The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1880-09-17

Through long lines of laburnums,
across tiny kitchen garden, along de.
caying orchard int slope still green
in the November sunshine. At one end
of the valley which opened toward the
sea. where white sails were noiseessly
Hitting, stood large and handsome
house of painted brick, with oriel win.
dows and other picturesque effects.
g 1t is not an old hous g." said Fannie
" 1t was built by my grandfather, in his
last days, rs wedding present to nv
mother. The old house which had for.
merly stood here he had pulled down
and this built. He intended to reside
with his only daughter when she mar.
ried Israel Beaucaire, a French Jew,
whom he had chosen for her. But my
mother fell in love with her music.
teacher, Ross Brudenel, and eloped with
him. and grandfather wrote aud bade
her never to come back. But when
Philip and were fatherless, my mother
came, in her great extremity, and begged
her fathers assistance Grandfather
gave her this cottage we have now, and
allowed her small income with which
to bring us up, but never forgave her.
At last he died, willing all his property
never come for it. The house stands
empty, with all lis beautiful furniture.
and the rich fields lie fallow, while
Philip barely supports us with his
small practice. Lowshore is distress.
ingly healthy place" with faint smile.
The interior of the house was finished
in rich foreign woods, the floors polished
like glass and laid with costly rugs and
tapestries. The furniture was of ma.
hogany and velvet, long mirrors and
dark paintings adorned the walls. II
was indeed n handsome house, speaking
OF almost limitless wealth.
There are thousands of dollars worth
OF silver in the bank at Shoreborough,n
said Fannie, "and rents accumulatine
there which will be n small fortune in
itself. But we have nothing"
How hardl how crueli" cried Rae.
81, should not think your grand.
father could rest in his grave to have
you and Philip, with ali your refine.
ment and culture, spending your lives in
hand-to-hand scramble for bread"
They say he does come back and
wander uneasily about here" said Fan.
ME, carefully closing shutters and doors
and coming out into the sunshine.
But of course such stories are told oil
all such places. Philip s,ys he does not
believe a word of it," with marked
emphasis which made Rae turn and look
at her.
But you do, Fam"
Twice people have tried to sleep
there and declared that grandfather ap-
peared to them. should not dare to
try it, for am a timorous thing at best,
and"
The intensity of Rae's thoughts made
her quite deaf to what further her COM
panion was saying. This fortune was
Philips right. No wonder he was sad,
moody and hopeless of their marriage
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 look.
ing up at the great house. Poor
mother says he told her on his deathbed
that he made another will-perhaps 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 so wild and foolish-and
yet she seems to understand some things
in our affairs that we do not see till
afterward. 1t is almost nncanny TO
think over the strange knowledge she
has had during these past years." and
Fannie fell into fit of musing.
They walked back to the tiny cottage.
Rae's veins thrilled with excitement,
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 gnrdcn, 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 p-for when
all was still and the night far advanced
she rose, and, dressing, ,donned her warm
sealskin sack and cap, and came out
into the hall. She took bunch of
keys from their nail there, and selecting
one which she had seen Fannie take,
held it tightly in her slim, white fingers
rs she went out into the night.
In the moons white light she went
steadily through the long lines of labur-
nuns, across the tiny kitchen- garden,
along the decasing 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 ball-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 were no papers anywhere.
Many things which must have been the
personal property of old Squire Brud-
enel she found. but nowhere his will.
"Oh, i'll only could-if only could"
she said, sadly, - and it would restore
Philip to his rights!'
Rat. tat, tat-the sound of cane on
the tilted floor. Rae turned for the first
time, her eyes wide with fright. The
enthusias m with which she had enter
tanned heI generous purpose had made
her utterly forgetiul Of herself. Now
some one was coming.
The door swung slowly on its tar
nished silver hinges. A quaint, bent
little figure, leaning on n cane, advanced
into the room and paused beside q
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 hollow sound, then, re-
suming her feeble walk, she passed out
of the apartment by another door.
Tremblingly, doubtingly, Rae cIri-
ously approached the chair. The blows
of the cane seemed to | ave disturbed or
broken the seat, for it was awry, plainly
revealing cavity beneath. Turning
the chair to the light, Rae looked within
and saw distinctly folded paper.
us yellum. Her hands trembled as she
unfolded it and resd: MY last will
and testament, Paul Brudenel," and IL
dropped to the floor.