The Old Stone House and Other StoriesGreen, Anna Katharine
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The Old Stone House and Other Stories
Green, Anna Katharine
Detective and mystery stories, American
But when I passed by there again a half-hour later and found the old
man still standing bare-headed and with craning neck at his post, I
became very uneasy myself, and proposed to two or three neighbors,
whom I found standing about, that we should go toward the woods and
see if all were well. They agreed, being affected, doubtless, like
myself, by the old man's fears, and as we proceeded down the street,
others joined us till we amounted in number to a half-dozen or more.
Yet, though the occasion seemed a strange one, we were not really
alarmed till we found ourselves at the woods and realized how dark
they were and how still. Then I began to feel an oppression at my
heart, and trod with careful and hesitating steps till we came into
the open space in which the house stands. Here it was lighter, but oh!
how still. I shall never forget how still; when suddenly a shrill cry
broke from one amongst us, and I saw Ralph Urphistone pointing with
finger frozen in horror at something which lay in ghastly outline upon
the broad stone which leads up to the gap of the great front door.
What was it? We dared not approach to see, yet we dared not linger
quiescent. One by one we started forward till finally we all stood in
a horrified circle about the thing that looked like a shadow, and yet
was not a shadow, but some horrible nightmare that made us gasp and
shudder till the moon came suddenly out, and we saw that what we
feared and shrank from were the bodies of Juliet and Orrin, he lying
with face upturned and arms thrown out, and she with her head pillowed
on his breast as if cast there in her last faint moment of
consciousness. They were both dead, having fallen through the planks
of the scaffolding, as was shown by the fatal gap open to the
moonlight above our heads. Dead! dead! and though no man there knew
how, the terror of their doom and the retribution it seemed to bespeak
went home to our hearts, and we bowed our heads with a simultaneous
cry of terror, which in that first moment was too overwhelming even
for grief.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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