News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1889-12-19

| profess 10 DOUBT, VIII send 1t creeping
through the blood of almost any human
being. 1 had been thinking of moth
ing, dreaming of nothing; but l wax
ened with this chill upon me, and look
ing through the door of the little room
| | have spoken of, which l naturally did
whenever l opened my eyes, l saw
Fenela.
Yes, my maid, Fenella, just as she
had looked when she lived with me.
Her black petticoat, her red bodice, the
white sleeves of her chemisette were as
plain as though they had been tangible
garments. Her black braids fell to
her knees. Around her neck hung the
black velvet ribbon on which | knew
she wore her wedding-ring. She was
weeping bitterly, and bending as she
wept over the box in which grew the
vines and flowers which flung their
| shadow on the moonlit floor, so that
she seemed to water them with her
tears.
My first thought was that the old
| woman was mistaken-that Fenella
| lived and had returned to the villa in
the night without guessing it was in
! habited.
"Fenella," called. "Fenella, it is
Miss Maria; don't be afraid"
But, as | spoke, she was gone
gone without moving from the spot
gone as bubble bursts and vanishes.
| | uttered a scream that aroused my
husband from his slumber.
L was advised to believe the whole
scene as dream, and tried my best to
think it so; but before three days had
passed saw Fenella again.
This time | was not sleeping. |
was in the garden and looked through
the window, and what | saw this time
was Fenella kneeling beside the flower
grown box, making the sign of the
cross above it. Her face was like the
face of death; her hands waxen white,
like those of Il corpse.
The sight was so terrible that | lost
my senses, and was found by Charles
ly ing in a death-like swoon upon the
grass ten minutes after
Weeks had passed. l had accepted
my husbands version of my vision.
l looked upon myself as the victim of
optical illusion. l saw Fenella no
more. l laughed at myself for having
seen her, or for having fancied it. And
the time had almost come for our re-
turn home, when one night we enter
tanned one or two English friends in
our little villa, and between the pauses
of song and chatter, some curiosity that
we picked up in our travels was spoken
of, and L ran into my room to get it.
1t was dark night. No moon flung
its radiance through the windows.
Only little swinging lamp illumined
my apartment, but that inner room,
once my maid Fenella's, was bright
with a strange silvery light, that
seemed to grow as 1 looked upon it.
And, as L stood motionless, gazing
towards it, L saw my vision once
again.
Fenella, paler than ever-but this
time strangely occupied. She was
digging in the earth about the roots of
the vines, and heaping the mould into
the form of a new-made grave.
"Fenella!" / said She did not
vanish. "Fenella!" 1 screamed. She
turned towards me. l saw that new
born babe lay upon her breast. She
made the sign of the cross above it,
and was gone.
/ crept back to my guests without
having screamed or tainted. | had de-
termined not to be scoffed at as a ghost
seer. even kept my secret from my
husband; but that night strange thing
happened. A tempest swept across the
country, and took our villa in its way.
1t demolished a chimney and the deep
window of Fenella's room; with it the
homegrown box and the great,
luxuriant vines.
We sent for workmen to clear away
the rubbish, and this is what they found
among it, deep down in the mould
from which the vine had grown-a
little box, in which lay the tiniest
human eyes ever rostei upon,
md about it's neck little golden chain,
o which hung a heavy, plain, gold
with this name engraved
within it-Fenella.