The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1880-03-11

| spoke. l have seen you often, but you
are confused with the other ones. So
many, so many [ have seen. Now
that you have spoken to me | will al
ways remember which is you"
Certainly she must be distraught
He was very sorry for her, very much
touched by her, but also, though why
he could not tell, a little alarmed, his
heart beating very unsteadily and
plunging in his breast.
Il hope" he said mot out Of any
intrusive or impertinent feeling, but
for safety, [ hope you will let me see
you home"
Again he heard the little roll of the
laugh, so utterly soft and distant; but
she made no reply. Il have seen a
great many, a great many" she said;
they all come and go, but they do not
see me- That is the punishment |
have. The house is altered But l
take great interest in it; WAS always
fond Of it. . Then the innocent lit
tie laugh was succeeded by gentle,
scarcely audible sigh.
All this time the evening had been
darkening, the sun had set, the mists
were creeping up once more in all the
hollows. Edmund felt a chill run
through him. ut is getting late" he
said, ''and cold. lie you are going to
the village it is a long walk. Forgive
me, but think you should let me take
you home"
She looked at him almost mocking,
but with such ten ler version Of
mockery; then turned and went
towards the door in the wall Her
movements were so gentle and light
that Edmund felt himself noisy, STUN
bling, awkward in every step he took.
Her little feet seemed scarcely to touch
the earth. He walked on beside her
confused, trembling, afraid, vet full Of
a strange happiness; and the moon,
which had been rising all the time,
came shining upon them through the
lofty, slender lime branches. It SEEM
ed to him in his bewildered condition,
that it was like some poem he had read,
or some dream he had dreamt, to walk
thus in this measured soft cadence,
with the moon upon their heads all
broken and chequered by the anatomy
Of the great trees, like dark lines traced
upon the sky. Then they came into
the full moonlight, in the corner
where the urn stood upon it's pedestal.
It seemed to Edmund that she went
more slowly, as if lingering. "This is
gloomy corner" he said, forcing him
self to speak For the charm Of the
silence had come over him, and words
seemed hard things to disturb those
soft moments as they flowed away
Not gloomy to me- I was always
fond of it. When it was put up we
were all pleased. That was what was
wrong in me. You know she said.
with her little soft laugh, Il was so
fond of the house and the trees, and
everything that was our own. I
thought there was nothing better,
nothing so good. | was all for the
earth, and nothing more. That is
why | am here somuch." " She paused,
and gave little sigh; but then added,
Tightening, 1T is not hard; when
you are used to it, when now and then
you meet with some one who sees you,
it is not so hard. | am a little sad
sometimes, but very happy now"
And again she looked at him with
that look Of tender enough
to turn any mans head. Edmund's
went round and round-he could say
nothing more, but stammer, repeating
himself, 1T is a long walk; you must
let me see you safely home across the
park"
She answered HIM only by that low
laugh, but even softer, sweeter, than
before. Then he opened the door for
her. As she passed through she
smiled upon him with little wave OF
her hand. For his part he had put his
foot on a soft piece of turf sodden with
the rain, and it took him q minute to
extricate the heel Of his boot which
had sunk into it. A minute, scarcely
so much as a minute, but when he
stepped out eagerly after her, his head
full of that walk across the park, she
was nowhere to be seen. One minute,
not so much. Where was she? How
had she managed to elude him? He
was wild with disappointment and an
ger. Once more he made a hurried
search behind all the bushes, in every
little clump of brushwood. There was
not a trace of her; though he thought
once he heard her low, melodious
laugh. Was it a trick she was play
ing him? What was the meaning of
it? But when he had walked about
for nearly an hour, Edmund had to go
back to the house disappointed. Once
more she had escaped him; his head
was giddy, his heart beating loud, his
whole being full of agitation and ex-
element. What did it mean? and
who was she, this mysterious girl?
Edmund felt like a man in a dream
as he came downstairs, and sat among
the party at table, where the meal
went on amid cheerful conversation.
For himself he seemed quite incapable
Of taking any share in it. 1t flowed
round him like something in which he
had no voice Afterwards the ladies
asked him in the drawing-rOom, their
voices coming to him family as out Of
a cloud. whether he had seen the white
lady again. But it was impossible to
him to speak Of her tonight. He an
swered briefly, saying no, though it
was not true; and pretended to have
letters to write, that universal excuse
for pre-occupation. But when he es-
capped from the circle on this pretence,
he did not write any letters. He sat
in his room, opening his window,
though the night was so balmy as to
make this desirable, and with his head
supported by his hands, gazed out up
on the great darkness round. The
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