The Florida agriculturist., 1889-01-09

on whose beauty he could feast his eyes
forever, and to the music OF whose voice
he would never grow weary of listening
Her disposition, when not freighted with
a strange, mysterious dread, was happy,
and ndherlaughter fell like ripping music upon
his enraptured ear. But all things must
have an end and this charm, delightful as
1t was, must be broken.
They reached the point where their paths
lay in different directions, one to the gate OF
that great, gloomy old house, the other 3
around the enclosure to the village.
C I must go in now, she said, her face
becoming just a little clouded. SIT is
growing quite late, and can not longer re-
main out.''
" 1 ask your pardon if I seem bold" said
Allen, hoping to detain her but moment
longer, {" am very lonesome in the village;
there is so little congenial to my nature,
and II hope we may see each other occa-
sionally."
Alternating flashes of crimson and pallor
of death swept over her face, and in voice
almost choked with dread or confusion, she
Stammered:
g Perhaps-we shallp
"Do you hope so?n he asked, his face full
of earnest eagerness.
dill don't know-I fear / do' she
stammered, look of wild terror coming
over her face, which sorely puzzled him.
She left without another word. He
watched her as she tripped lightly down
the path, and saw her occasionally press
her snow-white handkerchief to her eyes,
She reached the grim old garden gate,
which she unlocked, and turned her white
face to him for moment, waved an adieu
with her small jeweled hand, and passed in
from his sight.
Allen heaved sigh as she disappeared
Dull indeed, seemed the world when that
bright, sunny creature had shut herself
within those gloomy old walls. He went
slowly homeWard, hardly able to tear him
self from that mysterious old castle-like
house, which had become so wonderfully at
tractiVe to him.
eff she is one of the ghosts that haunt
that building would never be frightened
from it, he said, as he walked down the
hill to the village.
1t was late and the church bell was ring
ing for evening services when he reached
home. He had been trained to regularity
in his attendance at church, so he hastened
away to the small house where the good
people of Turley's Point met to worship.
Like most churches the members were not
all as good as they should have been, and
even pretended 10 DC.
There he saw Tom Simmons and George
Strong, both belonging to the same denomi
nation, who broke the bread of life anu
slipped the emblem of the blood of the atone
ment on the holy Sabbath, and next day be-
gan anew their hostilities and opposition to
each others plans.
Like one in the midst of delightful
dream ana wholly oblivious to surround
ings, Allen sat throughout the entire SER
mon. The preacher, lost in the fog of his
own argument, was striving to wade
through some mystical proposition, which
he did not clearly understand himself, and
Allen might be excused from attempting to
follow him.
That night angels, with the sweetest
songs mortal ears had ever heard, lowered
over Allen Gray's bed Masses of golden
hair and eyes of heavens own blue were
about him. One dearly beloved vision was
nearer than any of the others. Her angelic
face had upon it an expression of mingled
pain and dread. In his great fear of losing
herhe stretched forth his hand implorng her
to remain Reason, even in sleep, seemed
to say that it was only creation of his
imagination-t result of dreaming
fancy quickened by his recent interview
with the pretty girl from the mysterious
house. 1t was the sad face of Bertha but
oh, how lovely! All night long she seemed
ever with him, and when he aWoke her
image was still in his mind
At his Office, wherever he went. he saw
that sad, pale, sweet face.
''Pm armin' for the fight" said George
Strong. on entering tho Officn thof ox,o,,;,.c.