Carolina watchman. [volume] (Salisbury, N.C.) 1871-1937, 1906-09-19

aspect. The windows were broken,
the ratings rusted, and tall, rank
weeds filled the garden. Yet it was,
to my mind, the prettiest house in
the terrace. 1t was separated from
the others and overlooked a broad ex-
panse of green meadow land.
We-that is, my mother and l
came to live in Western terrace
some nine years before the story
I have to relate opens. Western
terrace is the last row of houses in
that pretty outskirt of London
which 1 will call Surbiton. The
beautiful, fertile country lay fair
and smiling on either side of us; in
the far distance we caught a glimpse
of a chain of blue hills. The mea-
dows were green and studded with
white and golden flowers.
The Terrace is far from the city,
far from all the haunts of men;
there are no shops lear it; no busy
crowds ever pass by. The silence of
the summer evenings is unbroken,
save by the singing of the birds and
the distant Ginning of the church
bells.
When we first came to live here,
the next house was empty. My
mother often wondered that no one
took it; but there were many OBJ
shops; then it lay back, apart and
distant from all the other houses;
there was, too, a grove of solemn,
melancholy pine trees nea it, an!
on wintry nights the wind walled
and moaned there until it shook
ones nerves
Still, I believe the real reason why
nc one cared to take it was that a
dreadful murder had been committed
there. In the silence and stiffness
committed in Mona House that cried
up to high heaven for vengeance.
We never cared to inquire about the
particulars. 1t was some sad story
of an unhappy marriages. few
years of sullen resentment and
gloomy misery-a wild outburst of
hot anger-a fierce and cruel blow,
followed by the stiffness and hor-
rors of death.
Perhaps, before telling my little
story. should introduce myself, in
order that you may fully understand
why 1 relate it. My mother, Mrs.
Gresham, had been for some years
a widow. l was her only child. My
profession was that of a barrister
and I am glad to say I stood fore
most in the ranks. My mother had
ar ample fortune of her own and
my father had bequeathed to me the
savings of a long life.
My mother loved the country; she
could not endure the city. She must
have fresh, pure air, large rooms,
green fields. I was obliged to live
somewhere near town. We found
exactly what we wanted in Western
Terrace. 1t was in the country, vet
within an omnibus ride of the city.
We had many friends, many acquain-
tances, but no relatives living. Few
weeks passed without my mother
giving a dance Of an evening party.
We had a constant succession of
visitors, and altogether life in West
ern Terrace was very gay and agree
able.
Strange to say, and unlike most
mothers, mine wished me to marry.
I had already reached the mature
age of thirty-six, and had never yet
been in love. l laughed at the no.
ton. I had seen pretty girls and
beautiful women, but nc face, as
yet, charmed Or haunted me. My
mother continually made a point
of inviting young and attractive girls
to the house. It was all in vain;
love to me was a stranger.
1t happened just at this time that
I was confined to the house for a
week or two, from the effects of Il
severe cold, and then it became to
me a source of continual amusement
to watch Mona House and the doings
there.
From a dull, dusty, dirty building
it gradually changed into a bright,
light, cheerful one, with freshly
painted ratings. 1t amused me to
watch the arrival of large vans of
furniture and other effects. We often
~speculated as to what our neigh
boris would be like. Would they be
old Or young, dull OF sociable? For
some time after all the arrange
ments at the house had been COM
pleted there was no sign of them.
An elderly woma of respectable ap-
pearance took up her abode there.
We saw no arrival OF the usual fore
runners of a family moving. Once
I heard (1ate in the evening and
quite dark the sound of a carriage,
driving slowly up to the next door.
l could distinguish some slight con-
fused sounds, and in a few minutes
it drove away again.
Three days afterwards I was walk
Ing home, when suddenly, at one of
the upper windows of Mona House,
l caught sight of a face that I shall
never forget. The fair, pale face
of a lady, with the saddest express
sion in her dark eyes I ever beheld;
a beautiful face, set in a frame of