Wichita eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1886-1890, 1888-09-29
THE RIPPING TRAIN.


very sweet and attractive girl, named Maud
Bertram- She was very pretty-more thar
pretty, for she had remarkably regular fea
tures-her profile was always admired-and
tall and graceful figure. And she was 8
bright and happy creature, too; that, per
haps, was almost her greatest charm. You
will wonder why, if admired and liked hel
SO much, did not go further And | will
tell you frankly that did not because dared
not had then no prospect of being able to
marry for years to come, and was not very
young / was already nearly 80, and Maud
was quite ten years younger. I was wise
enough and old enough to realize the situa-
ton thoroughly, and to be on my guard
Maud was surrounded by admirers-it
seemed to me then that 1t would have been
insufferable, conceit TO have even asked N.Y.
self if it could matter to her. It was only in
the light of after events that the possibility
Of my having been mistaken occurred to me.
And don't even now see that could have
acted otherwise" here Uncle Paul sighed a
little. "We were the best of friends. She
knew that admired her, and she seemed to
take frank pleasure In its being SO. had
! always hoped that she really liked and trusted
me as friend, but no more The last time I
saw her was just before I started for Portu-
gal where remained three years When
returned to London Maud had been married
for two years, and had gone straight out to
India on her marriage, and except by some
| few friends who had known US both intimate
ly, l seldom heard her mentioned And
time passed. l cannot say / had ex-
actly forgotten her, but she was not
much or often in my thoughts. I
was a busy and much absorbed man, and life
! had proved a serious matter to me- Now
and then some passing resemblance would re-
call her to my mind-once especially, when I
had been asked to look in to see the Young
wife Of one of my cousins in her court dress
something in her figure and bearing brought
back Maud to my memory, for it was thus,
in full dress, that had last seen her, and
thus. perhaps unconsciously, her image had
remained photographed on my brain But
as far as l can recollect at the time when the
occurrence am going to relate to you hap
pcned, had not been thinking of Maud Ber-
tram for months | was in London Just then,
staying with my brother, my eldest brother,
who had been married for several years and
lived in our own old town house in -
square 1t was in April, clear spring day,
with no fog or half lights about, and it was
not yet o'clock in the afternoon-not very
ghost like circumstances, you will admit I
had come home early from my club-it was
sort of holiday time with me just then for
few weeks, intending to get some
letters written which had been on
my mind for some days, and 1
had sauntered into the library, pleasant,
fair sized room, lined with books, on the first
floor. Before setting to work sat down for
a moment or two in an easy chair by the fire,
for it was still cool enough weather to make
fire desirable, and began thinking over my
letters. No thought, no shadow of thought
of my old friend Miss Bertram was present
with me: of that | am perfectly certain The
door was on the same side of the room as the
fireplace as l sat there, half facing the
fire, also half faced the door. I had not
shut it properly on coming in, l had only
closed it without turning the handle, and I
did not feel surprised when it slowly and
noiselessly swung open till it stood right out
into the room, cOncealing the actual doorway
from my view. You will perhaps under
stand the position better if you think of the
door as just then acting like a screen to the
doorway From where sat l could not have
seen any one entering the room till he or she
had got beyond the door itself glanced
up, half expecting to see some one come in,
but there was no one; the door had swung
open of itself For the moment | sat on,
with only the vague thought passing through
my mind, 1 must shut it before l begin to
write
But suddenly l found my eyes fixing
themselves on the carpet; something had
come within their range of vision, compelling
their attention in a mechanical sort of way
What was its
Smoke was my first idea Can there be
anything on firer But dismissed the notion
almost as soon as it suggested itself The
something, faint and shadowy, that came
slowly ripping itself in, as it were, beyond
the dark wood Of the open door, was yet too
material for smoke Ny next idea was
curious one: 1t looks like soapy water 1
said to myself; can one of the housemaids
have been scrubbing and upset pail on the
stairsn For the stair to the next floor almost
faced the library door. But-no, rubbed
my eyes and looked again-the soapy water
theory gave way. The wavy something that
kept gliding, ripping in, gradually assumed
a more substantial appearance. 1t was-yes,
! suddenly became convinced Of tit was
ripples of soft, silken stuff, creeping in as if
III some mysterious way unfolded OF unrolled
not jerkiiy or irregularly, but glidingly and
smoothly, like little wavelets on the sea-
shore.
"And sat there and gazed. why did YOU
not jump up and look behind the door to see
what it VAST you may reasonably ask. That
question cannot answer Why sat still, as
if bewitched, or under some irresistible infiu-
ence, l cannot tell, but so it was
And it-caTne always ripping in, till at
last It began TO rise as it still came on. and
saw tat figure, tail, graceful woman's
figure, was slowly advancing, backwards of
course, into the room, and that the waves of
pale silk-a very delicate shade of pearly
gray think it must have been-were in fact
the lower portion Of a long court train, the
upper part OF which hung in deep folds from
the lady's waist She moved in-I cannot
describe the motion: il was not like ordinary
walking or stepping backwards-till the
whole of her figure and the clear profile of !
her face and head were distinctly visible, and /
when at last she stopped and stood there full I
in ny view, just, but only just, beyond the |
door. saw-it came upon me Ike a fash |
that she was no stranger to me, this Hysteri |
Gus visitant I recognized, unchanged, it |
seemed TO me, since the day, ten years ago, |
when / had last seen her, the beautiful /
features of Maud Bertram
Il should not have said unchanged There /
was one great change In the sweet face You /
remember me telling you that one Of uy girl |
friends greatest charms was her bright,
sunny happiness-she never seemed gloomy !
or depressed or dissatisfied, seldom even PEN
sive. Blu. in this respect the face sat there
gazing at was utterly unlike Maud Bertram's
Its expression, as sheer It'-stood there
looking, not towards me, but OF. beyond. IS