The Sunday morning news. [volume] (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1886-1891, 1890-01-26
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Continued from Second pd5ej

Tere was certain chit, hush III
the uncanny night, as though some i'll
boding presence came slowly, steadily
nearer. ia the many noises of the wind,
through the forest just within sight, he
fancied he detected a cry almost human
in it's want and pain.
WAS it a banshee that Len said cried
on The night when Heath died, and on
that night for years after came back to
mind them that was Twin Of the deadY
The darkness, the cry, his own ghastly
fancies, drew him to the door; he opened
it and came in headlong, with pale
face, at which they all laughed.
Here is your dry coat and slippers,
uncle" said Winny, and now that he
was in she sat down contented. He
could not tell, furtively glancing around,
whether they remembered the day or
not. Joe, who sat smoking his pipe on
the other side of the fire, was quieter
than usual, and Bessy, reSplendent in
her new msrino. more gossipy but keep
ing, he noticed, q close motherly watch
over Winny. However, she always did
that. As for Winny, no one could ever
tell what she thought.
She was the same chubby, dumping
little body that she had been five years
ago. She rolled about the house rather
than walked. There were the soft color
and shy dimples coming and going on
the honest face, and sudden laughter in
the dark eyes, that made everybody long
to hug her and make friends with her
for ever. But while she had once been
the fondest girl in the country side of
dances and gayety and pretty dresses,
she lived, since her strange widowhood
began, utterly alone but for the old man
and the companionship which Joe and
Bessy gave them. Apart from them, too,
under all. her affectionate, cheerful man
ner, in the absolute silence in which she
covered her loss.
Ben could not tell if she remembered
what night had come again. He forgot
TO speculate about it. The fire was so
big and hospitable: the room, with its new
green carpet and home made lounges, so
exactly the picture of comfort and home
which he and Winny had planned; and
through the open door there came Gimp
SEES of the bright kitchen and whiffs of the
fat puiIets roasting dainty brown. Once
Mrs. Joe brought back his vague fears:
when the door was inadvertently opened
she hurried to close it.
sit is a wEetched night. she said, shiv-
ering. II fancy the dead would choose
to be out IN such wind and white moon
light, il they can come back stopping
and stammering as shelooked at Winny.
Coming along the edge of the woods
yonder, / fancied I heard the cry Of some
wild beast in them. told Joe 50.
ut was the wind said Joe. s'But it
had curious sound, sergeant No won
der it skert a woman. 1t was like
dying beast in a cage
81 heerd it. The sergeant hurried
away from the subject, and SO did Joe.
It was the happiest evening since they
came into their new home. The work and
hustle of moving were over, as well as the
hard struggle of years, and the warm,
quiet sense of home was real for the first
time.
Only once it was Jared. Leonard, Joe's
Oldest boy, having been admitted as
special grace to sit up for supper, prowled
about the room, to the discomfort of ev-
erybody but his mother and Winny, who
We'd with each other in spelling him.
Finally he crept up into an old leather
chair that stood vacant, shining in the
freight, in the warmest corner, curled
up his fat legs and prepared to go tosleep.
There was sudden silence in the room,
as though ghost had stood among them.
1t was the first time since Leonard Heath
had disappeared that his place had been
filed, though the chair had waited va
cant through all those years. They
were, superstitious, and this was a sure
omen to them of his death. "Let the
child stay" cried his mother, with a
pale face; che is the only one of his
name that will ever sit in that place"
But Winny shook her head and took
the boy hastily up, holding him tight to
her breast and rocking him to sheep,
while her eyes rested on the place left
vacant, as though she had the second
sight, and Leonard Heath sat there alive
before her.
".
It had not been difficult for Leonard
to evade ell pursuit. There was some
thing in his secret flight, in the under
taking itself, that suited precisely his
morbid, silly imagination and long cher
ished dreams of romance. He hid him
self in the old Fontaine house, leaving
to Ludlow the purchase Of the stove and
old pieces of furniture which would
make it habitable for him. He took
keen delight in donning the rusty wig
and half worn old Quaker dress which
Ludlow bought him, and had all the tri-
ulnph Of a successful actor when jos, on
his visit,of inquiry to the house week
later, was bafaed by the deaf old man
who peered at him through spectacles,
brushing alongside OF him while he gath
cred his fagot Of wood. Perhaps the first
month Of his solitary scjourn there was
Tie most satisfying Of Leonard Heath's
life. 1t had al the strong lines and Rem
brandt shadows of melodrama. There
was the utter solitude, the ghosts of the
lpp1C dead inmates Of the old homestead.
every moment the splendid possibility of
the treasure and sudden opening of the
enchanted gates of which twas the key.
1t did not dull a whit his cost of enjoy
ment TO remember the dismay and an
II I