Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1881-03-08

Beaucaire, 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 and bade her never
come back. But when Philip and |
were fatherless, nv mother came, in her
great extremity. aud begged her fathers $
assistance. Grandfather gave her this
cottage we have now, and allowed her a
small income with which to bring US up,
but never iargave her. At last he died,
willing all his property to distant cousin
in India, who has never come for It.
The house stands empty, with all Its
beautiful furniture, and the rich fields lie
fallow, while Philip barely supports us
with his small practice. I.owshore is a
distressingly 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 in
deed handsome house, speaking of al
mos, limitless wealth.
There are thousands of dollars worth
OF silver in the bank at Shoreborough,
said Fannie. land rents accumulating
there which will be a small fortune in it.
self Blu, we have nothing.
"tiow hard how cruel ~ cried Rae.
II should no, think your grandfather
could re-, in his grave To nave you and
Philip, with all your refinement and cul
ture, 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 ou, into the sunshine. But
of course such stories are told of all such
places. Philip says he does not believe
word Of it, with Il 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. | should not dare to Try it. for
| am ,imorouS thing al best, and
The intensity OF Kae's thoughts made
her quite deaf to what further her com
panion was saying. This fortune was
Philip. right. No wonder he was sad,
moody and hopeless Of their marriage as
he was .ituated and seemed iated to con-
tinue 10 be.
The will was made Immediately after
mammals marriage, SAID Fannie, stand
ing under the laburnum> and looking up
at ;he great house. Poor mother says
he told her on his deathbed that he made
another will-perhaps IN her favor Bur
wha, she says goes Tor little. Her state
is very strange since fever she had just
after Philip came o! age-her talk so
wild and foolish-and vet she seems TO
understand some thing, IN or affairs tina,
We eau not see till afterwards. IL is al
most uncanny to think over the strange
knowledge she has had during these past
wears" and Fannie fell into fit of mus
ing.
They walked back to the tiny cottage.
Rae's veins thrilled with excitement. but
Fannie went soberly about getting tea.
They KEEP, no maid. this poor dlsinherited
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 10 her tiny bedroom. The
moonlight seemed TO disturb her and
make her brain wildly active. What in
huence strung her nerves for when all
vas still and the night far advanced she
rose, and, dressing, donned her warm
sealskin sack and cap. and came out in
TO the hall. She took bunch of keys
| from their nail there, and, selecting one
which she had seen Fanny take. held IL
tightly in her slim, white fingers as she
went out into the night.
la the moons white light she went
steadily through the long lines of laburn-
ums. across the tiny kitchen garden, along
the decayiug orchard, into the hollow.
She stood moment before the great still
house, listening to the roar of the sea.
Strangely enough, she did no; feel afraid.
Ii she thought of the presence Of an un-
seen spirit, it was to appeal to it pray
erfully 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 food the tiled hall. 1t
streamed through the clinks of the shut
tiers, which she opened, one by one, as
she fitted keys to draws of all kinds.
The task was no light one, for in every
niche was cabinet or escritoire. But
there were no papers anywhere. Many
things which must have been the person.
al property of old Squire Brudenel she
found. but nowhere his will.
"Oh, if only could-if | only could ~
she said, sadly, land it would restore
Philip to his rights
Rat, tat, tat-the sound of cane on
the tiled floor. Rae turned for the frs,
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 tarnished
silver hinges. A quaint, bent little
figure. leaning on cane, advanced into
the room and paused beside handsome