Piedmont Phantoms. Daniel W. Barefoot. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Daniel W. Barefoot
Издательство: Ingram
Серия: Haunted North Carolina
Жанр произведения: Сказки
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781949467222
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      With schoolgirl shyness, the beautiful young woman answered softly, “I promise.”

      Almost as soon as she had said it, Helen suffered a brief dizzy spell. Alarmed when she momentarily lost her balance, Philip reached to steady her. Helen quickly regained her composure. Sensing Philip’s anxiety, she sought to reassure him with words of hope and promise: “It is nothing. Perhaps I ran too fast to meet you. And then, too, I’m so happy to think that I, Helen Randolph Hardin, next month, June 1839, will become the wife of Mr. Philip Jones.”

      Their anxious moment gave way to laughter as Helen described the beauty of the gown she would wear on their wedding day. It was her grandmother’s dress, which had come with the family from Ireland.

      After they discussed the forthcoming parties related to the wedding, Philip shared his excitement about the progress that he had made in restoring the house in which the newlyweds would live. He predicted that the summer would yield a bountiful crop and a handsome income for the couple.

      The night was theirs. Each drank cool spring water from a gourd held by the other. They tossed coins into the water. With each coin went a special wish.

      Suddenly, the spell was broken by the call of William Hardin: “Bedtime, daughter!”

      Before parting, they shared a loving embrace and a long, romantic kiss. Then Helen bade Philip farewell at the springhouse, telling him she would walk back to the house alone because of the lateness of the hour. Philip agreed reluctantly.

      As he watched Helen reach the crest of the hill, a dark cloud floated in front of the moon. Philip felt a sudden chill. When he lost sight of her, he made his way home. Little did he know that their wedding dreams were about to become a nightmare.

      That night, Helen fell into a sleep from which she never awoke. The family doctor said it was a heart attack.

      In his anguish, Philip returned to the springhouse night after night. There, he watched and waited for his dear Helen to come running down the hill into his waiting arms. Neighbors considered his behavior strange until someone reported seeing the vision of a young lady with golden tresses and a beautiful white dress near the spring on moonlit nights.

      Over time, the Hardin family conveyed the house to St. Bartholomew’s Episcopal Church for use as a rectory. However, sightings of the apparition continued.

      The house changed hands again in the first decade of the twentieth century, when it was sold to William E. Brooks, the register of deeds of Chatham County. Townspeople reported seeing the figure of a lady at the spring behind the house. One frequent observer was Scotland Scurlock, a black servant who had to pass by the spring on his way home from work each night. Scurlock swore that on moonlit evenings, particularly in June, a young lady attired in a white dress would make her way down the hill from the Hardin House to the spring, then vanish.

      Even today, there are reports that Helen makes her appearance at the spring when the moon shines brightly on warm spring nights. After all, she made a promise to Philip long ago. And ever since that time, she has remained true to that promise.

      CUMBERLAND COUNTY

      “Free! oh, Free!”

      We do not easily suspect evil of those whom we love most.

      Peter Abelard

      Fayetteville, one of the oldest and most historic cities in North Carolina, owed much of its early prominence to the mighty Cape Fear River, which courses through its corporate limits. Chartered in 1762, the city is located at the head of navigation on the river. In the nineteenth century, passenger steamboats connected Fayetteville with Wilmington and other ports and towns downriver.

      The ghost of a pretty young woman who lived in Fayetteville in 1858 during the days of river travel is said to continue to walk the banks of the Cape Fear. Her name was Louisa, and she resided on the small farm of the uncle who reared her from childhood. Alas, Louisa’s family was quite poor. Her uncle eked out a meager existence by growing sugarcane on the dark, fertile bottom land along the river.

      On a nearby plantation was a handsome young overseer of slaves. Freeman, as he was named, was the son of aristocratic parents with whom he had a broken relationship. Louisa and Freeman met and soon began to see each other on a regular basis. Louisa’s uncle disapproved of the courtship and warned his niece to stay away from “Free,” as she called him, because the boy was no good. Unfortunately, the admonition came too late, for Louisa was already deeply in love with him.

      As twilight drew the curtain on a splendid afternoon, the two lovers decided to take a walk along the river. In the course of their romantic stroll, the sweet Louisa informed Free that she was with child. She insisted that they make immediate plans for a wedding in order to avoid public disgrace. Free was shocked at the news but was willing to marry her.

      But fate cruelly intervened the next morning. Free’s father called on him at the plantation where the young man worked. The forgiving patriarch invited his prodigal son to return home to the lavish lifestyle he had enjoyed prior to their family disagreement. Elated by the sudden change in his fortune, Free planned to make the long trip home the following day. But before he departed, there was a problem he had to address.

      Once again, Free and Louisa met at the river and walked the path where they had spent many an enchanted evening. Free apparently informed her of his reconciliation with his parents and his plan to return home, because the young woman was heard by a passerby to exclaim, “But you wouldn’t come back. If you refuse, I shall go to your father and tell him the truth tonight. I can’t face Uncle.”

      At first light the next day, Free and his parents left Fayetteville without telling anyone their destination. When the time came for Louisa to arise, her uncle was dismayed to discover her bed empty. He went to the plantation to find Free in the vain hope that Louisa might be with him. Upon learning that Free had left for parts unknown, the worried man made a desperate but unsuccessful attempt to locate him.

      Three days later, the uncle’s greatest fears were realized. Some men found Louisa’s body floating against a log in the dark waters of the Cape Fear. Her corpse was tangled in yellow jessamine and honeysuckle vines. When authorities examined the corpse, they discovered a long, dark bruise across her forehead. She had died from blunt-force trauma.

      Louisa was buried in a small family cemetery near the bank of the river where she had loved to walk with her dear Free. Following her burial, her uncle initiated a relentless search for her elusive lover. He successfully located the family’s large plantation in South Carolina. According to Free’s father, the young man had gone to Texas.

      Because of limited resources, the uncle was forced to return to Fayetteville. Then the War Between the States ensued, rendering a trip to Texas impossible. Once the conflict was over, Louisa’s uncle did indeed visit the Lone Star State in his quest to bring Free to justice. There, he was given the news: Free had fought gallantly and died nobly as a soldier in the army of the Confederate States of America. In Texas, he left behind a lonely widow and a tiny son.

      And what of Louisa and the unborn child she carried? Not long after her death, reports began to circulate that the apparition of a pretty young woman tangled in vines could be seen along the bank of the Cape Fear. To this day, the ghost of Louisa floats about the lane where she and her beau strolled in the twilight of antebellum days. Should you walk that ancient lovers’ lane as the light of the afternoon greets the gray of the evening, do not be alarmed if you hear the heartbroken voice of a melancholy ghost cry out, “Free! Oh, Free!”

      DAVIDSON COUNTY

      Guardians of the King’s Treasure

      Your lot is with the ghosts of soldiers dead.

      Siegfried Sassoon

      Abbotts Creek, a scenic and historic waterway, rises in northeastern Davidson County and flows diagonally through the county until it widens dramatically before emptying into the Yadkin River. A bridge spans the creek two miles east of Lexington, the seat of Davidson,