The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1887-03-19 00:00:00

ADRIENNE;

leaving'ber., Nith a promise to return with a cup of
tea before she retired for the night, she finally left the
frightened girl alone.
Adrienne listened, with an inward shudder, to the
departing steps of the negress, and thought of the
dreary nights in which she must lie upon that solitary
couch, and fancy in every flickering shadow the pre-
sence of the. White Terror in her room.
The question arose in her mold, was she awake
on the previous night when the phantom bride ap-
peared in her apartment? was it merely a vivid dream
or a weird reality? She must have possessed at least
semi-consciousness of what was passing around her,
for the experience of M. Lecour had confirmed her own,
and now this awful shape had again appeared to her,
as if to confirm her belief in the incidents of that ter-
rible n ght.
The education of Adrienne had not fitted her mind
to contend successfully against superstitous fears,
for she had been taught that miracles are yet of
frequent occurrence, and that the spirits of the un-
quiet dead might, for certain ends, be permitted to
leave the realm of shadows, and present themselve3 as
tangible shapes to those who had injured or oppressed
them while on earth. Wiser people than herself ad-
mitted that such things were po sible ; why, then,
should she doubt the reality of that vision which her
own eyes had twice beheld?
Her nervous system had received a shock which
prevented her from reasoning correctly; she was very
young, extremely sensitive to new impressior s, and
she suffered with an intensity proportioned to her organ-
isation. She sat cowering in her chair, afraid to look
around the room, lest the phantom shape should again
blast her vision, and the grating of the branches
against the windows filled her with a nameless terror.
Eady at length came in and broke the wretched
spell that thralled her senses. She thankfully ac-
cepted the tea, which, for a wonder, the old woman pre-
sented in silence. As she was preparing to go out she
said—
"I don' know what am goin' to happen nex', for
de marster axed arter you, an' tell'd me to say dat
he wants you to come to his room afore you go to
bed. You'd better fix up your ha'r a little, for it
looks kind o' wild, an' you is white as a ghose your-
self."
Adrienne aroused herself at this summons. She felt
glad of it, for she wished to put a few questions to
M. Lecour. She summoned all her courage to her
aid, and prepared to obey his commands. She wound
her long hair around her head, and wrapping a large
shawl over her dressing-robe, proceeded at once to kis
room.
It was, as usual, gleaming with lights, and the old
man himself stood near the fire in an attitude of
perturbed thought which Adrienne had never re-
marked in him before. Motioning to her to take a
seat near the hearth, he fixed his eyes upon her face,
and intently perused every lineament. He seemed
struck with the expression of suffering so new to it,
but he made no comment upon it. Presently he
abruptly said—
"Repeat to me exactly what occurred up-stairs
to-night. You may have dreamed after all, for one
often slumbers unconsciously in a room as quiet a
that one was. I think you said that Louis had
been sleeping an hour and you were perfectly still."
"That is true, monsieur, but I was certainly
awake, and I could not be mistaken in the actual
presence of the white phantom in the room. I saw
distinctly the person you described to me this morn-
ing."
"And yet you could not see her last night? Strange
and incomprehensible !” he musing.y said.
Adrienne did not reply to this, for the words of Eady
seemed to ring as a warning in her ears, and she
feared to acknowledge that she too had beheld the
former vision. She suddenly asked—
"Mon pere, are you sure that your wife is actually
dead?"
He frown,d, his eyes flashed beneath their heavy
brows, and his mouth assumed an expression of in-
tense bitterness, as he asked—
"What silly fancy has taken possession of your
silly brain, mademoiselle? Yes; she is surely dead
—I saw her in her coffin—l touched her icy bands as
they lay folded upon her breast Oh, yes, she is dead
—dead—dead, though for some fatal mason she is
permitted to return to this house to render my life
a curse! I thought I was well rid of her when the
d a hosngel claimed her, for we were not happy to-
gether; but I was mistaken, and you too must bear
the same crushing burden because you are of my
blood."
Adrienne shuddered, and looked up at him se im-
ploringly that even he was moved a little, and it was
several moments before he again spoke. His voice was
less hard than usual, as he went on—
"I wished to peak with you, to say that if this
apparition comes again into your presence, give the
alarm to me at once. I will overcome the thrilling
horror with which it has hitherto inspired me, and
come to your side. I wll face the phantom when
it next visits you, and demand the reason of its
appearance. Perhaps Ima7 be able to exorcise it.
I have studied books on demonology, and I have
gained from them the belief that certain mystic words
and ceremonies will banish a haunting spirit. Nay; I
have meddled with magic, and tried the sorcerer's
art."
"And with what results?" asked Adrienne, as he
abruptly paused.
M. Lecour did not reply for several moments, and
when he did it was in a tone of bitter and dreary sar-
aes-

casm.
I only proved the immutable truth of the wise
man's words—' All is vanity and vexation of spirit.'
Ay—all--all. Go to bed, Adrienne, and dismiss the
singular event of this evening from your mind. Of
one thing you may feel assured: Madame Lecour's
ghost will do you no harm, for she was neither a
malicious nor a vindictive woman during her life, and
I scarcely think the change she has passed through
can have endowed her with those qualities beyond the
grave. It is myself she persecutes, and not you.
Sleep, child, in peace, and get rid of that wild look of
affright."
Adrienne tried to smile in return, but it was a
ghastly attempt, and gathering her shawl around her
she returned with reluctant feet towards her own

apartment.
On entering she found that the fire had been replen-
ished, her chair drawn in front of it, and a small
stand placed beside it on which lay a package ad-
dressed to heiself. With irrepressible amazement,
Adrienne lifted the letter and saw the writing of
Victor du Vernay. She quickly broke the seal and
read—

PARIS, December sth, 1802.

MY ADORED ADRIENNE—With what transports I relate to
you the singular revolution in my destiny which has occurred
since we last parted.
Scarcely had the lessening sails which bore you away
faded' on the horizon when a letter of most extraordinary
tenour came from Louisiana to my father. The writer stated
herself to haye been a most intimate friend of a certain
Madame Lecour, who was probably a relative of your grand-
father. This lady was in France, receiving her education, at
the time of my birth. She received many civilities from
my family, and established herself on such a footing of
friendship with them, that at my baptism she officiated as
soy godmother. Mademoiselle Montreuil returned to
Loniaiana, where she possessed large estates, and after many
vicissitudes she died, a victim, it was supposed to the cruelty of
her last husband.
Before her decease, she executed an instrument by which
else bequeathed her property to use in trust for one who was
infinitely dear to her; but she did not reveal in what relation
that beloved one stood to her. It was important, that the
very existence of the true heir should not be revealed to her
surviving husband, as she believed M. Lecour would be un-
scrupulous in his efforts to remove that person from his path;
by a spurious settlement, he had obtained entire possession
of her estate, and there was every reason to believe that lie
would leave no means untried to retain it.
The time has now arrived when it becomes necessary to
ewoure the rights of the lawful heir, or risk ii lawsuit which
might last a lifetime. The habits of M. Lecour, and his age
preclude the idea that, he can live many years longer, and unless
means are found to dispossess him before his decease, lie may
dispose of the property in such a manner as would lead to the
roost vexatious delays before it could be legally claimed by its
rightful owner.
The writer of this letter stated that the will of M. Alontreuil
the father of Madame Lecour, was in her own possession,
together with ample means to prove its authenticity ; and
its tenonr is such tliat the estate can never be alienated from
his descendants ; that the position, name, and residence of
the heir are known to her, and would be revealed to Me at the
proper time. The inheritance she stated to be worth two
viillions of francs at least, and for the service of claiming and
restoring it to its rightful possessor, I was to receive a fourth
of its valise.
At first my father was doubtful about sending me so far aw ty,
on so slender a chance of success, but my strong desire to pursue
the path so singularly opened to sue finally prevailed over his
scruples. I must say, though, that while he rethained un-
decided, a second letter came to him from the smile hand,
which seemed to fill him with surprise; but of its contents lie
revealed nothing to me. He merely said that its tenons hail
changed his views on the subject of the Louisiana estate, and
the best thing I could do was to look after the bequest, as he
now believed the property might be recovered and my own
portion secured.
I gladly received this decision, and spoke of you SS the re-
ward of my efforts to acquire fortune. He smiled blandly, and
said—
" You know, my son, that I have done nothing to thwart
your wishes with reference to Mademoiselle Durand which
prudence did not actually compel me to. I simply placed before
you the impossibility of marriage without the means of sup-
porting is family; but fortune seems now propitious, and
when your legacy is secured, you have my permission to marry
this young girl, and I trust you will be happy together."
Thus you see, my best loved Adrienne, that the only bar to
our union is about to be removed.
I am somewhat bewildered by the suddenness and the
mysterious nature of the communication sent us, but my father,
whose judgment is unquestionably sound, seems convinced
that all will end well for us, and I am more than willing to
trust to blush) this crisis of my fate. I have minute directions
to call at a certain number on my arrival in New Orleans, and
ask for a Madame Noiron who lodges there. She will furnish
me with the means of prosecuting such inquiries as are
necessary to the perfect comprehension of the service required
of me. Be sure I shall lose no time in so doing, and thus
place myself an fait to all that my new position may demand.
Matters once placed in train for a successful termination of
the business, and I shall fly to the spot made charming by tile
Who'asitetotofinmd eyotuowNitel;
out unnecessary delay.
POli seealni (Se, m ofy
no
'iyv n besten e , ivaedt 1 Amdarsi' nkinieco.vs
Yours till death, VICTOR Do Vats:says
anAddbriitetnenr ewreearedththis t
eeaxr
su ltthi
te twt erruangga
—intense the anguish it inflicted on her heart.
nro from nhdear geayi en;
Her grandfather could alone be the person Du
Vernay was commissioned to despoil, and in addition
to all her other causes of disquiet, her lover was
coming to place himself in direct collision with the
arbitrary old man who, she felt, had placed his iron
hand upon her fate. Escape from his thraldom the
now comprehended to be irspossible, for she held a
secret M. Lecour considered of vital importance to
himself, and she knew that she would never be per-
untied to give herself to one who came armed with
power to strip Ern of the wealth which he had prae -
tised a fraud to gain. Then the burning blush of
pet
hmhr
aaee
nsmaci;ehbmountedlehdaatnohgf
anguish,
aisbnhl too.
io3thdhoenarfitobou r
aswrho w, and she felt, with inex-
ee
bdwl
ei sahtnbedre
vdt
er
true
isneese, nmdaaanund:
yowl
cottii
"robably shrink from uoitine his fate with that of
•