The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1891-01-16

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ing light beyond the pillars of Hercules
and the lost Atlantis.
aYes, it is beautiful, but there is sus-
picious stiffness in the air that always
presages a storm Those tiny white
lines on the water will grow to white
caps tonight, and the sky reminds me
of the old proverb whom the gods would
destroy, they first make blind;' many
sailor will see only its glory and never
suspect the lurking danger, /" the count
replied.
aAllons, / am glad that if there is to
be storm we can enjoy it at safe dis
tance, Janet said, giving the horses
cut that sent us into Amalf in great
style and with imminent danger to the
inhabitants, who have way of lettering
in the streets and expect horses to give
place to them. We left the landau at a
stable, and, sending our luggage to the
Albergo -, we wandered up the old
stone steps worn by the feet of many
generations, and lost ourselves iu the
devious windings Of quaint old paths,
until guided by the yesper bell we found
the cathedral
After much agnosticism at the putat-
i've tomb of st. Andrew, we went to
| the Albergo, which was an abandoned
monastery. Dinner was served in the
refectory. An omeletle souff1ee. fit to
and longest Lents, was the pride of the
chef, and the bland Luigi handled it as
reverently as if it had been a relic of st.
Francis preserved by Santa Chiara;
truly no jolly prior could have relished
it more than we did, and after the coffee
we went into pleasant salon, and the
| fire was so bright that we felt encour-
aged to listen to weird old story of the
dead Lady of Malatesta. which the
count told with realistic horror. The
storm he had predicted was wailing and
| weeping around us, and the sea, lashed
to fury. broke with sullen roar against
the mighty rock.
"Did you ever see the dead lady your
self?" Janest asked, drawing close to
mamma.
"One night, Halloween, of course, I
went to the haunted room, lighted
lamp. and laying my pistols on the table
/ determined to face all comers All
went well until the last stroke of 12
sounded from the tower; then / fell
asleep, and when awoke sensation of
intense cold was creeping over me, the
lamp was Pickering fitfully-approach-
ing me slowly, not walking and not hy-
ing, was conscious of something. I
don't know what, for yielding to an in
sane terror I rushed from the room, and
the horror of that night was such that
1 have never been abls to persuade my
self to make second attempt to meet
the dead lady. Don't think me cow
ard, he said appealingly to- Janet,
"for you know fought under Prince
Alexander and charged with more than
one forlorn hope.
"Of course don't, but you know I
don't believe in ghosts"
Neither do I, but have an illogical
fear of them, he said; and addeI with
some asperity, Janet if you ever were
alone in the dark you would believe in
them too, but you know it would take
very enterprising spook to catch you
while mamma is around. If you don't
believe in them, please try my cell to-
night, it is a regular ghost trap"
II didn't say wasn't afraid of them,
Camilla, said 1 didn't believe in them,
didn't ], Count Guido?" Janet an
swered, appealing to subsidized judic-
iary. for the count, of course, agreed to
every thing she asked and finding my
self in hopeless minority l began to
explore the room. There was picture
near the window which possessed
strange fascination for me; it was evil
IDENTIFY the portrait of young man who
had lived centuries ago, yet there was
marvellous freshness in the rich color
ing, and the melancholy beauty of the
features might have been traced by Van
| Dycl, SO exquisite was the sad yet ten
der sweetness of the eyes which followed
one with weird persistency. One hand
was laid on the hilt of sword, the
other held plumed hat as black as his
raven hair.
~Do ask Luigi the history of this ro-
mantle portrait, l said to the count,
and Luigi was summoned, but it was
hard TO get any information from him.
II wonder how far francs would
go toward clearing up the mystery?" l
asked, laying them one by one on the
table,
Luigi wayered, then yielded. at is
terrible story, and the marchese may
haunt me forever if / tell it, signora,
he said obviously.
"Oh, get the priest to sprinkle holy
water on you. Count Guido said.
"The marchese is no more afraid Of
holy water and rabbit feet than-than
priest, Luigi said slowly. "You see an
American gave me the rabbit foot, it
does very we'll for their ghosts, for they
are not very old, but when you come to
the marchese, who has been here three
hundred years, it isn't worth pocket
room. But I'll risk it anyhow" We
sat close around the fire, Janet next to
Count Guido, and mamma on the sofa
beside me, and, as we looked to Luigi,
involuntarily the portrait met and held
our gaze, and the wind sighed like lost
soul out in the arcade. Luigi began:
"The marchese lived at that old castle
just before you reach Amalf. He was
handsome, as you see in that portrait,
but there were dark stories about him;
people said that his black horse galloped
down to the sea at night and waited
there for him while he joined th~ Sara
Gems and ravaged land and water with
them; and belated travellers sometimes
heard the music of Lutte from the old
castle, and a woman's voice singing
strange songs, and when the monks who