The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1877-01-31
you dumb, Martin Brown? 2 cried,
stamping nv foot wildly. why cannot

stamping my foot wildly. why cannot
you answer meT
"Because - because I shall break
your heart, the boy cried out, breaking
into tears. Esther, he will not come to
you-he is cruel and false, and deserves
not 0he sigh that you have spent for him!
He is to be married tomorrow; he cannot
break away from his bride at Gov. Win
throp's grand house to keep tryst at
Salem jail'
"That was all I heard. The place
whirled round and round with me, and
the roar of great waters was in my ears
as I fell on the stone floor, senseless
while vet alive. But that was the bit
terness of death F.; what cared for the
rest? Tomorrow came, and the April
sunshine glinted fair over the earth, and
shone on the bride in the streets of Bos-
ton town, and on the witch girl climbing
the cursed hill to die. I heard the
shouts and jeers and hootings of the
rabble irving the tender spring air, and
I saw, as one in dream, the sea of hate
full faces upturned to me, and the black
gallows drawn against the sweet, blue,
sunny sky, and I felt the hangman's
hands touch me and turn cold the blood
in my veins, and I flung out my last
breath in curse that should cling-that
has clung-to all women born of that
woman, down through unnumbered gen.
erations-down to you, who trace your
lineage through Mabel Daniels and
Roger Vane! In that curse my soul
wavered and futtered out-sprung free,
and left, swinging between the black
earth and the sky, on Witch's hill, the
fair form that crept close into lovers
arms in the green wood long ago y
She stood over me-this ghost Of
Esther Chillingworth-and tore the coil
of dark hair away from her neck !; and,
in the faint, misty moonlight, saw n
dreadful circing mark around the fair,
white throat. Ny blood curdled with the
horror of it and hid my eyes, cowex-
ing away in the pillow rs she hung over
me with o long, moaning sob, like the
last breath of the dying. think that
terror made me insensible as lay there:
heard no more, nor saw my strange
visitant vanish with the glimpse of the
moon but when I opened my eyes
again, the room was light with tlawn,
and I was quite alone, with nothing
more ghostly than dull old family por-
trait to watch me between the parted
curtains. GA DREAM thought, shud-
dering, as I rubbed my hands across my
eyes.
Esther Chillingworth' ring was gone
from my finger. 81 don't know the ex-
act story of it," said Aunt Lucinda, at
breakfast. "The legend goes that it be.
longed to sweetheart of our ancestor,
Roger Vane; who was hung for witch
craft-the girl, mean, not Roger Vane
in the Salem excitement of 1868. That
was what my grandmother used to tell
me. She never wore the ring, for she
said it was unlucky. By-the-way, you
havn't got it on, have you? don't see
it on your finger"
"Auntie," I said, solemnly, with my
eyes as round as the saucer before me,
sit was taken away from me last night. "
"Taken away! Nonsense, said Aunt
Lucinda. "What are yo'l talking about,
child ?"
So I told her. "Tut, tut !" said my
aunt, derisively; "you've had the night
mare ! The ring has slipped off your
finger in bed, it was size too loose for
you. Susan will find it when she is do
ing up your room, I'll engage
And so she did, but my faith was in
nowise shaken, nor could any skeptical
arguments destroy my firm belief in the
GHOST Of Esther Gbillinpworth. And to
this day Aunt Lucinda admits that " it
was al odd coincidence about the names,
that's certain"