Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 12, Number 47, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 20 May 1882 — Page 6

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

The Mystery of Maple Grove.

"What! back so soon,Agnes! and it with a good report this time, I hope." But in spite of the cheery tone of the words, and the smile with which they were spoken, the litto woman looked up anxiously over her spectacles at the young girl who had just come in. "Yes, Mrs. Brett,' was the answer am back again like a bad penny."

There was a suspicion of trembling about the red lips, and a suspicion of tears in the soft brown eyes, but Agnes "Warner forced them resolutely back as sho went on "And as for the report, you can think of what I have told you every day for the last two months when I've come in from a situation hunt, and in substance you'll know what I have to tell you this time. I don't know, Mrs. Brett, but I'm afraid I am disco*raged." "Oh, no, my dear, I guess not you know it's a long lane that has no turn, and I'm suro there is just the place for you somewhere, if you can't see it just now and while you're waiting for it you know, ats I have often told you, you are more fhan welcome to stay here with me, and I am more than glad to have you, but I don't want to be selfish, and keep you away from anything better."

The girl had leaned back in a large old fashioned rocking-chair, but she started up now, and grasped both hands of her friend who was about to leave the room. "You dear, good woman," she exclaimed, quickly, "you know very well I never can half pay you for all your .kindness to me! iso, no,"—in reply to the gentle remonstrance—"you needn't pretend that I am helping you all the timo with a little dusting and bed making you let ine doit so I'll feel more contented: but I know all about your 'trick* and your manners.'

As she puused, Mrs. Brett said: "You don't sew on my dresses, and trim my bonnets, and fix my caps, and

But Agnes placed her hand playfully over the little woman's mouth. "There," she said, smiling, "isn't it nearly dinner time?"

After Mis. Brett left the room, Agnes, went to the window, and stood for a few moments looking out, but sho saw nothing of the passers by, the boys playing marbloa on the sidewalks, or the dancing shadows made by the tall elms, and bright May sunshine, for she was thinking over what she had beon through that morning, and what so nearly a repetition of her experieiici on other mornings.

Agnej Warner had no parents, sisters or brothers, and indeed no relatives of whom sho had any knowledge. Her homo for the last tive years had been with Mrs. Brett, who, in an unpretending wav, took lodgers and a few hoarders. Mrs. Warner and her daughter had loen among he latter, and after her mothers death Agnes still stayed on. After leaving school sho had found that her mother's slender means was nearly exhausted, :»nd what was to t^e done for her own support, must be done by hernolf for a lew months she had tilled the position of governess in a private family then sho was ill for some weeks, and when she recovered it

So Agnes had ootne homo almost disheartened, and was wondering, as she Htood looking abstractedly out of Mrs. llrctt's front window,why it was so hard tor her to lind a place in the world of busy workers, and what sho would try next. "Well," she said to herself, "there must U' a torn not fur ahead, for my lane has ct rtainly seemed a long one ill roady

Hope comes easily when one is only oighteen, and after "dinner and a little rest, she sat down cheerfully to help Mrs. Brett with her mending. As the busy fingcis*ol the old woman moved in and out with her work, »he said glancing up for a moment: ••Now, my dear, don't go to feeling too much troubled I'm sure the good bath«r'll look out for you, aud 1 wouldn't bother inv head a'oout any kind of a situation until to-morrow morning, when you will have another day's strength ready to twgiii again and who knows out the morning p«]er will have just •he the thing for you!" She smiled brightly, as if she had all faith" in her own won Is, and Agues answered "Auntie Brett, 1 believe you are my good genius I can never feel discouraged long when vou are with me, aud I aim sure if you had your wish,'my ship, would come in to-morrow, though you •were never to hear from yours."

But the to-morrow did not bring the hoped for good fortune to Agnes, and it was abont .» w«ek later that the post Mian left a letter at Mrs. Brett's addressed to

Agnes Warner. She found it beside her plate when she mine in to din nor, and if her appetite was not very good it was no fault in anything that was set before her.

The letter was addressed in hand-writ-ing unfamiliar to her it was good, unuusukab.v a gentleman's, and as certainly one of the old school. She would not open it while at the table, and when d»e reached her own room slib held it unowned, saying to herself. "Now. if this docs not contain anything of what I hope I'll iry not to lie disappointed theH taking her bright little scissors she tmrefully cut the envelope. The letter was in the same handwriting as the address, and Agnes read it through hurriadlv, then carefully, and then stood still "in utter surprise. It was of a charter different certainly from anything dhe had expected or dreamed of, and she tx^pui it for the third time before she could rttUiee its meaning. This was what she read:

u,veii

two or three servants, and I write to ask If Agnes Page's daughter Is willing to a few weeks or all summer.if she can be contented, to Maple Groves. There will be no young company, bat the

would

WHS

to lind her

situation taken by another. Since then «he had trid in vain for employment of dill'erent kinds, and I tad even ventured oil three modest lines in tlie Daily Times, but the one inquiry she had had regarding it had not resulted in her favor, as it seemed at the time. Then she had studied the newspapers, and it was in answer to some of tiie seemingly prom­

ising

advertisements that she hud gone out the morning 011 which our story opens. But the lady in want of a private instructor for her boys, preferred a gentleman another found her too young and the old lady wanting a companion, was not pleasinl with her, for she wanted no sin "giddy young thing, who would be thinking more of herself than of her mistress' comfort."

bj"And

MaplcUrovc, May IS, IS—.

MiaS AUN» WAR.VKK, iMUr IKnitHliw you wlb be *arto receive tin- fmiii otw whom you Jui** nevtr wn, «ut«l lxuo ou pivbabty k»ow but little bumiuutieh 1 am vm«ouua!ntwith vou, I knew your molh«r wrl and

her n* a dauKUter, ww of the age of my own Klainc, »»mt ihey Ktvw up together, tor your mother"* home Mnpr Urovc until n»v daughter'* ForM-vcmlye.tr* liae"b«v'i atmwi!, tn:t »vo now come tKimc aehSHtlwwo n»nn, tlx* home win re the hapl*i»t and

NUMPi

year* of my life

i*vr W-cn mm'u!, nn-i hew 1 l*ope to n.l ,H) I .nil aJoue with the exception of

home rf

your

mother's childhood most, from that fact alone, be a pleasant place to you. yoj come, you w& want to take the 11 dock a. m. train for Colway there change for Westfort, at which place my

man

Thomas

will meet you. Please accept the check enclosed to defray your expenses, and oouge your expectant friend, "WlNTHBOP THOBTO.

Agnes replaced the letter in an envelope, and took it down stairs in search of Mrs. Brett. "1 should like yon to read this, Auntie, when you can spend time, she said when she had found her. "Yes, directly, if you wish me to, was the reply.

In a few moments she came in again, and reached out her band for the letter, but before reading it she looked up inquiringly into the bright young face before her, as if she would first read in that something of what she might expect to find expressed by the written words 111 her hand. But she said nothing till she had read the letter slowly through, then taking off her spectacles she turned to Agnes. "Well, my dear there is a place for you, it seems, but not like any we have

lh"j/o,"

the girl answered, "I had for­

gotten that such a person as Winthrop Thornton existed indeed could not have told whether he did or not until today, but now I remember of hearing mv mother speak of Maple Grove, and Elaine and Grandmother Page, too, I think she was housekeeper or something of the kind, there, long ago. Oh! I

like| to go there. Do |you think

it is best It seem so easy a way to dispose of |myself after what I have been trying to do."

Little Mrs. Brett's lively fancy had travelled fast during Agnes' words, and sho thought she could foresee for her favorite a life entirely different from her present one of poverty and search for w«rk, so giving ner back the letter, she said briskly. "My dear, I think you should go, by all means your mother would wish it, I am sure, and it may be the very place that has been waiting for you all this time, and you didn't know it!"

The two had a long talk over the subject, and the result was that a few days Jater, Agnes dropped a card into the letter box, at the street corner addressed to Mr. Winthrop Thornton, and accepting his invitation.

What preparation was necessary for her departure was soon made, and the day she had decided on soon came, but with a rain storm however, her plans were made, and the weather shouldn change them, as she said laughingly, for with her wateproof and umbrella, sho could not suffer much from itseffets.

As she was about to say good-bye, she exclaimed, "Why, Aunt Brett, I do believe you are crying!" "Yes, dear, I believe 1 am, the little woman answered, "but never mind, for I don't know whether it is because lam glad for you or sorry for myself writo directly when you get there she went on, wiping her eyes, "for I shan't bo easy a minute till I hear from you."

Then sho stood in the doorway till the carriage drove oft toward the depot, and then turned back to the house to look after her dinner.

It was four o'clock when Agnes reached Westport, and the conducter shouted out the name she had been expecting to hear for the last half hour. As sho stepped out at the station, she lookod eagorlv aiound for such a person in she imagined Squiro Thornton's man to be. Wesport was not a large town, and few on the train beside herself [had stopped at the place she had hardly walked the length of the platform when a middle aged man approached her, and touching his hat, asked if sho was Miss Warner, the young lady going to Maple Grove. She was that person, she replied, asking in her turn. "And are you Thomas?" Then blushing and laughing at her own audacity, she made excuse by saying it was the only name she knew to call him

that's what I am generally

called, Miss," he returned, leading the way to the carriage. He was much taken by her frank, though modest manner, and they were friends henceforth.

The rain had stopped before this, and now the sun shono bright and clear, changing the drops that shook from tho. tiees as they passed into flashing diamonds. Agnes leaned out of the carriage, noting all the surroundings, and thinking of how her mother, with her friend Elaine, had long ago passed over the same road.

Maple (.trove was situated some two or three miles out from Westport, and asthev neared tlio place, the young girl going'there for the first time, saw how appropriately it was named. The mansion was surrounded on tlireo sides by large symmetrical maples in front, the grounds were tastefully, though not elaborately planned, while the driveways, meeting opposite the main entrance to^the house, formed semi-circle, liued by grand old maples. As the carriage tirew up before the road stone steps, the door opened aYid Squire Thornton appeared to greet his guest. He was of a stout, well built, figure, though his seventy vears had somewhat bowed the once stalely form, and whitened the hair and Iteard, but tbegone dark eyes beamed with all their old-time expression of gladness, as reaching out his hands to Agnes he exclaimed, "'Welcome to Maple Grove, and to your mother's home! I cannot say how glad I am to see you here."

Wbenthev had entered the house, the old gentleman called to Kitty, a voune girl already in waiting, who conducted her to the room prepared for her. "This is the place," she said, opening the door to a large, handsomely furnished chamber, "but the Squire he says if after vou've been here awhile yon had rather have some other, you can change."

But Agnes thought at the time, and did not change her opinion after abetter acquaintance with the place, that there could be no pleasanter room in all the large, old house, than the one she was to call her own.

The residence itself faced the East, on the West, from each end of the main building went out wings, or ells, spoken of respectively, as the North and South wing. Agnes room was in the south half of the building proper, her windows faced the square, formed by the house and wings, .which bad been converted into 9 garden with plants and shrubbery.

The sooth wing as Agnes rightly conjectured contained the kitchen and servants' apartments, while there was nothing about the one on the north to indicate that it was used at all.

As Agnes went back down stairs, Squire Thornton met her as she entered the drawing room, and taking both her hands looked at her long and earnestly. "Yes," he said at length, dropping her bands, ne turned away with the sentence unfinished.

Agnes felt that she waa living in a different world than that she had been in all ber life, as she sat down opposite her host to the dinner that had been delaved until ber arrival. The grand old dining room with Its rich wainscoting, deeply tinted walls, and table gleaming

with silver, wis different from anything she had been accustomed to see at Mrs. Brett's.

Kitty flited in and out dunng the meal, glad of any excuse that gave ner an opportunity of being near the young lady whose anticipated arrival had made a pleasant little excitement in the quiet old bouse.

Agnes soon learned how Squire Thornton had heard of her whereabouts. After his return from abroad he had visited for a few days the daughter of an old friend, who was none other than the lady who had engaged Agnes as governess for her children. Hearing them mention the name|of Agnes Warner, he made inquiries, resulting in his writing the letter we have already read.

She had been at Majlc Grove about a week, when one morning she went into the kitchen to find some one to talk to, she said, and there she heard something of the history of the family. Mrs. Hobart, Thomas' wife, bad lived in the neighborhood from a child, and distinctly remembered Miss Elaine and Miss Agnes, too, who was the daughter of the housekeeper, though always Miss Elaine's friend, and usually her companion, which was a good thing, everybody said, for without her, Miss Elaine was rather apt to run wild. She was pretty apt to have her own way in most things, for the Squire nearly idolized his only child, though whenever ho did lay down a command of any kind, all knew that he meant it.

Mrs. Hobart went on at some length, and when she paused, Agnes asked to what use the rooms in the opposite wing were put. "No use at all," Mrs. Hobart answered "there is a hall there, where there used to be dancing at the parties long ago when I was a girl then there are dressing rooms ana sleeping rooms, all used more or less, when there was a larger family here, but all locked up now in these dftys/' "So nobody goes in the north wing now," Agnes said, as she ended. "Nobody," Kitty began, "except the

"Kitty, you'll knock that cup off the table!" exclaimed Mrs. Hobart, sharply.

Kitty looked up quickly, blushed, and went on beating her eggs without another word.

Agnes' calls to the kitchen were not very frequent, there was too much for entertainment in other parts of the bouse. In the drawing-room were portraits of Squire Thornton's wife and daughter the first was a sweet-faced lady with soft, dark eyes and wavy brown hair it had been painted within the two years that intervened from the time of ner marriage to that of her death, and the face was still almost youthful. Agnes liked the picture better than the one opposite, of Elaine, the only child. The two faces looked about the same in age, but though this of the daughter's was handsome, there was a proud look about it, and the dark eyes seemed just ready to flash in defiance, while there was, too, a touch of scorn in the droop of the red lips.

Squire Thornton was not contented to have his visitor long out of sight. Of an evening he would want her to play and sing she had a good voice, and her mother had taught her some about playing, and she gladly improved this opportunity for practicing. How different, she thought, was the life she was living this Summer from anything she had expected, and many a time when Kitty performed for her some little service she had been used to do for herself, she would think that a few months agd she would sooner have supposed herself to be the one to do tliem for some one else, than that another should be doing them for lior.

A few weeks passed pleasantly by, and one evening, after singing Kobin Adair, Agnes had excused herself early, and hud gone to bed with a headache it was a warm evening, and she opened one of her windows to its farthest extent, so with the refreshing air blowing across her flushed cheeks and throbbing temples, before long fell asleep, when she awakened to find that the night air coming in was too cool, and started up to close the window the old CIOCK in the hall struck one as she was crossing the room, the moon was shining nearly at its full, and she paused as she reached the window to look out at the scene before her, beautiful at any time, but now, flooded by silver light, it seemed like a visicrtifroin fairyland. The girl stood a moment, forgetful of all but the sight beforo her, when glancing up at the uorth wing, she stood spell-bound, hardly crediting her own eyes, for at one of the windows, about midway of the wing, the blinds thrown back, and the window open, stood—what? A figure, distinctly outlined, for the moon shone fall upon it it remained perfectly motionless. The head was covered, all but the face, in white, but before she could tell more of its appearance it was gone. Agnes looked an instant longer, then ha-tily lowering the window, went back t'o bed, wondering over what she had seen, and half afraid of she knew not what. Had she not been told that the north wing was unused? What could this mean? Then she recalled the incideut of a short time back. Kitty interrupted remark about the north wing, ana she determined to improve the first opportunity for an explanation. She fell asleep again at length, and in the morning the blinds were all closed as usual at the windows in the north wing, and she was half inclined to believe that what she bad seen was but a vision of her excited imagination.

Soon after breakfast she went into the drawing-room and found Kitty dusting. After a few commonplace remarks^ she asked in an indifferent tone: "Kitty, isn't there an kind of a ghost story connected with this house? That north wing is just the place to be haunted, I should think."

Kitty dropped her duster, and turned rude. "Have you seen it, Miss," she asked, in a frightened voice. "Seen it!" echoed Agnes, "whatdoyou mean?" "Why, the^Ao*//'' "I don't believe in the existence of ghosts," Agnes answered. "Oh," and Kitty picked up her duster and went on with ber work. Then after a pause, "No more did I use to, but folks have to believe what they see." "You certainly dont mean that you have ever seen a ghost!" exclaimed Agnes, more startled than she cared to show.

The girl was silent for a few moments, then coming close to Agnes sho began, hesitatingly, "The truth is, Miss, there is a queer story abont that north wing, but before you came, the Squire charged us not to tell you a word abont it, for vou see he don't believe in ghosts, and besides, he says if there is one It's welcome to the north wing as long as it stays there, for be hasn't any one for it himself. 1 hey do say it is haunted though, and has been these five years, even when the bouse was shut up and nobody lived in here. 1 didn't like to go past here

TERRS HAUTE SATURDAY J^TENDSTG MAIL

Somebody would be

myself after dark. sure to tell yon if you stay here long, so I suppose I might as well be the one, but, lowering ber voko, "they do say it's Miss Elaine's ghost you know about her?"

Agnes shook her head. "Only that shedied the week before she was to have been-married." "Well," Kitty went on, "she was that headstrong that she would have her way in most everything unless her father set np that she shouldn't. He bought a horse for her to ride, but it was not safe for her to go alone, so a man always went with her. Well, the week before she was to be married, the Squire had to go away suddenly on business or something, and he tolii her particularly not to ride Princess without some one with her but what should she do after he had gone, but order Princess for her to ride, and she would go alone. The man didn't knbw that she had been told not to, so be let her go, but be didn't like to have her, and when Princess came back without her, he and some more started oft' to find ber, and they did after awhile. She had been thrown from the horse they brought her home just as the Squire drove up to the house. At first the doctor thought she wasn't hurt much, but she was after all, and in a few days she died." "And the ghost?" Agnes asked, as

Kitty paused. "Oh, yes, they say it is her ghost that cannot rest easy, thinking of how she threw her life away!"

She finished in an impressive tone, but her listener was not particularly impressed. It was too absurd to believe that a restless ghost would hover around in this way for such a reason. But the apparition of the night before! If the story she had heard was not an explanation of it, it must at least have some connection. But she did not allude to it in any way, thinking it best to wait and find out, if she could, the truth about it. Perhaps she might see it again! And so she did ere a week had passed, as unexpectedly as before.

Kitty was going on an errand early one evening, and asked Agnes if she would not like to take the walk with her, which she was glad to do, so they walked slowly on through the twilight. The errand detained them longer than they bad expected, and by the time they again reached Maple Grove, it was quite dark. "Let's go through the back gardens," Kittv said, "it's nearer that way sounfastening the gate, they passed in, and proceeded up the walk toward the south wing, but suddenly Agnesgrasped Kitty's arm, with a faint cry, lor just ahead of them a figure flitted across the walk a figure in dark robes with a mantle of white over the head. The light from the servants' rooms shone across the path before them, and Kitty too saw the moving form. "It's iY/" she said, in a terrified whisper but before there was time for more words, she bad rushed ahead to the door. Agnes followed quickly, and both girls, with white faces, stood waiting for Thomas to give them admittance. He opened the door at last, saying: "So you've come already, young ladies. I was just about to go in search of you. The Squire, he's been watching for you this half-hour past. But what's the matter, Miss Agues, you ain't going to faint?" "Oh, no!"' the girl answered, quickly, "but we hurried towards the last, and I'm tired some, I believe." "I am, myself," said Kitty, and, glad of an exense, she sank down in the nearest chair, for her limbs would hardly support her.

Thomas left the room shortly, and the girls lookod at each other qucstioninglv. "Who was it?" Agnes asked after a few moments. "Who!" Kitty repoated. What was it, I should say and then, going closo to Agnes, she whispered: "It is the ghost of the north wing I have seen it before!"

Agnes hardly knew what to believe the face, as she had seen it for an instant was haggard and pale as marble, the dark eyes glowed like living coalsy but was it imagination alone that traced out in it a resemblance to the portrait of Elaine Thorntoti? It must be but fancy still, the dark-robed form with a white mantle was the same she had seen looking from the window of the north

"'^here's no explaining it," Kitty said, as they left the room, "but there is a ghost at Maple Grove, and has been for years, as others besides you and I can testify!"

Later in the evening, when Squire Thornton called for Agnes to sing, she would gladly have excused herself, for she was still nervous and excited, but taking a seat at the piano, she struck a few chords, then turning she asked: "What shall I sing to-night, uncle 1 hornton? '—for so he wished her to call him—"I have sung my songs over so manv times, I'm afraid you must be tired*of them all."

She looked over at him, half laughing, waiting for liim to speak, when for answer he came and stood before her, and us she looked wonderiugly up at him, said abruptly: "Child! do you know you are strangely like—but 1 forgot you did not know her, of course."

Then in a sudden burst of feeling, he stooped aud kissed the fair, upturned

brow-

«Agnes was surprised, but she knew at the moment that the kiss was more for her whom she was "strangely like," than for herself.

A few weeks passed on without any further developments regarding the ghottt. Squire Thornton had been called away for a day or two, so Agnes was left mistress of the house. The ipeond night of his absence, as Agnes' went to her room, she was wondying, balT sadly, how much longer she oould call it hers,

for the

Summer which she had been in­

vited to spend at Maple Grove was-near-ly gone, and after that she saw nothing before her but more wearisome trials for the situation she had sought for in vain, for she would not allow herself to think of becoming dependent on the bounty of her w-found friend and thinking of going back to Mrs. Brett's, she fell asleep. How long she slept she did not know, but she was awakened by something, and was suddeuiy conscious of a light in the room, and shining full on her face, and she saw—or was it part of the dream from which she had awakened no, it could not be, for here at her bedside, with its burning eyes lookiug down searchingly into ber face, was the dark-robed ghost the white mantle was drawn 1 ouselv over ber bead, the eyes were all that showed anything of life or motion the sunken face was pale even to the lips.

AGTD68gazed up at the pale fitce above her, but she bad n» strength or voice to cry out, and it seemed to her that she could not move to save ber life she knew not how long the figure stood there motionless, but after a time it and the light faded away.

She must have lost consciousness, for when she again opened ber eyes the room was dark and nlent she slept after a while, and when she awoke once more her room was filled with the light af

^**fbe vision of the night came suddenly to ber remembrance was it a dream, after all? The thought of the mysterious black-robed form bad been so often in her mind, that it would not be very strange if her imagination had carried

it even into her sleeping hours for superstitious fears are always lessened by aaylight.

But when Agnes was ready to leave her room, she discovered that the door was slightly ajar, and she distinctly rebut lockhere was

mem be red not only of closine, but locking it the night before ana here was something tnat could be no part of a dream.

Squire Thornton returned during the day, and Agnes resolved to tell him of her strange visitor of the night before, for if there was an explanation, surely he would find it out. It was evening before she found an opportunity to speak of it, then she began, as calmly as she could: "Uncle Thornton, who is the tall, slight woman in a black dress, with white over her head, who is often around this house?"

Winthrop Thornton looked sharply at her for a moment before he answered: "Besides yourself, Mrs. Hobart and Kitty are the ouly women about these premises." "It is neither of them, but a woman with a ghostly face, dark, deep, sunken eyes, and—" «"My dear," interrupted the Squire, "you have, I judge, heard something of the absurd rumors afloat regarding the

f'm

bost that haants the north wing, and afraid your imagination has run away with you." "Indeed, sir, it is not imagination," Agnes hastened to say, and then she described when and where she had seen this mysterious creature, if so it could be called.

Her listener looked grave as she finished. "I will have a search made through the north wing to-morrow," was all the remark be made.

After breakfast the following morning he came into the drawing-room with a bunch of keys in his hand, saying to Agues, who was in the room, "I am going to explore the haunted wing if vou care to go with me now, you can do so."

Agnes gladly took advantage of this permission, and then passed through the main building to the silent, deserted rooms farther on through the hall that had once been the scene of so much festivity, the ante rooms, sleeping rooms, and all the various apartments that gave back a dreary echo as the doors were opened.

The

sound of their own voices

and footsteps over the dusty floors had something ghostly about it, Agnes thought, starting back, as a long cobweb brushed against her face But none of the rooms gave evidence of any occupant. The doors were all fastened, and on many of them the locks were rusted, and the keys turned with some difficulty. There were but few words spoken, either by Squire Thornton or the girl, as they made the tour of the north wing, and Agnes drew a iong breath of relief as the last door was re-locked behind them. There waH something uncanny about the place she was glad to Lie out of it. "Alas! poor ghost!" said Winthrop Thornton with a smile, "I'm afraid wo must give it up."

Nothing more was said on the subjoct, and several days passed without anything more towards an unfolding of the mystery but one night, about a weok from that on which Agnes received her unwelcome visitor, sho was awakened suddenly, and started up in alarm, but all was silent around her, she was about to compose herself for another nap, when she heard her door stoalthily unlocked, the knob turned softly, something brushed against the door, and it was as softly closed

It seemed hours before anything else was heard, then a voice called "Agnes!" She tried in vain to answer till her name was called again, "Agnes, Agues Warner!" Then gathering all her courage she called out, "Who speaks to me?" For a moment thero was no reply, though ber ears were strained to catch the faintest sound, then, "I)o not be afraid, I have not come to harm you,but to tell you something you will be glad to know, though it is not from any love of you that I speak now, but to ease my own conscience. You shall see who I am."

Then after a moment the room was filled with a pale light, and AgneH saw that ber visitor was the same who had come to her once before. Letting fall the mautie from hor head, the creature diew a chair to the bedside, and looked fixedly at the girl before her. Agnes saw, now the mantle was gone, that this was an old woman hor white hair was drawn back loosely from a deeply furrowed brow, theashen face and glittering eye might well strike terror to the beholder. "I am Sarah Page," the woman said at last "yeu have heard the name. "My giandmother!" Agnes gasped out. "You shall hoar," her visitor went on. "Forty-four years ago Maple Grove was not what it is now. Winthrop Thornton had for two years been living here with his young wife, and all went well until there cairiea day when death claimed the ife, who for two weeks had been a mother too. A nurse was wanted for the child, the little Elaine, and soon was found, a young widow whose hu»band had been accidentally killed a few months before,and who bad a child, also a girl, the same age as Winthrop Thornton's. This woman had been but a few days here at Maple Grove when the Thornton child sickened her father was away from home, and would not he back for several weeks. The nurse bad not the love for her child that I think most mothers have its birth had been unwished and unwelcomed, and when she saw the Thornton child might die she wished it was her own instead, for then, unencumbered, she might live on for years, perhapx, in the pleasant home she bad found, when, if the child she was

there

to nurse was gone, there was

nothing before her but a life of poverty and hardship, which would only be increased by tue burden of her child. The sick one grew worse, and a physician was sent for, but when, he came it was the nurses child who was dressed in the costly robes of Winthrop Thornton's little daughter, and the coarse dress of the other was on the ailing child that the nurse said was her own. The cuild was slarmingly ck, but she lingered on, and in a few weeks Squire Thornton came home. But the little one did not die, and after a time grew better again, ana there was no chance to change the children back, for tbe father of Elaine bad her with him apart of every day and would have detected tbe change, and, though ibe mother did not love ber child, it gave her a strange satisfaction to see it fondled by tbe wealthy man who thought she was bis own.

So time went on, but tbe nurses folly was punished, for though she still lived at Maple Grove, and arter a time nllea tbe place of housekeeper, she was never happy. Her own child—Elaine Thornton—was proud and imperious by nature, and all tbe love

she

spared from

herself was given to ber father, as she thought him, and tbe nurses so-called child, Agnes Page.

Yea. you know it all now, I was that nurse. Agnes P«ge, your mother. wftM the true daughter of tbe boose, ana you Agnes Warner, are Winthrop llbornton's grandchild. I should have

died years ago but for the knowledge of this secret it would not let me go untold. I found out who you were—no matter how. It was easier to tell all tjiis to you than to Squire Thornton. As I said, it was not for any love of yon op him that I have told it, for I lielievo that we bate most those whom wo bavoinfured most. But it is over now and I can hope soon to have the rest I havo longed for for years."

The woman was silent sho seemed to be awav in thought from anything around her. The story had moved Agnes strangely, but as vet she could hardly realize tiie truth of what sho had heard.

At length she said, "You will tell this to Squire Thornton ho will want, to soo vou." And after a little the woman agreed to see him but not until the next night. "If you will be with him in the draw-ing-room to-morrow night it twelve o'clock, I will come," she said "for at that hour no others will bo aiound."

Agues consented, and without another word the woman rose and left the room. It was morning before Agnes could calm herself to sleep, and then it was only for a short nap. During the day sho told Squire Thornton that she had seen the ghost again, and that her name was Sarah Page, ami that she had something to tell hini, and when and whore thev were to meet, but of more than that she'did not speak.

How slowlv the day passed but evening came at "last, and midnight found Squire Thornton and Agnes waiting as had been agreed upon. After a few moments there was a faint sound, and the woman for whom they waited entered the room. Knowing about her as she did, Agnes could riot repress a shudder at the sight of the ghostlike face and figure.—Wir.throp Thornton sprang to his feet as she approiached him. "Sarah Page lie exclaimed. "I little thought vou were among the li ving!" "Among 'the living." she repeatod, "but not of them then after a few words more sho told him unhesitatingly and minutely the story that so astonished Agnes the night before. Tbe man face was as white as her own when she had finished. "May God forgive you, Sarah Pago!" he cried in a strange, represented tone then seeming to forget her, ho turned to the girl at his side ami drew her tenderly to liim. "My own littlo one," ho said brokenly, "1 have thought thero was a singular resemblance in vou to the wife I lost so many years ago yet it is but natural after all, for jou arc her own randchild aud mine. Thank (oul that have found you."

There was quite a commotion among the servants at Maple Grove, and the town's people round about, when it was known that the young stranger visiting at Squire Thornton's was in truth his granddaughter and heiress and that the ghost of the north wing proved to be a living person, was, though disappointto would-be believers in the supernatural, yet entirely satisfactory to all at Maple Grove. Sho had lived lor years, as she explained, in a portion of the north wing a secret passage led from tnis to one of the apartments above, and it was entered from the outside by a small door under the steps that led to the only door opening into the wing from the outside. This cellar had not been in use for many years, and Winthrop Thornton, if he had over known of its existence, had forgotten it.

The woman had keys to all parts of the house, and during the years it was closed, had wandered about at will through the well-known rooms.

It seemed, as she had said, that the knowledge of her secret was all that had kept hor alive, and after it was told all interests in life or the living ecascd for ber. She was given a comfortable room, but a few days after she took up her abode there, she was unable to walk to the door a few days more, and she had passed beyond the pale of human judgement to the Infinite Mercy. After the last services for her had been performed, Agnes went away for a few days to her old friend, Mrs. Brett, who was overjoyed at the good fortune that had lefailen her favorite. "Just to think of it, my dear," she said "thero you was a little while ago, so downright blue and sober, wondering howjyou would find a way to make a living for yourself, with nobody to cheer you but poor littlo me, and now you are an heiress with all the good things that money can buy. and a good, kind grandfather that sets the world by you, and is bettor than all the rest. h, my dear, I'm thankful for vou." in a shorttinio Squire Thornton came for his granddaughter\ for he could not have her away from him long at a time. "You are coming* to see us soon, you know, dear auntie Brett," Agnes Haid, with her arms around the little woman's neck, as sho was about to say good-byo "and remember, that however many knew friends I may find, none ••an ever take your place. There, don't cry rs. Brett looked up, wiping her eyes. "But I know what I'm erving for this time," she said, with a

smile

breaking

through her tears.. "It's becauseJ'm so glad you found a ghost at Maple »rove.

II UMIi UU (J KI) A !A I A'. I saw so much said about the merits of Hop Bitters, and my wife who was always doctoring, and never well, teased me so urgently to get her t-.ome, J500" c'uded to be humbugged again andJI am glad I did, for in less than two months' use of the Bitters, my wife was cured, and she has remained so for eighteen months since. I like such humbugging. H. T., St.

Paul.—Pioneer

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