LITERATURE.

Globe, 31 January 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE BANSHEE'S WARNING. (Coficlvded.) Though she laughed as she said this, the real kindness intended was unmistakable. What could I do but yield ? So when the next dance was forming we rose ; and with the knowledge I had unconsciously gained from watching others, and the whispered directions and signs she favored me with, j acquitted myself very creditably. Once during the evening I found myself quite alone with Alice, when I put a question to her which I had had it in my heart to ask so long ; and the answer she made me gave me the right to kis3 her without being under the mistletoe. It was late when I reached my room that night: but feeling no desire to sleep I opened my window, and, leaning out, smoked a cigar. The room I occupied was in the left wing of the house, its one -window looking on to a broad terrace from which a handsome flight of steps led down to the beech avenue. The snow, which had fallen heavily all day, had nearly ceased; only a few stray feathery flakes slowly descended on the white carpet beneath, while in the air that strange stillness reigned which a snowstorm always produces. I stood watching the patches of light thrown from the windows along the terrace disappear one by one, till, my second cigar being finished, I went to bed. I had been to sleep about two hour 3, as far as I could judge, when I awoke suddenly with the conviction that some one had pronounced my name. I listened : all was silent. I spoke aloud: there was no answer; and by the imperfect light I could see that there was no one in the room. I was just about to lay my head on the pillow again, persuading myself that I had been the victim of my own imagination, when close beside me arose a low wailing cry; it was so mournful, so weird, that I had not an instant's doubt as to its identity. ' The Banshee !' I cried, starting from the bed, all my old horror returned and intensified ; but the words had scarcely left my lips ere a shadow passed the window. I sprang towards it, the wind dying away as 1 did so. At first I could see nothing unusual outside to attract my attention; but after a keen survey, I discerned a tall shadowy form moving in a direction opposite to the house. I put my hand over my eyes : was I mad or dreaming ? I knew I was neither. When I looked again it had reached the avenue, where, though farther off, I could distinguish it more clearly, the dark treetrunks offering a better background than the snow. It continued to Hit among the tree shadows for some time, when it seemed to vanish altogether. My first impulse, though I did not act upon it, was to rush out into the air, and p&netrate, if I could, the mystery that enshrouded me. I waited long in the hope that the spectre might return ; but this hope T was forced to abandon, when the gray light of a winter's morning began to steal into my chamber ; I seemed to have lost all conception of time. Then I threw myself on the bed dressed as I was, and, thoroughly exhausted, fell into a dreamless sleep. It was late when I awoke. The day wore slowly, even tediously on, in my anxiety for the night to arrive; for then I had determined to wait on or near the spot where I had lost sight of the figure on the preceding night. i spoke to no one of the dread forebodings I was a prey to, not even Norah ; for she I knew held the same beliefs as myself, and I was unwilling to cause her any uneasiness ; but I tried, though fruitlessly, to learn whether she had received any warning of the evils which I felt the future held for one or both of us.; It was the greatest possible relief to me when tho daylight began to give out, and night to spread its dark curtain over the sky. The state of suspense I was in was unendurable ; even Alice's dear voice, as she sang my favorite airs, seemed to have lost something of its charm —for the time at least—and her smile the magic power to cheer me. But I never left her so reluc tantly or with such a heavy heart, a 3 when we parted for the night ; for the long hours were before me in which, something whispered, I should be an actor in some terrible drama. Once in my room, I sat over the fire till it boasted but a few dull embers, my brain busily engaged with the events of the past night. By my watch it wanted a quarter to one, when I arose, wrapped a boat cloak round me, and taking a pistol which I had placed in readiness, and opening the windowas quietly as possible, dropped out on to the terrace, where the snow lay so thick that my footsteps were rendered almost inaudible. I soon reached the spot which I intended making my post of observation, and screening myself from view among the trees, I waited the issue of events. There was a moon, though not a bright one. The wind, which moaned in the distance, swept by in cold biting blasts, Ehakiug tho leafless brauches overhead, and causing me to shudder involuntarily and draw my cloak close about me for warmth. I remained in this position for some time, ,-ind had almost given up tho idea of again seeing the phantom, when, on - looking, towards tho hall, I became conscious of its; dim form stealing along the terrace. With a terrible anxiety I watched its steady progress, trying to descry its features—if, features it had—till the fixedness of ray gaze made the space before me black, and forced me to rest my aching sight. When I watched it again, it had passed all the windows on one side of the terrace, |

-I — - -.- _■ > with the exception of one, which was mine ; a second or two, and it had reached me; it stopped, and disappeared within. The chill of horror which crept over me at this circumstance I could not describe; it seemed to numb my brain and deprive me of the power to act. But not for long. Soon the hot blood came surging through my veins, till I felt like one in a fever. # I left my place of concealment, hurried along the avenue, up the steps, along the terrace, dreading yet longing for the moment that would reveal to me the unbidden occupant of my apartment. I found my window open, as I had left it; my first quick glance inside discovered nothing. With my pistol ready 1 was preparing to enter, when a sudden clutch was laid upon me—something confronted me, and I fired full at it. A low groan, horribly human, followed the report. I sprang into the window; beneath it, close against the wall, crouched or huddled an object. I stooped hastily to examine it, and saw what made me faint and sick with fear and remorse—Harry's face, white and still. It was New Year's Eve, when the oak dining-hall, and the guests assembled there, were looking their brightest and gayest, while Harry, with his arm still in a sling, was being made much of by the company in general, and Norah and myself in particular. Some days had elapsed since I had mistaken poor in a. Jit of somnambuhsm, for a genuine ghost—when by a mad act T narrowly escaped depriving him of his life and myself of all future happiness. Why he had unconsciously taken the same course on the two successive occasions was fully explained by what he afterwards told me. A certain Sir Eustace Leyton, an ancestor of Harry's, who owned the Hall in the time of the Parliamentary wars, being at one particular period forced to leave it somewhat scantily garrisoned, caused a great part of the household silver to be placed in a chest and buried in a spot known only to himself and a select few. There were rumor 3 afloat to the effect that this silver had remained buried ever since; which rumors, Hany, having the curious chanc6 to come across an old document seeming to refer, though indefinitely, to the place where the treasure was deposited, had begun to give some little credence to, though they were generally accounted as among the many improbable stories connected with the old mansion. It was just upon twelve when we threw open the window to hear the bells ring out the old year and usher in the new—the Sew Year that might have been so dark, yet which promised so much happiness for some of us. Standing by Alice, I looked out on the moonlight scene. Our window commanded the long double-line of beeches ; and as I watched the weird shadows their branches cast on the frost-bound ground beneath as the wind swayed them, a certain night was brought so vividly to my mind that I could almost fancy the Banshee's warning voice still filling my ears. I have lived many happy years since that: time, and I have never once heard it. I can't help hoping that I never shall.