The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1885-12-10

L,
cor;e back to revisit the scenes of its
mortality, or ghost, prowling abroad
by garisn daylight
l SUNK through by-ways of back
lanes towards my home, not altogether
certain whether someone would not
attempt to exercise me.
Ii was late in the afternoon when we
entered port, and the shadows of the
autumn evening were gathering ro1ad
as | crept up the doorsteps of my own
mansion, and entered, stealthily as 4
robber
Were the shutters down. the win
dows draped, the house dressed in
seemly habiliments of woe? Not at all;
lights glowed brilliantly behind the
curtains. gay voices echoed from the
parlor, and-could my ear have de-
ceived me? No, surely that was Lucil-
las laugh ringing merrily on the air.
"a little hysterical, perhaps" |
thought, but nevertheless, instead of
boldly entering the drawing-room and
confronting my wife, | instinctively
passed on to the glazed extension room
behind, communicating, by draperies
of purple silk, with the large apart
ment-a room where had been wont
to keep my books, and which | digni-
fled by the title of library
1t was but family lighted by the bor-
rowed lustre of the drawing-room
chandelier, and as l entered | stum-
bled over something-it was my own
portrait, ANONYMOUSLY turned with its
face to the wall.
| crept forward with an ominous
foreboding-a sudden disagreeabie re-
collection OF Fitz-Brown's croaking
predictions. But rs l put aside the
Iyrian folds Of the curtain a most un-
welcome vision met my eye.
Lucilla in her widows weeds.
She looked very pretty in them, to
be sure; the close crimped cap could
not hide her clustering ripples of gold
en- brown hair, and her beautiful green
gray eyes certainly did not seem to
have wept themselves dim. Moreover,
there were dimpled roses in her cheeks,
and smiles upon her lips; and her dress
of somOre black only seemed to relieve
the fair, transparent style OF her wax
doll beauty.
But she was not alone. Close beside
her soft little white hand, and bending
devotedly over the border of the
widows cap, sat Harry Sykes!
Come, Lucilla," he said impatient
", .'you have tantaliSed me long
enough. When will you give me this
little treasure Of hand, and let me
call you mineP'
What nonsense, Harry?" said my
widow coquettishly, but she didn't
withdraw her hand, when you know
that my husband hasn't been dead six
months.
"Oh, hang the old dulfer! Who cares
whether he has been dead six days or
SIX months? He's gone, thanks to the
coolies. and he's willed you all the
cash. You know very well you never
cared for him, Lucilla."
Ny widow did not contradict this
sweeping statement
''But the look of the thing, you know,
Harry dear. Don't squeeze my hand
so.'
'Lucilla, don't you love me?"
''Of course l do" with a charming
little pout.
Then, my hearts queen, what is
the use of keeping me in suspense?"
Really, Harry" she murmured, Il
don't know what TO say"
Then say yes. ;"
Lucilla's head dropped until the
widow cap nearly touched her COM
panion's shoulder.
Yes" she murmured at last.
Human nature could stand this
no longer. L dashed aside the purple
silk draperies, and entered precipitate-
ly on the scene-quite an unexpected
addition TO the d"amatis perS0nae.
Not so fast, madame, if you pleaser'
cried with Il sort of demoniac exul-
tation. Il may be an old duffer,' and
you may never have cared for me. but
nevertheless you and Mr.. Sykes here
are getting along altogether to smooth
ly."
Lucilla sprang to her feet with an
eldritcn scream.
''It's a ghost it's Josiah's ghostr'
Mr.. Harry Sykes stared helplessly
at me, as if he had been paralysed.
"N0, madame, it's not Josiah's ghost
its his living self. You thought you
had got rid of me, did you? An awk-
ward mistake to make. under the Cir
cumstances. Walk out of this house,
sir. and never let me see your counte-
nance again!'
Mr.. Sykes obeyed sheepishly enough.
If there had but been something of the
supernatural inscrutably mingled in
my sudden appearance and vehement
adiurations, he might have stood by
his colors and Luciila. AS it was, how
ever, he adjourned Si1e die. without
word of apology to me or farewell to
Lucilla.
''As for you, madame" said stern
ly, turning to my sobbing wife-no
longer widow-''you may go home to
your mother. | want no n;ore of your
treacherous wiles. Fitz-Brown was
rightr'
Vehemently ringing the bell, or
dered carriage aud packed the be-
wildered woman off before she could
demonstrate.
That was the end of my matrimonial
experience. for Lucilla has never yet
ventured to return to the shadow OF
my roof.
Fitz-Brown and | are keeping house
together, after an orthodox bachelor
fashion. | think Fitz is sincerely sor-
~ for me, but he has never yet insulted
me with the truiSm:
Il told you SOL"