Decatur Democrat, Volume 41, Number 40, Decatur, Adams County, 16 December 1897 — Page 10

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CHAPTER VI. When we were again standing in the main hall on the first floor, Sarah's last remark came to me. “We have been over the whole house, have we not? What more is there to see ?” I asked. “Ach, Nel! has you forgot de place you alvays vanted to go to and ve vouldn’t led you. because it vas damp and dark?” “That's so. You mean the cellar.” “Yes, yes, to be sure. You vas lost vonst, and ve couldn't fint you for a long dime. Vhen ve did, you vas aschleep in de cellar." “Well, come along. Let us have a look at it,” I said, eagerly. The noise like a slamming of a door had seemed to come from below. Perhaps I should discover the cause down there. On opening the door leading down from the dining-room, a musty odor assailed my nostrils. It is peculiar how the sense of smell brings back to one old associations and memories. I recollected that musty odor perfectly, and it brought back the days of boyhood more vividly than anything else had done. We descended the stairway, and found the cellar bare and empty. I peered into every dark nook and corner, but there was nothing which could have caused the noise. “Nothing to be seen here, Sarah,” I said. “Maybe we can find something of interest in the old storeroom.” My grandfather, in his latter days, had kept the village store and post office. The house was built on the side of a small hill, so that it was three stogies high on the street side and two in the rear. The cellar was divided into two apartments by a thick wall of ptone. One apartment was used for the house supplies. The other section was in turn divided in two, the front facing on the street serving as the store and post office, the rear, a deep, cavernous, underground room, having been used for the storage of barrels of vinegar, mo-, lasses, tobacco and dried fruit. We descended the open stairway leading down to the storeroom from the main hall. The door was at the bottom, and at first I thought it was locked. Upon closer examination, I dis-, covered that it had only become tightly ' jammed by a slight settling of the surrounding timbers. A few vigorous kicks soon caused it to open, and we stepped down into the room. The shutters to the windows were closed, but there was above the door

leadin;; to the street a small transom. Through the dust and moisture-be-grimed glass a few rays of light penetrated, producing a twilight gloom in the apartment, but not bo deep that we w ere unable to see. One of the old counters still remained, and scattered over the floor were a fcw empty boxes and barrels. I thought of the white-haired old man whose form had been so familiarly associated with the room, and I glanced over to the corner with a fancy that he was here still, seated behind the desk. “Vhy, vhere’s de door gone?" Sarah cried out. in tones of excitement. "What door. Sarah ?” “Nel, you know, you remember. Der used to be a door to de store cellar, and now dere ain’t any.” Sarah was right. There had been a doorway, through which I had stolen many times for the purpose of filling my pockets with raisins and dried fruit. There was none now. The wall of solid masonry confronted us. It really seemed a matter of very little importance, but Sarah kept up excited exclamations about it, until I finally stopped her. "Why, Sarah, I don’t see anything verystrange in the walling up of a cellar doorway. So doubt Mr. Sonntag, my lawyer, had it done. I remember the place was dark, damp and unhealthy. He thought it best to have it closed up, perhaps. There was another door from that cellar leading outside, was there not?” “Yes, right unter your betroom vindow,” Sarah answered. “Well, that can be easily broken down if you want to get in the place. But what would be the use of all that trouble? I don’t want to use the cellar.” But then I remembered the noise which had seemed to come from beneath my bedroom, and the cause of which I was unableto discover throughout the rest of the house. “We might take a look at the other door.” I finally said, reflectively. We ascended the stairway and went around the house. Thick vines, reaching to my bedroom window, completelyhid the outside cellar door. I parted the vines, and found again the solid foundation wall. This doorway had also been walled up. Sarah was so greatly impressed by this new discovery that her excited exclamations broke out anew, and she again began to plead with me to leave the place. Again I sought to quiet her fears by laughing at her, although it did seem a trifle strange that my agent should I

have walled up the doorways. I was satisfied he had had it done, and I wondered what his reasons could have been. Perhaps, after all, Mrs. Snyder was right in affirming that there were mysteries about the old house. Perhaps this walled-up cellar was the seat of supernatural demonstrations, and my agent had sealed it up for that reason. “I do not intend to lose any sleep over it,” I said, lightly. “Sonntag must Un’-e r-ond reasons for doing this, and I can easily find out what they were by driving over and seeing him. 1 want to have a talk with him, anyhow.” Here the rumble of wheels reached my ear. As I glanced down the roadway and saw the appreaching turnout, why did my heart beat faster and a dimness cloud my sight? Mrs. Snyder had also glanced in that direction. “Veil, now look, Mr. .Nel,” she began, excitedly. “You can see yourself how dey look. Dey is coming. Dat is de Morleys.” My heart had given me the information before the widow s tongue. There were two persons in the light road-wagon which was being whirled toward us at a rapid rate by the spirited horses. I could not be mistaken in the graceful poise of the head and the general outlines of beauty about the young lady, nor in the grave dignity of the man. The carriage swept along. When nearly opposite us, the young woman evidently caught sight of the group standing back from the roadway, for she leaned forward and sent a glance past her father toward us. I saw, even though my sight was dimmed by emotion, her face turn pale and her eyes expand. She gave no other sign of recognition, however, and the carirage swept by. And this was all. After a year of separation, a year of longing and homesickness, I was greeted with a stare by the girl who had declared she would always trust and believe in me. I watched the wagon until a bend in the road hid it from view, and then still looked toward the spot where it had disappeared. A touch on my arm recalled my thoughts, and I glanced around into the solicitous face of my old nurse. “I guess de young voman is putty,” said Mrs. Snyder. “Ach, and you dink so. too, Mr. Nel.” “Yes, she is beautiful, very beautiful,” I murmured, more to myself than for answer to the widow's clumsy attempt at pleasantry. Sarah’s watchful old eyes and the promptings of her affection for me discerned something more in the fixed gaze I had sent after the wagon than a suddenly awakened admiration. “ Vhat is id. Nel ? Do you know her?” the good soul asked, anxiously. “I'll tell you some time,” I answered. Yes, yes; beautiful indeed was Florence, lovelier than ever, and good and true —well, I did not seem to feel so sure of her faith. She had passed me by without extending a salutation. I could not blame her for not recognizing me. after the resolve I had made, but it cut me to the heart, nevertheless. The remainder of the forenoon was spent in going through the barns and over the farm.

A small structure, twenty or thirty feet from the house, had been used to do the cooking, baking, churning, washing and ironing in. We could not gain access to the cooking house, as it had been called, the door being locked. There had been no care taken of this place, and I could hardly see through the dust and dirt which obscured the windows, when I attempted to look inside. “There is nothing to be seen in there, anyhow,” I said. But I remembered the pile of cakes and the loaves of bread which had issued from the old Dutch oven built in one side of the cookhouse. How I wish for some of the good things now! After a midday dinner, I harnessed the horse in the buggy. According Do my instructions, my agent had provided me with a single rig, and I now proposed to use it to drive Sarah home and then keep on down the road, past Sidington Station, across the river to Twineburgh, in which place Mr. Sonntag, my lawyer, resided. I had never seen Mr. Sonntag. My former agent had died nearly a year ago, and six months after his death Sountag had bought the law business from the heirs. I had been advised of this fact by a circular letter from the present incumbent, giving references as to abilty, honesty, etc. Mr. Sonntag had also requested me to allow him to assume management of my small estate. As Mr. Perry, the president of the bank, was down among the names of reference, I was most willing to grant Mr. Sonntag’s request, and wrote him to that effect. On the way to Sarah's house I unbosomed myself to the good old soul. I told her of my hopes regarding Florence, and my fears that those hopes would never be realized. “Ach, yes,” answered Sarah, “you vill marry her some day. Just see how you’ve been brought both to de same place togedder. And I know she loses you.”

“You are more certain than I am of that,” I answered, somewhat gloomily. “I have told you everything about myself, because I have no mother to confide in; and you will no more violate mv confidence than a mother would; of that I am certain.” “Ach, Nel! I got no leetle vons of mine own,” she answered, with trembling voice. There were tears in her eyes, too. when she said: “I vould do as much for you as a mudder; I guess I vould, Nel.” Her love was grateful to me, orphaned as I had been for many years, and for the last year without a friend to console or advise me. “Bud you vas foolish, Nel, to say you not see her undil you fint de robbers,” | Sarah went on—“foolish of you, and hart for her, too. I bet you she has lots of heartache." “What else could I do, though, in ; honor?” I exclaimed. "Veil, you are innocent, and she loses you, and knows, too, dat you didn t rob de bank. So den it vould be no dishonor to drust her lose and be happy in id." Sarah's logic found an echo in my heart. Perhaps it was unjust to Florence's love not to ask her to share my burden. I knew, if I could share any sorrow or trouble of hers, how happy . I would be. We soon reached Sarah's house, and I reined up to allow her to alight. Then I continued on my way. Twiueburgh was about two miles across the valley beyond Sidington. It was a lively little place, of about 2,000 inhabitants. One of the great trunk lines of railroad ran through the town. The road to Twineburgh crossed the track at Sidington station, near the depot. As I reined up my horse to a walk, and glanced up and down the track before crossing, I saw the station agent j standing on the edge of the platform. I nodded to the fellow and he answered with a grin. Then, as he slowly came toward me, I stopped the horse and waited. "You took the trunk, didn't you?” he asked. “Mr. Hunsicker came for it,” I replied. “I saw the trunk was gone when I came back,” he said, in his lumbering fashion. “Did Jake take you over to Nelsonville?” "Yes. I am much obliged to you for directing me to him,” I said, shortly. “I thought mebbe he would." Having said this, he shifted his weight to the other foot. I patiently waited. “Nice country around Nelsonville,” he finally went on. “Some of the city folks beginning to find it out and go there for the summer. Mr. Morley’s been there six months now. Know Mr. Morley?” “I am slightly acquainted with him,” I replied. “Then there’s another feller comes up from the city. Let’s see—what’s his name, now? He’s got a little hut a mile or so from here, and comes up to hunt and fish. Guess he don’t shoot very much. I never see him take any game back to town with him. Oh, yes. now I remember. His name’s Jackson.” I started in surprise and became a I little more interested. “What? Not Horace Jackson?” I asked. “Yes, that’s his name. Acquainted with him?” “I used to know Mr. Jackson quite well.” “Seems to be a nice fellow,” the agent remarked, reflectively. “A very pleasant gentleman. Oh, by the way,” I went on, “is there a telegraph instrument at the depot?”

“To be sure.” “And I could send a message whenever I want to?” “Yes; that is, whenever I’m here.” “Well, but supposing I had an important message to send when you are not here?” I asked. “Where could I find you ?” “I live up the track about a mile,” he replied. “This direction?” “Yes. The house is right by the track, just where the switch begins.” “And what’s your name?” “Ask for Hunter.” It appeared to me that the fellow did not relish my questioning. He seemed to be ill at ease under it. “Does Jackson go to Mr. Morley’s house when he comes up here?” I asked. “I guess he does, sometimes. He ain’t been up lately; not for five or six weeks. At least I haven't seen him.” “Does Mr. Morley stay at Nelsonville all the time?” I asked. “Or does he go to town every day?” “He goes to the city three days in the week; sometimesmore’n that. Hetak the morning train here at Sidingto and comes up to Twineburgh on the afternoon train.” I bowed my head and drove on. The fellow’s words gave me food for thought. Horace Jackson a frequent i I A a• L Florence orley-

visitor at the Morleys, or at least until recently—why ? I knew he had some business relations with Mr. Morley ♦ Jackson himself had told me so. But then whv did he not transact his business at Mr. Morley’s office in the city? No doubt he did, and therefore visited Nelsonville for another reason. Florence Morley was the attraction. Remembering that she had passed me by without a greeting, my heart grew heavy with doubt. (To be continued ) Are You Ncrvoual

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have spells ot qu.venng in my stomach, with smother nj te-dogs. Mv nerves were terribly debilitated, I was suffering from what is calle 1 nervous pros tration. Mv stomach felt bloated, and I was constantly weak and trembling. I co suited several phtsiciara who treated me without doing any good. 1 had almost given tip in despair when I neard of P- ru-na It was about six years ago that I first took Pe-ru-na I found it an imm-dia e relief to all m' listgreeabie symptoms. It is the only medic'ne that has ever been any use t< me.” Mrs Lucie Waldie. Otsego Lake nich , Box 67, writes: “For three .ears I suffered with catarrhal dyspep .is. I wrote to yor advice and you told me to take tour medicims It has been eo montbs since I began to use yout medicines and I am perfectly well. I tn k your medicines deserving of much .liaise ” S-i.d for Dr. Hartman's latest book •n •'Amur Catarrh.” Address your otter to Columbus. Ohio. your dr ggist for a free P. -ra-na A manac lor 1898 Extra Good Thing! The great number of neswspapers mtgazlnes etc. tuat are now being • ihlistied have matte it very hard foi ihe readers to decile just what one they .mu to subscribe for. The American Su’iseription Agency, of Indianapolis, tas compiled a list of 100 papers that t tey offer to send a sample copy of each to any address upon rreeipt of 10 cents o pav for mailing Thev do this so that you may see and read a copy of ch pa er b-fore subscribing. If you i-cid • o subscribe for any of their pa p i s to the amount o' SI they offer to ie u the 10 cents from the stibscrin • n Send 10 cents to the AMERICAN ■iUBSCrtIPTION AGENCY. 6.55 Aren 8 reet, I idtauapolls Ind , «nd you will eceive one hundred pipers.

j Dil 100 Hoar j j Thai Msloflions Echo I 1 I I ; __l j While traveling along 5 the stream of thought, 2 meditating on how to add 5 g | j happiness to comfort □ without too much trou- g i] ble or expense. Drop Si S 5 into Coffee’s Bazaar and § | hear the loud sound of | 5 the word BARGAIN, 5 h travel distinctly over the Large Line of | Holiday Goods and j Notions until its □ melodious echo mixed c up with the joyous 5 g shouts of the little ones 5 on Santa Claus’ shore I in acknowledgement of “ your gifts (so cheaply purchased at The Bazaar) that it will h remind you of the 5 f angelic phrase, “Peace 5 ton Earth to Men of Good Will.” t| ■ Your good will I hope □ 5: to merit by fair 2 dealing and low prices 5 | “as B 4” at f THE BAZAAR. I I I § Signed, | SANTA CLADS, A®l.

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