The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1886-06-11
THE HAUNTED CORRIDOR.

The HAUNTED COhhIDOhs
II don't believe word of it," said
Aunt Rebecca.
The wine-like glow of sunset yet illu-
mined the great bay window; but the
rest of the apartment was already en-
shrouded in the gray shadows of twi-
light in whose misty indistinctness the
huge chairs of carved oak looked like
gigantic monsters from some foreign
shore. From the walls frowned down
dark old family portraits, and the GRIM
son hangings above the arched doors
waved restlessly back through the vast
corridor.
II don't believe word of it," repeat
ed Aunt Rebecca, with more emphasis
than before. "a ghost story indeedm
Tell me about it, Violet" said young
Hazelwood, to whom the deep bay win
dow, with its far-off prospect of snowy
hills, yelled in gathering twilight, to
say nothing of pretty Violet Orme's
close vicinage, were infinitely more at
tractive than the more modern regions
of Alnwick Place.
1T is not much of story" said Vio-
let, flushing up to her very eyelashes at
the sound of her own soft voice, "only
years ago, long before my great grand
papa built this house, the site was all
one unbroken wood, and there was
tradition that beautiful girl was muir
dered by her lover. Her grave, they
said, was beneath the foundations of
this house; but scarcely credit this part
of the legend"
'Of course not" interrupted Miss Re-
becca. with toss of her false curls. 81
have no patience with the relics of old
superstition"
'What are you looking for, aunt?
Have you dropped anythingP Shall /
call for Harris to bring candle?" ask
ed Violet, moment afterward, coming
to her aunt's side.
Nothing, nothing" said Miss Re-
her voice. ''Come-don't stay here any
longer in the biting cold, unless you
both want weeks medicine and doc
tors visits"
1T is not cold, Aunt Rebecca," plead
ed Violet, land the starlight is so beau
tiful on the stone pavement. Just let
us wait until that fiery planet mounts a
little higher"
But peremptory summons from
Colonel Orme himself, who had just
walked from q comfortable nap beside
the glowing fire in the library, to sort
of vague wonder us to "where Rebecca
and the young people could possibly
be-" speedily settled the matter.
"Never mind, Violet" whispered
Charles Hazelwood; "by and by, when
your father mas gone to his room and
Aunt Rebecca is busy with her curl pa
pers in her own special dormitory, we
can have a starlight stroll through the
ghosts territoryw
Violet gave him an arch glance as
she tripped after Aunt Rebccca into the
hall which led to Colonel Ormc's brill
iantly lighted library.
81 wish Captain Hazelwood wouldn't
remain out there" said Aunt Rebecca,
anxiously. "EIe will catch his death of
cold; and besides"
Besides what, Aunt Rebeccap"
Violet" said the maiden lady, II
wish you would go down and see il the
housekeoper has prepared that posset
for my sore throat, that's good girl. l
think shall 60 to bed"
Violet went to execute her aunt's be-
hests.
How peacefully the distant hills and
valleys slept in their snowy mantles that
glorious December night. 1t reminded
one of lovely painting executed with
brushes dipped in liquid pearl, and
shaded with pencils of glimmering sill
yer.
At least, SO they seemed to Charles
Hazelwood as he stood in the deep re-
cess of the gigantic bay-wndow, nearly
hidden by the curtains, the faded splen-
dor of whose furnished embroidery car
ried the mind unconsciously century
backward on the stream of time. But
then Charles Hazelwood was in love.
The tall, old-fashioned clock in the
hall was striking IL, and the colony of
crickets under the hearthstone were fall
ing into dreamy, sleepy sort of chirp,
as if their small lungs were fairly weari-
ed out, when Aunt Rebecca emerged
from her door, treading on tiptoe and
carrying dim light in her hand.
Now, Aunt Rebecca, in nodding false
curls, lace couture, and eighteen-year-
old style of dress, was q very different
sort of parsonage from Aunt Rcbecca
with her head tied up in silk handker-
chief, her false curls laid aside, and a
long, white dressing robe enveloping
her lank figure, and the latter was by
no means the more prepossessing of the
two.
Probably some such con sciousness
swept across the good spinster's brain,
for she shuffled with accelerated rapidi-
ty past the solemn eyes of the grave old
family portraits on the wall.
Il am sure dropped them some