The House of the Whispering Pines

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open doorway in which I stood — and my dread lay before me, in the room itself, which, as I have already said, appeared to be totally empty. What could occasion my doubts, and why did I not fly the pla

had become lost in a fresher one of which the beginning and ending lay hidden within the four walls I now stared upon, unseeing. Not to see and yet to feel —

e numerous,— all that the room contained, and more! Chairs had been stripped, window-seats denuded, and the whole collection disposed here in a set way which struck me as unnatural. Was this the janitor’s idea? I hardly thought so, and was about to p

that of burning wood, hardly of burning pa

m and come back and settle these uncanny doubts. It might be the veriest fool business, but my mind was disturbed and must be set at ease. Nothing else seemed so important, yet I was not without anxiety for the lovely and delicate wom

ndle, but finally I recovered both, and, lighting the latter, felt

dresser, and approached the lounge. Hardly knowing what I feared, or what I expected to find, I tor

before me — violent, uncalled-for death — and the victim was a woman. But it was not that. Though the head was not yet revealed, I thought I knew the woman and that she — Did seconds pass or many minutes before

d me. And I was so held, but not by what was visible — rather by the terrors which gather in the soul at the summons of some dreadful doom. I could not meet the certainty without some preparation. I released another strand of hair; t

judgment and nothing more kindly, however I might appeal to Heaven for

woke in maddening curiosity within me, and seizing the cushion, I dragged it aside and stared down into the pitiful and accusing features thus revealed, as though to tear from them the st

her condition and the surrounding circumstances. For this was my betrothed wife. Whatever my intentions, however far my love had strayed under the sp

thal. This was to be expected. She would be apt to take it off before committing herself to a fate that proclaimed me a traitor to this symbol. I should see that ring agai

mselves to one of her refined sense; but if so, why those mar

d back against the further wall, beholding no longer room, nor lounge, nor recumbent body, but a young girl’s exquisite face, set in lines which belied her seventeen years, and

had bee

loor as I fully