Litchfield enquirer., 1880-06-24


 | skirts of Yorkshire moor, with a moat rouut it without fish, and was half a dozen miles from everywhere. The place wanted at least dozen guests in residence to make it cheery i and my uncle seldom saw any company ex l cept at dinner. found him on this occasion | quite alone, and after we had dined, and a l bottle of port of fabulous antiquity had beer placed between us he began talking of the family property. fst 4s-.0' X '"ssi. 1 ''You are of age now, Frank, and shoulo know something about it, for what is mine will be yours" and then he gave me some he reditary information, which ought to have been more attractive to me than it was The amount of rental was interesting enough, but l always hated what philosopher of my ac. quaintance calls disgusting details' of busi. ness matters. When he had quite done, l said, in my of-hand way, And then there's that box at Cevent Garden"
 My uncle pushed his glass half off the table l, as he replied, ''How on earth came you to know l possessed such thing? What box?" .-.... ... ...- Box 16-the Guinea Box, as they call it. I've been in it more than once, tony sorrow :'' and told him in the simplest manner what l had seen there.l aa ss.- .s. 5 z.as 4. --
 Your experience is very curious, said my uncle dryly, 'but, of course, not inexplicable It IS evident that theatrical performances af- feet your nerves. never approved of them myself for other reasons. .ss.szr ;. s7..
 I am quite certain, uncle. that actually saw in Box 16 what 1 have just described to you. Nothing will ever shake my conviction on that point"
 Then we won't discuss it, Frank" was the quiet reply. Have you. had enough wine Very good. have some letters to write. so I will leave you 10 your cigar, which 1 remark with regret has become necessity to most young men,"
 Uncle Ralph was not person to be sub leoted to cross examination by anybody or to be induced to talk on any subject that was dis pleasing to him, and after the disclosure of his benevolent intentions toward myself, it would have been the height of ingratitude and i'm prudence to offend him in any way; so said nothing more about the matter. .-
 After breakfast the next morning, much to my surprise, my uncle asked me to come with him into the picture gallery. "Some of your ancestors, am told, want cleaning, he said, ''and l want to have your opinion as to wheth- CT it is worth while to go to that expense"
 For my part, it struck me that little wash ing would have done them all world of good, but was very careful to express myself re- spectfully. When we had settled which were to be sent to the picture cleaners, he opened the oak door of little closet, and produced three or four other portraits. 'T have never been able to find room for these" he said, set ting them one by one against the wall; Gin case you marry and have family, Frank, we must have new gallery built, to- Whats the matter? What are you staring at your great-aunt like that for ?'
 That's the woman !" exclair,ed; ''that is the woman 1 saw in the box !"
 Pooh nonsense Because she is painted in white satin ?"
 ''No no; that is her face ]" cried l. ''She looks happier in the picture, though not more handsome she has not that look of pain and yearning that she had in the theatre. But that's tine woman"
 "Well that's your great-aunt Barnard. l am bound to say there is a story about her in connection with the place in which you think you saw her. Are you sure you never heard of it?" . ,4. ". P. ys-,.
 'Quite sure'' 1 said, with my eyes fixed on the portrait with a fascination l could not re- sist "What did she do?" ''" -'''. 'She ran away from her husband with 8 Captain Colville of the Guards. The scound- rel met her by appointment in that very box, No. 16, and fled with her the same night to Brussels. Barnard followed him and called him out. They were sboth shot, and it was understood Ohough none who knew her saw her afterward) that the woman perished mis- erably by her own hand. /"
 'I have seen her. said I confidently.
 Well, don't know" returned my uncle doubtfully. 1t is certainly very curious, and since you have heard so much, will tell you all. l put the picture in your way on purpose to see if you would recognize it; perhaps I, was wrong, but it is now easier to go on with the thing than to get out of it. Do you re- member yOur cousin Frederic ?'
 ''Frederic Parton? No, 1 never saw him. 1 only know that the poor fellow died mad in India"
 ''He didn't die mad he died of sun stroke; but he was supposed hy some people to be mad before he went out. That was because he saw the lady in white satin in Box No. 16 at Covent Garden. People who see ghosts nowadays, and especially in public places, are naturally thought mad"
 But did you think him mad? ?" 1 inquired.
 ''No, didn't. thought there was some from thls circumstance: John Parton, his father, had seen the ghost before him.''
 'tAnother witness 7" exclaimed 1 ; ''it is most marvellous" .. .a. .a.. .-R ..
 "Yes; and the testimony agrees with yours in one curious particular in both cases there were people in the box with them, who didn't see it 1; but they saw it plain enough. The la- dy appears it would seem, only to blood re- tions" ..
 ''Did you ever see her yourself, uncIe?"
 'No; 1 never go to theatres. The box came into my possession from the Patrans, but 1 have never used it. The librarian in London knows the whole story, because your cousin Frederick made row about it, just as you did That is why the box is let so cheap. He has it from me, for almost nothing, upon the understanding that only a guinia shall be charged for it. People ought not to be exposed to risks however small, without having cor advantage. Some folks, of course, would pay ten times the money for the chance of seeing the lady, but, as a general rule, those who have hired box expect to have it to themselves" A' '.
 This business view of the matter would have tickled me a good deal had not been so per sonally interested in it; my uncle's notion that the apparition only appeared to relatives seem- ed to be a correct one, but it made the whole affair more eerie and tremendous. .a ..z.
 II shall never rest, uncle," said l, "tlll have fathomed this mystery. Perhaps the poor lady has some secret to disclose to us. "N '''..e
 sShe'll never tell it to me, returned my uncle confidently, land if you take my advice, you will not give her a third opportunity of telling it to you She was a bad woman and a disgrace to her family. Moreover" he add ed, as he replaced the picture in the cupboard, ''the evil that she did, lives after her, for she depreciates the price of our family box"
 This style of talk, especially upon serious subject, was by no means in accordance with my uncle's character, and felt convinced it was affected in order to dlspel any morbid feelings which his revelations might have aroused in me. As a matter of fact however, curiosity rather than alarm had the upper hand with me. should have liked to have started for London within the hour and taken the Guinea Box at Cevent Garden for that very night. Upon the whole, as notwithstanding my uncle's advice I was resolutely determin- ed on pursuing the matter. thought it best to appear as indifferent as could, and after awhile we dropped the subject. This. was evidently what he wished to happen, for he never recurred to it again throughout my visit. Ia a7s. { tlR dl%f 94ul .yG!4DtsI 10 For my part, however, So far: from forget ting it, I thought of little else, and when the as. IL 1 IA