The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1886-05-12
IN THE DARK.


at is the strangest, most uuac-
countable thing l ever knew L
don't think | am superstitious, out
| can't help fancying that
Ethel left the sentence unfinished,
wrinkling her brows in thoughtful
frown as she gazed into the depths
of her empty tea-cup-
What has happened ?" | in
quired, glancing up from the money
article CT The Tribune at my daugh-
ter's pretty, puzzled face. Nothing
uncanny, l hope! You haven't dis
covered that a ghost is included
among the fixtures of our new
house ?"
4 This new house, The Cedars, was
a pretty, old-fashioned riverside villa
between Richmond and Kew, which
l had taken furnished as a summer
residence, and to which we had only
lust removed.
Let me state, in parenthesls, by
way OF introducing myself to the
reader that /, John Dysart, am a
widower with one child the blue
eyed, fair. haired young LADY who sat
opposite TO me al the breakfast table
that bright June morning and that
| have been for many years the
manager of an old established Life
Insurance Company in the city
What is The mystery ?" | repeat
ed, as Ethel did not reply.
She came out of her brown study,
and looked at me impressively.
= 1t really is 4 mystery, papa, and
the more | think OF it the more puz-
zled | am"
l am in the dark at present as to
what i: may be, | reminded
her.
Something that happened last
night. You know that adjoining
my bedroom there is large, dark
closet, which can be used as box,
or store-room.n y
Il had forgotten the fact, but /
will take your word for it. Well,
Ethei?"
Well, last night / was restless,
and it was some hours before | could
sleep. When at last | did SO, |
had a strange dream about that clos
ct. 1t seemed that as lay in bed /
heard a noise within, as if some one
were knocking at the door, and
child's voice, broken by sebs, crying
piteously. Let me out, Let me out 7
| thought that | got out of bed and
opened the door, and there. crouch
ing all in heap against the wall,
was little boy a pretty, pale little
fellow of six or seven, looking half
wild with fright. At the same mo-
meEt | woke"
And 10, it was a Dream" | fin
ished. If that is all, Ethel"
But 1t is not" she interpesed.
4" The strangest part ofthe story is to
come. The dream was 80 vivid that
when | woke | sat up in bed. and
looked toward the closet door, al
most expecting to hear the sounds
again. Papa, you may believe me
or not. but ii is fact that | did hear
them, the muffled knocking and the
pitiful cry. AS | listened it grew
fainter and fainter. and at length
ceased altogether. Then summon
ed courage to get out of bed and
open the door. There was no living
creature in the place. Was it not
mysterious ?" she concluded. What
can it mean ?"
| glanced at her with smile, as |
refolded the paper and rose from my |
chair.
=" 1t means, my dear, that you had |
nightmare las; night. Let me rec
ommend you for the future not to
eat cucumbers at dinner"
No, papa" she interrupted Il
was broad awake, and heard the
child's voice as plainly as ever
heard a sound in my life"
Why didn't you call me ?"
. 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. sup
pose you come into the garden |
continued, throwing open the French
windows; 1.-The morning air will
blow all these cobwebs from your
BRAIN"
Ethel complied, and for the pres
ent l heard no more OF the sub
ject.
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 its cold, dusky
rooms, from which the sunlight was
excluded by the screen of foliage
outside; It's trelised veranda, over
grown with creepers, and its smooth
lawn, shaded by the rare old cedar /
trees which gave the place its name.
Our friends soon discovered its
attractions, and took care that we
should not stagnate for want of So
ciety. We kept open house lawn
tennis, garden parties and boating
excursions were the order of the
day. 1t was glorious summer
weather. the days warm and golden. l
the nights starlit and still.
One night, having important let
tiers to finish. sat up writing after
all the household were in bed. The
window was open, and at intervals
/ glanced up from my paper across i