Shiner gazette. [volume] (Shiner, Tex.) 1893-current, 1909-03-11
The MoOrehouse Tragedy
BY Mrs. Jane G. Austin.

fairly visible, the architect OF this
dreary mansion had elevated 1t
upon a terrace, or rather upon three
low ones. and these had once been
flower beds, now, however, differ
ing little from the surrounding
moor.
"a desolate place enough, and
we'll fitting to my desolate heart
and future life,' thought 1, still
standing on the broken steps, the
closed door at my back.
"shall l take off the horses, Miss
Rosalind?" asked Paul, doubtfully,
after waiting some moments for the
result of my revery.
Eyes, Paul. ! shall remain here,
certainly. But we should get in
and be settling ourselves before
dark. The key,--where is it?"
MRS. Esther has it, miss"
"And she? Esther! Estherl
Where are your"
My nurse came slowly round the
corner of the house, putting away
her handkerchief. l knew she had
been crying tor me and the dismal
life that lay before me, but my
heart was hard as adamant, turned
to stone with its own crushing sor-
row, aid l only said coldly,-
Come, Esther, l am waiting.
Where is the key?"
Eyes, Miss Rosalind. Here it is. !"
And from the bag upon her arm
the woman drew out great, rusty
prison-looking key. Struck with this
resemblance, l added bitterly
Here, Paul, you shall be turn
key. Show us to our cells, with
out delay"
old servant answering my thoughts.
ut is more like a jail than a gem
tleman'8 house."
With a dismal Shrek the bolt
yielded to the strong persuasion of
Paul's istill powerful arm, and the
key turned, but still the door did
not Yield until the man applied his
sturdy shoulder and knee, raising
at the same time the ponderous
iron latch.
1T seemed as If, in years of moul-
dering repose, the decaying wood
had reunited its discovered fibers,
nhtil door and casing had grown
together, in gastly mimlcry of the
summer time, when, full of sap and
vigor they had joined their
strength to hold high the honored
head of their parent oak.
But nature still must yield to
man; and with rending sound, a
harsh groan, the knitted fibers
were once more torn asunder, the
door swung slowly open, and | cross
ed the threshhold of my future
r. and stood within the hall.
It was not cheerful. l do not
think, had | been filed with joy as
was with gloom, possessed with
love and life as ! was with wrath
and despair, that / could have re-
pressed a shudder. AS it was, l
sank involuntarily upon my knees,
and, with outstretched arms, whis-
pered,-
Spirits of my fathers haunting
these crumbling walls, welcome
home your child, who henceforth
belongs to you alone!"
And down the unseen corridors,
the dim stair case, and through the
low proved halls, came a signing
moan. The house and its inmates
answered me.
20, Miss Rosalind, my poor,
heart-broken darling!" exclaimed my
old nurse, trying to raise me in her
arms. Don't kneel there! don't
look so wild don't go any farther
into this dreadful old house! Come,
dearie, Paul has not yet unharness-
ed the horses; let us return to
Moortown before it grows quite
dark. You will die or go mad
here, darling"
"And If l should, nurse?"
Nov, now, my petl" expostulat-
ed old Esther, just as she used
when / was a little wilful child,
some eighteen years before, Don't
talk that way, now don't"
well, then, nurse, let us look
through the house." said I, with an
attempt at cheerfulness; and rising
from the old armchair where Esth-
er had placed me, l threw scru-
tinizing glance about me.
In front lay the hall, long, wide,
and row-browed, paved with tiles.
From it's midst rose a stair case,
massive with curiously carved balus-
tiers, and a broad landing half way
up, where, dividing, two lighter
flights of stairs led to the side cor
ridors. Beneath this landing, two
low, round arches gave entrance to
the wings of the rambling old house.
At my right hand and at my left
stood open doors, but the rooms
within lay in Egyptian darkness.
undo those shutters, nurse, and
let us see our future habitation."
Esther advanced somewhat tim
orously into the mystery had bid
den her explore, and l mechanically
followed her.
heard her fumbling at the bar,
and then a confused Tapping sound,
followed by the dash of something
living, that, as all life does when
left to instinct, made for the light,
but finding me in its path, fell upon
my head, and burrowed in my loos-
ened hair.