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Updated: May 13, 2025
She had driven in to the village to make some purchases. Her father is one Reinfelter, who tills the soil of his ancestral demesne over there near the mountains." "From whom did you learn these facts?" "From the tradesman with whom she had been talking." "Will agnosticism let you be absolutely sure his statements are true?" "No; and even less sure that they are untrue.
For a few moments the professor gazed in silence at the prospective bride-groom. Besides feeling a personal interest in the case, he considered it a good subject for psychic investigation. "My good friend," he said, with judicial calmness, "why do you wish to espouse Miss Reinfelter?" Brent knew this question was not meant to be offensive, but was propounded in a spirit of critical analysis.
"Should you go if he possessed not a pretty daughter?" "Probably not." The next morning Brent rode over to the Reinfelter farm. The farm-house interested him at the first view.
As Rena turned toward Brent and the lamplight fell on her face, he was sure that if she tried to sing her voice would tell what she was trying to keep unknown. "I don't think 'Die Lorelei' is a very lively song, Mrs. Reinfelter," said he. "Maybe I can find some prettier ones in Philadelphia to-morrow, if I have time. I must be sure to bring Casper something. What do you think he would like best?"
"By the father of Miss Reinfelter, the mild-eyed blonde who had her doubts about the ability of buffaloes to climb trees. He was here this afternoon, and we became intimate in five minutes. He told me his ancestors came from the neighborhood of Heidelberg; and when he heard I was there last summer his expansive face was illumined with joy.
"It's the warning still," said Reinfelter. "It's the warning of death." "What is it made by?" "A ghost. It goes up there in the mount'ins an' calls, an' the one it calls is soon in the graveyard already. It's called the mother, or Rena, or me, this night." "Maybe I was the one it meant." "No; it only calls the Reinfelters still. It's been so ever since the Injun massacree, a long time ago."
The farmer started to his feet, and stood gazing in the direction from which the cry had come. "It's only a stray dog howling," said Brent. Reinfelter turned toward his wife, and the moonlight showed that his face was white with terror. "De warnoong!" he said, in a low voice. "D'r geishter-shray foon de bairga!" The woman covered her face with her hands, and began trembling and sobbing.
Derrick shot at him out of the barn, and scared him so much that he ran off down the road, and we haven't heard anything about him since." Rena was bending over one of the jessamine-bushes, and seemed to be absorbed in removing some dead leaves. "Did your dog come this way, Elsa?" asked Mrs. Reinfelter nervously. "No, indeed," replied Elsa. "He ran up the road to the village. Good-by, Kuno.
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