Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1869-08-05

laughed, and she spoke low and seldom
/ At the same time saw Steven Grams
ton. Over him too had passed som,
change. More glum, forbidding, ant
unsocial than of old he could scarcely be
and yet there was something in his face
in his manner, which seemed tosay that
whereas Hope and be knew each othel
once, they had parted company forever
now.
i l did not see much of him or Lucis
} after that until this summer. / came
to my old home last June an invalid
i felt that the free winds blowing Ovel
the Connecticut hills would bring mt
health and healing: and, though my
dearest hope is in the Beyond, still
4 love life-I cherished no misanthropiC
llongings for death. Coming back tC
Ryefield, found Lucia Reynolds and
Steven Cranston the only ones of all my
school mates who were unmarried and
in their old homes. You must bear in
mind that nearly twenty-five years had
gone by since young Eastman's sudden
1 and terrible death. Lucia had passed
all these in Ryefield very quietly. She
| had not mingled at all in society so-eall-
ed, but her face was known in the abodes
i of the poor, the sick, and the sorrowful.
She had done much good in her own
unobtrusive way.
/ Steven Cranston had led, rumor said,
a wild life during these twenty-five
years. A little more than three years
after Robert Eastman's death he had
gone to sea, and most of his life since
had been passed on the ocean and in the
different ports to which he had sailed
He had grown rich, though heard hints
of unlawful gain, to which did not pay
much heed. Country neighborhoodsare
usually more or less given TO gossip, and
ours was no exception to the rule.
| At all events he had come back The
autumn before my return to Ryefield,
and given out that he had been to sea
long enough, and was going To settle
down now and end his days among his
own townsfolks and kindred. / think
people liked him somewhat better than
| they used. He was a trifie more COM
municative and neighborly. I.can't say
that /, however, felt much real regard
for him. Yet he entertained me some
times by his "reminiscences of hair
breadth escapes on the high seas and in
far-away lands. He was link between
memory and the dead and buried boy
hood days, and SO we were good deal
together.
1t is lust week ago to-day that he
rode into the yard on his strong bay
horse. 1 was sitting under the apple
tree.
"Come, Harry" he called to me, ''get
your horse saddled and ride out on the
| Mountain Road. I've story to tell you
madder and jollier and merrier than any
of 'em. Its nice time to tell it, this
September morning. Let me sees Sep
tember the. I7th, 1858, isn'tit? 5Yes,jt's
the best time in the world to tell that
story.n - l---.s
1t struck me while was throwing the
saddle on Black Richard that his man
ner was very peculiar. 1t was said that
he was hard driuker,, though Il had
never seen any signs of it before. L
thought the brandy might have flown
to his head. However, got ready, and
we started on our ride. s t
If any unfamiliar with the locality
should read this story perhaps they
would like to understand better the
physiognomy of the Mountain Road
lin the northwestern part of the town is
very high hill. known in the region as
1.-The Mountain A road was laid out,
in the towns infancy, along the base OF
this hill. 1t was the nearest cut then to
some of the neighboring towns, but a
better one was made few years ago OH
the other side of the hill. In some por-
tions of the way it is utterly solitary as
wilderness. To the right had risen the
mountain, overhanging it, high and
steep and frowning To the left stretch
away rugged pasture lots, used only for
sheep, rocky, and here and there inter-
spersed with wood. On this road there
is little travel, and for nearly two miles
there is not a single house save one, ra-
inous and dilapidated enough now, out
which used to be in my boyish days
the residence of a solitary man called
old Wrath Spaulding-a bad and reck,
terror. He died long ago, and L have
never heard but that he sleeps quietly
enough in his lonely grave in the rear OF
his old tumble-down house. A little
beyond this place-the halfway house
in those desolate two miles-and just
concealed from it by turn in the road,
is deep pool at the base Of the hill,
known to all the towns people aS the
BLACK Pool.n 1t looks as if it might
have been dug out by the giants of dead
centuries. Its waters seem fAthomless1n
depth, and one cannot gaze down on
them as they lie there. black, still,
treacherous, without shudder. Itused
in other days to be separated from the
road by a sort of pailing, but this has
fallen down now, and the way is SO sell
dom travelled that no one has taken the
trouble to replace it. There is strange
charm in the ruggedness of the scenery,
the very desolation of this untrodden
road, and look around me with Keen
sense of pleasure as We slackened our
reins and turned into it.
Though it was September, the land
Il
in July. You could understand the po-
.eLical license OF the the term Living
green" as you looked at it. You could
almost see the trees grow and the grass
spring up. The sky was blue, deep,
cloudless, untroubled. The mist, golden
and white and rosy, was melting away
over the hill-tops, and it seemed to me
earth air and sky were as glorious as
when the Father first pronounced them
/" gooE" Absorbed in my own thoughts |
I had almost forgotten Cranston's pres |
ence until he spoke.
81 promised you story" he said, I
riding up close to my side. It'll be a
queer one-a love story about murder"
and he grinned CHASTITY grin. . / don't I
think you ever heard just such one-a .
tale with its hero for the teller"
He paused moment, and the Septem-
Der morning seemed TO grow very cold
I think his manner chilled me. Pretty I
soon he spoke again.
81 don't know that you ever mistrust-
ed that I loved Lucia Reynolds. There
was time, L think, when people imag-
ined that we took kind of fancy to one
another, but nothing came of it, and
they gave up the idea. l don't know as
there was any foundation for it on her
side. She must have returned such de-
votion as mine was with at least a kindly I
liking. I think she did like me, and on
that built wild hopes. Love does not
at all express what L felt for her.
her. Sullen and morose and 4.