The Findlay Jeffersonian. [volume] (Findlay, Hancock County, Ohio) 1870-1881, 1875-05-07
Selerf Story.
THE GHOST OF HERON LAKE.

Under the young shade of the old trees,
before the Heron Lake House, Hugh
Cheviot tied his horse, and took off his
straw hat to feel the balmy woodland
air battle his temples 1t was dewy and
sweet with the scent of horse chestnut
blossoms Through the slopes of birches
and alders the lake glimmered blue ike
a sheet of steel. Cheviot drew long,
quivering breath.
"Glad to see you, colonel" called his
host from the portico.
eyes, am here ut last" responded
Cheviot, advancing toward the house,
but his gaze wandering after two white
butterflies waltzing down the slope.
'Fine weather." placing two chairs in
proximity on the piazza.
at seems to he the most beautiful
Spring for years" was the response, as
Cheviot sat down, the sunset light stri-
king full on his face-the face OF war
rior, SCARED and marked with life, but
noble rs stern. ''The house is not full,
/ think you saidi 1t will be quiet herr!'
"Quiet enough" responded Peter
Stewart, struggling his shoulders.
''Who are your guests" asked Che
Wet, pulling at his brown beard. Her
OH Lake cannot be a fashionable locaIi-
ty2" with half.apprehensive look tow
ard a glittering earriageload of ladies
rolling along the tree-hung road.
mo, no. Those are people from the
village, six miles away. It's Mr.. st.
Lambert's team. Nice horses; see the
furthermost bay There's n gait for
you'll"
"Yes. yes. Then they are not coming
hereg
"Well, Mr. st. Lamhert's here-sonie-
times"
"Boards here! And who else?''
"a family named Stamford, another
named Rochester, and a few invalids."
Cheviot appeared satisfied. The sup
perbell rang.
After supper, seized. by the enticing
charm of the steel blue water glinting
among the trees, lie started suddenly 10
visit it.
His host called after him: ITS half
n mile away!' but he still kept OH.
The gIades were scented and sweet.
The birds twittered sleepily on the
branches of blOssomed boughs, or eyed
him with bright, hidden eyes from their
nests, He found tinkling little brook
leading down to the lake, and followed
it.
It widened gradually into the sheet of
pale blue water. Bankful among the
darkening green, Heron Lake gemmed
the forest like pearl.
''Why did they give this lovely SPOT
such an ugly titlel" muttered Cheviot,
seating himself upon fallen tree.
The fading light grew murky; the 81
lence deepened; yet the sweetness and
GOODNESS held him until all was black
and still.
A rushing noise in the bushes sudden
y startled him. Was it midnightl He
was wet by the dew. He rose to his feet,
recalle d 10 his task of returning. But as
ne turned, figure, dimly white, stood
in his path!
Slight and light aud graceful, it waved
aside, aud was gone. For u moment lie
81, l. 1 4
dim and lonely, and the rustling tree
tops were monotonously repeating some
vague, sad story.
''Has Heron Lake glIostl" lac asked
himself, as he plunged through the al
ders homeward.
"Mr. St. Lambert, Colonel Cheviot.
The gentlemen acknowledged the in
PRODUCTION somewhat formally, both pri-
vateIy preferring not to be intIuded up
on; but Mr.. Peter Stewart silently con
graduated himself upon having done
the correct thing.
Mr.. st. Lambert had been at the Heron
Lake House full three days, and until
now no opportunity of presenting Colo
mel Cheviot, his favorite guest, to this
gentleman had occurred. Mr.. st. Lam.
bert was sitting on the piazza, and Col
onel Cheviot, lost in thought, had ap,
preached inadvertently.
A cold, -chiseled, handsome face
was st. I4amber.'s. with pale hair curling
around it. His dress, his diamonds, were
exquisite. He was about thirty years OF
age-nearly ten years younger than Che
viot. Each man, you would have said,
understood himself well.
The Colonel remarked that it was fine
weather.
''Yes, but cursed lonely spot TO find
it in" responded Mr.. st. Lambert, tax