Little Golden's Daughter; or, The Dream of a Life TimeMiller, Alex. McVeigh, Mrs.
Philosophy
Little Golden's Daughter; or, The Dream of a Life Time
Miller, Alex. McVeigh, Mrs.
Fiction
Golden uttered a cry of surprise and joy as she clasped the beautiful
treasure, so strangely found, around her firm, white throat.
* * * * *
In the dancing-room that night they had been talking of the Glenalvan
ghost. Elinor or Clare had taken a great deal of pains to let Bertram
Chesleigh know how grand and wealthy the Glenalvans had been before the
war, and especially they had been pleased to have him hear about the
beautiful phantom of the girl, Erma, who had died of a broken heart.
Though they were afraid of her, and would not have willingly beheld her
for anything, they were proud of the _prestige_ of a family ghost. They
considered that only distinguished families ever had such visitations.
Elinor told him the pretty legend she had heard from a superstitious
old servant. She said the phantom would fly if anyone approached her,
but if she could once be overtaken and kissed by a very handsome man
she would rest in her grave and walk no more.
But it was confidently asserted that no one could accomplish such a
feat, for the phantom flew before every pursuer as if fear lent it
wings.
"If you could catch and kiss her, Mr. Chesleigh, I think the ghost
would be forever laid," said Clare Glenalvan, with a simper, and
affected laugh.
"Thank you, Miss Clare," said Bertram Chesleigh, with a bow, though he
was inwardly disgusted. He knew that he was a very handsome man.
His mirror had told him so, but he did not admire Clare's forwardness
in telling him of it so plainly.
The merry dance went on. The subject of the Glenalvan ghost had passed
from the minds of the dancers when suddenly the music, which had been
filling the air with sweetness, came to a dead stop.
All the dancers looked toward the door where the band was stationed,
for the cause of the silence.
The performers had dropped their instruments, and were staring
open-mouthed at a vision in the wide, open doorway that opened from
a long dark, corridor--a vision clearly outlined against the outer
darkness, and plainly seen by all in the room--a girlish form in
sweeping, white robes and falling, golden hair, the beautiful face,
convulsed with woe and pain, the white arms extended, the small hands
clasping and unclasping each other in gestures of infinite despair.
"The Glenalvan ghost!" ran from lip to lip in a murmur of awe and
terror, while timid young girls clung shrieking to their partners, and
the utmost confusion prevailed.
Elinor Glenalvan tried to faint in the arms of Bertram Chesleigh, but
he put her hastily into a chair and said quickly:
"Miss Glenalvan, I am going to earn your everlasting gratitude. I shall
kiss the beautiful Erma, and the Glenalvan ghost will be forever laid."
He sprang toward the doorway, but in that moment the beautiful phantom
turned and fled precipitately before him.
CHAPTER IV.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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