The Cape Girardeau Democrat. (Cape Girardeau, Mo.) 1876-1909, 1891-07-11
MY ROMANCE.
Who the Ghost at the Old Home
Really Was.

twenty-five my parents died, almost a
the same time.
In the first agony of my grief I CLOSED
my ancestral home, just as it was, dis
missing the old servants and intrusting
the keys to a valued friend of my late
father My bereavement gave me
gloomy turn of mind, and study wa.
my only solace. Through all my col
lege days and preparation for the law
i made few friends and never visited
the dear old home, hallowed by Sc
many tender recollections.
Five years at the bar, without any
home ties or outside pleasures, began
to prey upon my health; and in the
summer of 1sS-my physician per
emptorily ordered me to rest
My nerves were worn with the ten.
sion of pleading the case of Bond, in
the great case of Bond and Bradstreet,
which so stirred the most a%ristOcratiC
circles of Boston in that year.
Most of my classmates were married,
but, as yet, ! had never seen a woman
] cared to spe ID an hour with since my
fair mother died.
! proudly said that love was 4 myth,
beyond the ties of blood: and not a par
ticle of romance was in my mental
composition.
Realizing that my physicians advice
was such as | ought to follow, my
thoughts turned to the long-deserted
house in Farleigh, but two days jour
ney from Boston.
arrived at dusk on a warm summer
evening, and, taking my gripsack in
hand, sought my old friend for the key
of the silent house.
He greeted me with delight, and
urged me to remain with his family.
Years had silvercd his hair, but had not
cooled his regard for my fathers only
child.
II don't like it at all, Frank" he
said, as | took my departure. You will
have the hypo's in that house. 1t
hasn't been aired, is damp; really, you
must not GO
His earnestness was SO impressive
that asked:
why? YOu must have some more
potent reason. Mr.. Lee"
4 " Z II idHSi.tthhs iV IN
swered:
Il hear, unpleasant as it may be TO
you, the house is said to be haunted;
lights are often seen, cleaning from
the windows, and
Nonsense, | don't believe in ghosts.
There is plenty of fuel in the shed-or
was-I have matches. Heat will con
quer the dampness. and a revolver will
dispel all the ghosts | believe in. Come
over in the morning and you will find
me all right. Good night"
stood at the gate and looked up at
the great, rambling structure. All was
dark and still. not even a breath of
wind stirred the leaves of the large
honcysuckle that climbed at its own
sweet will over one wing. The air was
heavy with its rich perfume.
A rose tree, growing tall and branch
ing, was laCen with blossoms. their
pure white cleaning in the darkness.
The borders of the once well-kept
beds were rank and tall, and a hardy
hibiscus had nearly INSTRUCTED the path
way. At least, no vandal hand had dis
turbed my mothers flowers
The key turned rustily in the lock
and the dOor creaked on its hinges. |
stood for a moment like a guilty crea-
ture ere entered, and almost doubted
the propriety of spending a night in a
dwelling that had not been occupied for
nine years.
The air was close but not as damp
and musty as | anticipated, md light
ing a small lantern. with which | had
provided myself, | went in.
examined the h~anging-lamp in the
hall, but found it destitute of oil, as l
expected.
One in the parlor was full and, to my
surprise, wick nor oil seemed candicd.
Its light Illuminated the Don and lent
q homelike glow to its appointments.
Dust was on the rich hangings at the
windows, over the oil paintings on the
wall, and tinted the walnut of the
furniture with Il gray hue. The closed
piano reminded me too strongly of my
mother; | could not stay in that room,
whose orderly precision carried me back
to the day of her interment.
| sought the library and soon had a
glowing fire in the CRATE. Little
shivers ran down my back and | began
to feel uncanny fears which | resolute-
ly shook off.
busted myself airing some bedding
by the fire and improvising me a couch
on the lounge. Although a sultry sum-
mer's night, the fire was not uncom-
Portable.
pnlrnrn IN 4hn -nr- nnRr- nl.,-
where / used TO nestle as a child, with
my feet on the furnished brass fender
and a cigar between my lips l tried TO
feel at home.
The books looked down at me from
the shelves and old memories kept me
company.
What a neighborhood this must be,
not a thing had been disturbed in all
these years; indeed burglars were I'M
known in Farleigh-
A slight noise in the room above
aroused me. and l took my lantern and
explored the chambers.
Rats" | said, as | was about to de
scend, when | again heard it: this time
] knew it was in the attic. / could near
footsteps, distinctly.
Secreting myself beneath the stairs |
turned my lantern down and waited.
am no coward, but it was no pleas
ant sensation to wait for those soft foot
falls to reach the lower stair. The
stairway was closed up In the old style
with a door.
A hand was on the latch, l grasped
my revolver. The door opened, softly
and slowly, and | turned on the full
light of my lantern at the same time
pointing my pistol at-what?
stand or | fire." | cried in a voice
that echoed through the long, dark hall.
A feminine shrek ans wered me, and
a form crouched down in the stairway.
My pulses beat unanimously as l
held the light so close to her face as to
almost blind her.
what are you doing here?" I de-
manded, sternly.
mo harm, sir" returned a musical
voice and the form rose, revealing a
slight girl of some eighteen years with
great startled eyes as soft and velvety |
as a fawn's, looking out from a deli
cate, wild-rose face framed in masses |
of golden hair.
Explain YOURSELF said, pointing