Bradford reporter. [volume] (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, 1866-07-19

time that it still contained one relic of its
more prosperous days, in the shape of a
tamily y portrait, which still hung over the
mantle'piece, as it had hung for half cen.
tury or more. When | became aware OF
this fact | fetched one of the candles out
of my sitting-room, in order that | might
examine the picture more closely. 1t was
a full-length portrait of a man in the mill.
tary costume that was in vogue toward the
end of last century. The face was very
handsome, with proud, resolute beauty OF
its own, that would have been very attrac
tive but for vague, repellent something
"a hint of something tiger-like and cruel
| lurking under the surface of that artificial
smile, which the artist had caught with
rare fidelity, and had fixed on the canvass
| forever. 1t must have been something in
| the better traits of the countenance that
taught me to see likeness to Mr.. Lomond
and could only conclude that the portrait
before me was that Of some notable ances-
tor of the present master of Gledhills
The fatigues of the day and the solitude
to which | was condemned drove me to
bed at an early hour but there was some
thing about the novelty of my position
that precluded sleep for long time after
| had put out my light, and l remember
hearing some clock strike twelve while |
was still desperately wide awake, but that
is the last thing do remember, and | sup
pose that | must have slid off to sleep
few minutes later, while still in the act of
asseverating to myself that to sleep there
was for me an impossibility Whether |
had slept for hours or for minutes only
when woke up in the weird land of dreams
is point on which | can offer no opinion
l awoke to that consciousness which is
possessed by dreamers, and which, in many
cases, is quite as vivid as the conscious
ness of real life but throughout the
strange, wild drama that followed | was
without any individuality of my own
had all the consciousness of a spectator
without the responsibility of one. was
nothing had no existence in my own
dream | was merely the witness of cer-
tain imaginary occurrences, which took
place without any reference to me, and
which l was powerless to prevent or infu-
ence in the slightest degree
Before me was the drawing room at Gled-
hills-I recognized it at once by the por-
trait of the soldier over the fireplace The
walls, painted of delicate sea-green, were
hung with numerous pictures and engrav-
ings ia rich frames A thick Aubusson
carpet covered the floor, and in the huge
fireplace wood fire, that had nearly burn
ed itself down to ashes, was slowly expir-
ing. The furniture was chintz-covered,
and curtains of chintz draped the three
high narrow windows Standing in one
corner, between the quaintly-carved legs
of a mahogany chiffonier, was tall Man
DARN jar, with an open-work lid, from
which was exhaled faint indescribable
perfume, as of the bruised sweetness of
hundred flowers in the opposite corner
stood a harp books richly bound were
scattered about the room, which was light
ed by a number of wax-candles fixed in
lustres over the mantel-piece.
Seated at little fancy-table was girl,
eighteen or twenty years old, making-be-
lieve to be busy with her embroidery, but
with a mind evidently preoccupied by some
more important subject. She had on
short-waisted white dress, after the fashion
of those days, from which her long narrow
skirts fell away in sedate folds, utterly
guiltless of all modern modes of extension
of circumference. Her face was beautiful.
and she had the air of a person quite con-
scious of that fact but underlying this
charm of regular features there was some
thing resolute and proud, that carried the
mind back, as by an instinct, to the por
trait over the fireplace. She had loosened
the thick masses of her chestnut hair, and
they now fell low down over her shoulders,
confined only by a narrow band of blue
velvet Round her neck was thin chain
of gold, from which hung a locket, which
she drew every now and then from the bo-
som of her dress, and pressed with fever
sh eagerness to her lips. The same impa-
tience was visible in the way in which she
would put few quick stitches into her en-
broidery, and then pause, with the needle
in her fingers, to listen intently, and so
lapse into dreamy absent mood, out of
which she would wake up in a minute or
two with start, and begin to ply her
needle again as restlessly as before.
That something for which she was so i'm
patiently waiting came at last-a low,
clear, peculiar whistle, heard by me so dis
tinctly through the midst of my dream, and
remembered so we'll when | awoke that
could afterward reproduce it exactly The
young lady started to her feet the moment
the signal fell on her ear. Her eyes fash
eu Will ueWcI IdulduCG uGT SOU lips
pouted into a smile while from her bosom
upward lovely flush spread swiftly, as
though Eros had touched her that instant
with his torch, and already the celestial
fame were coursing through her veins. A
brief minute she stood thus, like lovely
statue of Expectancy; then she hurried to
one Of the windows, and drawing aside the
long chintz curtain, she placed lighted
candle close to the window as an answer
ing signal. Then, having withdrawn the
candle and replaced the curtain, so that the
window from the outside would seem quite
dark again, she left the room, to return
presently with ladder of thin rope, to
which were affixed two hooks of STEEL
| Her next proceeding was to lock the three
doors which opened into the drawing-room,
and having thus secured herself from in
trusion, she passed oat of sight behind one
of the curtains and then heard the faint
sound of window being cautiously lifted,
and knew, as we'll as though the whole
scene was visible to me, that she was fix
ing the rope-ladder to the balcony by means
of its hooks, and that presently her lover
would be with her.
And so it fell out. A little while, and
the curtain was lifted the lady came back
10 In I'll