The weekly clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1863-1882, 1874-12-17

sheet that time in Rome Not to Roth
man, not to Wilhelm, not to Franz, but
to mel There was a fair beginning
preface, if you willard to what did ii
all lead? To nothing. at all, or to poor
empty passages at best. We passed, then,
straight from the grand old feasting hall
to the low rooted cell, niched in among
the buttresses, which the guardian called
his own. Here sable cat, with witch
| like eyes, sat pensively beside the hearth,
and gaudy red-and-yellow print of the
holy st. Cundegonde, pinned awry over
the mantle-piece, gave what We call the
| only touch of color to the place.
ct was now beginning to grow dark,
and my unwilling host took down from
the shelf damaged mineral-water bottle,
with a candle end stuck in it, which he
me, Good sir, said he, 'as it seems no
other inn will serve your turn this night,
l suppose you must try mine : and he
led the way accordingly to the apartments
OF the western tower, in which, he once
more repeated, accommodation was not
the one thing wanted. ('What was it,
thenY l thought The rooms of the
western tower had, he said, been reftted
with old furniture only two years ago by
his master, Baron C., of Mannheim,
who was himself partial to the place, and
had tried-had, in fact, spent some weeks
at the castle last vintage time with other
members of the family but, he added,
none of the young ladies throve there,
nor, indeed, my honored mistress either
The wind blows cold and damp from the
river of night. They said it was always
blowing their candles out as they crossed
the gallery to their chambers so one fine
day they all went back to Menheim
There was something in this one par
ticular passage of the old retainers dis
course which took my fancy-for | was
then still fancy-free, and neither your
charming face, my Margaret, nor that
dear smile of yours, had yet taken posses
sion of my every thought-and as [ was
followed by my old guide up the creaking
staircase l seemed to see before me those
fair young maidens, with their wind
blown lights, wreathed together in their
graceful fear, nymph-like, as the ex-
quisite creations Of the English artist
Flaxman.
"When we had got to the top of the old
stone stairway, Fritz, as he told me he
bled in some hidden corner, and having
found a rusty key there, applied it to the
lock of a black paneled door, which
opened to his touch, as doors are not apt
to do that are not asked to take the trou-
BILE, slowly and unwillingly, nay, even more
than that, as if some one held it back from
within. who's in therer said |, in a
low voice to Fritz Helm = was his sole
reply. At last, however, the door yielded
to his pushing. In we went, and there
was no one there after all.
cit was dismal chamber, and large
one. It had tapestries and a set of pom
derous hig h. backed benches, and seemed
destined to serve as antechambers to the
rest. Through it we passed on into an
other, and another after that, and yet
one more-all dim, chill and silent as the
grave; and at last we came to the farth-
est one of all, in which huge unwieldy
looking bed of antique form, with sweep
ing draperies of dark green serge. sler-
shadoVed half the floor. A quivering
mountain ash that grew without check
cred the lozenge shaped lattice panes with
the shadow of its trembling leaves, forev-
er, as it were, pleading for remittance ;
while the chill autumn wind, toying with
some loose rubbish in the grim old Chin
newcomer, seemed to stir up a kind of
false dreary life within its hollow.
''Ihis, however, was all. There was
no mysterious family portrait with pursu-
ing eye upon the wall no stern suit
of hollow armor in the room no des-
perate, bloody single combat on the faded
arras.
81 have seen before and since, in msny
Roman palace or ancient Florentine
dwelling house, chambers of a far more
striking aspect, which brought before me
one N ore wildly the character and ira
ditions of the romantic ages, and were
more fitting scenes for dark domestic
tragedies and hidden family history but
never, no, never, have I beheld any hui
man habitation having about it precisely
what this one had. The first glance at
it sent an like chill through all my
veins The very remembrance of it does
so still.
"'This, then said the old retainer,
lifting, as he spoke, fold of the sombre
curtain of the bed-'this will be your bed
tonight. and it is perhaps better, after
ALL to lie here than AT the mercy Of the
thieves and the winds by the river side.
And having arrived at this conclusion,
he added, more cheerfully, Now, then.
sir, if you will come down stairs again
with me, and share my bit of sau-
sage, and my fire, you are welcome to
both.
81 gladly accepted the offer, and we
returned accordingly to his humble cell,
transformed by comparison into perfect
snuggery. We supped together by his
little fragrant pine wood fire; we drank
to the health Of the baron and his fair
daughters in a flask of his own good
Rhenish but it failed to make my heart
merry My spirits had been damped,
unaccountably damped, by the impression
made upon me by the mere sight of that
dreary sleeping chamber, and the still
more dreary prospect of having to pass
night within its walls; so that when the
hour came for me to borrow the mineral
water bottle with the candle end, and to
light myelf up stairs again, my heart sank
within me.
''Old Fritz, who had accompanied me
as far as the antechamber doors took
leave of me there with many quite nacht,
and left me defenseless on the thresh
hold.
81 am not a coward where real flesh
and blood are concerned, but am a very
maid for ghosts, and would have given
worlds to have called him back l did,
indeed, make a faint attempt at some de-
plorable condescension of the kind, and
even thought heard retreating Heinz
from the foot of the staircase, but nothing
moro came of If and 7 turI,ed to meet nv
fate.
Gas did so something rose up before
the door as if to prevent my passing. |