The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1878-03-13

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glow ginted and glimmered upon the
walls and furniture and touched the
forms and faces of the girls with ten
der, oetic grace. "Now's our chance
to have a peep into futurity," said Grace
Elmore, the younger and gayer of the
two. eff we walk down cellar back.
wards with looking glass st the witch
ing hour of midnight, we shall see oul
| future"
81 shouldn't dare to try the expert
ment," said Irene ,,Beresford. "I've
heard of persons seeing their cofins in.
stead of true lover. Poor May Gay.
lord tried it last year, and though she
wouldn't mention what she saw, she told
me before she died that she could neve,
think of that night without shudder. ,
Nonsense how superstitious you
are!' said the more practical Grace
GLOW can you believe such things.
Now, 7 haven't the least idea either lover
or coffin would appear. If I should try
the experiment, I should only do it for a
lark"
"Call it superstition, or what you
like" returned Irene, "I know that
many fine, high-wrought, and yet pow
erful natures, are strongly controlled by
such notions. You know we have high
authority for the assertion that there
are stranger things in earth and heaven
than is dreamt of in our philosophy.
I do not believe in supernatural inhu-
ences, subject to laws whose workings
we do not understand, but which are
none the less real. Now, I'm just SEN
sitive enough-cowardly, if you like
to prefer doing almost anything dis
agreeable to the ordeal of walking down
cellar alone at that hour"
"Well, there's no need of our discuss
ing this subject before Paul in such a
gloomy manner" said Grace, hastily.
"He's low-spirited enough now, aren't
you, Paul ?" getting up and crossing the
room to the side Of Paul, who was re-
cining upon low lounge that sat in a
recess. "I guess you weren't noticing
what we were saying" she continued, as
he did not speak. "Come, co.," pat
ting him on the cheek, "cheer up, and
let us have some fun on the eve of dear
old Saint Valentine.
"I did hear what you were talking
about" he said, quietly, "and I agree
with Irene. believe"
80 yes. of course you believe any
thing that's dismal, and hateful, and
disagreeable. Come, Irene, help me
wheel him around out of these shadows;
he'll never move unless we do, and see
if this bright freight won't dispel these
dismal ideas"
Irene lent a hand, though the occu-
pant protested. and the lounge was
placed before the rosy freight. Then
Mary, the housekeeper brought in ap-
pies and nuts aud cider, and the girls
ate and drank and laugj ed and joked
with intent to cheer up their invalid
cousin, who was in decline, some said,
and others that he was only low-spirited.
Pau. Wentworth was dreamy, imag-
NATIVE youth of nineteen, whose sensi-
tive temperament had acquired morbid
tint from the misplaced kindness of an
indulgent mother. Believing him too
delicate for the rough-and-tumble play
of ordinary boyhood, she had treated
him like hot-house plant, which had
further strengthened this tendency. She
had died suddenly a few weeks before
the opening of our story, and the shock
had thrown him into state OF hopeless
dependency. His two cousins from q
neighboring town were spending q few
days at the farmhouse, trying to cheer
up his spirits, but all their efforts were
in vain.
As he sat before cozy fire in his sleep
ing room after the girls had retired, his
unnaturally bright eyes and the vivid
dush on his cheek seemed good evidences
of the truth of his friends fears, that
consumption was doing it's work. The
subject on which the girls had been
speaking in the first of the evening had
a strange fascination for him, and he
was resolved to try the experiment of
which they had spoken. Not that he
really believed that there was any truth
n the matter, only he felt strange
longing which was quite consistent with
such nature as his to experiment in
something which had suggestion of the
supernatural. he had no fear of death,
indeed he had sort of morbid longing
for it; 80 if he saw his coffin, he felt that
it would not unnerve him. The thought
kept him hopeful, and he sat in a low
chair before the fire glancing occasional
" at the clock until the hands pointed
to five minutes before twelve. Hisro
opened on the sitting room. He took a
small looking glass that hung on the wall
and a lamp, and passed through the sit
ting room to the kitchen. The house
was still as death. All the inmates ex-
cept himself were sleeping in the cham
bers. He heard the clock strike the
mystical midnight hour, as he opened
the cellar door, which creaked noisily.
He descended the steps slowly, for walk
ing backwards down stairs is slightly
difficult performance. He trembled 30
violently by this time with excitement
that he could scarcely hold the light. As
his feet touched the bottom, the cellar
became illuminated with a weird light
distinct from that shed by his lamp, and
he seemed for a moment to lose his own
identity, as in the glass, from which he
never took bis charmed gaze, he beheld
looking over his shoulder the fair face
framed in golden curls of his cousin
Irene It is doubtful if his coffin would
have startled him half so much as this
unexpected apparition. he was paraly-
zed for moment. Then the vision
glided away as n 'iselessly as it came;
and, without stopping to investigate, he
reascended the stair. as hastily as his
trembling limbs would allow, and the
cellar door closed with bang. The
sound acting on his overwrought nerves
caused him to drop the looking glass,
and it fell on the kitchen floor with
loud crash and WAS shivered to atoms.
He hurried into his room, undressed and
crept into bed. He lay long time in
a dazed, bewildered state, for thoughts
OF la,ly love hal never before entered
his head, and when at last he slept his
dreams were of his fair-faced cousin who
had showed herself to him in such a
weird, mystical manner.
Next morning when Mary entered the
kitchen she was startled by the sight of
the shattered looking-glass on the floor.
With considerable superstition about
such mishaps, she gathered up the
fragments in an awed sort of way, and
saw that it was the one that had hung
in Paul's room She considered it as a
mysterious omen of i'll to him, but
checked herself from skiing him about
it, as she feared the effect on his nerves.
She con6ded the matter to the girls as