The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1886-07-10

believer In what is loosely called GHOSTS,
and one day when Mrs. Morse was In
laxative mood, as she took away my tea
l brought her conversation around 10 TIL
subject Of haunted houses, hoping that
there were any traditions belonging Il
Thompson'B house she would mention 1t
Alter many stories which she took pains
to say she 'lshould not think OF believing
she said; '1This looks q likely house iol
such stories, but ! have never heard, no.
look TO hear or see anything, but somC
people are so silly, There was a silly gir
We had here, q housemald, always fancy
ing she heard music Ut night, In bel
room-she slept down stalrs-Rnd at last
she left through It, though | couldn't tel
the master such tale, but had to tell him
something more sensible, Such non,
sensel l used to tell her she dEeamt OIL
what her head was full OF, for she was all
for musiC-wonderiully fond OF 1t, Why
couldn't she mind her work and sleep al
night without dreams, as honest people
should,n
With this last moral sentiment Mrs,
Morse and the tea things scattered away
together, What she had said was odd, |
thought, Certainly l was more than hall
inclined to account for that piano as some-
thing supernatural, but l could not call
next door and say 80, II would seem rid
%iGulous, and | should certainly run the
risk Of being laughed at,
A few days later my holiday came to an
end, and l left the lovely country with
very pleasant memories Of Thompson's
old, and, began to believe, haunted house,
II did not pass away from my memory
during the busy winter ~days-neither did
the sweet face Of Miss Ethel Wayne.
Ten years have gone since then. Some
success as an architect has come to me and
| am married.
Last year, by one OF those strange
chances which come In some mems lives,
Thompson had q very large estate left
him In the North Of France, He went
over to make arrangements for selling 1t,
but liked the situation 30 much that he
has settled there, and | have bought his
old house, l have thrown both houses
into one, and made several changes since
the days when l first knew 1t. Amongst
Others, we use as q drawing room q large
room at the back overlooking the garden,
which Thompson used as q lumber room,
| think.
My wife and I hope tospeud many sum
mer months there.
Our stay this year had nearly come to
an end, when one Sunday evening | stayed
up very late, smoking. Before | went up
stairs / remembered that my wife wanted
q book brought up, and l went into the
drawing room to fetch 1t. There was no
light in the room but the red glow Of the
FIRE we had enjoyed that chilly evening,
and ! was bending over the table to try
and 6nd the book, when q slight move
ment made me look up, and standing
close by the piano | saw am very sure
OF tia slight girllsh figure with q face |
never shall iorGet-it was 80 terribly sad.
Slowly she moved from where she stood
and seemed to pass me.
She wore some sort Of q Clluglng brown
dress. l followed into the hall, where l
seemed TO see her 90. No n was there.
l reused my wife, and together We search
ed the houae-vaInly, Of course.
l was not In tho least alarmed at the
time, beyond a slight shock on finding
myself not alone as | had imagined but
afterwards, for months, waking orsleeping,
that face with its terrible grief, has been
before me.
OF course I tried In every way I could
to find IL twhat story could be connected
with the house, without, however, saying
why | wished 10 know, for felt almost as
II l should be betraying her confidence II
l made that sad face a matter OF every
day gossip at afternoon teas and dinner
parties.
We are in London again, for the winter
now, and the q day lately I met an old
lady who had In her girlhood well known
the town in which l spend the summer.
She told me that many years before my
house had the reputation OF being haunt.
ed, but that the rumor had been hushed
up by tho landlord and forgotten. And
she told me this story:
The house was once occupied by a
young husband and wife. They loved
each other devotedly, but the husband
was u~nreasonably Jealous Of his brother.
One evening he accused his wife OF de.
Ceiving him as to her love; che was too
wounded to answer his bitter words, and
he went out. Two hours later he had
drowned himself, and his dead body was
brought into the house, into the very
room where his young wife was playing
while waiting for bis return. She lost her
senses from that day, and during the rest
Of her merciiully short life her music was
her only apparent consolation.
"And, added the landlady, she ls said
to play there still; those who love music
can sometimes hear her"
For myself, the thought Of the poor
girls bitterly sad story will only give an
added interest TO the face l never shall for
get, and her music both my vile and l have
listened to and loved for long, for my
wife heard first when she was Ethel
Wayne.