Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-08-20

was simply indescribablc aud startling fin the ut'dost sense. They rushed hither and thither with lights, calling the beloved mis- tress in pleading tones to come back, and grew almost frantic in their vain endeay- ors to find Miriam. Not 8 trace of her could be found
 After their long and fruitIcss search to ma their beloved mistress or unravel the mystery of the midnight visitor, they gave It up, lamenting their failure in heart breaking exclamations of genuine sorrow. 1 The dead master was wholly forgotten by the excited household for the time, such l was their love for tho daughter, whom they were positive had walked like a spirit into their midst with face mysteriously vailed, and had disappeared in some unaccountable l manner
 l Why did she come; and if she did, why come in that manner2 Why not come and stay now that there were none to dispute 1 her presence!
 These questions were asked a thou sand | times, but not one was found wise enough | to answer.
 Doubtless it was really Miriam, who, hearing of her fathers death, had come to 1 take a last look and farewell. He who in l1e she dared not approach and from whose heart the strange decree had wcaned her, even in her babyhood.
 
 only conjecture; coming back to ths child | hood haunts and slipping in like thief in the midnight watches beneath the old roof tree from which she had been banished: :: coming back to shed bitter tears, perhaps. on the rigid form of him who had forbidden her to call him father; and then vanishing l away into the midnight darkness, like a thing of evil, was something only those who possessed a wealth of daring could do. She m ck hnxrn had of her will-power, also passionate love for the dead. to undertake this strange method of visiting him thus. Alter complete search of the whole countryside, and no trace of the absent one could be obtained, the more supersti- tious set that midnight visitor down as e frst-class spirit. Some went so far as to presume that Miriam might have died and that her spirit came to take Q las t look a. Sir Rupert, and mayhap feel throb of tri- umph over his demise. But Peggy Clarkson, superstitious as she was by nature and education, hooted the idea as simply preposterous, declaring that It was the young misthress, in puir fish and bud, for," said she with great show of contempt for the theory advanced, .who iver hearn tell O spirits mournin' out loud over corpsesl"
 Be this as it may, Miriam could not be found, and Sir Rupert was borne to the tomb of his apcestors in Oaklawn, with neither kith nor kin to follow him. The old gray-haired clergyman pronounced with much feeling: "Behold his house was left unto him desolate, and the day of his death was certainly better than the day of his birth. Peace to his ashes!"
 In due time the will of Sir Rupert was unearthed and made known. Heatherleigh Hall was bequeathed ito Miriam Percival Fairfax and her heirs forever" In a codi- Gil attached he pronounced on earnest wish that Miriam Percival Fairfax must be found and retnstated at the Hall. But where was shel In smoky London, gone to America, gone somewhere else; this place, that place and the other, gossip had it, but 1t was but gossip, and the stately daughter never came.
 The servants were remembered hand somely in the will of tho gruff old master, and each after having received his or her portion went their ways. All left the gloom and silence of Heatherleigh excepting tho Clarksons. They remained under it's deso- lated roof in accordance with the wish of Sir Rupert, as set forth in 0 clause of the last will and testament made known. He desired them to wait and welcome Miriam on her return. An! when would that bet
 And Clarkson, having finished the story of Sir Rupert's life and death, looked at mo with great, questioning eyes, from which the tears of sad, earnest waiting trickled down.
 "Ah, mo Leddy! Orse about dhrappin' into me grave waitin' for the childer, an Dime afeard she'll nivcr coom"
 An inspiration seized me. Peggy, if I give away secret to you, will you grant mo any thing ask1"
 She looked at me for full five minutes in speeches. amazement, doubting my sanity, for all know, for she murmured: "Lord! an has the terrible story ov the master turned yer hcadl'
 'No, Peggy, but I have secret which will sell to you; something worth knowing; though 1t won't do much good after all with the exception of knowing 1t, of course."
 l said this at venture, not knowing whether Clarkson would bite at the bait threw her or not. She sat looking at me doubtively, and knew had another attack to make if carried the works.
 Peggy" said I, lowering my voice and looking about the room as if fearing other ears; Peggy, would you grant Mirilm any thing she could ask of you; would you give her any thing from the Hail she might send to you for if you knew where she vast"
 "1ndade Oi would, ma am," she replied, quickly, her old face lighting up with a fond, expectant yearning which gave me pain.
 Well" said I, ''in the first place know where Miriam isn
 l could get no further then, for the old housekeeper jumped from her wicker chair and throwing her arms around my neck sobbed convulsively. After her first storm of overjoyed excitement was over she whispered to me in low, broken accents:
 "An' where is the dear childer, blaze, ma'am; before the holy saints, me Leddy, Ofl kape the saycret till me doying day."
 Living with me, Peggy"
 "Living with you, me Leddyf Clarkson had sprung to her feet and stood gazing at me in sheer astonishment "With youi The Vargin be praised! With your"
 All this time the broad ruffles of her cap nodded and danced in most picturesque fashion, and her big blue eyes shone like gems, so great was her pleasure and sur prise.
 "Wh1n Is she coomin' back to puir old Peggyr pleaded she. drawing her chair close to mine and sinking into it's depths, nearly exhausted with the momentous and