Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1889-08-03


she was able to fill it again.
"You know, ma'am, my sister isn't quite
like one of US. She's good bit older than
me, and has always held her head high,
explained the girl. "She was always well
thought on in her places, and one of her
families left her an annuity. so, of course,
she has a right to think something of her
self. But Eve no doubt she'll come for a
day or two to oblige me if only you
don't mind putting il to her as bit of a
favor"
Helen did not mind putting it as con-
descension on the part of Mrs. Wallwork,
if only she would come, and she had al
ready learned that in the north country
the working classes look upon themselves
as the salt of the earth, and demand a re-
cognition of the fact from their masters
and mistresses. She sent beseeching note
to Mrs. Wallwork, setting forth her des-
perate plight, and that lady was gracious
enough to come and interview her, and
to consent to grace Gore House with her
presence on Christmas Eve and Christmas
Day.
IF you're having company and extra
work, of course you'll need parlormaid,"
she said; shut in your ordinary run you can
get along if the 'ousemaid will only put
herself to it."
With this concession Helen was forced
to be content; but in order that Mrs.
Wallwork might be as far as possible fit
for her duties when she came to undertake
them, she took her over the house, and ex-
planned to her what would be expected of
her
Gore House was on the outside very
ordinary building-a square house with a
portico over the door supported on stucco
a residence as may be seen
by the score in any town. Formerly it
had been surrounded by others like itself;
but as the tide of Irkham fashion went
elsewhere they had been pulled down, and
endless rows of small houses, occupied by
the poorer of the clerk and the richer of
the artisan classes, had taken their place.
Those who knew the dictrict said that the
changes of the last ten years had made it
almost unrecognizable, and most of Helen
Baggallay's friends predicted that she
would soon leave her old-fashioned house,
ID spite of its spacious rooms and large
garden, and go to some smaller, smarter
villa, where she would be surrounded by
people like herself" Helen did not
think SO. She knew that there was q
good deal Of social sensitiveness in Irlz-
ham, caused by the fact that so many of
the miilionaires had cousins who were
still in their original station of factory
hands, with whom, therefore, they did not
care to risk coming in contact; and such
anxieties could not befall her. Besides,
she liked her roomy house, which was SO
much larger than it seemed from the
street, stretching out on the garden side in
a long wing, which contained billiard
room, dining-room and drawing-room, all
opening on yeranda that went round two
sides of the house, and gave easy access to
the sloping lawn.
She was still new enough to her position
to feel thrill of pride as she led her fu-
ture parlormaid through the rooms.
Finally she opened the door of the draw
ing-room, where the sound of a piano,
anguidly touched, proved that Ada was
trying to get rid of the time that now
hung heavy on her hands.
A." / shall expect you to" she began,
when the woman by her side uttered a
sharp exclamation, ran forward a few steps
into the room, and then fell fainting on
the floor.
Helen and Ada rushed to her help, but
It was some time before she revived. Even
when she was restored to consciousness she
hardly seemed to recognize them, but
looked wildly round the room. ats the
;ame ROOM" she muttered Everything's
changed, the paper, and the furniture, and
but | can't mistake the room.
didn't recognize the house, and it hasn't
he same name, but there's no doubt about
he ROOM"
Well, what about the roomw queried
Helen, with touch of sharpness. She
lid not like mysteries.
/ saw dead child in it." the woman
noaned. "The child had nursed since
t was month old, and l was fond of it.
'hi if it had been my own, couldn't
rave loved it more Lying in this room
IN sofa, dead That was the last time |
vas here, and l never thought to enter the
,lace again."
It's very sad, of course" said Mrs.
feeling very much annoyed at
he scene; "but the child wasn't your
'wn, after all, and l suppose all this &C.
,urred some time ago"
Fifteen years" interrupted Mrs. Wall
work; but you don't understand it,
na'am. The child-the poor little baby,
vas murdered-killed by its own father p
Good heavensp exclaimed Helen; but
Ada, who had been listening intently,
,aught hold of the woman's wrist with
,onvulsive clasp. "Then that was the
,hild that was killed r' she cried, breath
essly.
eyes, the child, but how do you know,
Miss ?" asked Mrs. Wallwork, and, "What
10 you know about it, Ada?" demanded
Helen.
Nothing. At least l have been told
nothing; but l have felt ever since
entered this house that crime had been
committed in it, and latterly have felt
ure that child was murdered here
AIKEN from my little sitting-room up stairs,
,arrIeI down here and killed, and then
buried under those trees in the lawn. /
never mentioned it to you, because it
seemed such a fantastic idea, but I'm sure
If it all the same"
"What nonsense protested her sister
md, turning to Mrs. Wallwork, added:
'We must get you out of this room that
affects you so much; and perhaps you had
better say nothing about this-ah fancy
pr recollection of yours. One doesn't like
such stories about house, and you know
if you don't recognize the house, you may
be mistaken in the ROOM"
"No mistake at all, ma'am, but you're
right about not speaking of the matter.
Pve never opened my lips about it this
fifteen years, and don't want ever to men
ton it again. But if you have any doubts
about what say, take me up to the room
the young lady spoke OF, and I'll see if it's
the one Pm thinking of"
'Its quite uselessr' cried Helen.
But Ada said:
'Yes, let us go;7 and there was a
strained, fierce look on her face that made
her sister think it wiser to consent to the
Shes alone knew how self-wihed Ada
could be, and how obstinate in clinging to
her fancies.
They went up stairs, Mrs. Wallwork
leaning on Ada's arm, and Helen follow