Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-07-06

not very likely let her judgement be in- fuenced by the now state of affairs, even though her heart was
 A short time later, and he drew up in front of the old mill.
 It was as picturesque @ spot as ono could well imagine, for the great trees Overhung the ruined mill, and the noisy fall of the water over the dam could be plainly heard.
 As seen in daylight. there was some thing sad and lonely in the spectacle of the ruined mill. Where were its former occupants? Once busy life had dwelt there; the song of tho miller was heard from morning until night. Gone now were the prattling tongues that had made the rafters ring with their cheerful, child ish noise.
 The poor wheel that had been wont to turn all day long still remained, but a mere skeleton of it's former self, most of the wood work having routed away. Rank weeds clung to the iron bands where they had caught during a freshet. and waved to and fro with every passing breeze
 If the old mill looked strangely sad in tho day time, how weird and ghastly it's appearance by starlight.
 Roger had evidently been here before and made all arrangements, for, even as he leaped to the ground and was in the act of lifting Carol down. the door opened, and a woman appeared in view holding @ sputtering candle.
 The shadow of terrible crime hung over the old mill, and most people in the neighborhood avoided it, especially after nightfall. All the money in the vaults of the treasury could hardly have tempted one of the negroes on Richmond Terrace or Darrel Chace to have willingly gone to the haunted mill when darkness had de- scended upon the land.
 What this crime was does not enter into our story, so far as particulars are concerned. but let it suffice to say that the mad miller murdered his wife in Q fit of jealousy, and also the man who was working for him, whom he suspected l whether rightly or not was never fully proven-of being his wife's lover, ending the terrible tragedy in a fitting manner by taking his own life.
 The children of this unhappy couple had been taken in charge by relatives, who tried to rent out the mill. but the effort was in vain, for all united in declar- i Au3 Ao "1o AouhCOOS 0AA UAAOt All GAAO AlAS- dle of the night they would be aroused by a terrible din, which invariably resolved Itself into one set conclusion. | They declared they heard the mad miller chasing his wife and hired man from room to room, cursing and reviling, while they prayed and pleaded their innocence with him. Then would come the sound of heavy blows with a knife, one for each l Coll silence would ensue.
 There were some who shook their heads wisely, and made sage remarks about vivid imaginations, wind blowing through strange knot-holes, and the like, but 1t might have been noticed, singularly enough, that these self-same wiseacres were the very last ones to ever volunteer to spend @ night in the old mill. 1 For some years back it had boon inhab- ited by a woman who called herself Mrs. Randall, and 1t was assumed that she was widow. She was quiet and troubled no one, and always seemed to have enough money to keep herself in existence and aid those poorer than herself.
 Sometimes she did Q little sewing, and very often nursed the sick, but for this latter service she would take no pay.
 The negro doctor of the neighborhood, a black upon Richmond 8 plantation. tried to make out that she was witch, because her simple decoctions of common herbs proved efflcacious when his weird incan- tations proved of no avail, but he was not believed. The blacks looked upon her with reverence, while the gentry at least bore her no ill-will, though they knew from her looks she was a woman with 0 history.
 Carol was warmly received. Somehow the young girl had thought Mrs. Randalls eyes had rested upon her in Q most singular manner, and yet to her knowledge she had never seen tho lady before.
 That she was Q lady despite her poor surroundings was plain to be seen. Her hair had once been black. but was now O silver gray, and brushed smoothly away from forehead that was white as snow, though furrowcd by the cares of years.
 Tho room in which Roger and Carol were left was scantily furnished, and what articles there were showed signs of age, having, no doubt, once been the property of the mad miller.
 Upon one wall was a picture, in Q small frame, with its face turned away. Bev- eral other pictures there were, but none had been treated in this way.
 Curiosity in itself is strong enough in any one, but 1t was some greater power than this that urged Carol to walk over to the picture that hung with its face to the wall. It seemed as though some in. visible power had hold of her hand and was leading her on.
 She turned the little picture, gave one glance, and then, with a cry of dismay and astonishment, let it fall back in its old position.
 She had gazed upon tho face of hel fatherl
 CHAPTER XIII.
 ssIHH LIGHT OF MY LIFE GOES OUT wITB
 HIM."
 | o HAT did 1t mean