Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1891-06-11
aThey will be frightened at home, !

said.
II will not be long" said he coldly.
II am 50 thankful to you" | hastened
to add. so very thankful"
He did not answer in any conventional
manner. His reply was this;
''You have good reason to be. A death
in the cold waters of the torrent is not to
be desired, nor is violent death Of any
sort. Nature seems to forbid it. Thank
heaven for life, little girl.
ssAnd afterward you," said l.
He bowed gravely, then went toward
some great piece Of furniture, on which
silver seemed to simmer in the freight
and brought thence a goblet of wine.
''Drink, he said.
drank. was warmed, comforted;
sort Of dreamy delight stole over me. ]
heard music; saw figures pass to and
fro. | did not quite comprehend what
saw; delicious slumber came on the
wings of the music and enfolded me-
For awhile I was delightfully."- conscious
that slept. Then was obliterated.
Cries and shouts aroused me. / strug-
gled to open my eyes heard my name,
'sMaisiei Maisiel1 shouted from afar.
heard the clatter Of hoofs.
ssTherel There she Isl There she isi'
in my uncle's voice.
saw half a dozen mounted riders ap-
preaching over the fresh, sun Lit slope Of
great hill, and saw that sat among
ruins, close to the time worn, weather
bleached wreck Of an old chimney, the
high mantel of which projected over my
head. The roof Of the house was gone;
only one wall remained About me lay
stones and mortar, blackened wood and
all the tokens of dwelling destroyed by
fire and abandoned for years to the ele-
ments
There was no wide hall, no glowing
fire, no sideboard laden with silver, no
host attired in white to offer me beakers
Of wine; but l was dry, warm and com
Portable, notwithstanding.
Ny uncle burst into tears, clasped me
to his heart, and in doing SO changed his
tune and lectured me for losing myself
Jackanapes had come home riderless
Ny aunt thought me dead on the road,
and was i'll with grief and terror. And
how did / find the ruins? And what a
mercy that | had not gone over the
precipice near byi So they bore me
home. And I kept my own counsel
said not one word Of my experience un-
til our kindly neighbors had been break
tasted and gone their ways. Then I re-
lated it.
'sIt must have been delirium," l said.
Yet it seemed SO real"
My dear Maisie," said my uncle, .'in
Scotland we are astonished at nothing.
lave myself heard this story before
fromsfour people who were rescued in the
same way, and saw the same wrath and
the same restoration of those ruins that
you describe My grandfather, a poor
country woman with her babe in her
arms. Mrs. McLynn Of the Heights and
my sister Constance have narrated the
same adventure. Everybody knows the
Haunted Ruins, but we have special
interest in it. Long ago a handsome
young man, by name Alexander Mccoy,
was sole heir to the place, then the hand
soonest residence hereabout, as one may
well imagine. He had all that could
make life happy, but he chose ID fasd in
love with an ancestress of ours, who
dirted with and Tilted him. Her por-
trait hangs on the library wall, saucy,
dark eyed girl in her teens. He thought
life worthless without the jade, and the
night she married some one else. set fire
to his old house and committed suicide
by jumping over the precipice into the
torrent 1t is said be also appeared to
her at midnight, but that he said. 4
forgive you
''The fancy is that it is the spirit Of the
suicide, who thus expiates his sin, and
that when he shall have rescued GER
tain number of persons he will be per-
mitted to rest. The story is always the
same. The luminous object, the figure
with the lantern, the great hall, the de-
lightful fire, the wine, the handsome
host with his white costume and golden
beard, the wakening among the ruins.
If horse or a dog be present, the animal
quivers in abject terror as your pony
did. Horses assuredly either see spirits
or think that they do. They have more
supernatural terrors than men or
women"
''But, uncle" said |, Il really am
afraid am not quite Scotch enough to
understand all this. The ghost Of sui
eide is all very natural, but the ghosts
Of house, of an oak floor, Of blazing
fire, Of glirnmering silver; the ghosts
also of delicious wine, and Of great
armchair in which slept delightfully."-
can these things be? Had not better
call it dreaIn?'
"You may call it what you like, said
my uncle. Science has yet found no
name for these mysteries, though be-
lieve she will some day. But what the
people here about will say win be just
this, Miss Maisie has seen the wrath of
the Mccoy That is what they call it,
my dear. Mary Kyle Dallas in New
Xnrl I.adrar