Fisherman & farmer. [volume] (Edenton, N.C.) 1887-19??, 1888-08-03
AN EVIL SPIRIT.
BY GEORGE d. SPARKS.


received one morning, year or so
ago, an Invitation from an old hool-
mate whom had not seen since leaving
college, to come and dine with him at
his residence on Staten Island.
Alfred acray and / had been good
though not intimate friends at college
Macray was hardly the sort of man
you could make chum OF; vet for all
that we enjoyed each others society.
After the gates of our beloved Alma
Mater had closed behi1 d us, our paths
had diverged. At first l wanted to try
literature, but the desire did not last
long; 1 gave it up and drifted into com
mercial life. In fact l was at present
holding seat in one of the Exchanges
AS for Alfred Macray his course had
been very different. After graduation
he had been elected to fill a fellowship
in letters in his Alma Mater; after hold
ing the fellowship year he had gone
abroad to study and had remained ever
since. He had only published one vol
Dme as yet. 1t was on some literary
| oc, ''Studics in the Renaissance" L
nix it was. I had bought the book,
T.: the authors name on the cover.
Whether my years spent in commercial
ursuits had dulled my sense of literary
perception [ do not know, but l remem-
Der yawning over the book, although
made it point to tell all my friends
that it was beautifully written. While
Macray was abroad 1 had been told that
he had come into fortune, but that was
all had heard of him for more than five
years. l took up the letter of invitation
and re-read it:
1--WE have moved to Staten Island do
not know whnthQr haUo heard of
marriage or not [ have been married now
over a year. | met her first in Heidelberg
two years ago. She is a Bostonian She was
a Miss Creighton. l have chosen Staten Isl
and because 1t is quiet and it is near New
York. have brought with me from abroad
large amount Of material which, when l
have time, am going to work into book"
ETC., etc.
/ made up my mind to go, and sitting
down at once wrote a letter accepting
the invitation for the following evening.
AS l stepped out on the platform of
the Staten Island Raj road the next
evening, saw tall figure, which [ rec
ognlzed at once as Macray. We were
soon shaking hands warmly; then he led
me to his carriage and we drove rapidly
to his house.
l found my friend more fascinating
than ever. l had always admired him,
but now fresh from years spent abroad,
after having mingled with all sorts and
conditions of men, he was to me quite
irresistible.
Wewere a good half hour in the car
rage before we entered the Drive to
BURNER House.
We were warmly welcomed by Mrs
Macray. l confess | had been anxious
to meet her, for l knew Macray was very
fastidious.
She was slightly above the medium
height with a very pretty figure, dark
hair and brown eyes. Her manners were
charming. but then no one could reside
long w.th Macray without insensibly ac-
curing that characteristic.
After dinner, Macray and 1 fingered
over our cigars, ia king over our old
college days. Finally at Macray's sug-
gestion we ad journed to the library. It
had originally been, 1 was told, an artists
studio, the principal light coming from
above; but there were also windows on
two sides. There was an enormous fire
place, with logs ready to be lighted, and
easy chairs were scattered about; several
beautiful paintings hung on the walls,
with here and there delicate etching;
and as for books, they were everywhere.
A true book lovers paradise! Macray
ohA NClO 81 ONSy IOOhlIlS dG HIS
"beautieS," as he called his books, that
we did not hear slight step.
MAY / come in2''
''Ah. Madge, is it you? It is too bad
to have neglected you; but you know
when l get among my books l generally
forget everything else"
''Yes, l am getting decidedly jealous
of Them" said his wife.
well, Madge, we'll join you in just
two minutes. l must show Jack that |
Cruik>hank 1 picked UP in London"
'Only that one, remember" and she |
left us. I
Macray had taken down small port
folio and was showing me a sketch by |
that inimitable caricaturist in his best |
manner. 1t was that of parish beadle |
he must have been the original of Mr.. |
Bumble-looking at some small boys |