Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1886-05-27

- u WIN my esuuJ TO touch 1T as
/ 1T is more than can understand ),
sald 1, rising. sit must be accounted
ior by some kind OF echo. will write
70 my friend Thompson about it. /
am only staying in his house for a
week or two, as you may know I
caiie1 because | wished you to under.
stand how gladly / would put a stop 70
what annoys you, were ] able" She
gave me her hand on leaving. and
thought hers one of those faces which
seem more beautiful as YOU know
them better. No"
wrote to Thompson, and got in a
day or two the following characteristic
note: .e' 'S'ie
Dear Wyndham-You must have
1een asleep. People next door. too,
Never heard any piano, and have
lived there fourteen wears. The mar,
who was there before me i dead so
can sendyou to him for informat;on
Glad Idon't hearit. Can't bear music
Dellghted that you like the country.
Tours, "F. It"
called at the end of the week. TO
tell Miss Mayne the result ofmy letter.
The aunt was better and down stairs.
they gave me afternoon tea. and I
came away thinking that the mystery,
as 1T still was, had at least obtained
Tor me two very pleasant acouaint-
ances.
but the unexplained music did not
pass from my mind; especially as /
heard It still, though not every eve.
nlng. am believer in what are
loosely called ghosts" and one day
whea Mrs Morse was in talkative
mood, as she took away my tea, /
brought her conversation round To
the subject of haunted houses. hopinp
| that, II there were any tradition be-
longing to Thompson's house, She
would mention it.
After many stories which she took
pans To say she should not think OF
believing" she said: This looks a
likely house for such stories, but |
nave never heard, nor look to hear or
see anything, but some people are so
silly. There was a silly girl we had
here, housemaid, always faneyino
she heard music at night, near her
room--she slept down stairs-and at
last she LETT through it, though /
couldn't tell master such tale, but
mad to tell him something more sensi-
BILE. Scch nonsense / used to tell
her she dreamt of what her head was
full OF, Tor she was all for music-won-
derfuliy fond of it. Why couldn't she
mind her work and sleep at night with
out dreams, as honest people should2"
| With this last moral sentiment Mrs.
Morse and the teachings clattered
away together. What she had said
was odd, thought. Certainly | was
more than half inclined to account
Tor that piano as something supernat-
ural, but | could not call next door
and say so. 1t would seem ridiculous,
and should certainly run the risk OF
being laughed at.
| A few days later my holiday came to
an end, and ! left the lovely country
with very pleasant memories of
| Thompson's old, and, as | began to
believe, haunted house. 1t did not
pass away from my memory during
| the busy winter days-neither did the
sweet face OF Miss Ethel Mayne.
Ten years have gone since then.
| Some success as an architect has come
| to me, and / am married.
Last year, by one OF those strange
J chances which come in some men
=, Thompson had a very large es-
tate left him in the north of France.
lie went over to make arrangements
| for selling it, but liked the situation
so much that he settled there, and
have bought his old house. have
| theown both houses into one, and
made several changes since the days
when first knew it. Amongst Others,
| we use as q drawing-room q large
room at the back overlooking the gar
| den, which Thompson used as lum-
| ber-room, think.
My wife and hope to spend many
summer months there.
Our stay this year had nearly come
to an end, when on one Sunday even
ing | stayed uplate, smoking. Before
i went up stains | remembered that
my wife wanted a book brought up,
and | went into the drawing. room to
| fetch it. There was no light in the
| room but the red glow of the fire we
had enjoyed that chilly evening, and
: was bending over the table TO try
and find the book, when a slight move
ment made me look up, and standing
close by the piano, | saw am very
sure of tia slight girlish figure with
tace | shall never forget-it was so
| terribly sad. Slowly she moved from
where She stood, and seemed to pass
me.
brown dress. followed into the hall,
where seemed to see her 60. No one
was there. | reused my wife, and
together we searched the house
vainiy, ofcourse.
was not in the least alarmed at
the time, beyond slight shock on
finding myself not alone as | had
imagined: but afterwards, for months,
waking or sleeping, that face, with its
terrible grief has been before me.
OF course | tried in every way i
could TO find out what story could be
connected with the house, without,
however, saying why wished to know,
for felt almost as il | should be be
traying her confidence if made that
sad face matter OF every day GOSSIP
at afternoon-teas and dinner-parties.
We are in London again, for the
winter now, and one day lately ] met
an old lady, who had in her girlhood
| well-known the town in which spend
| the summer. She told me that many
years bfore, my house had had the
reputation of being haunted, but that
the rumor had been hushed up by the
| landlord, and forgotten. And she
told me this story:
The house was occupied by young
husband and wife. They loved each
other devotedly. but the husband was
| unreasonaply Jealous of his brother.
One evening he accused his wife OF de-
| ceiying him as to her love; she was too
wounded to answer his bitter words,
and he welt out. Two hours later he
had drowned himself, and his dead
body was brought into the house, into
| the very room where his young vile
was playing while waiting for his re-
| turn. She lost her senses from that
day, and during the rest of her mercl-
fully short life her music WAS her only
apparent consolation.
"And, added the landlady, ''she IS
said to play there still; those who love
music can sometimes hear her.
For myself the thought OF the poor
girls bitterly sad story will only give
an added interest TO the face i never
shall forget, and her music both mys
wife and have listened to ard loved
for long-for my wife heard it first
when she was Ethel Mayne.
He Was Well Known Man.
A New York correspondent writes;
C. A. Kimball of Chicago, who is the
!