The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1867-05-23
from the Galaxy.
The House Opposite.

times. and used to sit hours by the wiz
dow Of my room, looking down upon tn
street at the people, then gazing inquisitiyt
ly at the quiet house directly opposite.
The shutters were always fast closed alon
the 'front.' save one, two stories up, on lev
ell with my room.
To this window bent and withered oil
man used to come daily and stand looking
like myself. up and down the street; only,
faRcied, he did not look with listess gaz
as did, but with the sharp eager glanc
of one who waits and watches.
Then sometimes in the forenoon, wa
sure to see a wan-looking girl of twelve O
thirteen come and dust the window, an
tend the solitary plant that stood torlornl.
there.
Thus l had aimIessly watched them ev
cry day for a month, for had fallen int
the habit, and did not think of giving it up
though | do not know that | received All,
pleasure from it
But this day-as | sat with idle pen be
tween my fingers, knowing that the gra.
of evening was fast coming and had writ
ten but littIe-I saw the front door of tina
house open, and the little girl glance up a
my window, then huddle her shawl abou
her and splash across the street to my doc
and ring.
was curious, and ran down the stairl
myself to open to her. Then Isaw that she
looked frightened and was shiyering, moi
alone with cold, thought. $50.
please, miss, will you come over there
There's nobody there but me and him, and
l don't know thing to do, and he says he
won't have doctor"
In common humanity | could not refuse
the child, and yet did not want to go.
said,
3'Come up to my room while put on my
things. You are not in such hurry but
you can do that, are your
She looked inexpressively relieved at my
words, and followed me as l returned.
wanted to ask her some questions, to find
out, if the old man--whom | instantly un-
derstood to be ''him''-to be miser who
denied himself the common necessaries of
= life that he might keep his gold
els there no other servant?' asked, as
put away my writing materials.
"No-nobody in the house but he and |,
It's dreadful. And he's fussing for fear
somebody will come"
"Whom does he expectP'' | ask I'd, with
interest, for in some way, felt mystery.
don't know. tie don't want any one to
come but one. He's muttering and mum
bling about it now" And the child shud-
dered as she spoke. Apparently, and nat
uraIly, she felt relief in this opportunity
of speaking to some one, and she was not
10th to answer my questions.
"What is his name ?" 3
"Mr. Geralds."
'He does not know you came over here?"
''Oh no, indeed" with scared look, che
would not have let me COME"
I'D had now my cloak and bonnet on, and
] said
''He will probably, then, not receive me
very nospitably-but as he is gick, will
60"
There was something very gloomy in the
dark, damp hall into which was ushered
| never felt more dissgreeably in my life
than when following the little girl up the
stairs. | had not an idea what should do,
but knew the old man was helpless and
somebody ought to assist him.
, AS we reached the door of his room the
girl shrank and said,
''You go in alone There's no need of
my going with you.
Without allowing myself a moments hes
itation pushed open the door and entered
the room at whose window had so often
seen the shrunken face of the man.
E The room was furnished well, almost rich
ly, but had a forlorn air.
Hooked at the figure on the bed; it did
not move; he thought it was hs servant. I
advanced two or three steps; something told
him it was not the servant. He turned his
head slowly,and with long stare of amaze
ment, saw me looking. With feeling of
relief | saw that it YVES not bad face, nor
disagreeable one thus turned toward me. 1t
was sunken, and worn, and anxious, per-
haps little peevish from some continued
disappointment, but there was something
even handsome in the large grey eyes and
the broad forehead from which swept the
neglected white hair
There was an imperative question concern
ing my intrusion in his eyes a. he looked at
me. FASTENED to say,
81 learned that you were i'll and alone,
and | came to see if | might do somethin q
for you. You will allow me to send for a
physician?"
- 81 AIN not i'll enough for physician.
shall do very well without help. | suppose
you mean kindly.
Had | meant otherwise | should have
blanched before his earnest, searching look.
did not reply to his words, save by meet
ing that glance with the honesty of my pur-
pose in my eyes.
''lf you will not allow me to get doc
tor" said, at last, sis there nothing l can
do to make you comfortable"
81 don't know of anything. My limbs
are paralyzed, and must lie here"
He spoke with an attempt at resignation
that had great deal of impotence in it,.
Notwithstanding his words there was
something SO respondent and weary about
his appearance that did not like to take
this as my dismissal. AS fingered uncer-
tain what to do, ne asked, with sudden as
perity,
''How did you know l was iIl7 Maggie
has been babbIing?"
'1f Maggie is the little girl, she did tell
me, sir. She was very much frightened, as
was natural"
spoke more boldly than | had intended,
for though felt a strange, weird power
about the house and its occupant, did not
feel afraid of him.
Il suppose the child is fidgety, shut up sc
Close" he muttered, with half groan, and
moving his head YEARLY, "but | can't have
this house full of people now"
''But if you are ill?'' said had seat
ed myself at his bedside, and was looking
full at him.
He interrupted my remark by saying
quickly.
''Do you work for a livingg'
ia ''Yes, sir.
"What do you do?'
81 write.''
"What do you write,'' with a curiou
glance at my hands.
''Stories, reviews-anything can"
''And you get money!"
ga little; live"
''And that is all, of course. You loo
very honorable. Are your"
1 was silent for did nnt know what [