Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1880-09-16

of mahogany and velvet, long mirrors
and dark paintings adorned the walls.
1t was indeed a handsome house, speak
ing of almost limitless wealth.
''There are thousands of dollars worth
of silver in the bank at SCARBOROUGH, ,:
said Fannie, "and rents accommodating
there which will be small fortune in
itself But we have nothing"
How hard how crueln' cried Rae.
Il should not think your grandfather
could rest in his grave to have you and
Philip, with all your refinement and
culture, spending your lives in hand
to hand scramble for bread.
''They say he does come back and
wander uneasily about here" said
Fannie, carefully closing shutters and
doors and coming out into the sun
shine. But of course stories are told
of all such places. Phillip says he
does not believe a word of it." with a
marked emphasis which made Rae turn
and look at her.
''But you do, Fan"
''Twice people have tried to sleep
there and declared that grandfather
appeared to them. Ishould not dare
try it, for [ am a timorous thing at
pest, and"
The intensity of RAGS thoughts made
her quite deaf to what further her
companion was saying. This fortune
was Philips rights. No wonder he was
sad, moody and hopeless of cir mar
riage as he was situated and seemed
fated to continue to be.
''The will was made Immediately
after mammals marriage" said Fannie,
standing under the laburnums and
looking up at the great house. Poor
mother says he told her on his death
bed that he made another will-per-
haps in her favor But what she says
goes for little. Her state is very
strange since fever she had just after
Philip came of age-her talk is so wild
and foolish-and yet she seems to I'M
stand some things in our affairs that
we do not see till afterWard. 1t is al
most uncanny to think over the strange
knowledge she has had during these
past years, and Fannie fell into a tit of
They walked back to the tiny cot
tage Raes veins thrilled with excite
ment, but Fannie went sOberly about
getting tea. They kept no maid, this
poor disinherited family, and Rae
learned that Philips own hands titled
the little kitchen-garden, while every
labor of the household was performed
by Fannie.
She could not sleep that night after
she had gone to her tiny bedroom. The
moonlight seemed to disturb her and
make her brain wildly active. What
influence strung her nerves?-fOr when
all was still and the night far advanced
she arose, and dressing, donned her
out into the hall. She took a bunch
of keys from their nail there, and Sc
lacting one which she had seen Fannie
take, held it tightly in her slim, white
fingers as she went out into the night
In the moons white light she went
through the long lines Of labur-
NUNS, across the tiny kitchen-garden,
along the decaying orchard, into the
hollow. She stood moment before
the great still house, listening to the
roar of the sea. Strangely enough, she
did not feel afraid. If she thought of
the presence of an unseen spirit, it
was to appeal to it prayerfully for
help.
Another will 1t must be. At least
it would do no harm to search, and that
is what she had come for.
She left the hall-door wide open and
let the moonlight flood the tiled hall.
1t streamed through the chinks of the
shutters, which she opened, one by one,
as she fitted keys to drawers of all
kinds. The task was no light one, for
in every mich was cabinet or escritoire
But there was no papers anywhere.
Many things which must have been
the personal property of old Squire
Brudenel she found, but nowhere his
will
ooh, if [ only could-if only could"
she said, sadly, "and it would restore
Philip to his rights"
Rat, tat, tat-the sound ola cane on
the tiled floor. Rae turned for the first
time, her eyes wide with fright. The
enthusiasm with which she had enter
tanned her generous purpose had made
her utterly forgetful of herself. Now
some one was coming.
The door swung slowly on its tar
nished silver hinges. A quaint, bent
little figure, leaning on a cane, adj
vanced into the room and paused be-
side a handsome carved armchair
which stood before table. Lifting
the cane, the bent little old woman
knocked smartly thrice on the seat of
this chair, filling the room with a hol
low sound, then, resuming her feeble
walk, she passed out of the apartment
by another door
TremblingIy doubtingly, Rae curious
ly approached the chair. The blows of
the cane seemed to have disturbed or
broken the seat, for it was awry, plainly
revealing a cavity beneath. Turning
the chair to the light, Rae, looked with
in and saw distinctly folded paper.
1t was a large sheet, yellow, and
thick as vellum. Hec hands trembled
as she unfolded it and read: "My last
Will and testament. Paul Brudenel,"
and it dropped to the floor.
Snatching it up she ran-ran swiftly
out of the house, and flew noiselessly
and shaking to Fannie's door.
i nave 1Ound 1T nave 1OClnd lI
she cried, finging her arms around the
amazed, white-robed figure who ad
mitted her to Fannie's chamber
Found what? Are you sick? Are
you crazy?" asked gentle Fannie Brude-
mel.
''The other will-within a chair-an
old armchair in the hoase in the hol-
low 4 GHOST showed If to mel" answer
ed Rae, holding the paper aloft.
There was a knock at the chamber
door.