The Arkansaw traveler. (Little Rock, Ark.) 1882-1???, 1888-11-10

barred her way. We were all on the
soft graes, and had never heard the
footsteps of the men who were carry
ing it. 1t was terrible to see the dead
faces of those two poor young things
but their faces were nothing to my
lady's. When l am alone the awful
look that came over her when she saw
Miss Dora lying before her, haunts
me sometimes, even now. She stood
perfectly still, just as if she were in q
dream; and not one of US dared to
move. Then Sir Lionel rode up.
Someone must have told him what
happened, for he was as white as death.
My lady looked at him for a moment,
and then said quietly, but in q voice
that seemed to come from far-off, hol-
low caves: Lionel, I killed him, 80
God has killed her, and then she turn
ed and walked to the house with her
usual stately gait.
"The men that were carrying Miss
Dora and Mr.. Dacre followed her slow
ly, and we all walked 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 re-
port of gun rang through the air.
My lady had shot herself"
"But what has all this to do with
Jim's not being able to take my let
terss" asked, after long pause dur
ing which the good woman had in
some degree recovered her composure.
She looked at me for a moment as
If she thought I must be singularly
lacking In intelligence to ask such a
question, and then said solemnly: at
is the goth of October, sir, to-day !;
twenty seven years ago tonight that
poor young gentleman died by the
Manor park bridge. He will be there
tonight"
/ had no time for further discussion,
30 prepared to start at once in spite of
all Mrs. Metcalf'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.
81 only hope he may" I replied
with a laugh, as l wished her good
night.
l set out for the Manor, philosophiz-
ing as went on the strange persist
ency with which old superstitions
still linger on in the north. "There
is fine field for school board here"
I muttered with a sniff of scorn.
GLOW can people in this our day be
capable of such folly2"
All my life l had had a peculiar
contempt for so-called psychic expe-
riences, being firmly convinced that
In every case they were the inventions
of impostors or the rawlings of hysteri-s
cal women. So far did my antipathy
go that l had given up taking my
favorite newspaper simply because it
would persist in recording the say ings
and doings Of the Psychical society.
Ii, when started for the Manor, any
one had asked me whether believed
in ghosts, / should have regarded the
question as stupid joke, 30 convinced
was l that no sensible man could do
anything of the sort; but, before " as
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 a 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 October, when light and darkness
seem to be playing some fitful, rest
less game. The moon was q good
sized crescent, and shone with quite a
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 theyj
futtered, moan and COO as if they had
piteous tales to tell if only they could
find a listener. Perhaps it was that
they 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 tragedy so |
ghastly-of young man, full of life |
and bright hopes, having met there
with such a fate; to die like dog in |
: ditch, and all through the obstinate |
folly of q jealous old woman! I caught
myself trying to imagine what Ar
thur Dacre must have felt that night |
when driven out into the storm. The
air seemed to become suddenly chill, |
or perhaps my WEAKNESS made me ex-
aggerate what was only a natural
change in the atmosphere. Be that as |
It may, ! shivered as I 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