The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-01-18
BY
MRS. c. N. WILLIAMSON.

My dinner. cooked by Madame Lascelles.
was dainty and good despite the scanty
warning she had received of nv arrival
ana the wine had lain for years in nv
uHeieS cellar. Madame Lascelles herself
waited upon me, condescendingly assisted
Wy my valet, who could not speak a word
Oh french-therefore put some questions
TO her in that language.
one served me with the nobly resigned air
Vi Aenooia IN slavery, speaking only when
sne was spoken to, but answering without
nesieauon my various queries Her fam
Ns Oh' sne had daughter of fourteen
"ho was away at school Lonely? No. she
was not OF morbid or retrospective nature.
aIu' BESIDES, she was accustomed to her
NE at the castle. She had even grown fond
u the place In spite of-certain drawbacks.
what were these drawbacks? inquired
madame Lascelles became suddenly reti-
cent Iney We're not for her in her posi-
lioh 10 speak of. would find them out for
myself perhaps; If not, so much the better
Her eyes and manner limited, or rather
Veiied, mystery, and insisted. upon in
formation AT last got it. Since 1 must
Know. De Poytron Castle was haunted. At
this laughed. but Madame Lascelles's
handsome face remained grave and i'm
passive. If monsieur did not object to
ghosts that was WELL
Il don't believe in them retorted.
Madame Lascelles shrugged her graceful,
black clad shoulders. *
DO you2" / continued.
L have lived here too long not to be-
lieve." was her answer.
is there special haunted chambers"
I persisted.
mo. monsieur. These tenants of the cas-
tle' who neither pay rent nor ask leave to
come and go. are said to make use Of many
rooms"
Have you never seen one of them?"
Only those with the blood of the De
Poytrons In their veins, it is supposed. can
see their ancestors who return to old scenes
after midnight
1--WE De Poytrons always were called
rather exclusive" / said, laughing. And
thought no more upon the hackneyed sub
ject Of ghosts until Simpson had left me for
the night, with locked door, in the huge,
dim room which had been my uncle Rogers
bedchamber.
1t was July. but so cold after sunset that
I was glad Of the small wood fire blazing
fitfully in the cavernous fireplace. Its flick
ering flame, together with four wax candles
in silver sconces, which only served to rem
der darkness more visible. formed my sole
+ illumination, and the feeble light was swal-
| lowed up by hungry shadows.
Outside, the sound of the sea beating
against the rocks and the wall of the rising
wind seemed to be but loud, complaining
voices of a vast silence.
| Midnight passed, and I was weary after
the journey 1 had had. Still, / could not
sleep, but lay in the great, old-fashioned
| four-posted bedstead staring into the red,
| blinking eye of the dying fire, my four can
dies extinguished. Then remembered the
| ghosts which paid their visits to such De
Poytrons as ventured into their usurped
domain; and this time 1 did not laugh.
1t was somehow easier to credit the glid-
ing existence of unearthly presence now,
with the mingling tumult of sea and wind
In my ears and the shadows of the grim
old room closing slowly in around me. Muir
muring voices, eager, yet half stihed,
seemed to whisper behind the paneled
walls. The air grew alive with inarticulate
mutterings that came neither from wind nor
sea. What strange play of ruddy light and
shadow over wall and lofty ceiling the fail
of the shifty phantoms, until they suddenly
| fixed themselves on the faded portrait of
an ancient dame opposite my bed and to
| the right of the fireplace. They fixed them
selves thus in response to look which
| appeared to call and catch the rowing
glance.
could have sworn that the eye of the
painted lady glittered as CLEAN Of fire.
| light struck them for instant. and the
| growing conviction that it was life in them
which held my gaze whether would or no.
sent a creeping thrill through my nerves
such as had never in any adventure felt
before.
| A log fell; down went the blaze under
| meath as if it had been killed. and when 1t
leaped up again after few seconds dark
| ness a marvel had come to pass. The tar
nished presentment of bygone beauty had
been wiped from the canvas, and in her
| place stood vision of radiant loneliness
whose sole resemblance to the vanished
| figure was the fashion of her clothes.
| sat UP I'm bed, dazed and staring, unable
to credit the evidence of my own senses. 1
must be dreaming. and yet-and yeti had
never felt more wildly awake in my life.
| Could 1t be, after all, that I had CROPPED
through my twenty-eight years in spiritual
blindness, denying the existence of phe-
nomena which were ready to prove their
reality to the seeing eye?
The lady on the canvas had seemed OF
middle age; the lady whose white satin clad
figure stood out now against a dead blacl0
background framed with furnished gold,
was of adorable youth and beauty.
Her gown, so far as i could judge, was
| of a period not less than two hundred
years ago, but her hair was arranged as
| Nature willed, according to no recognized
] fashion. 1t was unbound, and hung behind
the slender form in dark pillows that min
| gled with the black background. save where
the freight struck copper sheen from
! the crest of its richest waves.
| In one little hand she carried a. smaii
silver lamp of ancient make, which Win
the other she shaded in such a way that
| the light shone through the delicate nm
gers until they became rosily transparent.
1t also touched the young face, as If low
ingly. turning the dark eyes to stars. the
| Inns to kiss .incarnate.
| AS / gazed, fascinated and mesmerized'