Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1875-01-29

the man to whom her father was indebted
had cast shadow, like that Of a grave
stone, down the path Of Cheviot's life. AL
beauty, all enjoyment was lost to him
when he found himself bereft of her. He
seemed to have died to himself.
But now the sky and the rustling boughs
and the violets looking at him blue and
brave-eyed from the grass around had vi
talized him. A voice came out Of the
woods recesses saying: 'sThis is not all.
! There is more to come. y
/ Meanwhile be ate the trout of the hill
side streams, slept sweetly, was polite to
the Stamfords and Rochesters, and avoided
Mr. st. Lambert.
He awoke one night, and heard voice
singing outside the window. A woman's
voice, sweetly and strange, and with vi
brations that seemed familiar. Moonlight
shone white on the wall, through the
branches of a tree. He aroused himself,
and looked at his Watehss at was a quarter
| to three in the morning.
4 Strange as the circumstance was, an
| almost uDaccountable excitement seized
him, as he dressed and went out Oh the up
per piazza. But already there were lights
and the voices of men about the house.
bert's-call, ssWe'ye got -her!" Then all
was still.
But he could not sleep again till after
daybreak. That singing voice still haunt
ed him.
The next morning he made inquiries. A
sick woman, deranged by spells, had es-
capped from the care of hernurse, they told
him IS
Two weeks passed. A wild stormy spell
drove Cheviot within doors from his ac-.
customed haunts, and little Mrs. Roches-
ter, who secretly admired the stern man
with the sad eyes. invited him to her pri-
vate parlor, an invition, which to his own
surprise, he accepted.
First she tried him with bit Of gossip.
''Have you heard. y she said that Mr..
st. Lambert is to be married next week."
Cheviot had not heard.
s'To Miss Rosa Grant, of New York,
who is staying at the village hotel, six
miles off. And they do say, Colonel Chew
lot, that he has a Wife!"
IA wife!"
Eyes, an insane wife. And. that she is
kept here in a back wing of the house with
her nurses. Mr.. st. Lambert is wealthy,
though they say it is with her fortune; but
money won't help himto get divorced from
sick wife, concluded Mrs. Rochester,
with flashing eyes, which was interpreted
by the fact that the little woman was in
delicate health, and had a coarse-looking
husband, who treated her with brutal in
difference.
Certainly not, said Cheviot.
81 have never seen this invalid woman.
st. Lambert says ii is his sister, but l know !
parties. who can prove that she is his wife.
Peter Stewart is h the secret. Do you
know that she escapes and wanders about
the gropadi2 ,Aala that is what the excite
ment was about the other night -
''Indeed! l distinctly heard some strange,
sweet singing..o
ssShe has heavenly voice. And she
calls, sometimes a mans name, piercingly,
you should chance to hear it. But they al
ways hush her up and keep her as quiet as
possible. This is my third summer here,
OF [ should not know SO much.
ga skeleton in the house," said Cheviot
smiling. l
eyes, almost literally. They say she
has pinned away to look like a spirit more
than living thing"
"a spirit? [ think saw one in the
woods the night came here!'' exclaimed
Cileviot. EaM
ssPerhaps it was Mrs. st. Lambert. y
Possibly returned Cheviot, with a
start. -r.s
He was musing for a while on. what he
had heard.
In the course of few days the strange
story had become familiar to him. The in
difference which he had before felt for st.
Lambert now changed for decided dis
approval and dislike.
"a bad man." he saidto himself, regard
ing his handsome Greek profile and the
bold eyes. q
The next week closed the stay of Colon
eel Cheviot at Heron Lake House. Once
more he wandered alone to the little sheet
OF blue water, and as the afternoon was
hot and the balsamic scent of the pines
heavy, he fell asleep, couGhed 1uxuriantly
on a bed Of brown, rustling'leayes.
A violent peal of thunder awoke him.
He sprang up. The sky was black Lines
of lightning played ;about the pine tops 1t
was too late to escape; he could only sink
back under the matted boughs, trusting to
their destiny to protect him from the COM
ing rain.
Suddenly, pleadingly, sweetly, voice
called his name.
s'Hughie! Hughie.''
Cheviot leaped to his feet.
''Hughiel Hughie!'' -a ~
How frightfully like the voice of the wo-
man he had lost But she would never call
him more. No, no-neyer any more! He
threw himself down among the russell leaves
again, almost with sob.
How he had loved the lips that had made
that plain name sWeet.-Oh, God but thou
only may witness the strong mans agony.
When Cheviot again raised his head the
slight white figure Of a woman stood be-
side the basin of the little lake. He gazed
at her, momeptarily, his gaze deepening.
Her pure cut features, the wealth of silky
black hair unrolled and falling down the
loose grey dress, the fraiI white hands, the
attenuated yet graceful form-they were
like, and yet.unlike, the Clara Edgerton he
had been bereft Of, and again he found
himself on his feet, and breathlessly, fear=
! fully, pressing forward.
! The white figure moved slowly along the
bank. her gaze turned aside. Overhead