The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1889-04-27

We separated little before eleven. The
| night was close and stuffy. L had no nell
nation to go to bed, especially as had given
Van Hoeck my word TO close the window
| beforehand.
There was readlng-lamp in my room.
| | lit it, gut out the candle, and seated my
| self in a comfortable chair with book.
| Not a sound was to be heard after the clock
| struck eleven. l read ON Wlthout moving
| from nv chair until past twelve. From time
| to time / had taken my eyes from the book
and listened intently-not i'll anticipation
| of hearing the mysterious tapping at my
! own window, but in apprehension OF us
being repeated upon Edith sand as the
| last stroke OF midnight reyerberated through
the still night L closed my book and listened
! again. The silence without was so complete
| that the burning of the oil in the lamp at
| my side was distinctly audible.
| At that moment | heard II board creak.
| 1t was so slight sound that, had my atten-
] ton been fixed upon the book, | should not
| have noticed it. / could not tell where 1t
| came from; | was not sure that 1t was not
! from the floor under my foot as changed
! nv 10 ;ition. Instinctiveiy | looked toward
| the window. ] could see nothing beyond
! the circle OF light reflected by the lamp
! shade. 1t was too absurd to take the lamp
! to the window-there was no board there
! to creak. | waited some minutes. and
/ there Delng no TtHbtiilOn ol inc sbulu, L
reopened my book, but paused with my
| finger on the page to listen once more. A
shuddpring sigh, like that OF a child who Is
| crying itself to sleep. reached my ear.
! | went to the window. drew up the blind
| softly and looked OUT for the sound had
| seemed to come from Il distance, and L
| thought it might be the fiutter of leaves In
| a breeze. But the night was unchanged
i heavy and still. the moon obScured. and Il
! thin gray veil of mist hanging over the
4 L. t.s1 4 fl.a ,t.rht lnf1
| | opened the door noiselessy. All was
| dark. | could see only the mullion of the
| bay standing out vaguely against the gray
ness. | listened. At night heavy curtains
| were drawn across the head OF the corridor.
shutting it off from the passage upon which
| it abutted at right angles; nevertheless, l
| could hear tho stertorous breathing of the
| Judge or Van Hoeck from the rooms be-
yond. / was sure that the sound had
| heard was not imaginary, and determined.
| If possible. to discover the cause. | went
back to the table and fetched the lamp.
| had returned TO whore | stood by the
| door, when my eyes fell upon something
! lying at the threshold Another step,
and l should have put my foot upon it.
In Steadying the shade, my left hand
screened the light; as | withdrew it l saw
| that the object at my feet was Lola.
She had curled herself upon the mat with
in the embrasure of the door. Her face
was toward me. and pillowed upon her
long black lashes were wet, and chung to her
check with an undriod tear.
Even Van Hoeck, ii he could see you now
poor child" | said to myself. could not
think i'll O YOU"
Iwould not awake her; | withdrew the
lig'it until she was in shadow, placed it on
the ttbia, fetched my book, and seated my
sed whore ! could read and yet watch the
sleeper. As | ii I this, the clock in the bel
fry chimcd the half hour. l looked at my
watch, and saw that il was half-past twelve.
l could not fix my attention upon the
book for some time. my mind being occu
pied with coujoctures to account for Lola 5
| p essence. 1t fitted in with Van Hoecks
theory and warning in some respects, yet
possibly because my Judgment was biased
by sentiment could not believe she mad
come there with any sinister intention. |
was rather diSposed to think that she had
found solitude no longer bearable, and had
sought this resting place to be near the only
| friend she knew.
As l ponde-cd. my eyes grew accustomed
to the gloom, and 1 could see dimly
the girls face. her arms scarcely dis
tlnguishable against her dusky camisole.
and the darker mass of her red petticoat
She did not move. If she had evaded her
father. it is possible that she had fatigued
herself as we'll as him. Ny heart was
stirred with pity. and | resolved that when
she awoke l would try, If she would listen
to me, 10 reason her out of her savage
ISOldilOn. anu induce Htt 10 dCttpb inc
kindness that Edith l0nged to bestow upon
her. | would not purposely awake her, for
in sleep there was the relative happiness of
forgct;ulness.
1t was past one when | again began to
read. From time to time | looked away
from the page and assured myself that she
was still sleeping. And SO ] sat watching
and reading until past four O'Clock, when
the light began to fail, my eyes grew heavy,
| and unconsciously | fell asleep. | was
| awoke by my book falling from my hands
to the floor. The lamp was yet alight, but
burning so dimly that, looking toward the
door. | could see nothing. / carried the
| lamp that way. Lola was gone.
x
When we met at breakfast. Edith was in
her customary bright and cheerful mood.
Reassured by her appearance, Sir Edmund
| said, smiling:
! Well my dear. has there been any re-
| currence of strange sounds and spectral
| sights during the night?'
| Yes" she answered.; but they did not
| brighten me. for knew it WAS only poor
| Lola.
"Iolai" l exclaimed.
L had left a light burning" she said; the
! blinds were turned downward, and the light
1 shone upon them; the tapping woke me.
! 1t was Just the same sound that heard be-
| fore. While | was looking at the blind be-
/ fore the open window, the tapping stopped,
I L
! third an fourth lath from the bottom, and
| turn tho third; after that the finger slid in
! between the next two. and turned the
| second. Then | saw her two lustrous black
| eyes looking through. Almost Immediately
a.terward they disappeared. Don't be
afraid, Lola | said, in low voice for [
| feared if she were frightened she might slip
| from hat terribly narrow ledge. j waited
| a few minutes, to give her time to get back
to the bay, if she intended to, and then
! drew up the blind and looked out. There
was no one there. and the window in the
! bay was as we left it last night-closed."
| Are you sure it was LOla?" l asked.
! Yes, they were her eyes"
! DO you know what time ii was when you
saw herr" | asked.
Il can be sure Of that, for in taking my
watch from the stand, it fell, breaking the
| glass and stopping the hands, and very
| soon after that / heard the clock strike"
| She showed me the watch, the minute
hand was so bent that ii could not pass the
| hour hand; when / lifted it. the movement
recommended, proving that the spring had
| not run down.
The hour marked by the hands was five
minutes to one.
AT five minutes to one Lola was sleeping
! at my door. l said.
GTo BE Continued
A Boys Reading.