The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1914-09-10

now 1t seemed CLAIMANT Watcner.
tolling Joy. Threel Four!
|. Five! Perhaps he was
sleepless, listening. too. Was he in
the old library, thinking Of her?
Six! Seven! Eight!
Nine! II she could only
send her message to him on the bells!
Ten! 1t swelled more loudly
now, more deliberate. Elevenl &.
Another day was almost gone.
Twelve! Joy cometh in the
morning"-ran the whisper across her
thought. 1t was morning now.
Thirteen!
She caught a sharp breath. Her
ear had not deceived her-the vibra-
ton still palpitated on the air like
heart OF sound. It had struck thir-
teen! A little eery touch crept along
her nerves and a cool dampness broke
on her skin, for she seemed to hear,
quavering through the wondering ST.
lence, the voice of Mad Anthony, as
it had quavered to her ear on the
doorstep of the negro cabin, with the
well-sweep throwing its long curved
shadow across the group Of laughing
faces:
"Ah sees yo' gwine ter him. All
heahs de co'ot-house clock a-strikin'
in de night-en yo' gwine. .
Don wait, don wait, Ill mistis, er
de trouble-cloud gwine kyah him
orx,,oy fJov,o W. Whan do Cl0ck
strike thuhteen-when de clock strike
thuhteen-"
She dropped the flowered curtain
and drew back. A weird fancy had
begun to press on her brain. Had not
Mad Anthony foretold truly what had
gone before? What IL there were
some cryptic meaning in this, too! To
go to him, at midnight, by lonely
country roadside, a girl? Incredible!
Yet her mind had opened to a vague
growing fear that was swiftly mount.
ing to thriving anxiety. That innate
superstition, secretly cherished while
derided, which is the heritage Of the
Southron-born bred from centuries OF
contact with a mystical race, had her
in its grip. Yet all the while her
sober actual common-sense was crying
out upon her-and crying in vain
Unknown appetences that had lain
darkling in her blood, come down to
her from long generations, were sud
denly compelling her. The curtain
began to wave in a little wind that
whispered in the silk, and somewhere
in the yard below she could hear Sc
linn nipping the clover.
She was to go or the "trcuble-cloud'
would carry him away!
A strange expression Of mingled
fright and resolve grew on her face
She ran on tiptoe to her wardrobe
and with frantic haste dragged out 6
rough cloak that fell over her soft
house-gown covering 1t to che feet. i
had a peaked hood falling from its
collar and into this she thrust the
resentful masses of her hair. Every
few seconds she caught her breath II
short gasp, and once she paused
with an apprehensive glance over hel
shoulder and shivered. She scarcely
knew what she did, nor did she ash
herself what might be the outcome O
such an absurd adventure. She nei
ther knew nor cared. She was swep
off her feet and whirled away into
some outlandish limbo of shadow
fear and crying dread.
Slipping off her shoes, she wen
swiftly and noiselessly down the stair
She let herself out of the door and
shoes on again, ran across the clover
A hound clambered about her, whin
ing, but she silenced him with a whis
pered word. Selim lifted his head ant
she patted the snuffiing inquirin,
muzzle an instant before, with he
hand on his name, she led hin
through the hedge to the stable. l
was but the work of a moment t
throw on a side-saddle and buckle tn
girth. Then, mounting. she turne,
him into the lane.
He was thoroughbred, and her tens
excitement seemed to communicate
itself to him. He blew the breatl
through his delicate faring nostril
and flung up his head at her restrain
ing hand on the bride. Once on tn
Red Road, she let him have his will
The long vacant highway reeled ou
behind her to the fierce and lionel
hoof-tattoo. She was scarcely col
scious of consecutive thouEht-all wa
: vague tumble Of chaotic impression
threaded by that necessity that calle
her like an insistent voice.
Copse and hedge few by, streaks {
distemper on the shifting gloom
swarthy farmhouse roofs buddled lik
giant Indians on the trail, and pond
in pastures glinted back the pal
!. glimmering Of stars. The faint mis-
3 tangled In the branches OF the tree
Q made them look like ghosts gathere
to see her pass. Was this real {
d was she dreaming? Was she, Shirle
; cambridge, really galloping down q