drove into the court about three o'clock yesterday and stopped at this door. She was sitting at her window, and saw it all. A man leaped from the seat and rang the bell, and Mercy answered?of course she did for she was the only person in the house. The two spoke together, and then?my Qod! what does it mean, Aunt AfTry? Can you, will you, try to understand it??Mercy came out with hat and shawl on, entered the carriage and rode away." Miss Affry grew as stiff as a ramrod. "Who was the man?" "I would give my right hand to know!" "Where's Moll Dill? It is some trick of hers, perhaps. She's spirited the girl away, or something?who knows?" Mr. Finch smiled. It was scarcely probable that Moll would come to Seedy Court In a close carriage to abduct her daughter by broad daylight. The gloom on Val's face deepened. "We've seen Moll Dill," he answered. "We got her address from the Mission preacher, and rode out Into the country six miles or more, to the farm where she's at work- We called her up from bed, and told her of Mercy's flitting. She was as cross as two sticks?sullen, and not Inclined to answer our questions or hold any conversation with us. But she knows nothing of her daughter?I am sure of that; the close carriage affair amazed her quite as much as It does you." The next moment he leaped up and began to walk the floor In great agitation. "My God! what does it mean?" he groaned. "My head is in a whirl?I don't think I quite comprehend anything! Why should she go away with a stranger a few hours before our appointed marriage, and why didn't she leave some word or line for me? It's beyond belief! I have put the detectives to work?they will ferret out the truth of the matter before long." Mr. Finch wiped his manly brow, and took a pinch of snuff from a silver snuff box. Viewed from his standpoint Mercy's mysterious disappearance was a most opportune and fortunate thin?. "We have had an exhausting night of it," he remarked. "Indeed, this is a most unhappy business, Mr. Arbuckle, especially as it diverts your attention from the important matters of which it is my duty to remind you. I telegraphed to Sir Godfrey last evening that we should sail at once for England. He will expect to see us in Lincolnshire at the earliest possible moment. Every day, every hour of unnecessary delay will seem an eternity to the man who is waiting?dying, kinlcss and alone? at Deepmoor." Val lifted his haggard eyes. "When I have found Mercy I will be ready to go with you," he answered, "not until then." "Suppose you do not find her?" said Mr. Finch, dryly. "It is barely possible that she may not wish to be found." "What do you mean?" demanded Val, fiercely. Mr. Finch took a second pinch of snuff. The wan, dubious dawn slanted into the room, and fell over the faces of the three, haggard and worn, every one. with weariness or anxiety. "My dear sir, sit down again, I beg you," said Mr. Finch, "you look quite used up. It is plain, is it not, that Miss Dill has left the city? Now did she go willingly or unwillingly, aione or with company? You say that she is very beautiful. Possibly you are not her only admirer." Val's countenance changed. Upon his mental vision, a swarthy, pockmarked face flashed suddenly?a lean, alert, glittering-eyed face?it struck him dumb with consternation. "Believe me, sir, blood will tell," went on Mr. Finch with composure. "A man runs a great risk always in choosing a wife with such antecedents as hers. She could not have gone unwillingly in broad day, and from a place like this?the thing is impossible; and if she meant to return to you, why did she not leave some explanation behind her? I fear that you have been deceived?that further search for the young person will prove altogether useless. At this very moment you ought to be thanking Heaven for your escape from a great peril." Colorless, almost breathless, Val glared at the lawyer. "Tf vnu tnlk like this." he cried. "I shall be tempted to kill you! Why don't you speak, Aunt Affry. You know what Mercy Is. Have you nothing to ' say for her now?" But Miss Affry had gone over unreservedly to the foe. "Don't appeal to me," she answered sharply, "what can I, or any other honest person say for a glr! that leaves her home and her lover without a word and goes away In a strange carriage, with a strange man, and doesn't come back to the marriage?doesn't come back all the night? Now I'll tell you a secret, Val. That foreign music-man Discordo that left a week ago, was mad for Mercy?I shal speak of It now, though I promised once I wouldn't. He went on like one demented In this very room when he heard she was going to marry you?swore that he loved her to distraction, and that his heart was broken, and all that. Ah, I'm afraid he was deeper than I thought?that Ital- 1 ian. If anybody has coaxed her. from you, Val, he is the man.' Mr. Finch coughed expressively. | Val's pale face reddened with Jeal ous wrath. Discordo!" he cried, in fierce dis- 1 gust, "don't mention that fellow. Mer- ' cy detested him. It is true that he 1 made love to her?I wish now that I j had wrung his neck for it!?but she > never listened to him?never! There's an infernal mystery about the matter *?it's too much for me, I'll own, but don't say that Mercy has deceived me ?don't tell me she is anything but the _ good, sweet angel which I know her to be. I'm not going to believe wrong of her without proper evidence, am I? I'm not going to damn her with your suspicions? God help me! No!" C He walked up to Peter Finch and laid one hand on his shoulder. "Have patience," he said, simply, "do not you see that it's impossible for me * to go to England till my mind is made p easy about her? that it's useless to ask Q me to think of anything or anybody ? else for the present? When I have ' found her, I will be at your disposal, c and Sir Godfrey may command me as 1 he likes; but, till then, leave me to myself." Mr. Finch was a man of varied experience. He knew the human heart? v he understood the desperate and ephe- c meral nature of youthful passion. It could not be many'days, at the farth- 8 est, before Val would be disenchanted, e "Affry is right," he thought, "my word c for It?Discordo Is the man!" Aloud he said to Val: "Very well. I will not urge you further. Call upon me for any aid which s you may require?I am quite at your i service." . Mr. Finch then proposed that the 11 two, in accordance with their altered ! circumstances, should leave Seedy h Court at once, and take up temporary * quarters with him, at his hotel; but to this Val would not listen. 8 "Mercy shall not come back and find e the place deserted," he said, resolute- a ly, "for In that case she would not h know what had befallen us. Let Aunt Affry rid the house of her lodgers as P soon as she likes, but while we stay in r America, for God's sake, let us stay h here." And Val had his way. 11 Three days passed?three days which p no coming splendor, no future honors t would ever erase from the memory of Val Black?three days in which he searched and fumed, hoped and de- n spalred and Anally settled into a t moody, reticent frame of mind, the like g of which Miss Affry had never seen befnrp 8 The mystery of Mercy Dill's disap- s pearance was a mystery still. No skill t of the detectives had been able, as yet, to obtain the smallest clue of her whereabouts. Mr. Finch smiled with * secret satisfaction. This American- n born Arbuckle was not likely, after all, n to disgrace the family name. Miss Affry, figuratively speaking 1 washed her hands of the missing girl, n and clamored to be gone from the land h of her long toll and privation. "Dear me!" she said to the London * lawyer, "how long will that miserable 1 boy keep us waiting here, while he t; hunts the city over on a fool's errand? a I long to be on the voyage. Why, Sir , Godfrey will be dead as a door-nail ** before we ever get to Deepmoor!" to The fourth day came?raw, dark, g miserable. In the old living room at ? Seedy Court, so soon to be deserted by its present occupants, Miss Affry, Val * and Mr. Finch were gathered round a a late breakfast The altered fortunes of aunt and nephew were already perceptible in the dainties on the board, and In the smart cap and silk gown, fresh 1 from the shop, which added unwonted r splendor to Miss Affry's small, crooked v body. Soon, very soon, the moldy lodging-house would know its mistress and c her busy ways no more; and, as If con- b scious of the fact, the battered furni- t ture seemed to shrink forlorn Into the corners, and the very tick-tick of the clock on the mantel was sad with v echoes of farewell. g "Val," said Miss Alfry, addressing g with some severity, the distrait, Jaded fellow on the other side of the table who looked like anything but the fa- d vorlte of fortune which he was, "are b you not growing tired of this?" j, "God knows I am!" he answered, briefly. p "You drive me crazy! What good I will any tidings of that girl do you t now? Why should you care whether she Is In Boston or Babylon, after what has happened?" * "For the hundredth time. Aunt At- v fry," answered Val, In a dogged, de- v termlned voice, "I tell you that I shall not leave this city till I hear from 0 Mercy Dill. It doesn't matter whether n the news be good or bad, here I stay p till it comes, and you must be content." .. "Content!" sniffed Miss Affry, "with Deepmoor waiting for us on the other y side of the water"? i She paused, startled by a sudden s ring at the bell. A "It's the morning post," said Val, as he arose from the table and went to J the door. n In a moment he was back again with c a letter in his hand?a square letter, superscribed with the name of Mr. V. 1 Black, and postmarked New York. II Moved oy me same ioreoouing, miss 0 Aflfry and Peter Finch arose also from the table. "Open It?quick, Val!" cried the old S woman, breathlessly. J With a hand that shook in spite of all his efforts to keep it firm, Val tore apart the envelope, drew from It a c sheet of paper, and read these words c aloud. I "Dear Val:?Don't look for me. don't ^ think of me any longer, for I am married to Mr. Discordo, and before you ' receive this, we shall be on our way to t his own land?Italy. I thought I cared a for you till he came, but he loved me ? so much that I was forced, somehow, to love him In return. It was better to f leave you, was it not, than to marry ? you when my heart was given to him? t I am sorry I had to deceive you, Val? I am afraid you are very angry, but I 8 could not help it; and because you will r never see me more, you must forgive r and forget Mercy." g A moment of profound silence fol- 8 lowed the reading. * "Now," said Peter Finch, in a tone c of irranrpsslhlp satisfaction "I hoDe r you are satisfied, sir!" Val held out the letter to Miss Af- 0 fry pointing to its crude, ill-formed I characters. t "Is this her writing, Aunt Affry?" e "I'm sure I don't know?I never saw any writing of hers?I'm not sure that n she could write at all. Oh, the deceit- \ ful little hussy! And we both thought a her a born angel! It's just as I told you, then?she went with the Italian. 11 He'll abuse her; I dare say he'll make * her go round with a monkey and a v hurdy-gurdy yet; and good enough for her! Well, what could one expect of Moll Dill's daughter?" f Val tore the letter straight across. o "Don't look as if you were glad!" he j] cried, fiercely. "She never wrote it! t It's all a lie?a trumped-up lie! M;> God! How could she treat me so?? * she, with her-face like heaven itself! I Ii would have educated her?made her fit t for any position; I would have loved . her, low-born or not, to the end of m " days; I would"? v The words died on his lips. The torn " sheet fell from his clutch. He stag- ^ gered, great, strong fellow that he was. and, overcome with long anxiety, d with bitter disappointment, and Heaven only knows what other strong emo- y tion besides, fell like a log to the floor or tne sunng-room. 9 The next transatlantic steamer that fl sailed from the port of Boston, carried among: Its cabin passengers a little old l woman with defective eyes, a shrewd, 0 kindly face and an air of newly-acquired Importance: a little, gray, wrin- r kled man, burdened with many wraps, and looking well pleased to find his g feet planted, at last, on a homeward- r bound ship; and a broad-shouldered, red-haired young fellow, who passed ^ most or ms rime smoKing on aeca ani staring meditatively out to sea. Farewell to America, to the old poverty-pinched life, and all its associations: farewell to Val Black! Thai plebeian person had now vanished from the knowledge of man, and Valentine Arbuckle, the heir of blue blood and great possessions, had sprung tc life in his place?Sir Valentine Arbuckle, I might say; for when the big steamer left her East Boston wharf and plowed away down the blue harbor, Sir Godfrey Arbuckle, at Deepmoor Hall Lnlcolnshlre, had already been dead several hours. (To be continued.) djdisrtUattrouj: grading. PARDON3 AND PAROLE8. Governor Submits Clemency Record and His Reasons. Governor Blease on yesterday sent to he senate a statement of the pardons, >aroles and commutations that he has rdered during the year, and accompa iled the game with the following letter if transmission: Po the Honorable, the Members of the State Senate of South Carolina. Oentlcmen: Twelve months ago, ehen I stated in my message to you, onveying the list of pardons, paroles nd commutations, which I had grantid, "I take pleasure in accepting the onstruction of the Constitution, which 9, that I should make such report V some people criticised me by aylng that I had to make such report o the general assembly, and that that anguage In my message was useless. I beg leave to call your attention, towever. to Section 11, Article IV of he Constitution, which reads: "It hall be his duty to report to the genral assembly, at the next regular sesIon thereafter, all pardons granted by ilm;" and does not require of me to resent any reasons for the paroling eprleving or commuting any prisoner iy me, but I set forth then, as I am dong now, my reasons not only of the lardons as required by the Constltulon but of the paroles, commutations nd reprieves, because I want all of ay acts as governor of South Carolina o be known to the public; and, as I a1<I T *&* % a at nAti? T dm nnl ?UU IIIVIJ) a lopvai *iv*Tf A au* mw? fraid of them; for the endorsement rhlch I received from seventy-two housand two hundred and forty-three f my white fellow citizens Is pretty trong proof of the fact that my administration was endorsed, and If the machine had given me all the votes hat were cast for me and my op points had not used money, whisky and ntlmidation, Instead of being seventywo thousand two hundred and fortyhree It would have been at least nlney thousand, as I predicted at the beinnlng of the campaign, and as a very Etrge number of my fellow citizens now lelleve, fully feeling that I was not riven all of the votes which were cast or me. besides the ones which were akpna, from me for the reasons just bove mentioned. I furthermore laid in my said letter if transmittal: "I fear no harm from he fact that I have shown mercy to ny fellow men, but I do expect a regard, not only here, but hereafter, beause I believe that there is a God; I ielleve that He is my God; I believe hat but for His help I would have nevr been governor of South Carolina." I /as not disappointed, for my people ave me my reward?a second term as "overnor of my state, and I believe hat my reward hereafter will come in lue season for I still believe that only y the help of God Almighty could I lave won my first race, and I know lositlvely that only by His help could have defeated the unholy organizaion that was formed against me last ummer by men of two different faclons which hated each other then and /ho hate each other now, but were /tiling to lie down and swap odors in rder to defeat Blease. Think of it? nany preachers, nearly all the newspaiers of the state, the corporations, that 3, tne leaaing'omciaia mereui, me lowers almost In a body; a large majorty of the legislature; nearly all the tate officials; a large majority of the lelegates to the state convention In -lay; all the money interests; a large najorlty of the commercial travelers ommonly called "drummers;" some of he women, praying, some of the oldIne so-called reformers; some of the Id-line so-called conservatives; many >f the Haskellltes; the Cubans; the Spaniards and the mixed-breeds; a maority of the state executive committee; large majority of the county executive ommlttees and all of the election mahinery?what a combination and yet beat it. Therefore, I know that God leard the prayers of myself and my rlends; and, I repeat that had it not ?een for Him I could not have won uch a victory, and once again I sing Praise God rrom wnom an DieBsuiBB low." And, as I said and repeat now, I will answer to Him for all my acts; o my people for my acts as governor md I have no apologies to make to any nan or set of men for a single parole, lardon or commutation that I have Tanted," or for a single act that I lave done since I have been governor if South Carolina, or for a single word have spoken whether in the state or >utside of it, firmly believing that my ?ardon record for the past two years lad more to do with causing my relection than any other thing, because ny Heavenly Father has said that he rould show mercy to those who themelveB showed mercy, and my people ny friends, all over the state, when I vould give my reasons iur ptuuu.w.i6 vould holler "well done," and when I vould say, "I am not done yet," In delance of the Cuban mixed-breeds and thers of a like stripe, my friends would toller back, "Turn them out," "Go on, ?oy, you are right," and on the tweny-seventh day of August, nineteen lundred and twelve they proceeded to urn out of your body and out of the louse of representatives many of those vho had been loud-mouthed hollerers, pardoning too many people," and some lad to change front or profess to have lone so, to keep also from going out. I said on the stump, "If you don't yant people pardoned don't sign petllons, for If proper petitions are preented I am going to turn more out, md you can't help It." I am still doing buslnes at room No. , State House, Columbia South CarUna, and though it hurts some folks nighty bad, they can't help It. Make someone else happy; why be Touchy, mean, stingy, selfish; wake up, nan, and do something yourself and Lult complaining about Bomebody else i wuu in uuaj una moving iorwara in good deeds., ' "Jest do your best and praise or blame that follers that counts just the same. I I've alius noticed grate success Is mix' ed with trouble more or less. ^ An' It's the man that does the best, ) that gets more blame than all the rest" Tour Constitution says, In speaking of the grvernor: "He shall take care that the laws be faithfully executed In mercy." and I see and know of no grander way to apply this than to follow the rule, "That mercy I would to others show, that mercy show to me," but I reverse it somewhat, because I expect to say, when I appeal for mercy, "That mercy I have to others shown that mercy show to me." Tour code of Laws, Volume n, Section 988, reads: 'In any case that may be deemed proper by the governor, he ma.V HllTtAnS untanM nr mmIa ?? prisoner upon such terms or conditions that he may deem just in the exercise of executive clemency." Now, with that section of the statutes and the section Just quoted from the Constitution it is a matter within the discretion of the governor as to how this mercy shall be extended, and as to when he thinks it Just and proper and upon what conditions the parole of a prisoner should be granted, consequently, before any fair man or any gentleman will criticise the governor of his state for exercising this discretion, he will first make himself acquainted with the facts and conditions upon which the parole was granted, and not simply from political prejudice, write an editorial or preach a sermon, or stand on the street corner and criticise, when he knows nothing of the reasons governing the governor In performing the duties laid out for him so plainly under the Constitution and the statute law of his state. But those who are blinded by prejudice, or those who have a wicked and mean heart, for political purposes, proceed to condemn without knowing one thing of the conditions or one thing of the petitions, or one thing of the reasons governing the governor in his acts. Hence when the matter was presented to the people, as a body, being a Christian people, they slapped the faces of those who from a malicious heart or political prejudices had maligned the governor and said to him, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant, thou shall be our ruler for two more years" and the other crowd sneaked into their holes and hollered "fraud," "fraud," and appointed a little committee to investigate. And It, the little committee although very brazen at first, laid down their arms, quietly sneaked off to their homes, and said "Nothing doing" and the whole crowd feel cheaper and meaner than If they had abided, as good Democrats should do, by the majority and not maae a laugmng hock 01 memmvei not only in their own state, but outside of It. Some people may say this Is harsh language, that I ought not to use it; yet, the newspapers notwithstanding the fact that after the primary election I sat quietly, said nothing and took all that was heaped upon me, continued their abuse, their vituperation and their slanders, and published with great headlines and great glee the misrepresentations of a speech that I made In Richmond. Virginia. Day after day they carried articles copied from Yankee hoodlums and little newspaper pimps, and then when they were furnished with numbers of papers and offered hundreds of telegrams and letters commending the course of the governor of South Carolina, they absolutely failed and refused to publish them; and, when other papers speak of the governor In disrespectful terms, without either saying "Mister" or "Governor" but headline "Blease," for which I care nothing, because the people of the state have shown the newspapers that they make asses of themselves when they bray and re-elect to office those whom they fight, yet even the News and Courier goes further, not content in striking me. they headline to the world? "The Bleases," including even my wife, and yet people say that I should be quiet, should say nothing, be easy, let it pass. Yes, gentlemen, I have let It pass, lo these many days but how long before patience will cease to be a virtue is a matter that rests in the hands of my God. , Herewith I hand you a full statement of all the paroles commutations, reprieves and pardons granted by me since m last message to the general assembly, in January. 1912. If you are pleased with these commutations, etc., I am pleased. If my friends are pleased, I am overjoyed with delight. If my enemies are not pleased, they cannot help it as I told them on the stump, and their sweating and fuming will avail them naught. So it is; so let be. I exercised my power in paroling, for I consider the parole system the best system ever devised for the handling of convicts. Now, for Instance, you parole a man during good behavior, who possibly has served more than half of the sentence imposed upon him?sometimes they have been paroled when they only had three or four more months to serve?you ao noi lura mm loose, but say to him go forth, make a man of youvself, for If you do not, and you are ever convicted again, you have to go back and serve the remainder of the sentence Imposed. Now, If these men had gone ahead and served out their sentences, they would be footloose to do as they please and no restraint placed upon their actions. Even a life prisoner may be paroled; it is simply giving him another chance in life; and how many men who profess to be great Christians would be living and enjoying the blessings of this life, had not God forgiven them and given them another chance? The parole, dur.ng good behavior, means what? Good behavior means that he shall not violate any of the criminal laws of this state, because men are bound over to keep the peace or good behavior. If they violate any of the criminal laws of their state, they are not of good behavior, and they can be recommitted to the penitentiary without trial, to serve the remainder of their sentences. The system I have now established In South Carolina will be followed hereafter by other governors, possibly not so many will be paroled, but the system itself will be kept In vogue. The same system is being tried in other states; some going even icu iiici auu anvntuB iixaxx iu wuin himself out by his good behavior in the penitentiary. Take one case, particularly, a negro had been In the penitentiary for eighteen years for killing another negro, which I consider a most unusual and severe punishment for his crime; he Is paroled during good behavior; he Is given another opportunity to live. If he disturbs the peace or violates any of the criminal statutes of this state, he goes back to the penitentiary for life; that condition hangs over 'him, and he knows that if he is not of good behavior, he goes back to serve the remainder of his sentence. Another Instance, a white man sentenced to the penitentiary for a long term, for a crime committed while under the Influence of liquor; parole him on the condition that he take not another drop of liquor If he does and thereby violate* hit parole, he goes back to serve the balance of hla aentence. Therefore, how any man who professes to be a Christian can object to thla system la something beyond my comprehenalon; and, when one doea it, I am forced to the conclusion Inevitably that he ia a deep-dyed hypocrite, that he ia not what he profeaaea, and when he standa before hla God on the final judgment day. that he will be condemned and will hear the words, "Depart from me, ye accursed," and he will be confined to the everlasting Area of hell for his hypocrisy and will then be reminded that "For inasmuch as he did it not unto the least of these, he did it not unto his God;" and I beg to quote you right here, from an article published in the Columbia State, dated December 1, 1912, written by that great Christian man?oh, that South Carolina had thousands more like him?the Rev. J. S. Moffatt, D. D., president of Brkslne college, in which he says: "It would follow also that in the prison life there should be brought to bear all possible forces for the restoration or rne umorrunare ones. j-,ei rneu surroundings be such, and the agencies that influence them be luch, and the method* of dealing with them be auch a* will influence them to higher personal and social Ideals. The indeterminate sentence and a system of parolee are to be considered as inspiring the condemned to higher Ideals and larger hopes. Above all, let the gospel of Jesus Christ, that greatest of all agencies for the transformation of human life and character, come into the lonely cell with its love and light, brought by loving and yearning hearts. The prison house may become to some a Bethel." I am proud that I have been able to extend this mercy to my fellow man, because It was right that It should have been done; It was my duty to do It, and for these two reasons alone I did It, regardless of consequences or re* suits, remembering that: "That man may last, but never lives Who much receives and nothing gives; Whom none can love; whom none can thank; v"1* Creation's blot; creation's blank. "But he who marks from day to day, In generous acts his radiant way. Treads the same path the Bavlor trod, The path to glory and to Ood." Very respectfully, Cole L. Blease, Governor. Columbia S. C., January, 1913. THE FIGHT FOR PURITY Organization on Scientific Line* Against 8ocial Evil, New York, January 27.?The bureau of social hygiene came into existence about two years ago, as a result of the work of the special grand Jury appointed to investigate the white slave traffic In New York city, which .served during the first half of the year 1910. One of the recommendations made by it in the presentment handed up at the termination of Its labors was that a public commission be appointed to study the social evil. The foreman of that body subsequently gave careful consideration to the character of the work which might properly be done by such a commission and the limitations ?WI^W I* VM fVila UllUCi nuivil li TfUUiU vyvtavv. J.u v?**w connection, separate, personal conferences were held with over a hundred leading men and women In the city, among whom were lawyers, physicians, business men, bank presidents, presidents of commercial organizations, clergymen, settlement workers, social workers, labor leaders and reformers. These conferences developed the feeling that a public commission would labor under a number of disadvantages, such as the fact that it would be short lived; that Its work would be done publicly; that at best it could hardly do more than present recommendations. The conviction also grew that the main reason why more permanent results had not been obtained by the various organizations which had dealt with the subject of the social evil during the past ten or fifteen years was that most of them were temporary. While active, they materially Improved the situation, but as their effort.} were relaxed, there came the Inevitable return to much the same conditions as before. The forces of evil are never greatly alarmed at the organization of investigating or reform bodies, for they know that they are generally composed of busy people, who cannot turn aside from their own affairs for any great length of time to carry on reforms, and that sooner or later their efforts, will cease, and the patient denizens of the underworld and their exploiters can then reappear and continue the traffic as formerly So the conviction grew that In order to ifiake a real and lasting improvement In conditions, a permanent organization should be created, the continuation of which would not be dependent upon a temporary wave of reform nor upon the life of any man or group of men, but which would go on, generation after generation, continuously making warfare against the forces of evil. It also appeared that a private organization would have, among other advantages, a certain freedom from publicity and from political bias, which a publicly appointed commlslor. could not so easily avoid. Therefore, as the Initial step, in the winter of 1911 the bureau of social hygiene was formed. Its present members are Miss Katharine Bement Davis, su |/v* iiivciiuciu vi iuc iicw xui a nave re* formatory for women at Bedford Hllla. New York; Paul M. Warburg, of the firm of Kuhn, I?oeb A company; Starr J. Murphy, of the New York bar; and John D. Rockefeller, Junior. Aa the work develop*, new member* may be added. One of the first thing* undertaken by the bureau was the establishment at Bedford Hllla adjacent to the reformatory, of a laboratory of social hygiene under Miss Davis's direction. In this laboratory, It is proposed to study from the physical, mental, social and moral side each person committed to the reformatory. This study will be carried on by experts and each case will be kept under observation for from three weeks to three months, as may be required. When the diagnosis is completed it is hoped that the laboratory will be In position to recommend the treatment most likely to reform the Individual, or. If reformation Is lmpos biuiv. iu (cwmniraa permanent cuixodial care. Furthermore, reaching out beyond the individual* involved, it is believed that thus important contributions may be made to a fuller knowledge of the conditions ultimately responsible for vice. If this experiment Is successful, the principle may prove applicable to all classes of criminals and the conditions precedent to crime, and lead to lines of action not only more scientific and humane but also less wasteful than those at present followed. In entering upon Its labors, the bureau regarded It of fundamental importance to make a careful study of the social evil in this country and In Europe. feeling that this problem, like any other great and difficult one, can be Intelligently approached only by means of a thorough and complete knowledge of all the factors involved, as well as all the methods and experiences of other cities and countries in dealing with It Arrangements were made, therefore in the early part of last winter to secure the services of George J. Kneeland, who had directed the Chicago Vice Commission Investigation. Since that time, Mr. ICneeland, with a corps of assistants, has been making a thorough and compi-ehenslve survey of the conditions of vice in New York city. This survey has covered not only houses of prostitution, Raines Law hotels, disorderly saloons, cafes and restaurants, massage parlors and other places where vicious people congregate, but also the personal histories of some two thousand prostitutes; and a study of all the case rsoord* for one year of c great majority of the hospitals and dispensaries in New York city, with a vHaw tn asaastaliitiis tKa nrovolonna nf venereal disease* and their ratio to all other diseases. Mr. Kneeland's report Is now In progr-ess of preparation and will be published within the next two months. At the same time, the bureau was fortunate In securing the services of Abraham Flexner, whose reports on the medical ichools in this country and 1n Europe are so well known, to tudy the aodal evil and the varloua methoda cf dea ing with It In the leading cltiea of Europe. Mr. Flexner apent the greater part of a year abroad, making a searching and exhaustive Inquiry Into the subject, and la now working on hie report, which will be ready for publication thla winter. These studies are to be followed by others in those cities in the United States where different conditions exist or where special methods of dealing with the social evil have been introduced, the object being to become .familiar with all phases of the subject and all methods of handling it which have been tried In this country and in Europe. Based upon sJl of these studies which will probably be published by December of this year, it is the hope of the bureau that there may be devised a practical plan for dealing with the social evil In New York city?a plan which public opinion can be brought to support In conclusion, It cannot be too strongly emphasized that the spirit which dominates the work of the bureau is not sensational or sentimental or hysterical; that It is not a spirit of criticism of public officials; but that it is essentially a spirit of constructive suggestion and of Jeep scientific as well as humane Interest in a great world problem. John D. Rockefeller, Jr. For the Bureau of Social Hygiene, P. O. Box 578, New York City. ? The sinking fund commission, con slating of the governor, attorney general, comptroller general, state treasurer and chairman of the finance committee of the senate and ways and means committee of the house was reorganized last Thursday. On the nomination of the governor, Senator P. L. Hardin, chairman' of the finance committee of the senate was elected chairman of the commission. State Treasurer Carter was elected secretary, and Mr. D. H. Means was re-elected chief clerk. Attorney General Peeples submitted an opinion that such action as has been taken under a resolution adopted by the commission In December, was Illegal for the reason that the commission was at the time without a quorum, Senator Mauldin chairman of the senate finance committee being dead, the term of Mr. I* J. Browning, ' chairman of the ways and means committee having expired, and Governor Blease being absent He also served nonce on me attorneys tor mr. xva >, who had brought action to set the refunding act of last year aside, that he would appear before the supreme court and move that the new members of the commission be made parties to the action and required to file an answer. ? John A. Parker, the man who killed John Blake in Columbia during the Christmas holidays, was tried last week and acquitted of the charge of murder. He was convicted, however, of the charge of carrying a concealed pistol and was sentenced to pay a fine of {100 or go to the chaingang for thirty days. The Drunkard's Cloak,?One of the quaint instruments of torture in Eng land in Oiaen lime WHO a ucviue nuuvrn as the drunkard's cloak. It was made of wood and in shape resembled a huge Inverted flowerpot. Through the small circular aperture In the top was thrust the neck of the imprisoned Inebriate. The weight of this ancient counterpart of the straltjaoket fell on the victim's shoulders and was sufficient to make every bone in his body ache. With his hands practically pinned to his sides and the garment reaching almost to the ground the only motion allowed him was a slow shuffle of his weary feet as he dragged his way painfully along. One can well believe that any one who had been compelled to don the drunkard's cloak would be very apt to come to the conclusion that a high old time was not worth having at the price.