Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1885-09-21
Behind the Tapestry.

sorrow of my widowhood. l was
childless too; and when the grave
closed over my husband [ thought
there was no place left for me in the
world.
was rich, young; and my friends
and my own reflection in the glass,
told me I was beautiful.
Of course I had many acquaint-
ances what rich young widow has
not? But acquaintances and friends
differ widely. | did not care for the
people who fattered 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 en-
gagged at the same time; we were
married at the same month of the
same year.
During the three years of my mar
ried life we had seen little of each
other, but when my husband died,
and Mary Clifford wrote to me ten
derly out of her full heart, l answer
ed back her love.
She asked me to stay with her, and
I went.
How peaceful were those days
spent in her beautiful home The
house and place were called Aspen's
Vale. The house was many centu
ries old. Its architecture was re-
markable; its rooms curious. 1t was
rambling old place, and of course
it had a ghost. 1t stood in the midst
of very lovely grounds, overlooking
wood and river. Altogether, it was
one of the show-places in shire,
| I stayed with the Cliffords for a
couple of months. During that time
the house was quiet, visitors few
they eschewed company for my sake.
At the end of two months | left
them, comforted and helped, and
with many promises to return by-and
by. Circumstances, however, too va
ried and too many to mention, pre-
vented that second visit taking place
for couple of years. At the end of
that time great longing came over
me to see Mary Clifford again. |
must write to her and propose a WIS.,
it. I did so.
"DEAREsT HoNoR,-Of course l
long to see you, but unfortunately
the house is full. Large as it is, it
is crammed from cellar to attic.
My dear, I don't want to refuse
| you. / 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 l 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 low
ing friend, Maly Clifford"
To this letter l made short an
swer:
81 do not believe in the ghost. Ex-
pect me tomorrow"
The next evening I arrived at As
pens Vale in time for dinner. The
Tapestry room looked charming. l
fell in love with it on the spot, and
vowed laughingly that the ghost and
I would make friends.
My maid, however, looked grave
over my jesting remarks; it was
plain that she believed in supernatu-
raj visitations.
Gaiety of heart, however, was
over me. / could not resist the
cheerful influence of my old friends s
company. | felt happier than / had
done since my husbands death, and
after very delightful evening, re-
tired 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 wing.
No other bedrooms were in this
wing. There was smoking-room,
a morning room, and little oriel
chamber, which Mrs. Clinton in her
early married life had curiously fitted
up for herself, but now seldom occu-
pied. Neither did she believe in the
ghost, but she confessed that this lit
tie chamber had an queer feel.
The morning-room opposite, cheer
full and pretty enough, was unused.
Its furniture was antique, it belong
ed to bygone day, and its inhabit-
ants were dead. The smoking room
also, was deserted; even the fumes
of tobacco had left it, the squire pre-
ferring more central apartment in
the modern part of the house.
Altogether, this wing of the old
house seemed dead. Visitors only
came to it out of curiosity; they
paid brief visits, and preferred doing
so in broad daylight.
1t must have been quite hundred
years since the Tapestry room in the
far end of this wing had been slept
in. Old as the other rooms in the
wing looked, the Tapestry room bore
quite the palm for ancient appear
ance. There was not an article of
furniture in the room, not chair,
not table, which must not have
seen the light of centuries.
The furniture was all OF the black
est oak, the bedstead the usual four
posted on which our ancestors loved
TO stretch themselves. But the GU