The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1878-05-08


limb, the orphan girl lay and listened to
this evidence of treachery.
All at once board at the side Of the
bed creaked, as though wary foot was
passing over it, and the long swish OF
the garments followed.
Then the door softly burst open as if
without hand, a flow of air from the
passage rushed across the girls rigid
face, and she heard amid the sufocating
throbbings in he, ears, the first crow of
some neighboring chanicleer.
Her terror ended in q swoon.
When she came to herself it was broad
daylight.
The golden sunshine was lying across
her pillow, and the perfumes of the red
honeysuckle came in through the open
window and filed the pretty chamber.
All seemed innocence and peace
around her, but the soul of the orphan
girl was filed with astonishment. :.
She could scarcely arrange her
thoughts at first, So terrible was the
ordeal through which she had passed ;
but at length she saw that she must
leave the house Immediately that she
must relinquish both her affianced and
her fortune, if she would feel her life
safe.
"Oh, papa my papa |" wept poor
Dora, "you have made terrible mis-
take p ~.
When she joined the family, in answer
to the breakfast bell, she was in her
travelling dress, and her trunks were all
repacked.
"Why, cousin Dora, what is the mat
ter? Are you Ill, dear ?" exclaimed
Penelope, in soft, cooing voice, which
seemed habitual to her.
Dora turned her back on her midnight
visitor, and striving to speak calmly,
said to Mr.. Arlingford &C I wish to 60
to London to-day, sir. Please allow
some one to drive me to the. station"
There was pause of CONSERVATION,
then they all with one accord began to
plead with her to change her mind, and
none of the three were 80 urgent and
tender about it as Penelope.
"Just try US, dear cousin!" she en-
treated. "Of course you will be lonely
at first-everything is so different-but
who will make You happier than we can ?
Has anybody offended you, dear Dora ?"
"No," answered Dora, shuddering +;
"but I shall, prefer living alone"
"You are so young, so ignorant OF the
ways Of our towns" said quiet Mrs. Ar
lingtord, here Ginning in anxiously, cit
is a mad thing for you to think OF,
child.
'@"i must co. responded the orphan,
averting her pallid face that the dark
misery of it might not be seen.
So, when the persuasions of himself,
and the pleadings and tears of his wo-
men avaiIed not, Mr.. Arlingford got
offended, "Let her please herself, Pen
sic. Ring and order Sam to bring the
carriage round"
Dora swallowed q cup of tea, and
choked down morsel of bread, and
then she went back to her room to put
on-her hat. 49,. -. =. =
Lookingshe trunk took but, q few mo.
ments. SsS ss .eses$ -
She flung herself upon chair, and
wept silently, feeling herself to be the
most desolate and friendless being on
the faceTo of the earth. ( ~ =.
What should she do in London?
Go to her fathers lawyer, and tell him
she did not wish to, marry Walter Gary,
then live alone in such lodgings as the
remnant Of her fortune could afford her.
e All! it was, indeed q terrible mistake,
that clause in the ewill.e ~.fe,.s 49,.
But into the midst of her musings
stole sound which thrilled her once
more with awe. - = -. -
Y The swish of garment, the rustic of
a paper, Just as it aroused her last night.
Dora gazed upon her like one bereft
Of reason. gE ~ .<...
The large old Bible lay quiet enough
and closed exactly where she had placed
it-no living thing was in the room but
herself. .-yay...,.. -. .~,,eaa .ae--e,-.-
And then she saw the whole mystery.
The window was partly opened, and
slight puff of wind had blown out the
crisp white curtains in the room then
receding had sucked them outward
through the aperture, while the impris-
oned air, running up the blind, had
caused the tssue-paper hanging at the
top to rustic. ::
There came another puff-the trail of
the curtain over the carpet, the rustic of
the paper hanging. ...
Dora sat gazing at the window, her
face, in it's astounding thankfulness, a
study for I'm artist.
At this moment Penelope came in.
She had been weeping.
"The carriage is ready, dear cousin"
sighed she tremulously. s
Dora passed her hand over her fore
head, then facing her rival, asked, in O
hurried tone, "Were you up last night
any time, Miss Arlingford?" ?"
eyes," answered Penelope, in sur.
prise, "about four o'clock I rose and
closed my window. The wind was
rising"
"Did you hear cock crow as you
did 30 ?"
eyes did. Why do you ask, dear I?
Stay know why You were frigbten-
ed by hearing broad creak beside your
bed I should have told you about that
board how stupid of me-"
II heard board creak," said Dora,
scarcely believing her own ears.
eyes, it ought to be fastened down.
It runs the whole breadth of the house,
and when I tread on one end of it in my
room the other end creaks in this. Lis
ten !" ......, a.
She ran across the passage, shutting
the door after her, and in moment the
veritable creaking commenced, accom-
panied by the clicking of the latch OF
the door, which had so petrified Dora.
When the young lady returned the e1-
preston Of her cousins features was 50
nightly altered that she exclaimed
"Why, my darling girl, I do think you
wanted to leave us because you thought
the house was haunted"
+ "Per-perhaps-yes, faltered Dora,
wistfulIy gazing ather.
"You poor little darlng," murmured
Penelope, in voice of deep compass
sion, and she took Dora's unresistine
hand in, hers. aWhy would you moi
tell me? Don't you know, Dora, ," and
q smile played on her lips, "that We
ought to love each other very dearly
We are both going to marry Walter
Cary, and be the closest sort of cousins.
4 care there two Walter Carys% q ejac
ulated Dora. So H. $50 q
i "Whatl" cried Penelope, her coun