Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1873-01-16
Au 0rigimal Storg.
Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.
the MYSTERY OF M0SSGR0vE.
A ROMANCE OF THE 10TH CENTURY.
BY MRS. HENRY DEAS.
CHAPTER V.
AN APP A RIT / 0 N.

AN APPARITION.
Early the next morning Stanley left home
saving to his wife that he would probably be
absent all day, as he had business which would
detain him until late, and desiring her not to
wait dinner for him, or sit up after the usual
hour, if he did not return.
1t was glorious October day, bright and
cool, with a touch of frost in the air that made
one think of the coming winter. The woods
were putting on their gay-colored vesture of
crimson and gold, resembling, in some degree,
the hectic flush that brightens on the cheek
of the doomed consumptive-the sad, sure
presage of early decay. Soon those brilliant
hues would fade, the leaves turn crisp and
brown, and, falling to the ground, leave the
bare boughs to bend, sighingly, before the
breath of the whistling wind.
Our brief autumn season, perhaps the most
beautiful in the year, is also the most melan-
choly, since it is the forerunner of darkness,
desolation and gloom.
Stanley gave but little thought to the sur
rounding beauties of nature, as he rode slowly
through the woods, his hat drawn over his
brows, and his mind evidently occupied with
thoughts of an engrossing, and apparently,
unpleasant sort. He was, in fact, pondering
on certain circumstances, the contemplation
of which afforded him an inexplicable uneasl-
ness, although he could not account to himself
for this apprehension on his part.
"Why is it" he muttered, gloomily, "that l
allow myself to be influenced by such unreas-
enable ideas? It is folly in me to encourage
them for an instant. Still, I shall feel better
satisfied when this interview is over, and l
have once more the proofs Of the truth pre-
sented clearly to my mind. They seem to
need repetition in order to convince me of
them, though I have always considered them
sure enough. But the dreams l have had
such dreams they are enough to shake a
mans good sense, even when he reviews them
by daylight! Pshaw! what detestable child
ishness," he added, abruptly, as if ashamed of
his own weakness; II must be getting into
my dotage, I think. Come, Bayard, we have
long ride before usT and he chirped to his
horse, who set off on a gallop inspiriting
enough to brace his nerves, and chase away
the shadows, whatever they might be, that
seemed to be haunting his brain.
Truly, the recollection Of past guilt is hard
to eface! No matter what scenes we pass
through, what varieties of life shift around
us-whether we move in the gay throng of
society, or live in the seclusion of a herlnit's
cell-whether the treasures of fortune are
showered upon US with lavish hand, or the
cares of poverty are wearing our hearts away; !;
amid the changing panorama of life, in the
hours of daylight and the dreams which visit
US in the darkness of the night, the mysterious
shadow Of crime, rising up from the grave of
vanished years, will float before the mental
vision, blotting out the sunshine of the pres
ent, and haunting the brain with persisten-
cy that banishes repose. Truly, there is no
stream of Lethe, the draught of whose wave
can quench a memory like this.
Sometimes when a conscience has slumber-
ed during many years, lulled by delusve
whispers into dangerous rest, the slightest
chain of everyday events, leading to some
trivial occurrence of no outward Importance,
will waken it suddenly into consciousness,
and it starts up in alright to confront the
phantom it vainly thought was exercised for
ever.
Stanley rode on about six miles, until he
came within sight of small unpretending
looking house, standing back in yard en-
closed bya picket fence. On one side was
vegetable garden, in the rear cornheld, and
a few trees of somewhat stunted growth were
scattered about the domain, which presented
altogether an aspect more cherries than pic
turesque.
AS he drew up before the gate, woman
opened the front door and came along the
path to greet him.
"And how do you do, Mr.. stanley?" she
said with disagreeable smile, which did not
enhance the attractiveness of dark, shrewd,
sallow face, decidedly foreign in the contour,
though she spoke with perfectly correct ac-
cent. "Glad to see you again, sir, so soon af-
ter our chance meeting the other day"
"How do you do, Mrs. Ford? ?" rejoined
Stanley, dismounting as he spoke, and fasten-
ing his horses bride to the fence. sour
meeting, as you say, was quite chance one
but you see I have lost no time in calling to
renew our acquaintance"
II haven't very nice place here to receive
YOU in, sir" said Mrs. Ford as she led the
way to the house "but such as it is, you are
welcome
She ushered him into the front room, and
drawing chair forward, requested him to sit
down.
Stanley did so, taking at the same time a
cursory survey of the apartment, which was
small and poorly furnished, though clean and
neatly arranged. On one side of the fireplace
was wooden settee, opposite to it cushion
ed armchair, which Stanley occupied, being
the only seat in the room with any pretension
to comfort; a few more hard, straight backed
chairs, ranged against the wall, common
pine table, with faded cover, in the centre,
and dimity curtains to the windows, compile
ting the furniture of the room. By way Of
ornament, two punches of dusty wax flowers
under glass shades, and pair of white and
blue china vases, occupied the mantelpiece.
circumstances appear to have changed
with you, Mrs. Ford, since last we met" OBJ
served Stanley, after short pause.
"Why yes, sir, I confess they have" was