Sunbury American. [volume] (Sunbury, Pa.) 1848-1879, 1867-09-21

sickening thrill of terror, such an appalling
nearness of death, as now came overane.-
What should do? Where should I turn
l resolved to conciiate him as far as possi-
BILE. IA lonely place." said, trying to
speak composedly.
"Yes." / could see thut he was watching
me intently as we walked along, never ia
king his eye off me, and my blood ran cold
at the glitter of that unnaturally brilliant
eye.
"Are we far from the highroad 2" I
asked. "About half a mile" he said
dropped little back with one spring
he was at MY side.
"The path is narrow" apoligized,
"and-"
"Wide or narrow, prefer walking side
by side," he said, sternly, with downward
glance at the weapon lying against his
breast, and menacing look at me. Ser
tainly," stammered, certainly"
But what had been half defined doubt be-
fore, became open apprehension now. 1
felt the full peril of my position. Should
he murdered in this solitary glen, with no
human air near, no mortal ear to catch my
dying cryg No one could prophesy how or
when the fearful malady of my unwelcome
companion would burst into open fury.
did not like the expression of his face as
glanced sdewise at it; but ventured no
more questions. The cold perspiration
stood on my forehead the blood seemed
congealing round my vitals; at every step
l felt as if my limbs must give way beneath
I me.
stopped an instant, ostensibly to fasten
! the lace of one of my walking-boots, which
had become loose-actually to rest mo-
ment. When rose up again l was alone in
the green, shifting light of the burning
glen
My companion had vanished
l looked round, half expecting to see
some rift in the messy ground through
which he had disappeared, or some rock
behind which he had disappeared; but no
such natural phenomena" presented them
selves. | was standing on sort of table,
land, half way up the steep ascent. and mo-
wing white birches waved their silvery arms
and green chaplets of foliage around me-
AS looked more closely, however, the faint
tracery D: foot path seldom used and little
trodden became visible, branching off from
the one upon which stood, and losing it.
self in thick woods beyond.
My heart leaped up with sensation of
freedom and lightsomeness that pcrvaded
every pulse. The summer sunshine on the
moss seemed frightened with d new glow !;
!
seemed sweeter; and fhe song of the birds
bore new meaning to my ears Free, free at
last And fastened my sootsteps toward
Arch hall with feeling that was hurrying
to some city of refuge.
! The square chimney stacks came in sight
at last, and hailed the solid old structure
with delight, springing over the light wire
fence that divided the grounds from the
glen, and, stridng up the walk with CHEEKY
footsteps.
pulled the bell. A servant in plain
black came to the door.
"Is Mr.. Ackley in2" asked.
"Yes, sir, mast is at home" was the reply.
gave the man my card, and sat down to
wait in little reception room at the right
OF the hall. Presently he came back. ~.
"Master is in his library, SIR will you
please to walk in |"
followed the man through wide hall,
ffoored with polished oak, to a handsome
room, where gentleman was standing at o
table.
"AIr. Earnsciffe, am delighted to vel
come you 10 Arch hall, both for"
He stopped abruptly, and stared at me
like one bewildered.
"Why, it's the lunatic!" he exclaimed.
It's the madman !" l calculated, for, in
very truth, my friend of the solitary glen
stood before me, the revolver yet cleaning
from his inside pocket
"No, am not a lunatic; am Charles
Earnsclffe," ] said, beginning to see through
our mutual misapprehensions.
sand am Philip Ackley, no maddei
than always am !" he exclaimed, clasping
my hand cordially.
And in the same moment two or three
men servants burst into the hall
, "Sir, sir, if you please, they've caught thu
, poor mad fellow"
"Down in the woods by the toll-gate, hid
den away !"
"And they've locked him safe up"
Mr.. Ackley and l stared at one anothe
and at the servants an instant, and thei
| burst into involuntary peals of laughter.
: "Shake hands once more, Earnsclitfe,
said my host, genially. Our acquaintanc
has begun oddly, but it shall none the res
1 ripen into friendship"
: Philip Ackley was right-he became m
h friend, and remained SO until the day of hi
e death. .....