Litchfield enquirer., 1861-01-17
iven to prepare the pavilion for the unexpect

l cing and ghost stories made the hours fly fast
 It was long past ten-the usual hour of retirin, at Belheld-when Miss Stirling under her host ess' guidance, took possession of her out-doo chamber. It was really pleasant apartment The crimson hangings of the bed and window looked warm and comfortable in the fre-light and when the candles on the mantel-piece wer. lighted, and two easy chairs drawn close to tht hearth, the long parted friends found it impos sible to resist the temptation of sitting down te have. what in old days they used to call two handed chat There was much to tell of what had befallen both, of chequered scenes of joy and sorrow, deeply interesting to those tive whose youth had been passed together; there were mutual recollections of school-days to be talked over; mutual friends and future plans te be discussed and midnight rung out from the stable clock before Mrs. Atherton said gooc night. She had already crossed the threshold tc go, when she turned back and said
 : ] forgot to tell you, Ellen, that the inside o this door is not very secure, and the key only turns outside. Are you inclined to trust the bal alone, or will you, as William used to de, have the door locked outside and let the servant bring the key in the morning? William used to say that he found it rather an advantage to de so as the unlocking of the door was sure to wake him.
 Miss Stirling laughingly allowed, that though generally, she could not quite think \it an ad vantage to be locked into her room, still she had no objection to it on this particular occasion, as she wished to rise in seasonable time.
 Very well; then you had better net fasten the bar at all, and I will send my maid with the key at eight precisely. Good night
 "Good night
 They parted the door was locked outside the key taken out and Mrs. Stirling standing by the window, watched her friend across the nar- row back path, which had been swept clear of snow to make passage from the house to the pavilion, ruddy light streaned from the hall door as it opened to admit its mistress, and gave a cheerful, friendly aspect to the scene but when the door closed and shut out that warm comfort able light, the darkened porch, the pale moon- light shimmering on the sirouded trees, and the stars twinkling in the frosty sky, had such an as- spect of solitude as to cast over her kind of chill that made her half repent having consented to quit the house at all, and let herself be locked up in this lonely place.
 | Yet what had she to fear? No harm could possibly happen to her from within the cham ber the door was safely locked outside, and strong iron stancheons guarded the window there could be no possible danger. So, throw 1 ing her chair once more to the fire, and stirring it into blaze, she took up a little Bible which l lay on the dressing table, and read some portions | of the New Testament
 When shs laid down the book, she took out the comb that fastened up her long dark silken tresses-in which, despite her five and thirty years, not a silver thread was visible-and, as she arranged them for the night, her thoughts s:rayed back to the old world memories, which her meeting with Mary Atherton, had revived. ihe sound of the clock two was the first thing that recalled her to her present life. By this | timo thu oapdIoa yyara brrnaI down to tho cooE. ct, and the fire was dying fast. As she turned to fling fresh log into the grate, her eyes fell upon the dressing glass, and ill its reflection she saw CT at least she fancied she saw, the bed curtains move.
 1 She stood for moment gazing into the mir TOT, expecting a repetition of the movement but all was still, and she blamed herself for allowing foolish fears to overcome her. Still it was an exertion, even of her brave spirit, to approach i the bed and withdraw the curtains. She was rewarded by finding nothing save the bed clothes folded neatly down, as if inviting her to press the snow white sheets and luxurious pile of pillows, that looked most tempting. She could not resist the mute invitation to rest her weary limbs. Allowing herself no tina for further doubts or fears, she placed her candle~on the mantle piece, and stepped into bed.
 She was very tired, her eyes ached with wear mess, sleep seemed to fly from her. Old recol- lections thronged on her memory; thoughts connected with the business she had still to get through haunted her and difficulties that had not occurred to her till now, rose up before her. She was restless and feverish and the vexation of feeling so, made her more wakeful. Perhaps if she were to close the curtains between her and the fire she might be better able to sleep-the hickerlng light disturbed her, and moonbeams stealing between the window curtains cast ghost ly shadows on the wall. So, she carefully shut out the light on that side, and turned again to sleep Whether she had or had net quite lost consciousness she could not well remember, but she was thoroughly aroused by feeling the bed heave under her. She started up, and awaited with a beating heart a repetition of the move ment, but it did not come. It must have been a return of the nervous fancies which had twice assailed her already that night. Laying her head once more on the pillow, she determined to control her greundless terrors.
 Again she started up! This time there could be no doubt, the bed had heaved more than once accompanied by strange gurgling sound, as if of creature in pain. Leaning on her elbow, she listened with that intensity of fear which de- rives almost as much as it dreads, a recurrence of the sound that caused it. It came again, fol- lowed by loud rattling noise as if some heavy body were dragged from under the bed in the di- rection of the fire. What could it be? She longed to call out for help, but her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth, and the pulses in her temple throbbed until she felt as if their painful beating sounded in the silence of the night like the loud tick of a clock.
 The unseen thing dragged itself along until it reached the hearth rug, where it flung itself down with violence. As it did so. she heard the clank of chain. Her breath came less painful ly as she heard it, for it occurred to her that the creature might be nothing worse than the house dog, who having broken his chain, had sought shelter beneath the bed in her warm room. Even this notion was disagreeable enough, but it was nothing to the vague terror which had hitherto oppressed her. She persuaded herself that if she lay quiet no harm would happen to her, and the night would soon pass Over.. Thus reasoning she laid herself down again.
 By-and-by the creature began to snore, and it struck her feverish fancy that the snoring was not like that of dog. After little time, she raised herself gently, and with trembling hands , drew back an inch or two of the curtain, and peered out, thinking that any certainty was bet
 ter than such terrible suspense. She looked to wards the fireplace, and there, sure enough, the [ huge creature lay-a brown hairy mass, but O :, what shape it was impossible to divine, so ftfu was the light, and strangely was it coiled up or r the hearth rug. By and by it began to stretcl itself out, to open it's eyes, which shone in tn, : flickering ray of the fire, and to raise it's paw ' above it's hoary head. Good God Those are not paws! They ST .. .. human hands! And dangling from the wrist ! hung fragments of broken chains! A chill of horror froze Ellen Stirling's veins !. as flash of the expiring fire showed her thu xu- Dv,A fIn