The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-01-18


was lest the vision should vanish like the
breaking of rainbow bubble, leaving me
cheated and alone. But she came nearer
and nearer. moving noiselessly as the wav-
ering shadows, save for faint, 1eafy rustic
Of satin as it brushed the polished wood
OF the uncarpeted floor.
Not till she had reached the foot of my
bed did the apparition pause. Then, stand
ing still, her eyes upon mine. the red lips
spoke.
y have come they. murmured. in soft
French accents. ito warn you. We are of
the same blood, and 1 am permitted for
that reason to speak with you. Oh, heed
my words, or 1 shall have visited you in
vain. Return to England. The castle of
your ancestors is not the home for you.
Only sorrow and disappointments lie wait
ing for you here
"Who are you, beautiful lady?" / stam-
mered. also in French. feeling as unreal as
the ghost herself.
My name was Cecile de Poyfron. Now.
1 have had neither name nor place in this
sad world for two centuries, as mortals
count My mission tonight is to save you
from trouble. Will you promise me soon to
go back to your home in England?'
1t was on the tip of my tongue to say
that would risk all the woes she limited
at so mysteriously for the sake Of seeing
her If she would come to me again; but
still with the dream feeling strong upon me
"a certain cunning checked the words. She
wished me to leave the castle. If 1 re-
fused to do this for her beauty's sake no
doubt she would strive to gain her ghostly
" mo fba eli Of Iao,
ty. 1 became subtle. wondering If matter
might have the power of deceiving spirit.
eff / could be persuaded to change all
my intentions and leave this place where
now wish to stay" 1 said, cit would GER
tainly be through arguments of yours. my
Cousin Cecile. But L do not easily change
my mind once it Is made up, and / had
made 1t up to stop here You must then
explain why it will be unwise for me to re-
MAN,
II tell you 1t is so. Is not that enough?"
mo, my cousin, even from you 1t is not
enough"
Butt am unprepared with explanations
I do not know If may be permitted to un-
ravel to you the mystery of the future"
Pray inquire, then, of those who sent
you to me and ask that you may speak,
I implored. Even as the words left my
lips the light of her silver lamp either went
out or else her figure suddenly vanished.
The effect was, at all events, the same, for
/ no longer saw the exquisite white form
with it's billowing chestnut hair. 1t was
gone If it had never taken shape before
my astonished eyes. And even the light
of the fire was as dead as IL the spirit pres
ence had killed its failing warmth.
"Cecile!" cried aloud.
There came no answer.
1 called again, but silence alone replied.
Then, still dazed and utterly bewildered.
got out of bed and went laundering across
the unfamiliar room, knocking against UNI
seen pieces of furniture, until at last 1 at
tanned the dressing table, where were
matches and two out of the four candles
These lighted and quickly turned inquir-
ing eyes towards the portrait on the wall.
There it was as it had been when 1 first
came to the room-a faded canvas set in a
furnished frame. nothing more. no bright
ness in the eyes, no charm in the painted
face.
There was little sleep for me during what
was left of the night. l could think Of
nothing but my spirit visitor. But towards
morning / did drop off into doze, and
when 1 awoke in full blaze of sunlight, with
Simpson knocking at the door. regretfully
told myself that must have dreamt the
whole thing The door was locked and no
practical joke could have been played upon
me. Besides, where was the exquisite beau
ty fitted to play such a joke? / had
thought Maude Lansdowne beautiful. but
compared with the ghost Of my dream
Eyes, it must have been a dreamy she and
every other woman / had ever seen might
almost be counted plain.
I had been divided in my mind whether
to speak Of my experience, or to hold 1t In
sacred silence; but when handsome. re-
served Madame Lascelles brought my cof-
fee, rolls and honey into the small dining
room, / could not resist questioning her.
night one Of those with the reputation Of
being haunted? Well. yes. there was GER
tainly a story connected with it. What
story? Oh, il monsieur insisted, then. A
beautiful young girl had been imprisoned
there, two hundred years ago, by a cruel
father who had discovered intended
elopement, killed the man she loved, and
insisted upon her marrying one whom she
hated, If she wished to be released. Rather
than such a fate should be forced upon
her, and weary of a world empty of her
lover, the girl had deliberately starved her
self to death. What had been this girls
name? l asked. when madame had quietly
finished the story. Cecile de Poytron, was
the answer. She was said to walk some
times, If warning of approaching mis-
fortune were to be given to a member OF
the De Poytron family; but the late master
had never spoken of seeing her.
Neither did the present master speak
of what he had seen: yet he thought the
more. In fact, he thought of little else,
and merely existed during that long day
yearning for night to fall.
Never had l gone TO my bed at night
with such eager haste. Would she come
again, this radiant creature Of dream,
this lovely apparition, or what you will?
1t was only IL when 1 lay down to wait
and hope. 1t was past midnight (and again
the fire burnt low) when she appeared,
stepping as before from the picture frame
which had scarcely been visible in the dusk.
until the silver lamp she carried frightened
with its rays the dulled gliding.
once more her white draperies rustIed
across the floor: once more she paused
at the foot of my bed. L had meant to
be silent. yet in spite of myself exclaimed