Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1885-06-28
IN the DARK,


ling her b-ows in q thoughtful froWn as she
gazed into the depths Of her empty tea
cup.
"Wbat has hAppenedy' l inquired, glane-
ing up from the money article Of the Times
at my daughters pretty, puzzled face.
Nothing uncsnny, / hope! You haven't
discovered that q ghost is included among
the6xtures Of our new house"
This new house, The Csdars, was q pretty
old fashioned riverside villa between Rich
mond and Kew, which had taken furnished,
as q summer residence, and to which We had
only Just removed
Let me state, in parenthesis, by way ofin-
PRODUCING myself to the reader, that l, John
Dysart am q widower with one child: the
blueeyed, fair haired young lady who SAT
opposite to me at tie breakfssttsble that
bright June morning; and that have been.
FOX many years the manager Of an old estsb-
lished Life Insurance Company in the city.
What is the mystery?' repeated. as
Ethel did not reply.
She came out Of her brown study, and
looked at me impressiTely.
ut really is q mystery, papa, and the
more / think of it the more puzzled | IN.
Il am in the dark at present as to what
st may be" Ireminded her.
Something that happened last night.
You know that adjoining my bedroom there
is q large dark closet, which can be used as
q box or storeroom?
Il had forgotten the fact. but l viii take
your word for it. Well, Ethel?'
well, last uigt | was restless, and 1t was
some hours before | could sleep. When at
last l did so, | had ! strange dream about
that closet. It seemed that as | lay IN bed
heard q noise within, as if some Que were
knocking az the door, and q childs voice,
broken BY sobs, crying Iiteously, Let me
out let me OUT l thought that | got out
of bed and opened the door, and there,
~crouching sll in 3 heap against the wall,
was q little boy; q pretty, pale little fellow
of six or seven, looking halt wild with
fright. At the same moment | woke"
"And 10, it was a dresm?' l finished. IF
that is sll, Ethel"
"But it is not" she interposed. The
strangest part Of the story has to come.
The dream was so vivid that when | woke |
sat M in bed, and looked toward the closet
door, almost expecting to hear the sounds
again. Papa, you may believe me or not,
but It is a fact that / did hear them, the
muhled knocking and the pitful cry. As l
listened, IL grew fainter and fainter and at
length ceased altogether. Then | sum
moned courage % get out Of bed and open
the door. There was no living creature in
1SSSace. Was it not mysteriousY she
concluded. What can it mesnT
glanced at her with q smile, as re-
folded the paper and rose from my chair.
at means, my dear, that you had night
mare last night. Let me recommend you
for the future not to eat cucumber at DIM
ner."
"No, papa, she interrupted. II was
broad awake, and / heard the ehilds voice
as plainly as | ever heard q sound In my
life"
"Why didn't you call meg'
81 was afraid to stir till the sound had
ceased; but if / ever hear it again, Will
let you know at once"
BE sure you do. Meantime, suppose
YOU come into the garden" | continued,
throwing open the French windows; the
morning air viii blow all these eobTeoS
from your brain"
Ethel complied, and for the present l
heard no more Of the subject.
Some days passed away and we began to
feel quite at home in our new quarters.
A more delightful summer retreat than
The Cedars could hardly be imagined, with
ils cool dusky rooms, from which the sun
light was excluded by the screen CT foliage
outside; its trellised versnda, overgroWn
with creepers, and its smooth lawn, shaded
by the rare old cedar trees which gave the
place its name.
Our friends soon discovered It's atrac-
tions and took csre that we should not
stapnste for want of society. We kept open
house; lawn-tennis, garden parties and
boating excursions were the order OF the
day. Il was glorious summer weather, the
DAYS warm and golden, the nights starlt
and still.
One night, having important letters to
finish, | sat up writing after all the house
hold were in bed. The window was open,
and at intervals | glanced up from my paper
across the moonlit lawn, where the shadows
of the cedars lay dark and m~otionless. Now
and then q great downy moth would Hutter
in and hover round the shaded lamp; now
and then the swallows under the caves utter
ed q faint sleepy ehirp. For all other
signs and sounds Of life | might have been
the only watcher in the wide world.
had finished my task and was Just clos
ing nv writing case when / heard o hur-
RED movement in the room a5oYe-Eshels.
Footsteps descended the stairs, and the
mex moment the dining room door opened,
and Ethel appeared in q long white dress
ing gown with a small night lamp in her
hand.
There was q look on her face which made
me start up and exclaim What is the
matter? What has happened?
She set down the lamp and came toward
me.
81 have heard it again" she bgeathed,
laying her hand on my wrist.
You have heard-WhstY
SsTbs ,-oise in the box-rooU-
I.ta,s5 a, her amoment in bewildernsnt,
AD COX ~ i tSs, itY' exclaimed in a tone Of
relief: "You have been dreaming again 1t
seems"
al have not been asleep at al" she ~
nI;ed "The sounds have kept me AWAKE.
fheV are louder than the FIRST time; the
md seems to be sobbing and crying as if his
besrt would break Il is miserable to
hear IL
sHaye you looked insideY' l asked, i'm
r,s-ssd in spite of myself By her manner.
Ono. / dared not to night. l Was afraid
of .ea;no-somethingp' she returned with q
aGone we must get 70 the bottom OF tais
vstsrr I sid chserfully, and taking u9
sss lamp I led the way upstairs TO nS