The Mystery.

Woodville Examiner, Volume 3, Issue 282, 10 September 1886, Page 2 (Supplement)

The Mystery.

‘‘ Syd, ” said I one evening as we sat by our side-window enjoying the twilight; “don’t you think we are as nicely settled as one can desire ?”

“ Why, yes,” he assented, giving a satisfactory puff to his cigar, “ I think we are,” “Do you know,” I continued, “Mrs. Blake, who lives next door, called to-day, and she is very pleasant and so neighborly that I know I shall like her.”

“Had you met her before?” he asked indifferently. “No,” I replied ; “ but we met at Mrs. Smythe’s, and I asked her to call and I know we will be real friends.

“ Hulloa !” he suddenly exclaimed, “here is a picture in your real friend’s house.” I followed the direction of his eyes, and as the intervening space between the two houses is greater than is common in this part of the city, I could see on the curtains in the second storey of Mrs. Blake’s house a picture that filled me with curiosity. It was transferred from one window to the next, and seemed to be a woman, tossing her hands wildly, and walking rapidly up and down, followed closely by another woman of about the same proportions, going through the same wild motions.

“Oh,” said I, after watching it a minute or two, “it is some kind of game.” “ Then it is a pretty fierce kind of a game,” Syd remarked. “ Hear that noise?” Of course I heard it; who could help hearing it ? It was a long drawn moan, and was soon followed by a piercing shriek. Evidently two voices at work also. The figures had disappeared from the curtains, but presently they came in sight again. This time only one person was visible, and she was evidently greatly exercised from some cause. She rocked her body backward and forward and clasped her hands frantically above her head, from time to time, uttering those frightful sounds. Then she would disappear and the other would take her place. Then both would disappear, and a low moaning sound would be distinctly audible. And so it continued until about ten o’clock, when all became quiet, and we withdrew our attention from our neighbor’s windows to each other’s faces, where we did not find a very satisfactory explanation. “Well,” said I, breaking the silence at last, “ what do you think, Sydney ?” “Give it up,” he replied with great composure. “ That’s the greatest sticker I have met with for some time. Hand me another cigar, Jot.” Wherewith I dutifully complied, and he proceeded to end the tragic performance in smoke and ashes. Becoming weary of this process, I had about concluded to retire, when he offered the wise suggestion that “probably the servants were having a fight over there.” To this I immediately objected, saying that Mrs. Blake was an orderly woman, and would not have such disgraceful servants, and besides that room was far too forward in the house to be servants’ apartments. And so we gave it up for that night, and determined to take notice in the future. The next evening we observed the same performance, and so on during the week. All was quiet during the day, but darkness brought with it the miserable creatures. Evening after evening Syd, instead of saying to me, as a young husband enjoying the honeymoon should—“ Come out and look at the moon,” would remark, “ Let’s go and watch the lunatics !” And so we would enjoy another evening at their ex. pense. We no longer doubted their being real lunatics, for if it had been otherwise Mrs. Blake would certainly have mentioned it at some time, But she never made the slightest allusion to it; and although-she still continued to treat me in a very friendly manner, I gradually began to distrust her and avoid her society. How came they there ? Who were they ? How did she manage them ? These were questions which recurred from morning until night, and seemed to me to be wearing away my strength. They must have been securely looked in, for we never caught sight of anyone coming from the house, other than Mr. and Mrs. Blake and the domestic. But the strange part of it was that wo never hoard or saw any indication of them during the day. “They are evidently night-birds," Syd remarked coolly. “ Poor things,” I replied, “ I feel so sorry for them.” ’

“Yes,” he replied, earnest for once in hia life, “you are altogether too sorry for them, You are growing pale worrying over them.” “It is not that,” said I, laughing. “ But I am afraid, Syd, that one of them might escape sometime and come in here—and lunatics are so savage ! What could Ido ?” “ Nonsense,” he returned. Nevertheless ho threw a quick glance behind his chair as if he expected to find one crouching there in the deepening twilight. And shortly the howling and prancing began again. They seemed to be wilder than ever to-night, and Syd watched me anxiously, for I really was quite nervous and morbid over it, and finally said — “Well, sweetheart, if the lunatics don’t stop pretty soon, we’ll move,” and threw his handkerchief in my face to brighten me up. The next day Mrs. Blake called. I almost determined to ask her outright what such carrying on over at her house meant; but she was so kind, and asked in such a friendly manner about my health, and remarked upon my paleness with so much sympathy that my courage failed me, and I mumbled some excuse about lack of exercise. Before she arose to depart, she said that she had come over to invite me to a little dramatic entertainment to be given at her house.

“ Indeed,” said I. “Yes,” she replied, “ by two State school teachers who board with me. They teach out of the city, and are obliged to leave very early in the morning and return in the evening. They are studying dramatic expression, and devote the evenings generally to practice. You have doubtless heard them,” I feelingly replied that we had.