Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1907-12-03
CHAPTER VII.
The Inlet House.

man in q dream, CTOSSeu W ZIG Seho-N~
in the corner, and unlocked the top
most drawer. 1t was full of papers,
carefully arranged and labeled. He
lifted one and read ITO be opened only
by my son, Basil Hawkstone.'
This held the secret of which she had
spoken-some family secret, he felt
with instructive dread. His hand shook
yisibly as he broke the seal. Standing
by that bed Of death, with the waning
light falling mockingly on the paper,
Basil Hawkstone read the story Which
his fathers widow had concealed so
long from the world, and which SEEM
ed alas! to foreshadow future woe TO
himself.
Not a sound broke the silence. Like
a statue he stood and read on and on
10 the last word-to the signature
which she had made with trembling
hand.
"My God" burst from his pale lips.
He staggered back to the drawer
threw in the dreadful paper and turned
the key upon 1t. Then he rang the bell
furously. and before the attendants had
fairly reached the chamber ne was
darting down the oaken stair. and out
OF the house into the gathering night.
The deep stone porch, the great sea-
ward slope Of garden, lay dim ana
uuiet, He opened side gate, ana
turned into the road which traversed
the island from end to end. AS he did
80 the solemn stroke Of bell rang
through the twilight. 1t came from the
island church, and after the fashion
of an earlier day-old customs fingered
long on the Tempest--it told the Is
landers that their sovereign lady mad
gone
Through the steep and dreadful pass
to DEATH"
Slowly that bell kept knelling the
years of the life done. Hawkstone
stopped at the gate and listened. Pres
entity Joe Derby, the sexton came
forth, with a lantern in his hand.
Lord love us!" he cried, at sight OF
Hawkstone. els 1t you, sir, grown
brown and tall but the same Mister
Basil that used to help me break wild
colts. and shoot partridges in the
woods, and fish for cuRners off the
rocks! Twas I that tolled for your
father the night he was killed, sir, and
now I'm tolling for the poor lady. Well,
we'll, we all so the same road at last.
The island folks need you ROW, sir-l
hope you've come to stay"
rYes, Derby; l have come to stay"
Derby advanced nearer, and put his
weather-b beaten face closed up to his
young masters.
III knew the poor lady's end was near
sir, for last night saw female fgger'
all In white, at the door of the family
tomb yonder Fact, sir! My knees
bumped together, and I wilted down
like a rag was that scarf! 1t stood
2here, as white as foam, sir, and more
than me has seen 1t, of late-some In
one place. and some in another. l
showed a light pair of heels down the
road-that's what 1 did, sir!" with
pride in his own prudence.
Nonsense, Derby!" said Hawkstone.
"You have too much sense to believe In
ghosts"
Derby shook his head.
rSeeing is believing. There Is ghost
rummaging round this island, sir
more'n one, for all I know-=look out
you don't come upon 1t yourself"
Hawkstone turned from the church
door and started for the beach. The
IN A ,flNF crr-aV
had fallen like vail on shore and sea;
through it the rising moon made
faint luminous opening. Sheep-bells
tinkled on invisible slopes. The beat
ing of an unseen sail sounded from
seaward. Leaving the landing place
behind him, Basil Hawkstone came to
a bare, desolate beach, where natural
breastwork of sand-dunes, covered
with long salt grass, protected the land
from the ravages Of the sea. Shut
in a small, silent world of mist, he
stumbled along the indistinct path,
with a gray rim Of water rushing up on
one side, and the long grass ct the
dunes rafting like spears on the other.
Some low, red-brown cliffs loomec up
before the island lord. He had to make
his way cautiously around their base.
II was a wild, lonely spot. The souni
of surf on an outer ledge poomed
through the fog. At last our pedes-
trian reached columnar red rooK'
which bore grotesque resemblance 70 a
female figure, and was called by the
islanders the "Old Woman Thls
marked the union of forest and shore,
for here small bay or inlet went
creeping up into a dense growth OF ce-
dar hemlock and twisted pepperidge-
trees, A sedgy path led along the bor-
der of the inlet. and following 1t into
the wood, Hawkstone espied before him
a light,
Something dashed across his way.
1t was wild deer, with soft, shining
eyes. Owls hooted in the tree tops,
Hawkstone stumbled on over gnarled
roots and through salt pools, and at the
head Of the inlet came to square
brown house, with dormer windows,
like bulglng eyes, in the roof standing
solitary in an opening Of the wood,
The salt water, washing through the
sedge, reached almost to the door stone
A boat was moored on the bank
Mist and silence hung over everything
Hawkstone went up to the low door
and raped.
There was no answer, Again and
again he repeated the summons. The
silence Of death reigned.
"Peg Patton! Are you there?" he
shouted. "Open!"
WHO calls?" answered a grufr voice
from within,
Basil Hawkstope!"
A chain dropped on the inside. boil
was drawn back. In the low door
stood Peg Patton, with a lamp In her