Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1859-02-23
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From the New York Mercury.
THE HAUNTED HOUSE
OR,
THE MANIAC'S BRIDE.
BY MRS. n. ROBINSON.

and fanciful liked the loneliness Of the
deep forest, the silence and stiffness of
midnight: and, perhaps, it was this love
for solitude that led me, one day, away
through the hutter-nut woods, down into.
the valley of the haunted house for the
villagers asserted that it was haunted, and
Mike, my fathers errand-boy, told me one
evening, when the south wind blew chill
over the brake-felds, and the moon ran
swiftly through the broken clouds, how be
had seen, the night previous, slender
phantom glide through the ivy-draped
doorway Of the old stone mansion-had
caught full view of pair Of unearthly
orbs, and face white as asnow-drift, mark
ed with lines of agony, which, to his dy-
ING day, he could not forget. [ put no
faith in the story. It was doubtless, the
result of a disordered imagination.
1t was Indian summer, that connecting
link between the glory and Iuxuriance, the
lovelness and balminess Of summer, and
the ice, and sleet and frozen breath of the
winter, that l sat among the golden and
crimson leaves rustling upon the weed
grown turf about the desolate house. There
were mist-clouds melting in the azure a
bove-breezes, faint with odor of dying
things, murmured and moaned in the sol
emn pines-thistle-dow like wandering
thoughts, fioated hither and thither-a
small brook glided along by the fallen fence
in front of me- its voice choked by the de-
parted garniture of the trees; and direct
ly at my side, arose the haunted house-a
stately, gloomy pile, built of brown sand
stone, overrun with ivy and climbing roses,
which threw out their long arms, even to
tlc gloomy pines huddled together at one
corner of the building. The shutters, ma
ny of them hung by one hinge, disclosing
the stained glass of the windows; and from
dilapidated observatory upon my right,
crows cawed harshly.
For a long time I sat, looking at all this
desolation and ruin, picturing to myself the
days when happy household, may be, en-
livened with smiles, and song, and labor
the neglected mansion. I thought Of the
little feet that once, doubtless, ran up and
down the now grass-grown walks; and
wondered why a place which must have
been so attractive, should be given over tc
the birds and kissing serpents. Through
the garden-hedge l caught glimpses Of Tho
beautiful Susquehanna and as | arose anC
walked to the waters edge, [ espied ;
worm-eaten boat, lying up above high-wa
ter mark, with remnant of tattered sal
Tapping at the tiny mast, and the initial
Y. NJ. were carved on the prov.
How utterly desolate and bereft of life
other than that Of the wheeling crows, wa
! the scene Hills on either side came dow
to the waters edge, thus shutting the vi
lage and neighboring farm-houses fror
sight. Across the river could be seen
few dwellings, through the scattered pine
:, upon the bank; but no voice, save tn
shrill one of the portentous raven, brek
upon the stiffness. returned to the hous
and endcavored to gain an entrance at tI
great front door, but the ivy guarded II
portals so efectually as to preclude admi
sion. [ then passed to the rear; and, lif
ing a latch whose click awakened du
echoes in the stately rooms, | entered-
With no fear, but kind Of solemn av
stealing into my bosom, | trod the milde,
ed carpets, looked upon time-stained pi
lures, and marked the red sunbeams cor
, ING, here and there, through a shuttere
window-lighting up luridIy, as do beaco
fires, the wrecks Of an olden splendor
On, on-for the mansion was large
: went, through damp apartments, long, wi
u halls, up one, two, three flights Of stat
: till at last paused at the extremity of
narrow corridor, lighted at either end
dormer windows. A door was before N
), pushed it open, but remained motionl
upon the Threshold, for, sitting in q cha
cushioned with faded damask, was a-whs
A ghost-a phantom? 1t was at least, t
4 form of slender woman. The face "
ID wan, and bore many traces of deep suff
ing; the eyes were supernaturally lal
y and brilliant; away from the broad 70
" head were drawn bands of smooth, shin
IS hair, interspersed with silver; and the til
d, transparent hands lay Estlessly upon
s. arms Of the chair She raised her he
r, at my footsteps. She was human.
or Forgive me, lady, said for this
VI trusion.'
+ q 1t is no intrusion,' she replied, in S
yet very sweet voice. 40 not seek 81
ETY.; but am not displeased when any
my kind come to my retreat. Sit dov
or and she motioned me to seat, whic
10 took.
eir She regarded me many moments es
or estly and intently, then said: 'Will ,
ar tell ME your name, little one 2
Annie Lynn. May ask yours!'
eo Again she fixed those searching c
To- upon my face, then sank back among
re- faded cushion, and buried her face in
ma hands.
old When she again looked at me, there
1er haggard expression on her countenan
ha and as she spoke, noticed her voice Sc
nat a, ed to have grown dry and husky.
ell 'Anuie Lynn she began, don't
nat see | am dyingF
ors She frightened me. 'Dyingn I e
ulated, springing to my feet w
shall-what can | do 2
dis Slowly dying she resumed-a /
/ be smile creeping to the faded lips. Do
be alarmed. Death will not come no,