Ballou's Monthly Magazine, Vol. XXVII, No. 1 — page 42: what you’re looking at

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

46 Our Co-Tenant “Fan?” I shuddered. “And then it mayn’t be anything after all. The wind may have shut the door.” “Wind! There wasn’t a breath of wind stirring, and no way by which a draught could have been in the room.” “Well, well! It can’t hurt us, whatever it is.” I reflected and came to the same conclusion. “Only Charlie, not a word to Patty. Re- member. And mother must not be frightened either. So don’t forget that it is a secret be- tween our two selves.” A little calm consideration soothed my fears wonderfully, and it was with more curiosity than fear that I lay down to sleep the first night in the new, or rather old house. But, to my surprise, and I am afraid to my disappointment, I was utterly undisturbed, and rose in the morning ready to laugh at my Whimsies of yesterday. Six weeks passed away quietly as is com- patible with two young ladies practising on the piano all day long, and three small imps, whose ideal of delight includes unlimited noise. But I was, in spite of my cares, pick- ing up, as Mamma said. Mamma was better too. Charlie had settled down to reading law with the village squire. Hugh was writing a novel from which we all confidently ex- pected great things. And all was quiet along the Potomac. And so, the chintz curtains having been a success, I was at work upon thin white muslin that should adorn the parlor. I was in my own room. It was past eleven o’clock at night. Everybody in the house except myself was sound asleep. I had ceased to be troubled by any hypo- thetical ghost, and I sewed quite contentedly. But suddenly (the room having that perfect stillness which is so noticeable at night) I seamed to become aware of somebody breath- iv at my elbow. For a minute my heart good still, and I felt the cold sweat start upon forehead. But presently Charlie’s con- ‘on recurred to me. “hey can't burt us anyhow. The most oy can do is to give us a scare.” 1L would not be scared. So I shut my teeth tight, determined not to scream, till I felt my strength coming back, and my blood flowing regularly. All the time this slow, steady breathing went on close at my side. I mustered courage presently to change my seat. The sound followed me. And I had Th bed ct at the Towers. moreover an awful sense of oppression. Iam sure it was not terror. Was it the impalpable atmosphere which encompassed my spiritual visitant ? I changed my seat two or three times, but I could not get away from that sound. I was losing my self-control again. Suddenly a thought struck me. I would go to Charlie. But could 1? I could try. I got up and crossed the floor, but the invisible presence went with me. Along the entries I passed, and there was a rustle of garments that were not mine. My own slippered feet made no noise, but there was a light footfall beside me all the way. A strong draught of wind met me—met us, should I say? just at Charlie’s door. If my light goes out, I thought, I shall die. But it did not. I reached the door, pushed it open. Charlie was awake and up, but I did not think of that. I cried out and he caught me in his arms as I fell. For I swooned away. When I woke Charlie was bending over me. “Did you hear it?” I whispered. “Yes! Itis not gone yet. But don’t be frightened, Lu.” I was braver now for I was not alone. For half an hour we sat holding to. each other; then the room was still; the oppression, the nightmare which we had both felt was gone. Charlie spoke first. “The co-tenant has made us a pretty long visit,” he said, with a smile which seemed ghastly enough. “Did you hear anything before I came?” I asked. Before Charlie could speak there was a sound as of rapid running along the entry; swift steps descended the stairs; there was something like a struggle; and then a heavy fall. We both sprang to the door. The bright light of the kerosene lamp was flung over the entry and staircase. But there was nothing to be seen. While we stood hesitating, a new series of sounds commenced further off—a medley which we could not well define. “We'll follow it up. Can you come, Lu?” I could not stay alone, and I followed tim- orously, along the dark, narrow entries, through the kitchen, and finally through the narrow passage-way which led to that room in the wing which had been the scene of our first singular experience. And here I laid my hand upon Charlie’s arm and implored him to stop. For there were strange. sounds within.