The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-09-18


sleep in that very room tonight 1t can
not be coincidence that makes to-day the
anniversary of that memorable occasion"
With a cruel smile that might have
curdled brave heart, he went back to his
old seat at the writing table, his eyes
glistening with excitement and a dull,
red spot on each pallid cheek.
A shriveled-up, little old woman with
basket OF keys now entered, and APP
preached him timidly.
sect some refreshments ready, Martha,
and take them to our guest In the morning
room. Light fire in the north bedroom;
the Frau Baronin Won Reichstein will
sleep there tonight"
Martha started as the graf spoke. "The
north bedroom, did you say. sir? But"
''The north bedroom" he replied en-
phatically; mind there is no mistake
about it. UNLIMITED guests must be con-
tent with what is given them"
The old woman still hesitated, but lack
ing courage TO speak, she shuffled out of
the room. well, l neverp' she said,
half aloud, "the room that has not been
used for years. and which folks VOW is
haunted. The master is a strange man,
and no mistake"
The Baronin Won Reichstein had retired
to her room. In spite of the large log
fire burning briskly in the open CRATE,
there was a chilly, damp, atmosphere
hanging about the walls and furniture,
which was of heavy, somber character.
The bed was one of those ancient canopied
four-posters of early days, and presented a
funereal appearance. The baronin shiv-
cred the second time that night as she
glanced around the room. There were
| l.
table, and their chickering's created un-
canny shadows which lurked in every
gloomy corner. She rang for more lights.
When two more candles were brought by
the old woman, who looked pale and
frightened. she placed them on the high
wooden mantlepiece above the fireplace.
What can make me so uneasy tonight,
] wonder?" she thought impatiently;
"those stupid horses and idiotic coach
man! How could l divine that l should
he stranded in the middle of the forest, at
the mercy of a man who seems either to
have outlived the manners of ordinary So
ciety or never to have had any at all. The
last premise seems the most likely. That
reminds me, / meant to have asked his
fossilized old retainer the name of her
master" So communing with herself.
she moved about examining the furniture,
and finally drew a low couch, which
seemed to have got in there by accident,
to the side of the fireplace. Then she
| loOsened her hair, drew it into one thick
plat, removed a wadded silk quilt from
| the bed and then throwing herself on the
! couch, arranged the coverlet over her.
at would be an impossibility to attempt
| sleep in that hearse," she thought, view
ing the heavy bed: 81 wish it were morn
/ ing"
She tried to sleep, but everything con-
| spired to keep her awake. The thought
of her coachman and horses did not dis
/ quiet her, but the rain beating on the
window panes, the curtains moving with
| the wind, the shaking of the door in the
! socket, the falling embers of wood-all
| these worked upon her Imagination and
| took on weird importance. She sat up,
| and, putting the coverlet round her
| shoulders, rested her feet on the fender
and gaZed into the fire. She hated to have
| time like this for thinking. She had lived
! through many strange and sad expert
| ences, which she never had wish or will
to summon from the past. BY dint OF lead
| ing a busy. restless life, full of variety,
/ friends, and pleasures, wrapped up in her
only surviving son, who was married and
was happily settled, and to whom she was
| hurrying, she never allowed regretful
| moments to take her unawares, and, if
| threatened with a sleepless night, always
! took a sleeping-draught, which effectually
wooed and won the ftful god. Tonight
| she was powerless; her baggage some-
where out in the forest, sleep refused to be
conjured at will She tried to concentrate
| her mind on the bright home of her son,
but all kinds of gloomy shadows and
voices Of dead past rose TO defy her in
those silent hours of the night. With
| sheer force of will she drove them back
| into their secret lairs for a time, but
| presently out they crept again - the
stealthy, ugly, shapeless phantoms-on
| they came like phantom tide, crowding.
| mounting, accusing, overwhelming-an
offspring begotten of remorse and shame
suppressed and concealed for more than
a score OF years.
She rose impatiently, shook herself and
began to walk about the room. She went
to the allowed window, drew aside the
| curtain and looked out. The storm of
rain was over, and through the swift
scurrying clouds were glimpses of stars
and of the unfathonable armament be-
| yond. Just then the moon shone out
clear and still. She was not a timid
woman; an idea suddenly struck her, and
she went and blew out the candles. Then
she sank into a large chair by the win
dow, with the curtain drawn half way
back.
momentary lull, and back again came
| those relentless shadows, sad and terrible.
She was gazing abstractedly into the dark
ness Suddenly her brow contracted and
she pressed her hands tightly over her
eyes.
"Am demented ?" she cried; "his face
is the last | should ever expect to see in
this world, and yet seem to see it dis
tinctly, stern and angry, as | saw il last.
1t was only an illusioni" and she gave a
deep sigh, and looked out steadily again.
Nothing to be seen but the neglected
shrubs and struggling grass with a black
background of lofty pines; wild, weird
scene enhanced in expression by the fitful
moonshine and moaning wind From
one mood she dropped into another-the
retrospective. Scenes came before her to
which her former mood seemed the pre-
lude, and passed in shorter time than they
take to describe.
The first is laid in an old garden, gay
and trim, which has many winding walks
and hedges of yew. There is a fountain,
and close to its cleaning marble rim are
two fgures-a man, tall, stately, bearing
erect, in velvet coat lace ruffies, buckled
shoes and ayoung girl, in the picturesque
costume OF the Tranon period, satin pet
ticoat, punched paniers, and full sleeves
of lowered silk, soft muslin kerchief