Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1907-12-17
Bv ETTA w. PIERCE.

table. The four-posted bed, the pol
ished oaken floor, the dark, rich panel
ing, were all familiar to me. From
that west window had first seen Ba-
sill Hawkstone hurrying to his dying
mother. Outside, the night had grown
eerie and wild. 1 could hear rain
splashing on the roof of the porch;
the wind sighed round the gables; the
roar of the surf came up from the
beach below the old sea-wall. With
my ears full OF these sounds 1 fell
asleep.
I dreamed of my dead father! then
awoke suddenly, with an unpleasant
sense Of something wrong in the room.
The lamp had gone out. A loud, VI
brating clock nearby was striking one.
At the same moment 1 became aware
that a window had been opened In the
chamber-a current OF wet air was
rushing across me as l lay-also, that
something stood by the four-posted
bed-a motionless white shape, family
outlined in the darkness. In spite of
my boasted courage I felt my blood
congealing; 1 could not move. l could
not breathe. In this chamber Of muir
der-this room tainted with the crime
of five-and-tw twenty years before, l lay
as IL turning to stone.
Two or three dreadful moments
passed. Then, with a tremendous ef-
fort, 1 started up.
"I know you!" I cried, wildly, with
no actual comprehension Of what l was
saying. You are Philip Hawkstone's
ghost!"
How shall 1 describe the effect of
these words? Instantly two hands, cold
as clay, seized and hurled me down up
on the bed. Something soft, cold,
smothering, was pressed upon my face
I knew no more.
How long l lay insensible l cannot
tell. 1t was the chilly sea- wind blow
ing through the open window that res
tored me at last. Fortunately the pill
low had slipped away from my face.
With cry of terror started up, CROP
ed for a match and lighted the night
lamp. The Cedar Chamber was empty,
and my assailant, whether earthly or
supernatural, was no longer there. 1
closed the window and dressed myself
in haste.
A few brands still smoldered on the
hearth-remnants Of fire that had
been lighted early in the evening to
burn away the damp Of the unused
ROOM 1 raked these together and sat
down before them. There 1 remained
for the rest of the night.
At an early hour next morning 1 de-
scended to the breakfast room. Mrs.
Otway was there before me, arranging
flowers in a Moorish jar.
How pale you look, Miss Ravenel,"
she said, giving me a keen glance.
You have not slept well?"
True" 1 replied; ''if you do not
mind, Mrs. Otway, I would like another
ROOM"
And in a few words related the ex-
perience Of the night. She dropped the
flowers she was holding-her face
grew pale and distressed.
MY dear!" she cried, in q dazed way
-"oh, my dear. Are you sure it was
not a dream? How dreadful! Well
don't think of it again. l will have
you removed to another chamber i'm
mediately."
The door opened, and little Bee
Hawkstone limped in, like a broken
winged butterfly, followed by a cross
and sleepy maid.
II couldn't keep her in bed" said the
latter; "she was so bent, Miss Ravenel,
on seeing you again. She didn't sleep
half the night, chattering about you,
and her pa that's over the seas"
The child clung around me with both
small arms. The sole daughter of the
house of Hawkstone is but forlorn lit
tie thing, virtually without father,
mother or kindred, and wholly given
up to the care of servants.
Il want to look at you. Mis- Raven
el." pleaded Bee, naively, you are so
pretty: and 1 want to stay close by
you, you are 50 nice. You will never
go away from the island, will you
never?"
Never is a long day, dear" I an
swered. smiling. II dare not make
reckless promises; but be sure that
will stay here for the present, because
must. and"-moved by her little, pale,
uplifted face-"because I wish to do
you good. dear!"
We went out into the porch, filled
with a troop of dogs, and down the
gardenwalk together. The clouds had
passed with the night. A soft haze
veiled the sky, token of coming heat.
The peacocks were out on the terraces,
the sails OF the windmills hung mo-
tionless on the heights. Below the old
sea wall the Atlantic was heaving up
its thin. curled edges of frothy break
ers to the dazzling sun.
The terrors of the night slipped like
burden from me. The wholesome
llSnt, tne salt, fresh ali, SlcdlSu my
brain of phantoms, and made me strong
and fearless again. Little Bee, looking
wistfully off to sea, murmured:
II wish papa would GOMEZ"
soon found that this absent father
was the centre of all the child's
thoughts and desires.
We came to a spot marked by two
ancient sundials, half buried in flaming
nasturtiums, one bearing the motto
"Tempus fugit ut umbra," the other
The Night Cometh!" They may have
stood there in Rochambeau's day, when
the French officers. in stars and orders
and powdered hair, were entertained al
Tempest Island. Nearby, under row
of enormous pear-trees. a gate, in the
form Of horseshoe, opened toward the
stables. Here l sat down in garden
chair with the child. The dogs hao
followed us from the porch-a curious
train. led by an immense mastiff, with
a muzzle as black as a coal, and ending