The Arm Chair Library No. 79: The Haunted Homestead — page 28: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

26 THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD. the voice of Mr. Legare taking leave of the gentlemen for the night; we heard him and the little waiter, Phlit, go down stairs and out at the hall door, fastening it after them. “T will take care that this is secured to-night,” said Rachel, going and earefully locking our door, and then trying it to be sure that it was fast. “That will do,” she said, when she had satisfied herself of its security. Then, as we were very weary, we prepared to retire. We were soon in bed. Rachel was soon asleep. ! Not so myself. I lay perfectly still, almost breathless, waiting the devel- opments of the night. And, reader, it waswhile lying thus wide awake and gazing straight out through the win- dow to the spot where the family tombstones gleamed whites and spec- tral in the moonlight among the dark firs, that my ear was struck by the click of the recoiling lock, and turn- ing. I saw the door swing slowly open and my dark-robed midnight visitant enter. Though wide awake, as at this moment, I was deprived by excess of awe of the power of speech or motion. Slowly the spectre advanced and stood as before, pointing to the dark red spot hid beneath the carpet under her feet. JI essayed once more to speak to her, but stich terror as her presence had never before inspired froze my ut- terance. I listened, wondering if my companion in the other bed was con- scious of this supernatural presence in the room; but the deep and regular breathing of Rachel assured me that she was sleeping soundly, the deep sleep of fatigue. And all this while the black-robed woman stood holding my eyes with her fixed and burning gaze, and point- ing to the spot on the floor. Then letting her arm fall slowly to her side rhe passed in measured steps from the | f room and though the door, that swung to gradually and elosed behind her. Again I essayed to cry out, but the spell was still upon me, and no sound escaped my paralyzed lips. While ly- ing thus, I heard once more the re- coiling elick of a lock and the swing of a door upon its hinges; but this time if was not our own, but another door—that of the opposite chamber, where my brother and his friend slept. “Who's there?” I heard John call out, in no pleasant voice, and seeming evidently annoyed at the disturbanee. There was no afiswer. “Who's there?” he repeated. No answer. “Who's there?” Continued silence. “Phiit!” No reply. “Phihit!” No reply. “Phit!’ Dead silence. “Jet, is that you?” The silenee of the grave continued, until at last the calling of my brother awoke his companion in the other bed. “What is the matter, John?” | heard him ask. “Why, some one has unlocked our door and entered, and I can’t make them speak; but shoot me if I don’t find them out!” said .~my brother, jumping out of bed and beginning to strike a light. | “You have been dreaming.” “Have I—look there, then!” “Well, I see the door is open; but you probably forgot to lock it.” “T’ll make sure of it now then,” said John banging the door violently, locking it with a resonant foree, and proceeding to search for the supposed intruder. Of course, the search was fruitless, and with many muttered greatie and threats he went back to ed. a ae ete ¥ 6,3 ee i