Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1883-03-24
A STRANGE RESCUE.

The sun was sinking behind a
mass of battlemented clouds as Eph
Warren toiled up the steep hill, on
the summit Of which stood the ruins
of the old mansion.
The reflection of the braZen
clouds lit up the single, ivy-grown
tower, the crumbling walls and the
roofiess chambers of the ruin.
Folks held stoutly that Mucklen-
owe Grange was haunted, and hardy
was the wight Who'll ventured after
nightfall up the steep and stony
path that led to it.
Lights had been seen glancing
from it by several belated peasants
who had wandered into its precincts,
and more than one had vouched
that they had heard screams as Of
some one possessed, issuing from its
recesses, and the thrifty Scotch
neighbors whispered to each other,
with bated breath:
"The place is no canny. Nae
mortal hand was at the Digging OF,
and nae mortal ee suld see its down.
fall"
But Eph Warren was a hardy
American traveller, who was striv-
ing by dint of seeing many lands
and watching many wonders to
crush melancholy that had seized
upon his life.
One year back he had met Nellie
FOtheringay. Troth was plighted
between them, and Eph was among
the happiest in the land, when came
the terrible intelligence that had
blighted his life.
Miss Fotheringay, wealthy, high
ly accomplished and beautiful, COM
mitted suicide. Her body was
found floating in the East river, so
disfigured by decay and the ravages
of the deniZens of the waters that it
was only identified by some family
jewelry, and letter, encased in
sealskin pouch for preservation,
which declared the writer's inten-
ton of ending life that had become
hateful to her.
So Eph was on his travels, carry
ing into distant lands a heavy but
stout heart.
AS he toiled up the road he fam
cied he saw light moving in some
distant corner of the ruins. He
stopped, concealed by the stunted
and gnarled trunk Of a sycamore
tree.
at is some reflection of the
Clouds" he said to himself, "shin-
ing on a broken window pane"
And he Was about to proceed,
when a sound issued from the ruins
that, bold as he was, called the
blood from his cheek, and seemed
to stop for an instant the beating of
his heart.
1t was a girls voice. wonderfully
sweet, but faint, and sounding as if
it came from great distance off.
Was he dreaming? or was it true
that the spirits of the dead came
back to earth to give messages from
another world to the loved ones in
this.
Still the sweet, faint spirit-vOice
sang, while the soul of Eph Warren |
sped back to the long, mellow
moonlight nights, when he sat i'm a |
dream Of bliss with his darling on |
the porch, amid the clambering |
honeysuckle, or drifted idly in his |
boat down the waters Of the Hud- |
son, while she sang in her low,
sweet voice, these very words:
1.-The stars are watching, the winds are play |
ing;
They see me kneeIing, they see me praying; |
They hear me still through the long night
NJ love, love you I love you!
with the burning, beating, the inward
Ever and ever in music gushing,
Like the mystic tones from the sea7Shell
rushing,
oh, thus love you! love you!
Tho Kyorxv tuna hn hn6 ~ |
adapted from an old Hungarian
ballad he had caught in his wan
behring's; and now, on this bare
Scotch hill he had heard it again,
in the voice that had so often thrill
which he had believed was stilled
forever.
Gam l mad ?" he murmured to
himself; "or has the grave given
up its dead, to tell me the secret
motive of the fearful act that cut
off life so full Of love and happi-
ness ?"
There was again a dead stiffness
about him. The shadows were
deepening steadily, and he now
distinctly saw light burning in
one part of the ruins. The night
winds were rising, and faint star
shone out twinkling, reflected on
The bosom OF the river below. The
air began slowly to be filed with
mysterious sounds that awake in
all solitudes of the night-whisper-
ings, stealthy footballs, rustlings as
Of shadowy garments trailed thro'
the gathering darkness.
al will know what this is" said
Eph Warren, toiling upward to- {
ward the light. "If it is my dear,
dead darling, she can only mean ]
me well. l have nothing to fear
God help me, have moth '
ing to love-"
He walked steadily and firmly,
but with instructive caution; and
rs he advanced he saw the light ,
larger and more distinctly. 1t came
from a window, surrounded and
hidden by heavy masses of creep :
ers. He could make out that this
part of the ruin either had not
fallen into the decay of the rest, or
had been lately buttressed and i'm
proved.
He stole up to the window, and
looked in on a sight that almost a
made his heart stand still again.
Seated in q low chair, her head c
thrown listlessly back, was his be- v
.rothed-Nellie Fotheringay her. G
elf, in the flesh, but sadly failed, S
md looking almost like a corpse. 2
Opposite to her stood coarse-feat- /
lred, large woman, regarding her t
With stern glance. A middle-aged
nan, elegantly dressed, stood beside t
his woman. Warren could see his o
ace, and could trace IN the features
slight resemblance to Miss Foth- a
ringay, but the expression was one :
II cruelty and cunning. Z
The room was elegantly furnished :
nd through an open door another c
DOM could be seen, similarly fur !
lished. The doors were secured I
With heavy chains and locks, and n
he windows were protected by thick q