Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-08-12
MIRIAM.
?:',,!.33 Romance of Heatherleigh Hall

Tomorrow shall set out for the Hall, which only remember for it's elegance as 0 fit setting for the almost divine beauty of my dear dead friend, as 1 call her to mind. Yes, shall know for myself if these un- canny tales be true. One bright gleam of hope in regard to my visit of commission is that the old housekccper, Peggy Clark son and hor husband, arc yet occupying the servants quarters at the Hall. remember her odd but honest v1sage, and if she re. members me as kindly as do her, shall be well taken care of, at any rate. She was l once very fond of me as ''me Leddy's guest" 1" | and am in hope concerning Miriam's DOT trait.
 Poor Miriam, in the far-away cottage at Bayview! fancy she is promenading sor- | rowfully and alone, among tho late lilies. and thinking-of me.
 am back again in Cousin Gladys bright little cottage home I have been several miles into the country since 1 sat in this vine-covered porch and listened to tho re cital of countryside episodes. And have met with such strange experiences, and listened to such blood-curdling story, that I am half persuaded have lost my iden tity. Some way I feel like crying out with the old dame who took nap III the Kings l highway: "Lauk a mercy, 'tis mono of l." We do sometimes have adventures that leave us in doubt as to our Individuality, and to say that am just waking up from the nightmare of the Eeathcrleigh visit would be, perhaps, tho correct statement te make.
 Yes, have been there; the fine portrai, of Miriam hanging in the little drawing | room wonder, and which Gladys admires very much, is silent but magnificent 1 sponsor, not to be gainsayed by any means And now. my domestic cou sin is elbow deep in tho brewing business this fine morn 1 ing, let me sit here, where tho roses have all fallen off and been swept away by the autumn winds, and tell you the story o1 Heatherleigh. will, however, preface the story proper by a description of my visit and the appearance of the Hall as it now stands knowing, as do, that nly friends tradition, history and experiences would bo unsats. factorily given without it.
 It is fitting that the roses have fallen, and that the scurrying breeze losses the dry al- der leaves into my lap. It all murmurs with the tone of the legend, voicing a volume of bitterness. And the old houscl1ccpcr told me, too, that was why my sorrowing friend over the sea was called Miriam. Because her lot was one of destined woe tho chris tening was Miriam bitterness. I confess that such things rising before us bring the question of Hamlet out in vivid coloring, as
 
 crush out the beauty and joy of life for some, when the fault lies generations back. CHAPTER II1
 The tall black chimneys stood out against the gray October sky like ghostly silhou- cites, and the evening breeze swept around tho lonely old structure when 1 arrived at the Hall. The heavy shadows were trailin z over the neglected grounds and settling themselves in scores of uncanny hooks, and 1 shivered with nervous dread as I put my hand on the great brass knocl1er of tho western wing-the servants quarters-and waited for admittance
 Heatherleigh Hall stands desolated The building itself, a stupendous, roomy affair of red brick, with great festoons of the native English ivy wreathing the dark gables, and running over goodly portion of tho front, relieving tho drowning severity of the weather-beaten and timc-worn colonnade.
 Three great yew trees, black as the shades of death, hover over the extreme western wing, and imagined the evils of the Hall concentrated their forces in the heavy branches in tho hours of sunshine, and stalked forth from their gloomy tops at night on their mission of terror.
 The railways are wide, deep and dark, and the ponderous doors of heavy oak
 
 from cue apartment to another in awe of the mystery.
 Yes; found thcrc was cruel legend connected with this once grand old place, which, for two centuries or more, sheltered beneath it's ample roof-tree the descend ants of the proud, hot-headed Pcrcival house. But, under the influence of an an cestral malcdiction, they had dwindled down and scattered abroad, leaving the old Hon NSyifh 1Nuf f,r,, ,nfn Sir Rupert and his daughter being the last lo- gitlmate occupants.
 Sir Rupert, after the death of his wife, lived hero alone in the great house with his ill-fated daughter, keeping but a few serv- ants out of the grand retinue of former years.
 The fewer there were about him the bet ter Sir Rupert was satisfied. As to being happy, or even halfway joyous, he was