The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1887-01-01 00:00:00

THE STOURBRIDGE OBSERVER.

degree of liberty which I am now half disposed to
regret. Armed with your authority, the Bishop,
aided by Father Eustace, who is a most eloquent and
subtle pleader, will place before this refractory young
girl such an array of arguments in favour of entering
the sisterhood over which I preside, that no alterna-
tive but submission will be left.

"You must be aware that only as one of ourselves
can we, without further expense to you, retain
Mademoiselle Adrienne till her reversionary expecta-
tions are realised. If she takes the vows, there will
be no further demand up= your fortune while
you live to enjoy it yourself. At your death the
estate must descend to her as your, natural,heir, and the
sisterhood, to which it will bring extended means of
doing good, will offer up daily prayers for the repose
of your soul. How much you will need such inter-
cessions no one knows more thoroughly than your-
self.

"There is another strong reason fer wishing to re-
tain MademoisQlle Durand as one of our community.
She is a somnambulist, and with proper cultivation
can probably be made a most interesting and valuable
helpmeet. tinder the circumstances we are willing
to retain her without remuneration until her inheri-
tance falls to her.
"Hoping to hear from you without any unnecessary
delay, I am, " URSULA.

"Lady Abbess of La Mere de -Dieu."
M. Lecour glowered over the signature, and for a
few moments seemed absorbed in thought. With a
curlitlg lip he at length refolded it, and opened the
other letter. This was written in a delicate but firm
hand, and the clear, upward strokes indicated strength
of will that would as little brook opposition as his
own.

_
It was the first communication he had received from
the writer, for, at his own request, Mademoiselle
Durand had not been permitted to trouble him with
letters. On his part, it was an act of magnanimous
charity to have educated the child of his disowned
daughter in a respectable manner, and he did not
choose to be annoyed either with thanks or com-
plaints. Such was M. Lecour's view of a sacred duty.
The letter ran thus: _ _ .

"At last, my dear grandfather, am I allowed the
privilege of addressing you. I have yearned for
this indulgence, but the Superior always assured me
that you had no wish to be reminded of my exis-
tence: that, as the child of a man you hated, and a
daugkter you disowned, I am odious to you. Ah !
mom pere, this seems very hard to me, for I am in-
nocent of offence towards you. I have no other
relative on earth, and my heart naturally tuir.3
towards you as its most important object. I have
always cherished a most profound veneration and
affection for you, and this feeling gives me the right
to appeal to you in the present crisis of my destiny.
"No efforts have been spared by those around me
to influence my mind to the choice of a conventual life,
and no training could more signally have failed to
attain its object.
"I would sooner be thrown upon the world to gain
my bread by the hardest toil taan embrace it. Save
me, my mother's father! save the child of her you
must once have loved from such a fate, for I avow to
you that it will be far worse than death to me.
"Permit me to come to your own home; let me
become the stay and solace of your declining years,
for I am bright as the sunshine in my temper—lively
and blithe as the birds in spring-time—and I will fill
your sombre mansion with the light of youth and
hope.
"See how attractive my egotism leads me to des-
cribe myself; but it is a happy self-conceit which
enables me to depict, in pleasant colours, a creature
whose tenderest hope on earth is to minister to your
happiness in those years when the grasshopper has
become a burden, and the desire of the heart has

"Try me, dear sir; let me at least come to you,
and if I should prove a burden, it will then be time
enough to consign me to the tender mercies of the
Bishop and his allies. If you refuse my prayer, Ido
not know what the consequences may be, for I have
friends who will aid me to escape the fate I have not
chosen fJr myself, and I declare to you that I will
avail myself of their assistance at all hazards, sooner
than become that aimless, hopeless being—a nun.
"Dear grandfather, write to me for once with your
own hand, and give me the coveted assurance that
your heart and home are open to your own
"ADRIENNE.'
The recluse read this letter twice over, and then
rested his head upon his hand ia deep meditation. He
at length abruptly spoke:
"Well, Jackdaw, don't you think that a young
lady, educated in France with all the modern accom-
plishments, would have a nice time here in this old
ghost-haunted house, with no one but you or me for
company ?"
Eady opened her eyes very wide as she energetically
replied :
" Ef she have a roof over her head, sir, I'd 'vise her
to stay whar she am. Oh, Lor' ! what would come o'
a young gal brung here in dis here old rattle-trap, to
fret herself sick ober things she couldn't mend, not ef
she broke her heart a-tryin' ?"
The listener shrugged his shoulders. Be sardonically
said:
"But if it is her own choice, what then? If no
otPier home is open to her, what can she do but make
bl.O .5 'Mc ? Bpsifing. she' *^^nnv
prays to be allowed to take care of me in my old age.
I begin to feel that I need some one in the place of
your poor dumb child, who can look after—"
He paused—made a significant sign which Eady
seemed to comprehend, for she quickly said:
"An' would you trust her wi' dat? even if she do
come. I do -think it is de bery wust notion dat
could git inter a young gal's head to come to such a
den as dis 'ere. Who is dis young creetur, an' how is
it dat she have no frien's to help her to somethin'
tietter
"This young girl is my ward; and my house, cm
a convent for life, are the alternatives to choose

from."
"Den may God help her !" responded sue s.ld woman
sincerely; "an' of / could get to speak to her, I'd 'vise
a( r to stay wide nuns, sooner den come to sich a life
as she'd lead here."
" You're a fool,Jackdaw," said Lecour, "and always
have been one. You have sunshine, food, fire, and
shelter, with only work enough to keep you busy, and
yet you dare to grumble, and speak of my house as it
it is no fit place for my granddaughter to dwell in."
Eady opened her great round eyes wider than ever
as she repeated:
Granddarter, sir? I never knowed afore dat
sich a chile was on de yeth. Long as I've lived in d,s
sperrit-haunted house, I's never beam de fust
blessed word 'bout dis young lady till now."
"It would be strange if you had, when it is a
subject on which I take no pleasure in talking. But
I have a grandchild, who was born before you ever
saw Louisiana—l have placed strange servants about
me, that I might not be pestered with enquiries about
a girl whose existence is no pleasure to me."
"An' ef de young lady is of your blood, why should
she be sent away from her natural gardeen ?"
"That is my affair, Jackdaw, and I do not see fit
to explain it to you. I only think it is necessary to
inform you that your rule in this house may be in-
terfered with before long by a young lady, who comes
at her own desire, from the convent in which 'she has
been educated, to take charge of Castle Dismal and
its queer inhabitants. I fancy she'll not stay long
here; but as she wishes to come very earnestly, I
think it may be as well to gratify her, and serve my
own purposes at the same time.'
Eady listened in extreme surprise. If the advent
of an angel had been announced to her, she would
scarcely have been more astonished than she was at
this unexpected revelation. She vaguely knew that
M. Lecour had been married in early life; that his
wife had died within a year of their union; but that
a child had been the offspring of that marriage, she
was profoundly ignorant till that moment. She
locked so much bewildered, that her master went on
to explain th it his daughter had not married to please
him, that she died early, leaving an infant
daughter orphaned and dependent. He had placed
her in a convent in France where she had received an
accomplished education.
M. Lecour then went on:
"I hardly know why I have told you this news so
early, Jackdaw, for it must be some time before
Mademoiselle Durand can come hither; but perhaps
it is as well for you to know it now, as you will have
time to reconcile yourself to the idea of a mistress. I
d) not think she will trouble you long, however, for I
do not care to have her residence here madeagreeable
enough to induce her to prolong it. I only consent to
her coming at all because I do not choose to pledge
myself to any future endowment to the convent that
stelt era her, if she should be induced to take the
veil."
" An' you is really an' spontaciously gwine to
bring a young lady wi all sorts o' gimcracks in her
brain, inter Castle Dismal, to fret the heart out o'
you an' herself, too? I 'clam' to Moses, it's past
"It will become a self-evident fact before many
months have passed away. Ah—h—h--wbat is that?
Move the lights to abetter position—chase the shadows
from every part of the room. Here it is! Twice in
the same night! Oh! The curse of my life has ccme
back! Eady, the White Terror has again appeared to
me—and there—yes—there it is again!"
The woman followed the wild glance of terror that
he cat ',award the door of the apartment, which she
saw wes slowly opening, and a head covered with a
white w sapping was cautiously protruded through
the openix:. She instantly comprehended that it was
a ruse pracised by her husband, to work on the super-
stitious fears eit' her master, while he introduced at
b
Least a portion ei his person into the room in which
life and light wet I found; for Pierre had suffered un-
fthereenee supper-tray lasted. He told agonies in his place of banishment while this con-
ference finallyn nis lac k head, wrappedn dth,eannadp, reckless
nfrom
around
of consequeni;ee, resolved to personate the white
phantom whida had become the terror of his master's
life.
It was pitiable :A see that strong man shiver and
grow pale before Stile miserable attempt at ghost-
playing on the part CtMs servant. He sank back
with drops of cold perspiration starting from his
brow, his form collapsed find trembling with dread.
130 whisper( d :
"Stand between me and the phantom shape,
Eady. Shield my sight from it, and ask it what it
seeks."
He put up his hands to veil it from his view, butthe
old woman indignantly said:
"It's only dat ole drunken fool, Pierre, who is

mortally 'feard to stay out thar by hisself, an' he's
gone to play off his antics to scare you. Hi ! dis chile
jes wish you'd break every bone in his imperent
body."
Her Irish seemed likely to meet with speedy ful-
filment, for it was no sooner uttered than her master
sprung up in a very fury of passion, and rushed
toward the door, exclaiming, in tones hoarse with
rage:
"How dare you put that white thing upon your
nead ? How dare you attempt to personate the
baleful shape that haunts me for ever ?"
Pierre snatched the napkin from his head, caught
glimpse of the flaming eyes, livid lips, flecked with
foam, and the steel-like talons ready to grasp him
Ind inflict condign punishment upon his person, and
nis terror of the darkness without became trifling in
:..omparison with the real danger that menaced him
from the wrath of his master. He retreated precipi•
tately, dropping the linen on the floor just in front of
the door, and the next instant the sound of a body
falling from the top to the bottom of the staircase
was heard. _ _

The monomaniac paused suddenly in front of the
white streak made by the discarded napkin upon
the floor, and shrank back, muttering to himself. He
re-entered the room, and said to Eady, in imperious
tones : _

"Go—leave me alone. I hope that stupid idiot
has broken his neck. If he has, call me, and I will
help you to take his body from my neighbourhood."
Eady hurriedly lighted a small lamp, and, with a
look of affright, hastened to ascertain the extent of
the injury sustained by her husband. She found
Pierre sitting at the foot of the staircase. rubbing his
head, with a bewildered expression; but, as he had
luckily fallen on as thick a skull as ever behnged to
one of his race, he had escaped without any serious
injury to his ungainly person.
"Git up, an' git out o' dis here, you ole black
porpess," was the ungracious address of his affection.
ate spouse, as she attempted to raise her liege lord
from his recumbent position.
"Oh, Lor' !oh Lor'!" groaned Pierre. " Aint it
'fishent punishment to fall down 'mong de witches,
an' be broke all to smash, widout havin' you an' your
tongue to rate me 'bout it? Put your white hander.
3hief on de step, an' ole clatter boots won't dare to
pass ober it. I must git time to cotch my bref."
"Ketch your bref, indeed, when you're snortiri
Like a grampus. You'm using too much bref all to
3nst, ole fellah, an' I 'vise you to 'conomise a leetle
dat, as well as your sarce 'bout de marster, for ef
ae beam dem words as you said jes' now, he'd make
white ghose o' you 'fore you'd know whar you was.
3r what had happened to you." -
"I wonder ef niggers will make white ghastessess,'
was Pierre's rejoinder, to which he ruefully added,
l's seen it, sure enough, Eady; it brushed past me
3n de gaPry, as I ran 'way from de ole man."
"What has you seen?" asked his wife, appro.
aensively.
"Do White Terror."
Eady gave him a violent shake, and dragged him
away, as she indignantly said:
"You're drunk, an' you don't know what you seen.
As to de marster's ghose, nobody's seen it but hisself,
so you needn't set yourself up wi' havin' second sight.
You never saw more ghost den I did."
"But I did, I tell you."
"An' what was it like ?"
"It was jes a woman, all in white, an' it was
bout as tall as the mistris was. I b'lieve 'twas her,
too."
Eady paused, shook her finger solemnly at
and said:
"De trufe ain't in you. Pierre; but dig i -
s the
oiggest whopper o' all. lou seen a ghose, indeed f
Do to bed, ate sleep off the fumes o' de whiskey."
(To be continued)