The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1880-03-18
n-nearly hundred years ago."

ones self. There are many things |
don't understandable | am willing to
accept-anything, Sir Robert"
"Edmundr' cried Sir Robert, al
most wildly, command yourself. You
don't seem to see. Ny dear fellow.
this is all delusion. You have seen
no lady. 1t has been your imagina-
ton working How in the name of
all that is reasonable could you see a
lady who has been dead for hun
dred years?"
The young man looked up startled.
Confusion seemed to envelop every
thing round him. "a hundred years, -
he said to himself, wondering; then
laughed, and repeated, Il saw no lady !?
| am going to marry her, Sir Robert y
God bless us allr' said Sir Robert,
with voice of terror. Edmund, my
dear fellow-Edmund, see a doctor,
see a clergyman. I'll send for old
Parkins and for the rector You can't,
you can't go on like this, you know"
Edmund's brain was still too much
confused to take in any impression
from what was said. "a hundred
years" he repeated to himself, with a
smile. 1T is strange; but [ always
felt there was something strange. |
told you there were many things | did
not understand. But what may be
the meaning-this hundred years? Is
this all you have to tell me, sir?" he
continued trying to wake up from the
confused sense of mystery, yet almost
of pleasure, which the picture brought
him. He did not understand it but
then in the whole matter there was so
little that he could understand.
"All," Sir Robert said. He was in
great excitement and distress. Il
don't want the ladies to know if we
can help it. Don't say anything to
them, entreat Of you. And, my dear
boy, if you would go and lie down, I
will send for Parkins to come directly.
I'll have the rector up in half an hour.
It will yield to remedies-it will yield
to remedies" Sir Robert said.
Il am quite we'll" said Edmund.
To him it seemed that Sir Robert was
going out of his senses. But I will
not keep you longer, and l will say
nothing to the ladies. In the mean
time," he added, in his confusion, Il
have got-some letters to write"
''The very best thing you can do;
occupy yourself occupy yourself, my
dear fellow" said Sir Robert, patting
him ON the shoulder Edmund felt
that his guardian was glad to be rid of
him. Perhaps it was not wonderful
that Sir Robert did not understand
him; he did not understand himself.
His head was confused as if the fog
had got into it. To some things he
seemed to attach no Importance at all,
while others were quite clear to him,
and had all their natural weight.
Seventeen, seven, seven" He re-
peated this over to himself with a
smile, but whether it was a charm, or
a fact, or what it was, he could not
tell; on the other hand, he thought
the precaution about the ladies was
quite right. And he could not appear
without betraying that something had
happened to him. He sent word down
stairs by his servant that he had
caught a cold and was going to keep
his room; and there he received the
visit af old DIR. Parkins with much
conscious amusement, but would not
say a word to him Of what had befal-
len him, and utterly confounded the
old doctor, who could say nothing but
that his pulse was excited, and that it
would be necessary for him to keep
quiet for day or two. Then the rec
tor came, much abashed, as a man
called upon to minister to mind dis
eased, and knowing nothing about it,
was likely to be. When they were
gone Edmund spent the night alone
He wrote long letter to-he did not
know whom-giving an account of
the whole, so little as there was of it,
and so much Il know there is some
thing strange he wrote, ''but moth
ing to prevent my taking the charge
of her, taking care of her. An hour a
day of her will be more to me than
twenty-four of any other. I know
there are things which | can't under
stand" When he had done this it
was late, and all the family had gone
to bed. He heard them going one by
one-a sound of steps in the long pas
sages, mounting the stairs, little
CLEAN of the passing lights under his
door, By-and-by silence fell upon ev-
erything. There was no sound or stir
anywhere-all silent, all dark, the
doors shut fast, soft waves of quiet
breathing going through the house.
He came out with his light in his
hand and stood for a moment on the
threshold of his door-an adventurer
bound upon a last voyage, sailor get
ting out into unknown seas. Then
he went up, up to the upper part of
the house, past all the closed doors,
moving quietly through lines of un-
seen sleepers on every side. The great
house was as silent as the grave.
The moon was shining full from
the west, just about to set, as she had
risen, early. There was a large west
window in the gallery, and this was
full of silvery light pouring in, max
ing all white and dazzling. The por-
trait, which had been drawn towards
this window to get the evening light,
stood there still, receiving the white
illumination of the moonlight. Ed
mund walked up-holding in his hand
candle, which famed yellow and
earthly in that radiance from heaven
through the whiteness, a sort of
milky way, with the annals Of the
past on every side of him. He came
to the picture of his love, and threw
himself down beside it on the floor.
There she stood before him, shadowed
in the moonlight-the same, and yet
not the same. Something disappoint-
ing, narrower, smaller, was!in the pic
tured countenance. AS he gazed at it
the confusion grew in his mind; all
that was real seemed to die away from