The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1888-10-20

the awful look that came over her when
she saw Miss Dora lying before her haunts
me sometimes even now She stood per-
fectly still, just as if she were in dream;
and not one of us dared to move Then
Sir Lionel rode up. Some one must have
told him what had happened, for he was
white as death. My lady looked at him for
moment and then said quietly, but in a
voice that seemed to come from far off hol-
low caves: Lionel, killed him, so God has
killed her, and then she turned and walked
TO the house with her usual stately gait
''The men that were carrying Miss Dora
and Mr.. Dacre followed her slowly, we all
walking behind them. My lady must have
gone more quickly than we, for when we
reached the broad avenue she was already
out of sight, and, just as we crossed the
threshold of the Manor House, the report
of gun rang through the air. My lady
had shot herself"
"But what has all this to do with Jim's
not been able to take my letters?" / asked
after long pause, during which the good
woman had in some degree recovered her
composure.
She looked at me for moment as if she
thought must be singularly lacking in in
telligence to ask such question, and then
said solemnly: .'lt is the twentieth of Sep
tember, Sir, to-day; twenty-seven years ago
tonight that poor young gentleman died by
the Manor Park Bridge. He will be there
tonight"
l had no time for further discussion, so
prepared to start at once in spite of all Mrs.
Metcalf's S entreaties that would not tempt
fate by trying to cross the bridge that
night. "That poor young gentleman will
be there" she repeated again and again.
'I only hope he may" I replied with
laugh as | wished her good night.
set out for the Manor, philosophizing
as l went on the strange persistency with
which old superstitions still linger on in
the North. "There is fine field for
school board here" muttered, with
sniff of scorn. "How can people in this
our day be capable of such f0llys'
All my life I had had q peculiar con-
tempt for so-ealled psychic experiences, be-
ing firmly convinced that in every case they
were the inventions Of impostors, or the
rawlings of hysterical women. So far did
my antipathy go that | had given up tax
ing my favorite newspaper simply because
it would persist in recording the sayings
and doiggs of the Psychieal Society. If
when / started for the Manor, any one had
asked me whether l believed in ghosts,
should have regarded the question as
stupid joke, so convinced was that no
sensible man could do anything of the sort;
but, before was at the end of my journey
that night, was doomed to discover that,
even in myself, there were more things than
| had dreamed of in my philosophy.
My path lay along narrow lane, with
thick bushes growing on either side, from
which, now and then, tall trees raised up
their heads. 1t was one Of those nights
we sometimes have In September, when
light and darkness seem to be playing some
fitful, restless game. The moon was a
good sized crescent, and shone with quite
brilliant light, but dark, heavy clouds kept
fitting before its bright surface, casting
thick darkness on the world A gentle
breeze was blowing, Just enough to make
the leaves, as they 4uttefed, moan and coo
as if they had piteous tales to tell if only
they could ind a listener, Perhaps it was
they that recalled to my mind what the
farmers wife had told me. There was
something almost grotesque in the thought
of this peaceful little valley having been
the scene of a tragedy so ghastly-Of e
young man full Of life and bright hopes
having net there with such fate; to die
Ike a dog in ditch, and all through the
obstinate folly of jealous old woman! 1
caught myself trying to imagine what
Arthur Dacre must have felt that night
when driven out into the storm. The air
seemed to become suddenly chill, or per-
haps my WEAKNESS made me e1sggeEate
what was only natural change in the at
mosphere. Re that as it may, shivered
as ! dragged my tired limbs along, vainly
longing for my journey to be ended. The
solitude was almost terrible; there was no
sign of human being or human habitation,
not even bird was singing, and when a
dead leaf blew against my face started as
if l had received blow. pulled myself
together and tried to laugh at my own folly,
but struggle as l might the conviction that
| thSAS was eultiOeh4n5 NhOauHJ duouV OuS
road forced itself upon me. The silence,
broken only by the rustling of leaves,
seemed TO become more and more unnat-
ural. | tried to whistle, but the wierd
force with which the trees re-echoed the
sound was more trying even than the still
ness. The trees, too, began to assume all
sorts of grotesque forms and shapes-one
o.,oo. ..o,,nk ool- etratobal o,,t ,te o,poc Ei.
a skeleton, seeking to clutch the passersby;
another bore strange resemblance to a
gallows. Just as | was passing this one
something touched my foot-it was only
rabbit running across the path-and my
heart began to throb and futter. Clearly
I have been walking too much and over
strained myself, ] said, but mocking voice
whispered that it was the mind, not the
heart, that was affected. "What about the
superstitious folly Of those Northerners
now, eh ?" it asked. Could it be that l,
the skeptic of skeptics, was disturbed by
the remembrance of the stupid prophecy of
garrulous old woman? The thought was
too absurd, and l strobe manfully on.
Still, it was no good denying it, the road
was upcaany, and in my life had never
sesn such strangely human-looking trees;
each one of them seemed to have theory
of its own as to how the sound of my foot
steps should be echoed. Atlength, just as
the iuexplicable feeling that had taken
possession of me was becoming unbearable,
1 heard the sound of running waters, which
told me that 1 must be near the bridge.
The thought that 1 had only half a mile
more to go gave new life and energy, and
l walked rapidly on to the solid stone erec-
ton that had replaced the rustic wooden
bridge of other days, The park was, as 1
could see, fenced off from the stream by
an iron railing, Just as | was in the
middle of the bridge had another touch
of that queer, jerky feeling at my heart
that I had had twice before that night.
To this day don't know why l should
have felt the sensation then, for l could
swear that at the moment l did feel it there
was no thought of Arthur Dacre in my
mind l stood still, frightened at the rate