The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1889-09-06
THE GHAIsT o. aHAIRL BE.

low otc Ouc piaCes OutV nave II w sOmc
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 | was invited by my
dear old friend, the Lard o Ghairlee,
to make one of a sho ooting party as
sembling there. Sport is good there,
if anywhere aud, moreover the
laird owned covey Of pretty daueh-
ters, who would be sure TO make
things lively and pleasant.
l arrived, then, at Ghairlee sta
ton full of hope and prepared for
enjoyment. l brought with me my
guns aud my beloved violin, without
which / never travel.
Ghairlee itself is curious old house;
the passages run about it in an extreme
ly complicated fashion, up one step
to a room, down two steps into 1t, and
so on. The hall is portion of the
old tower; the walls of Immense thick
ness Many additions have been
made by different lairds, long since
RdIltItu W buSli laIuSiS'
| did not see all OF this the night of
my arrival-iu sooth, it was so dark
that | could distinguish very little as
the dog cart spun up the avenue; but |
did notice the black mass on my left
as we turned a very sharp corner
o block of buildings, and on my right,
o suIlen 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 be-
fore 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
bodygusrd of terriers.
"Whist, dogs Come in, laddie ]"
And my old friend gathered me in
to his ancestral hall with highland hos
pitality. We passed up a low stair
way, and across thickly carpeted
corridor furnished with strange pieces
of antique workmanship - frowning
cabinets aud carved chairs from which
uncanuy faces leered in the freight.
The drawing room was at the far end
and there were again two or three steps
leading TO 1t alccve. By the side of
these steps and against the wall stood
a fine old press of marquetrIe, quantity
inlaid and used, as afterward learned
for the slowing away of odds and ends,
of nothing and all things. 1t was here
that my violil soon found place, and
/ laid it, in its modern embroidered
case, by the side of quaint old Lutte
about which was twisted faded, motf
eaten ribbon.
"This," said the laird's pretty daugh
ter, touching it reverently, 'has his
tory. We keep it here-pretty as i
is-because none of us like to look OF
it, But all this belongs 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, alread,
appropriated But there remained tn,
adorable second and the exquisite
third, and after day of painful un
certainty / fell before the first of thes
two, who was called by the tunefu
name of Mavis, and who had musi
cal fever akin to my own. Togethe
we trilled and tummed and turnet
leaves and played love songs and mad
rigals, serenades anu sonatss, ant
when we did not play we talked mu
SIC, and when we did not talk music
we talked - ah well suffice it t,
say that the days hurried by and tn
weeks flew after them and | had beer
a guest at Ghairlee nigh on to sc
cond month, and my heart belonged t,
Mavis.
The cream of shooting was over ant
the party much diminished. One o
two men only remained beside myself
and pretty young woman--a neigh
Dor of the laird's who had come for
two weeks visit We were gathere,
in the drawing room and somebod
asked for music. l went out to tn
fire lighted hall to the old cabinet t
my violin, and mavis went with me
We fingered there, alone, for a me
ment Just for the sake of lingering
It was then Mavis spoke about tn
lutte. took it in my hands and, as
did so, thin, faraway wall of melod
seemed to sweep past us and lose il
self in the dimness beyond the glow O
the freight.
"What was that?' asked sharply
Then, seeing that Mavis only tremble
in reply, l added quickly: 81 mu:
have Jared the old thing"
'Put it down." said Mavis, at
uncanny. We never touch it, 1t bt
longed to the Ghaist O Ghairlee!
"To the Ghaist !" cried l, laughin
perhaps not altogether hearth ly-
for though / certainly did not believ
in ghosts, there had been something i
that wsiling strain TO set ones nerve
on quiver; .'you Scotch lassies, foi
sooth, must still believe in you
ghaistsl There was never decor
bluided Highland body without
ghaist in his castlel You must Intro
duce me some day to yoursl" An
80, laughing and teasing her to brini
back the roses to her cheeks, if, indee
could, led her again to the DRAWN
room, where merry crowd and a
hour or two of my beloved music wit
my dear violin soon chased the Ghaii
o Ghairlee from my thoughts.
My rooms were in the tower-i
that same black pile of stone roun
which swept on the evening of m
arrival, and my windows looked OF
over the torrent which roared its wa
ceaslessly from rock to rock to a shuC
deiing depth, and then tore on in
dark sullen stream.
bade Mayis good night with hu
ried pressure of her little fingers-fo
they all stood around us in the draw
ing room aud she did not offer to g
out into the hall, and then | spran
lightly up the steps, humming a strai
of the bit of Beethoven we had bee
going over.
The large corridor was illuminate
by a lamp. A smaller passage Il
away from it, and my room opened il
to this passape-nOW in profound darl