The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1884-12-24
Select 9tlistellanp.
Behind the Tapestry.

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my husband thought that there was no
place left for me in the world.
] was rich, young; and my friends
and my own reflections in the glass told
me that | was beautiful.
OF course l had many acquaintance;
what rich young widow has not? But
acquaintance and friends differ widely.
l did not care for the people who fiat
tered and made much of me, but |
turned, even in the first days of my
trouble, to one friend.
She, too, was young and beautiful.
We were school fellows; we were
engaged at the same time; we were
married in the same month of the same
year.
During the three years of my married
life we had seen little of each other,
but when my husband died, and Mary
Clifford wrote to me tenderly, out of
her full heart, answered back her love.
She asked me to stay with her and
went.
How peaceful were those days spent
in her beautiful home! The house and
place were called Aspen's Vale. The
house was many centuries old. Its
architecture was remarkable; its rooms
curious. 1t was a rambling old place,
and of course it had ghost. 1t stood
in the midst of very lovely grounds,
overlooking wood and river. Altogether
it was one of the show places in --
shire.
stayed with the Cliffords for a cou-
pie of months. During that time the
house was quiet, visitors few-they es-
al, g., 81
AT the end of two months / left them,
comforted and helped, and with many
promises of return by-and-by.
Circumstances, however, too varied
and too many to mention, prevented
that second visit taking place for cou-
pie of years. At the end of that time
great longing came over me to see
Mary Clifford again. | must write to
her and promise a visit | did so.
BY return of post | got a short, but
characteristic reply:
DEAREST HoNoR:-Of course long to see
you, but unfortunately the house is full.
Large as it is, it is crammed from cellar to
attic.
My dear l don't want to refuse you. l
do long to see you. Will you sleep in the
tapestry-room? for of course it is empty. |
dare not put anybody else there, but | don't
think you, Honor, will be afraid of the
ghost. If the tapeStry-room will do, come,
and thousand welcomes. | can put up
your maid. Your loving friend,
MARY CLIFFORD.
To this letter made short answer:
1 do not believe in the ghost The tapes
try-room will do beautifully. Expect me
tomorrow.
The next evening / arrived at AS
pens Vale in time for dinner. The
tapestry-room looked charming. | fell
in love with it on the spot, and vowed
laughingly, that the ghost and | would
make friends.
My maid, however, looked grave
over my testing remarks; it was plain
that she believed in supernatural vista
tons.
Gaiety of heart, however, was over
me. | could not resist the cheerful in
huence of my old friends company. ]
felt happier than / had done since my
husbands death, and after a very de-
lightful evening, retired to my room,
feeling brave enough to encounter any
number of ghosts that might choose to
visit me.
The tapestry-room was quite away
from the rest of the house-it was at
the extreme end of the wing.
No other bedrooms were in the wing.
There were a smoking-room, a morning
room, and little oriel chamber which
Mrs. Clifford in her early married life
had curiously fitted up for herself, but
now seldom occupied. Neither did she
believe in the ghost, but she confessed
that this little oriel chamber had an
eerie feeling.
The morning-room opposite, cheerful
and pretty enough, was unused. Its
furniture was antique; it belonged to a
by-gone day, and its inhabitants were
dead. The smoking-room also was de.
serted; even the fumes of tobacco had
left it, the squire preferring a more
central apartment in the modern part OF
the house.
Altogether this wing of the old house
seemed dead. Visitors only came to il
out of curiosity; they preferred brief
visits, and preferred doing so in broad
daylight.
1t must have been quite a hundred
years since the tapestry-roonon the fal
end of this wing had been slept in
Old as the other rooms in the wing
looked, the tapestry room bore quite
the palm of ancient appearance. There
was not an article of furniture in it
not chair, not table, which must no
have seen the light of centuries.
The furniture was all of the blackes
oak; the bedstead the usual four-postel
on which our ancestors loved to stretcl
themselves. But the curious feature o.
the room, that which gave it its name
was the tapestry. Not an inch o.
the walls was to be seen; they were huns
completely with very ancient and very
faded tapestry. There was a story abou
this tapestry One Dame Clifford, o.
long, long by-gone days, had worked it
with the help of her maidens. She hat
come to an untimely end on the very
day on which the great work of her life
had been completed.
1t does not matter to this story wha
became of the proud and fair dame, bu
it was her ghost which was said tC
haunt the wing, and the tapestry cham
Der in particular. Warden, my maid
as she helped me to undress, looked
quite pale with terror.
"They do say, ma am, as Dame Glare
Clifford appears with her head tucked
under her arm, and threads from the
old tapestry hanging to her skeleton fin
gers. She's dressed in gray silk, thai
don't rustic never a bit though It's SC