Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1889-12-14

NOt ueldli SScdpeu HeF ITOm tHc HutcI
chimneys to the stone seats in the wide
porch. The oriel windows, with theil
diamond panes, pleased my young wife
more than anything, and especially she ad
mired the bread windows of the best bed
chamber, in which some two years before
l had wrought my destructive will GU the
ancestral bed. The room was now bare
and stripped of furniture, and since
Mrs. Barret's death l had kept it con.
stantly locked.
Grace was fascinated with the position
of the room, with its large window over
the porch looking down the avenue Of
lines, by which the house was approached,
to the open country and the line of low
hills that bounded the horizon.
"That room must be lighter than those
on the ground foor," she said; "see how
the upper story projects and throws a
shadow over the lower rooms. We will
make it our sitting-room, will we not%
The request gave me strange sinking
of heart, and l felt that not even the So
ciety of my Young wife could induce me to
live in the room that had so long con-
tanned the hearse-like bed. | temporized
with her in a vague manner, neither grant
|
her to wait till she could see for herself
how much better adapted to the comfort
of daily life were the rooms on the ground
floor than those on the upper story.
In all her short life Grace had not been
further than twenty miles from the spot
where she was born, and | feared lest tax
ing her away from all she loved and from
everything with which she was familiar,
might prove too keen a pain.
There was brief tempest Of tears at
parting with the dear ones she was never
to meet again, but it was an April shower
succeeded by smiles Each outburst of
weeping was of shorter duration, and the
sunny intervals between them were longer,
till in a few days Grace was her bright
self again. The excitement of the journey
was so overwhelming as to swallow up
every other feeling.
| We reached our home one November
afternoon as the setting sun looked out
through rift in the clouds, and his level
beams lighted up every easement with a
red glow. As we drove up the leafess
avenue, heavy drops fell from the bare
boughs overhead, and Grace, clinging to
my arm, said in frightened whisper;
go Humphrey, that light in the window
is not like sunshine 1t looks as if your
old house was on frep and raising my
eyes I caught for one moment the full eff
feet of the illusion. But, the sun sinking
into his bed of cloud, the red glow faded
from the windows, and left them dark and
dim.
"Welcome, my darling, to your English
homer l said, and took my little wife
by the hand and led her up the wide oak
staircase; and before we sat down to our
evening meal l had taken her over the
house from garnet to basement, preceding
her, candle in hand, through the darken-
ing rooms.
She expressed unbounded admiration for
the house and its furniture, but the old
family portraits and pictures excited her
utmost enthusiasm, for Grace had never
seen anything more venerable or older
than her grandparents and the log house
in which she was born. When her rap
lures had toned down sufficiently to allow
her to eat little, and we were seated at
supper in the oak parlor, my little wife
suddenly said:
! Humphrey, there ought to be ghost
in house like this"
"Why should there be ?" l asked, while
| smiled at her extreme gravity.
because so many generations of men
and women cannot have been born and
died in this house without leaving some
| trace of themselves for us who came after"
and l saw that works Of fiction had
penetrated into the far West, for Grace
had certainly been reading romances.
81 object to talking about ghosts at sup
per-" | said 'breakfast is the best time
for such conversation, and not word
should be uttered on the subject later
| than II o'clock at noon :" and | rose, and,
taking one of the candles with me, and
holding it so as to throw the light on a
dark painting over the mantel shelf, L
| asked
"Do you know who that is?"
My little wife looked earnestly at the
portrait, with her head inclined obviously,
and with puzzled expression of face.
II am not surprised that you do net
know who that dark, sinister-looking man
is, for the backwoods of America are not
hung with portraits of Charles II. Yes,
that is King Charles; and the melancholy
cast of his features must be merely an in
herited xpression-certainly nothing in
his nature answered to it-for he passed
through grief and tragedy with light
heart we have the tradition of his visit,
with many quaint details, preserved to
this day"
"Oh, how wonderful to think Off said
Grace, eagerly; "and would the King sup
in this very room where you and l are
now?"
eyes, in this very room; and would
YOU like to know what he had for sup
per"
mo, that is not the kind of thing that
makes me curious. | want to know how
the King looked, how he was dressed, and
in which of these solemn-looking old bed
rooms up stairs he slept. No doubt you
still have the bed the King slept in?"
NO." replied with decision: that
am sure we have not"
"Then tomorrow, Humphrey, you will
show me the room the King slept in, and
the bed | can imagine for myself"
The bed she could imagine for herself
My little wife did not know what she was
talking about. The next day the event
occurred which might have been expected.
1 was walking in the garden, when Grace
came to me, and, slipping her hand through
my arm, drew me toward the porch.
"You see that large window" she said,
pointing toward it as she spoke; "that is
the one l admired so much in the picture
of the house. l have looked out Of every
window but that, and l fancy the room
must be locked, for l cannot open it; so
have fetched you to unlock it for me-"
! l walked in silence by her side while
she led me into the house and upstairs to
the door of the hated room, talking with
so much animation herself that she did
not notice that l had not spoken q
word.
"This is the room," she said gaily, and
she turned the latch of the door to and
fro, saying as she did so; "You see it Ii
locked"
II know it is" 1 said sullenly.
"Then fetch the key and open it" anC
Grace gave the door handle little impet
I