Democratic messenger. [volume] (Snow Hill, Md.) 1869-1973, 1903-02-21

some judge over cringing criminal;
all this though ever pitiful, was too
usual a basis for the ghost haunt to
make that unusually attractive. But
there was more. Fantastically
astray from beaten ghost-tracks ii was
that. when the dramatic moment of dis
coyery came. this Welsh monk should
be proven Merlin of his kind. should
shelter from one sin in the bosom OF
another. should recall to memory In
his eXigence a concealed lore of magic
culled in Druidic tracks. should safe
guard himself and his beloved in the
frantic shout of strange liturgy which
fell so shudderingly upon the ears of
the rosy prior that his fingers stopped
them, while his wild eyes saw sight
stranger than the hearing of the litur
gle charm.
For before his eyes and ont of his
reach the monk and the maid flew high
TO the rsd-roofed eyrie-a white dove
and dark before the eyes of the holy
prior where had, been monk and n
maid. Their feathers lustered in the
moonlight as they passed. cooling con-
tent out of the incarnation, each with.
| in little doorway.
! But at that same moment the lifted
! hands of the prior were clapped to his
dazed head in self-defense, for out flew
the monastery doves in a fiustered
| crowd. their soft voices shrillirg to
! pitch of terror, their domestic peace in
vaded. their respectable habits ruGely
| fractured by these foreign midnight
callers They tore a passage past the
! shaken prior through the walnut-grove
! pai,iEg the sward with rattle of for
/ lorn and shrivelled leaves. and SO on
to the standpoint and out across the
naked sea. After that night there were
no more doves 10 the brotherhood, who
tried to install in their vote family af-
ter family. but in vain, for at the first
nightfall each new flock flew, like the
rest, with cries of terror to the sea,
to come back no more Only the white
dove and the grey nestled by night in
the eyrie when leaves were falling, but
were never seen by day. The sound
of their cooling was heard in November
clear against any shrek of wind or
whistle of wave, and for years the
ahuddering brotherhood crossed them
selves throughout wakeful nights. say
ing how the grey monk nightly shouted
his incarnation over the white maid;
how both faced nightly the weird hor-
ror of metamorphosis and flew to the
deserted doyecote, cooling whilst the
brethren crossed.
Nor did the story die ont with the
monks, as the old man bore witness.
The poet sighed that such things had
ceased to happen and passed by the
girl who was wondering if they had.
Il will find out tonight" said she,
thrilling with determinate adventure.
THE place will be under enchant-
nlent enough in the moonlight" MUIR
INJURED he. Il must come though the
doye-ghosts do not. But there are yet
many November nights. many leaves
TO fall. many opportunities-
However, he went that very night,
smiling as he passed the darkened win
dow of the peasant.
Whimsically, since a poet and young
enough 10 think of things as toys. he
went cowled and cloakcd and stood by
the deyotee wooing the spirit of the re-
negade monk out of the air, the place.
and his very clothes. Lifting in moist
air. heavy exhalations from the leaves
that had been love-language to the
monk, an incense swung from invisible
/ censers-became the same to him until
he stood there eXpectant in his fancy.
eager almost as the monk himself,
looking. listening FOR a footStep, with
head turned fixediy to the left, there
where white figure should come along
the gnarled avenue of thorn, carpeted
now with wsird and knotty shadows,
as if COLLINS slept along its length.
The monk thus lived again in the
poet.
Yet the poet started-remembering
that ne was not the monk-when soft
| IL. cautiously. there drifted down the
goblin path in YER. truth hooded
girl in white.
The poet caught his breath, but the
monk in him thrilled eXultant with
what would be, even as the monk OF
eight hundred years ago had thrilled.
And the girl came On till she stood
clear of the thorn-avenue in an island
OF white moonlight. To this island the
monk in the poet was devoutly pass
ing from shadow under the dovecote.
But the island had point broken by
wavering walnut boughs and on its
verge the monk stood still stopped
there by the poet who held him.
1t WAS now the turn of the girl to
start She saw the monk and caught
her breath. for after all it vas lit
tie surprise She caught it shortly, hap
py but tremulous.
Now know" she said. these
things do happen. But-he is here be-
times. and where-where is she?"
She stood quite still, looking intently
for her.
The poet knitted brows and held the
monk with a tight rein, but as monks
go the spirit of this one was very
Pegasus.
THE old man after all was not fib.
bing," said the poet. Here indeed is
she, and betimes, too. But where
where is he?'
He stood quite still looking intently
for him.
Both breathed a little hard. Event
ually the situation grew strained.