San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1889-09-18
THE GHAIST O. GHAIRLEE.

The incident am about to relate occurred
to myself when on visit to an old house far
In the wilds of Rosshire. Scotland is the
land of visions. Few are the places that
have not some tradition attached to them.
Gloomy and grim stand the old houses,
and there Is a cause for their forbidding as
pect. The sullen shadow of past crimes hangs
over them.
Last autumn l was invited by my dear old
friend, the Laird o. Ghairlee, to make one of a
shooting party assembling there. Sport Is
good there, if anywhere; and, moreover, the
laird owned covey of pretty daughters, who
would be sure to make things lively and
pleasant.
l arrived, then, at Ghairlee station full of
with me my guns and my beloved violin.
without which never travel
Ghairlee itself is curious old house; the
passages run about it in an extremely COM
plicated fashion, up one step to a room, down
two steps into it, and SO on. The hall is a
portion of the old tower; the walls of i'm
mense thickness. Many additions have been
made by different lairds, long since gathered
to their fathers.
did not see all this the night of my ar
rival-in sooth, it was so dark that l could
distinguish very little as the dog cart spun
up the avenue; but l did notice the black
mass on my left as we turned a very sharp
corner round block Of buildings, and on my
right, a sullen roar as if angry waters boiled
over in torrent to dash upon rocks in the
dark depths, far, far below.
The next moment we drew up before the
door, barred and studded with great iron
nails Light was pouring from the hall, and
the laird stood in the doorway surrounded
by bowling bodyguard of terriers.
whist, dogs! Come in, laddie"
And my old friend gathered me into his an
cestral hall with highland hospitality. We
passed up low stairway, and across thick
ly carpeted corridor furnished with strange
pieces of antique workmanShip-frownin
cabinets and carved chairs from which uncan-
ny faces leered in the freight. The drawing
room was at the far end and there were again
two or three steps leading to it alone. By
the side of these steps and against the wall
stood fine old press of marguerite, quaint
ly inlaid and used, as l afterward learned,
for the slowing away of odds and ends, of
nothing and all things. 1t was here that my
violin soon found a place, and l laid it, in its
modern embroidered case, by the side of a
quaint old lutte about which was twisted a
faded, moth eaten ribbon.
"This,n said the laird's pretty daughter,
touching it reverently, ''has a history. We
keep it here-pretty as it is-because none of
US like to look on it, But all this be-
longs elsewhere in my story
Report had not exaggerated the charms of
the old laird's daughters Four of them he
had-the youngest, charming child-the
eldest, already appropriated. But there re-
manned the adorable second and the exquisite
third, and after a day of painful uncertainty
fell before the first of these two, who was
called by the tuneful name of Mavis, and
who had a musical fever akin to nv own
Together we trilied and tummed and turned
leaves and played love songs and madrigals,
serenades and sonatas, and when we did not
play we talked music, and when we did not
talk music, we talked-ah we'll! suffice it to
say that the days hurried by and the weeks
flew after them and had been a guest at
Ghairlee nigh on to a second month, and nv
heart belonged to Mavis.
The cream of the shooting was over and
the party much diminished. One or two men
only remained beside myself, and a pretty
young woman-a neighbor of the lairds who
had come for two weeks visit We were
gathered in the drawing room and somebody
asked for music. went out to the fire
lighted hall to the old cabinet to get my
violin, and Mayis went with me- We linger-
ed there, alone, for a moment just for the
sake OF lingering. 1t was then Mavis spoke
about the lutte. | took it in my hands and,
as | did so, thin, faraway wall Of melody
seemed to sweep past us and lose itself in the
dimness beyond the glow of the freight.
What was that9 asked, sharply. Then,
seeing that Mavis only trembled in reply, l
added, quickly: Il must have Jared the old
thing"
PUT it down." said Mavis; "it is uncanny.
We never touch it, 1t belonged to the Ghaist
O. Ghairlee!"
''To the ghaist!" cried l. neutrality-suspicious.
not altogether heartily-for though / GER
tainly did not believe in ghosts there had
been something in that wailing strain to set
ones nerves on a CULVER; you Scotch lasSies,
forsooth, must still believe in your ghaists!
There was never a decent bluided Highland
body without ghaist in his castle! You
must introduce me some day to yours" And
SO, laughing and teasing her to bring back
the roses to her cheeks, if, indeed, could, l
led her again to the drawing room, where a
merry crowd and an hour or two of my be-
loved music with my dear violin soon chased
the Ghaist o Ghairlee from my thoughts.
My rooms were in the tower-in that same
black pile of stone round which l swept on
the evening of my arrival, and my windows
looked out over the torrent EEE.s-a roared its
way ceaseleSSly from rock to rock to shud-
dering depth, aud then tore on in a dark
allen stream.
babe Mavis good night with a hurried
pressure of her little fngerS-for they d.
- ! I