The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1879-09-13
Tho Old ScilUoi-houye.

village, ana had now 1allGn into decay,
The old porch through which we entered
was broken down, and no longer the honey
sucklc clambcrcd over the sides There
was an air of gloomy desolation about the
place, and the moaning doves in the trees
without added to tho gloomy picture. Tho
desks and benches were still there, but COW
cred with dust, and the spiders had hung
their gray drapcry over them. The teach
cr's table, raised on a platform, still stood
and the inkstand black and dry, had mover
been removed. The Bible from whose
pages the exercises Of the school were
always opened was In its tsaccustomod place.
but like everything else, covered with dust
anG mold.
Twenty years before, when very young
boy, had sat many days and months con-
ming my lessons in that old school-room. 1t
was different place then. The warm sun
light came through tho windows, and tho
balmy brcezcs crept in laden with the per
fumc of the flowers without. Tho butter
flies dartcd in and out Of tho windows, and
the little humming- birds lowered around
the honeysucklc which clambcrcd over the
porch. The stream that, dashed over its
rocky bed made weird music which min-
gled with the rustling of the leaves of the
tall trees without.
The teacher was palS S-faccd, dark, sad
eyed woman, not more than twenty-five
years old, with gentle manner that
seemed almost hopeless. She had come to
tho village a stranger and dopcncd the school.
She called herself Mrs. Ray, and boarded
with the wife of the sextph Of the church.
She evinced but little INCLINATION for socia-
bility with the villagers, land generally re-
fused all invitations to social gatherings.
She was evidently woman of culture and
refinement, accustomed TO moving in polite
circles; and how she ever came to drift
into our quiet, little, ou4of- -thc-way village
it was hard to tell. Shd happened to como
just at the time wo needed school, tho
old teacher having died, and 50, in short
time, her school was full
She was very gcntla and the pupils
learned to love her. Her very gentlcnoss
proved restraining force, and the toughest
boy bent readily to the rule of Mrs. Ray!
1t worried us, however, 10 sec her TO sad,
and we noticed, too, at My unusual noise,
or sudden appearing Of tho parents in the
school-room, her dark eyes would assume
al eager startled look, and her white face
would turn still whittier.
Twenty years had rolled away since, as
little boy, | had gone to school to Mrs Ray.
| had left the village for the city, and now,
for the first time, had come to visit tho
home Of my childhood.
"Well, John, I said to the old sexton,
'1et us take awalk now to the school-room.
"Ah, sir, many is the day any one has
been there. 1t is never opened now, and is
fast falling to decay" said John.
the pale, dark-eycd teacan;; what became Of
"Did you never hear, sir, the terrible
story2"
L shook my head.
"Ah, sir, that was terrible thing. We
had to shut up tho school-room because tho
children refused to go there, and 80 we
built new one. The building fell to decay,
and the flowers around 1t died, and the
weeds grew apace. 1t Is very desolate
there, SIR"
"And what became of Mrs. Ray
BY this time we had reached tho old
school-house, and having entered, were
looking around.
''We'll dust this bench, John, and sit
down: and you can tell nc tho story of Mrs.
Ray"
The sun was just sinking behind the hills
when we took our seats amid the dust and
y
to me that I could see the sweet, pale face
of Mrs. Ray clearly defined against tho dark
background of the gloomy place, and hear
tho gentle tones of her voice.
"Wcll SIR said the old sexton, "it was
terrible day when we found Mrs. Ray
lying dead in the school-room, her throat
cut, and her dress covered with blood. The
children ran home and told the news, and
I, vii l. IL
dead, sir, and all we could do was to picl;
her up and carry her to my house, where
she boarded"
"Did she cut her own throat 2"
ooh, no, sir {; It must have been done by
stranger who spent night In the village,
and who was heard to inquire if person
answering to the description of Mrs. Ray
lived here. You see, sir, her name was not
Mrs. Ray at all, but Mrs. Vaudeville. The
man was not seen tho next day, and was
never heard of again"
"What reason could he have for murder
ing herr"
She had been engaged to be married to q
young man who was poor. and who her
father did not wish hor to marry. He
wanted her to marry Colonel Mandeville,
who was rich and influential. Then tho
story reached her that the one she loved
had married lady IN England, where he
had gone to visit his father, and she felt
desperate when she saw 1t in the nows-
papers. She married Colonel Vaudeville,
but she was not happy with him because
she did not love him, and he was fiery
tempered man, and she was afraid of him.
In one of his RACES he told her ono day that
tho young man she loved was not married
at all, and that he and her father had
caused tho marriage notice to appear In the
papers, and had intercepted all their letters
to each other. Then Mrs. Vaudeville told
him that there was no forgiveness in her
heart for him that she never wished to SEQ
hlm again, or her father either, for they
had broken her heart. When the young
man had heard Of her treachery In marry
ing another when sho had promised to
marry him, he wrote her terrible letter,
upbraiding her. lie grew sort Of melan-
choly, and one day he was found dead In
his room; he had shot himself. Mrs. Man
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