The Washington critic., 1886-06-05

IEAH w NDHAMs iOu nlllNb hiNb btth
asleep. People next door, too. Never
heard any piano, and | have lived there
fourteen years. The man who was there
before me is dead, so | can't send you to
him for information. Glad don't hear 1t.
Can't hear music. Delighted that you like
the country. Yours, Il. T.
| called at the end of the week to tell
Miss Mayne the result of my letter..
The aunt was better and down stairs;
they gave me afternoon ten, and |
came away thinking that the mystery,
as II still was, had at least obtained for
me two very pleasant acquaintances.
But the unexplained music did not
pass from my mind; especially rs /
heard Ii STILL though not every even
called GHOSTS" and one day when
Mrs. Morse was in talkative mood. AS
she took away my tea, | brought her
conversation round to the subject of
haunted houses, hoping that If there
were any tradition belonging to
Thompson's house, she would men
tion IL.
After many stories which she took
pains to say she "should not think of
believing" she said: "This looks a
likely house for such stories, but l
have never heard, nor look to hear or
see anything, but some people are so
silly. There was silly girl we had
here. n housemaid, always fancyiug
she heard music at night, near her
room--she slept down stairs--and at
last she left through II, though /
couldn't tell master such tale, but had
to tell him something more sensible.
Such nonsense used to tell her she
dreamt of what her head was full of,
for she was all for music-wonderfully
fond of 1t. Why couldn't she mind
her work and sleep at night without
dreams, as honest people should?"
With this last moral sentiment Mrs.
Morse and the tea.things clattered
away together. What she had said
was odd, / thought. Certainly was
more than half inclined to account for
the piano as something supernatural,
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 i left the lovely country
with very pleasant memories of Thomp-
sOh Oiu, anu, i bCSdu w DCliCNCy
haunted house. 1t did not pass away
from my memory during the busy win
ter 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 l am married.
Last year, by one of those strange
chances which come in some men $
lives, Thompson had a very large es-
tate left to him in the north of France.
He went over to make arrangements
for selling it, but liked the situation so
much that he has settled there, and /
have bought his old house. l have
thrown both houses into one, and made
several changes since the days when |
first knew it. Among others, we use
| as drawing-room large room at the
back overlooking the garden, which
Thompson used as o lumber-room, l
think.
My wife and I hope to spend many
summer months there.
Our stay this year had nearly come
to an end, when one Sunday evening
stayed up very late smoking. Before
| l went up stairs remembered that my
wife wanted book brought up, and I
went into the drawing-room to fetch it.
There was no light in the room but
the glow of the fire we had enjoyed
that chilly evening, and was bending
over the table to try and find the book,
when slight movement made me look
up, and standing close by the piano I
saw am very sure of it-a slight
| girlish figure with face / never shall
forget-it was so terribly sad. Slowly
she moved from where she stood, and
seemed to pass me.
She wore some sort of clinging brown
dress. followed into the hall ,bwhere
l seemed to see her go. No one was
there. l reused my wife, and together
we searched the house-vainly, of
course.
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 could
to find out what story could be con-
nected with the house. without, how.
ever, saying why | wished to know, for
felt almost as if should be betraying
her confidence if made that sad face q
matter of everyday gossip at afternoon
teas and dinner parties.
We are in London again, for the win
ter now, and one day lately met an
old lady who had in her girlhood vel
known the town in which spend the
summer. She told me that many years
before my house had had the reputa
tion of being haunted, but that the
rumor had been hushed up by the land
lord and forgotten: And she told mt
this story:
The house was once occupied by {
young husband and wife. They loved
each other devotedly, but the husband
was sunreasonably jealous of his brother
One evening he accused his wife of de
ceiving him as to her love; she was toe
wounded to answer his bitter words
and he went out Two hours later he
had drowned himself, and his body
was brought into the honse, into the
very room where his young wife was
playing, while waiting for his return
She lost her senses that day, and dur
ing the rest of her mercifully short lif,
her music was her only apparent con
ISOLATION.
"And," added the old lady, "shc il
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 | shall
never forget, and her music both my
wife and | have listened to and loved
for long-for my wife heard it frs
when she was Ethel Mayne. II House
hold Words.
"Thc L. s. Consul at Malta, who was al
Hot Springs, Arkansas, for the treatment
of serious skin disorder aillicting him
was there met by mg father, who told hin
of Palmer's Skin Success In a shOr