The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1881-01-07
A CHURCH MOUSE.

y
mean to repay my confidence by break
ing my neck?'
The animal had SHE'D so violently as
nearly to throw his rider, and stood
trembling in every muscle. His master
peered through the darkness In the en-
deavor to make out the cause OF his ter
ror. He could perceive before him the
dim outline of dismantled church,
with its brood of gravestones clustered
about it. Beside the door, so close that
he could have touched it with his
whip, he discovered an indistinct white
object crouching upon one OF the
graves.
Resolved upon knowing what it was,
he dismounted and approached it. As
he did so, it arose and fed rapidly
away. With his curiosity now fully
aroused, he followed it. AS 1t neared
the church, it turned suddenly and con-
fronted him. At this moment broad
glare of lightning flashed across the sky,
and he saw before him a young girl
dressed in thin, water-soaked garment,
her hair falling in drenched coils upon
her shoulders. For an instant her
large, sorrowful eyes met his with an APP
pealing look; then she seemed to melt
into the solid body OF the church.
As well as the darkness permitted, he
examined the spot where she had disap-
peared, but could find no opening
through which she could have escaped.
He called aloud that he was friend,
and that she Ind nothing to fear. The
only answer was the weird wall of the
tempest through the broken arches.
With feeling akin to superstitious ter
ror, he hastily remounted his horse, and
did not draw rein until he had reached
the village inn.
"Wh0 occupies the old church
yonder?" be inquired Of the landlord.
"Ah you, too, have seen it?" ex-
claimed the landlord, mysteriously.
"It?" echoed the traveller. 81 saw
what I take TO be poor, demented
girl.
"You saw the spirit Of one" answered
the host, solemnIy. Every one here
knows the story. When she was alive
her name was Ada Morton. Her father
died year back, leaving her heiress to
his property. AS she was yet a minor,
he appointed his friend Stephen East
burn her guardian, who, in case of her
death unmarried, was to inherit the
property. 1t is said that he beat,
starved, and cruelty ill-treated her. One
night-jlst such night as this-she
disappeared. Her hat and cloak were
found ON the river-banlz next morning.
It was plain that the poor creature had
sought deliverance from her prosecutor
by suicide. That was three months ago.
Her body was never found, but her
spirit has been often seen in the church.
yard, where her father lies. Meanwhile,
the man who drove her to her death
lives at his ease in her fathers house on
the HILL"
The traveller was evidently interested
in the story, but he made no comment
upon it. Merely informing the land
lord that he should remain for week
or two, he retired to his room.
Like many another young man of fort
une: Charles Barclay was afflicted with
too much leisure. His sole object in
this part of the country was merely a
ianguid search after amusement. The
landlords story had strongly aroused
his curiosity. Moreover, the young
girls sad face and beseeching glance in
the churchyard had made strange i'm
preston upon him. Something in her
improbable history had led him to form
a vague suspicion of truth nearly as
improbable. Eagerly accepting the pos
sible chance of an exciting experience,
he determined to sift the matter to the
bottom.
Without dropping a hint as to his in
tentions, he left the inn on the next
night, shortly after II o'clock, and pro-
ceeded to the old church. The place
was silent and deserted: not even O
stray dog was to be seen wandering
about the churchyard. An inefably
dreory Dir hung about the place, de-
pressing his spirits and almost resolving
him to abandon his object. Buta senti-
ment of pride urged him ON, and he cau-
tiously made his way into the church
and sat down in one Of the pews.
For more than ON hour nothing oc-
CURED to attract his attention. He became
drowsy, and was on the point of falling
asleep where he sat, When low, weird
peal from the old organ moaned through
the church. He sat erect and listened
with suspended breath. The sound rose
higher and clearer, and presently the
sweet but mournful tones of woman 8
voice joined it. He could make out the
words of prayer for the wretehed.
After moment the music ceased, and
he could hear the singer sobbing III a
low, heart-broken way, that brought
tears to his eyes. He strained his eyes
through the darkness, but could make
out nothing. Arising, he called out:
"Whoever you are, you are IN sorrow
and affection. Icannot see you. l will
not pursue you. All I desire is to be
your friend. VIII you answer me?"
There was no reply, aud the weeping
suddenly ceased. After a moment OF
hesitation, he made his way to the organ
loft and struck match No one was
visible, nor was there the smallest trace
of the recent presence of any living be-
ing. Considerably startled, he LETT the
church, determined to repeat his expert
ence ON the following night.
Providing himself with dark lantern,
he went to the church on the next night,
and secreted himself near the organ. As
before it was nearly midnight before be
became conscious of the presence of an
other person III the building. On this
occasion the organ was not played, but
there was slight rustic, as of wom-
ans dress, and presently he heard the
same low, bitter weeping.
Quickly arising, he shot the rays OF
the lantern In the direction whence the
sounds proceeded Not more than three
yards from him, in the broad glare oi
the light, he beheid the girl whom he had
met in the churohyard. She was look.
ing at him with ON expression Of intense
terror in her white face and tear-wet
eyes. AS she stood covering before him
she reminded him of some innocent ami.
NAL crouching at the hunters feet.
With an accent of deep pity, he al.
dressed her:
" saw you in the churchyard night
before last | spoke to you last night.
1 am not an enemy, nor an Idle curiosity.
seeker. l earnestly want to aid you.
Will you trust me?"
Keeping her eyes fixed upon him with
the same distrustful look. she answered,
in faint, far-off voice
Your friendship or your enmity can
be nothing to me. The world you live
in, by its wickedness and cruelty. drove
me- Ia nv death T an, 5on.oaJ ~ +L;.