Virginia free press. (Charlestown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1832-1916, 1868-03-26

/ in silver brightness on the no0r beneath the
window, as she began to fasten the doors fol
the night, when
Merciful Father in Heaven what scream
rent the stiffness of the midnight!
And Alice, the next day, told Robert of her
terror when, reused from her sleep by that un-
earthly shrek, she found her mother lying
senseless on the floor down stairs.
40, Robert, she was like one dead " faltered
the frightened young widow.
But Mrs Raymond avoided the subject when
her intended son-in-law questioned her.
at was only fainting fit, Robert" she de-
clared almost petulanty. 81 have been sub
ect to them from my childhood You are all
nagnifying a mere trife into absurd import
ance."
And Mrs. Raymond never told living soul
how she, too, had seen the death-pale face,
with the heavy black hair swept backward,
and the scar across the temple seemingly close to
her own, as she leaned out to close the window
shutters, in the white rain of moonlight.
"There is fate in this marriage" she muir
INJURED, wringing her hands 1T will never
come to pass while Wallace Burfs ghost rises
from the dead to forbid its banns. Death or
disaster will part my child and her lover yet. "
Mrs. Raymond's fear proved unreal Alice
and Robert were married in due course of
time, and she ventured to breathe freely, as
month after month glded by, without single
cloud to mar the brightness Of her children S
lives.
1t was nearly year afterwards, that Mrs.
Raymond received letter directed to her in an
unknown hand writing. With that instinct
i've feeling of dread which had never left her
since the moonlight night in October so event
full to her daughters life, she broke the seal.
1t was brief note from Dr., famous
surgeon in New York, enclosing another.
wallace Burt's writing My God will
this dreadful mystery never cease to haunt
me? ?" she walled.
Mother" began the letter, "for you were
my mother once, in spirit and tenderness, if
not in letter, am on my death bed now, or
YOU would never hear from me- You saw me
that night in October-you know now that |
was not lost at sea, as you all fanced. Would
had been-would might have died, believ-
ing in my Alice's love to the last. was res
cued from the lonely island where so many
others of the crew met an awful death by ship
wreck and came to India. There worked
my way home by slow degrees, reaching it on
ly to hear Robert Grey's vows of love-my
wfes words Of answering tenderness.
Il could not blame her-did she not believe
herself widow? but-that moment all the
hope and brightness went out of my life.
could not proclaim myself, to blast her happi-
ness with the knowledge that yet lived-but
I could not tear myself away He saw me-
you saw me What you thought or believed,
| have never known; but when saw her mar
rago in the newspaper, knew that she was
innocent aud unsuspiciOus as an angel. Never
undeceive her-shei is happier than ever I could
have made her. When you read this, I shall
have closed up all my accounts with this life
they tell me have but twenty-four hours
or so to live. If my blessing can make Alice
any happier, she has it-but never tell her
that did not perish at sea. W. B.
Dr.-'s note said briefly: The patient
died in hospital last night. I forward thi:
letter as requested
Alice never knew how deeply and unselfshly
her first husband had loved her-and Wallace
Burt's ghost rests peacefully now in its lonely
grave.