The Arm Chair Library No. 79: The Haunted Homestead — page 49: what you’re looking at

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

io eo so a et Te ee i"¢ Agi saad fPns = 3 ay : 2 ‘ : 4 Es . he ies ¥ Fi and | in, through your bal ™-++ =" ye—here! ”” a ae nt artis, with sad; passionate SEE —- swettad' heart, and Pstood in the winter sun. i ~~ light with my face hidden upon his noble <F —- « Never more)” murmured’ the deep, tender | —s goto ill whith we may not share together stand repaid: in’ one for a life)” tI Se ee ee as . ~ et ROK at hae git Pate vs , grim old house all is:prospect should -be the more fairly visible, the architect of this dreary ma vatedit- upon a. terrace, or rather upon three ‘ones, and thes’ had once been flower beds ae wepenes differing. little from the sur vor, ¢ lace enough, and well fitting hoaxt and future life,” thought | OShall L take off the horses, Miss Rosalind?” asked Paul, doubtfully, after waiting some mo- ts for the-result of my revery. ; ©¥es, Paul. Ishall remaih here, certainly. But we Gs _“Mys, Esther bas it, miss.” she ¢ iether ! Esther! Where are My nurse came slowly round the corner of key,-——where is it ¢” .* knew she had been crying forme aud the dis- nablite that lay before me, but my heart was ird as adamant, turned to stone with its own ‘and L only said coldly,— “Cor Mather’, an wolting Where is the : Yen tlias Rosalind, Here it is.” 2 : ; outa’ great, rusty, prison-looking. key. Barus wit saatiselenscs® I added Pitter: ba Here, Paal; youshall be turikey. Show 8 1 without delay,” tse | @ right, Miss,” said my old servant, Ly en Pay rn , : ‘S . os ‘ > eS B wy : - a0 ; ; age ae *. ~¢ J : cued pais petirneh abet k the bolt yielded to the —ssis trong persuasion of Paul’s still powerful "3, = i >; ’ BS: aos es j : PhS Ped Pi ¥ we + - ‘ 3 é LHE MOORHOUSE TRAGEDY. last, found’ faith, | nsion had’ eélé- | pala onthe broken steps, the closed |. ne Woes and be settling ourselves | ouse, putting away her handkerchief. I | pered had the bag: upon her arin the woman |’ thoughts. ‘‘Itis more like a}. 153 _ Nestling. close to his heart, in the hap light, [siw two milk-white seagulls circling slowly over aridge through the pophirs, side by side. Beyond “wy the sea, calm and ever ‘and the whiteships, stately as dreams. Tears, hot, glad, blinding, welled np to my eyes; It was a prophecy, a revelation, wherein’ I saw, as completely as in the happy after years, my ‘womanhood crowned anid perfected, the pure ‘gold won from all worthless dross, and the ‘love, and strength, and tenderness that stat ail' the life to come were never, never Se alleen te ae eee BY MRS. JANE G. AUSTIN, and the key turned, but still the door did uot yield until the man applied his sturdy shoulder and kneé, raising at the same time the ponder- ous iron latch, — [tseemed as if, in years of mouldering re- pose, the decaying wood liad 'ré-united its dis- severed fibres, until door and casing had grown together in gastly mimicry of the sum- mer time, when, full of sap and vigor, they had joined their strength to hold high the’ honored ead of their parent oak, , But nature still must yield’ to man; and‘ with a rending sound, a harsh groan, the knitted fi- bres were once more torn asurider, the door swung slowly open, andi crosseu che thresh- erg of my future home andstood within the ail. It: was not cheerful. I do not think, had I been filled with joy as I was with gloom, pos sesséd with love and life asI was with wrath and despair, that I could have repressed a shudder. Asit was, fsank involuntarily upon uly knees, and, with outstretched aris, wiis > ‘* Spirits of my fathers haunting these crumb ng walls, welcome home your child, whc liencéforth belongs to you alone!” And down the uuseen corridors, the dim stair-cases, avid through the low-browed halls, came @ sighing moan. The house and’ its in: ‘ates afiswered me, “QO, Miss’ Rosalind; my poor, heart-broken darlitig!” exclaimed aiy old nurse, trying to raise me’ in her arms. ‘* Don’t kneel there! ‘dow t look so wild! dou’t go any farther into this dreadful old house! Come, dearie, Paul has not yet unharnessed thn horses; let us re- turh to Moortown before it grows qilite dark, You will die or go mad here, darling.” ‘¢ And if Ishould, nurse ?” | ‘‘ Now, now, my pet!” expostulated old Esther, just ds she used when I was 4 little, a a ec i en a ian: wha, Sob ereceme ete . = —