The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1868-12-22

could be no blinking the truth to myself now
i had seen ghost! II had appeared to me
in that place; and, for all knew, II might
return. My eyes glared at the seat 1t had
occupied. dared not turn from IL; yet felt
assured that, should the phantom present
itself again l should throw myself from the
carriage in the very madness Of terror. My
only consolation was that the train stopped at
the next station (Bolton), only few miles
distant, and there 1t would be practicable for
me. to get into another compartmeut-One in
which there were booked aud duly accredited
human passengers.
The distance between Peterborough aud
Bolton was interminable, in my agony aud
alarm; but it was traversed without any
fresh ghostly experience, and the instant the
train stopped l leaped out. The relief Of
escaping was so intense that | could hardly
stay to collect together my papers, rugs, and
other trihes. porter profered assistance,
and l gladly availed myself of it, though |
had to put up with his astonished looks when
he found was only moving from one carriage
to another, apparently without an object. |
selected compartment this time with plenty
of life in 1.-TWO burly farmers and one APPLE
faced old lady gave promise of security from
further horror, and | was congratulating my
self on the success of my move, when, just as
the train began to move, the porter l had
engaged came to the window and touched his
cap.
''Beg pardon, SIR" he said, "but does this
belong to your papers Found it on the seat
of the other carriage"
He held out as he spoke crumpled frag-
ment of manuscript. l recognized it the mo-
ment l took it. There could be no mistake as
to its being the fragment of paper my myste-
rious fellow traveller had clutched so tightly
in her hand
The train had started, and it was impossible
to give back the paper. 1t was not mine;
had no right to it; yet, so peculiar was the
chance that had given it in my possession, and
so strangely was il connected with the most
singular experience Of my life, that l felt
bound to preserve it. As the eyes Of my CON-
panions were all upon me, in that undisguised
stare common to country folk, simply placed
the fragment in my pocket-book, determined
to examine it on reaching my journeys end.
My reception at the manor-house was 80
cordial, and 1t was 80 absolutely necessary to
render ourself agreeable among household
of guests, that my adventure almost passed
out of my head, until l found myself in the
dead of the night alone in the sleeping-cham-
Der which had been assigned to me. 1t was a
great, old-fashioned, wainscoted room, with
huge chimney, in which the wind roared, and
a bay window, opening among trees, that,
now bare and gaunt, swayed their skeleton
arms up and down before it with an incessant
oreakipg in every joint All the alarm | had
felt in the railway carriage instantly came
back to me with redoubled intensity. found
my eyes wandering from chair to chair, conf
dent that should presently see my ghostly
companion seated in one of them. And in
stead of trying to Danish this impression from
my mind by rejecting on other things, found
the one subject drawing me to it with irresst-
ible fascination. l could not even resist at
that dismal hour the temptation to examine
the paper in my pocket-book.
The sight of this, as drew it out, gave me
a turn; yet it was a very simple matter. A
mere crumpled scrap of writing. l sat some
time with it lying open in the palm of my
hand, looking at it dreauiily. Then an idea,
suggested by the shape OF the paper and the
wrinkles in it, suddenly seizsd ms.
'This is part of letter." said aloud, "a
part held in a hand with q desperate clutch
while the rest has been wrenched away. She
must have held this in a death-grasp."
gust of wind howled round the chamber,
and moaned itself piteously away. The cold
dew Of terror came out in beads upon my
brow.
1t was some time before l could summon
courage to undertake a minute examination of
the writing before me. When | did it yielded
little; there were only a few lines on one side
of the paper, and they were broken and frag-
mentary. This was all / read:-"-make you
my wife, and shall not forget \ fool
ish impatience ruin all y your family
exposure to be re-
gretted." There was nothing more; all that
might have rendered this an Ineligible SEN
tence had been torn away; as it was, the frag-
ment was worthless. 1t told nothing, and
how could it in any way throw light on the
mystery of the spparition which troubled me
more and more as | reflected on it Indeed, |
felt that dared not think over it too intensely;
and though the ghostliness CT the chamber
Exaggerated by my imagination, no doubt)
weighed heavily upon me, / boldly extin-
guished the light and threw myself on the bed,
where, after time, fatigue resulted in broken
slumbers.
All next day debated with myself whether
l should take my host into my confidence in
the matter of my railway mystery; but though
Qarnold is a capital fellow, he is one of those
sturdy, hard-headed, unsentimental yeomen
with no possible belief in the supernatural,
and decided that he would only receive my
statement with incredulity or open laughter;
so kept my counsel for that day. Next morn
ing my letters were brought up to my room.
All that had come to me at the Temple had
been put into an envelope which had left
directed with myclerk, so that he might forward
them to the manor-house. The letters chiefly
related to matters OF business; but the last
opened had more special personal interest. 1t
was the letter l had received from Gilbert
Stone, and related TO the commission he had
undertaken.
stones communication was short--s
mere note-but to the purpose. He had
called the lady, Mrs. Rathgrave;
had found her greatly concerned az her
daug ghter's elOpement with some person un-
known, but who appeared to have CORES,
ponded with the girl in my name, borrowed
II, oil nrnhabilitv from tho GEI Iondnn Dirao-