The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1894-06-07

comfortable this twilight is. Never spoil
it with light if you can help it. 1t is
the best time Of the day. Well, Maxey,
good night.
"No," said Maxey suddenly; 81 think
I will go out with you. l have got
something to say, and besides / want to
smoke. Since our new arrival that's
prohibited here, you know. Ellen, you
are tired, and if were you l would lie
down a little while. / shall not be gone
very long. am just going to the corner
with the doctor. But really, if youwill
take my advice, you will lie down and
rest yourself. "
Don't worry about me, my dear, good
brother I know my strength and my
weakness. l shall not overtax myself
1t has not hurt me to be up little
nights. feel as bright as daisy now. "
This must have been just o trife wide
of the truth, Ellen Maxey. Your brother
had scarcely closed the door behind
himself and the handsome doctor when
you threw your tired body upon the bed.
You listened to their footsteps going
down stairs. You hear them becoming
fainter and fainter till they ~ lost al
together The deep voice Of Dr.. Lamar
is still sounding in your ears. Do not
deny the fact that it is exceedingly good
music to you You think of Dr.. Lamar,
ap1 vou wonder.
The great house is so still, and you are
so very tiredl What was that? Some
body at the door? No. A rat gnawing
behind the woodwork. A loose coal falls
in the CRATE. The wind rattles the panes
There is no other sound. Even the fire
is paling now-is going out entirely.
You are sound asleep.
|
"Open the doorl Open the door! FL
len! Ellenl Open the door, l say'
Still the silence of the grave within.
Julian Maxey was thoroughly alarmed
by this time. Already he had stood in
the hall pounding and calling for what
seemed an age to him. There was some
thing very strange about all this.
Strange that Ellen, expecting him back
directly, should lock the door on the in
side. Stranger still that she should 60
out and leave the sick girl alone.
"Ellenl For the last time, EllenW
MaXey had a momentary idea of
breaking in the door. Then he bethought
himself of his bunch Of keys. He thrust
one of them into the keyhole. He breath
ed heavily in his excitement. All, the
key was indeed on the inside. By dint
Of much rattling he managed to push it
from its place and heard it fall with an
ominous clink to the floor. After many
Intellectual trials he picked the lock-
The obstinate door yielded at last to his
touch. He rushed in. 1t was totally
dark everywhere. He felt his way to the
sitting room. The only light was the
dim glow Of the Goals in the CRATE,
which told him nothing.
He blindly groped his way to the
center table, where he knew there was a
matchsafe. In the obscurity he struck
against chair and overturned it. 1t fell
with a startling crash, and in the in
stant Of its conclusion, starting. as it
were, out Of the very sound itself, he
heard again that low, tremulous utter
ance that was neither q moan Of pain
nor plea for mercy, but akin to both,
just as he had heard it borne on the Bit
ter wind from the darkening sea that
night ON the rocks above the surging of
the waves. There was something in the
cry that completely unnerved Maxey. 1t
had always been his terror. Now, inten-
sified by the circumstances, it assumed
the potency of fate itself. His hand
trembled so he made several futile at
tempts before he could strike light.
Finally the slender shaft took fire and
blazed up. Maxey touched gas jet In
the glare that followed he saw the girl
they called Annette sitting, robed in
white, upon the edge Of the little bed in
the alcove room, wringing her hands in
the old nervous fashion, her fearful,
white face turned toward him, her dark
eyes regarding him with dread.
But it was rot this that chilled him
to the heart, that made the color fade
from his lips till they were ashen. 1t
| WAS the snnrtocle of hiS sister Ellen