The Bourbon news. [volume] (Paris, Ky.) 1895-19??, 1898-03-11
CHAPTER TX.


up and down in front of the house.
During the meal Mrs. Snyder had kept
up an incessant chatter concerning the
mysteries about my house. 1 did not
hear half her words, but nevertheless
there was an element so foreign to my
thoughts in the few sentences caught
that I was glad to escape her.
The evening shadows were settling
over the valley, and the moon was ris-
ing in splendOr.
Leisurely 1 tramped to and fro, Civ
ing up my thoughts undisturbed to the
pleasant realization of new-found hap
piness and to anticipatiOns of future
ioy in the constant companionship of
my sweetheart.
The cigar finished, l repaired to my
room, with the intention of reading.
But the evening was so fine that soon
blew out the light and sat down by the
window.
Then 1 remembered how, On rising
from the same chair the evening be-
fore, tall, white specter had confront
ed me- This recollection coming to
me suddenly in the midst of happy
thoughts caused me to glance some
what nervously toward the closed win
dow opposite.
[ could see faint image of myself
swaying to and fro in unison with the
motion of the rocking-chair in which
l was seated.
Directly underneath was the cellar.
whose solid walls, defying investigation
of the interior, had so impressed the old
nurse Sarah with an unreasonable fear.
Even SOnntag, who, from his vocation,
was accustomed to hold himself we'll in
hand against surprise, had exhibited
profound amazement when informed
of the circumstance.
It was irritating to have thoughts
concerning the mysteries which seemed
to abound in the old homestead come
crowding up and play at cross-purposes
with the happy state that the meeting
with Florence had induced.
The mysteries had seemed trivial in
the daytime, had been wholly forgotten
in Florence's society, but now that
was again alone and the night coming
on, the thought of the cellar came back
! to me tinged with a shadow of fear
And the voice, the unearthly voice
what was it?
AtfrstI had felt hope that the vague
account given by Mrs. Snyder might
have something of truth in it. The I'M
travelling of a chain of events which
seemed to border on the supernatural
would be a new experience to me, and
therefore furnish a diversion in the
quiet, uneventful life I expected to lead
in Jacksonville.
But now I needed no such diversion
to lead my thoughts away from the rob-
berry and it's blighting effect upon my
life and honor. 1 did not regard that
affair any longer as the one great bar
rier which stood between me and happi-
ness, although the desire for exculpa-
ton was keener than ever.
l was sure of Florence's love and
trust, but I could not wish her sweet
self linked forever to one over whose
life cloud of suspicion hung. Her love
was an inspiration, an incentive; under
its influence 1 hoped to accomplish re-
suits which even the vast resources of
the bank had failed in.
To devote all my thought, all the
energy possessed, to this one end was
now my purpose. That small mystic
riOus events were arising with their at
tendant irritations, threatening to di-
vide the resources of my mind and
body which I desired concentrated to
one end, filed me with Impotence.
Then, too, the certainty that Horace
Jackson seemed to feel that Florence
would be compelled to fulfill her prom
Use, weighed heavily upon me. Why
had Jackson changed his opinion re-
garding my innocence? What devel-
Opments had arisen which would throw
new light on the case, and make an in
nOcent man bear the consequences of a
crime he knew nothing of?
Just before retiring it occurred to me
that the lights of Mr.. Morley's house
might be seen from the attic window.
1t seemed as though sleep would be
sweeter after glimpse of those lights,
some of which were casting radiance
over Florence's loved form.
1 left my room and quietly assembled
the stairs. Arrived at the attic, /
grouped my way to the small window
through which 1 had gazed that morn
ing. 1 stood for few minutes con-
templating the lights of the Morley res
idence on the hill opposite.
A brisk breeze was piping down the
valley. Through cracks and crevices
it crept into the old attic with soft wall
ing and moaning. There was homesick-
ness in the mournful tones, and sad
ness, as though the spirits of the de-
parted were signing for return to old
familiar scenes.
What was there about my old place
that produced such depressing effect
upon my spirits?
The happiest moments of life have a
slight shadow to them, as though to
warn us that all joy is fleeing. Per-
haps it was only this shadow which
caused the undefnable feeling of in
security. But there was a quality. also
which breathed of events to come OF
dire iTnnOrt 7 seemed like the mariner