Johnstown weekly Democrat. (Johnstown, Cambria County, Pa.) 1889-1916, 1890-03-28
ONE NIGHT OF HORROR.

One night went to bed with glossy
brown hair, and the face of girl of IS;
next morning 1 left my room with hair
as gray as it is now, though forty-two
years have passed away since then.
In one night an awful horror struck
me suddenly with the weight of scores
of years.
My father was n Mr.. Marriott, q ship
broker, who lived in Russell square with
his family, consisting of my mother and
four children, of whom | was the eldest
One morning, in the December of 1S42,
while we were sitting at breakfast, my
mother said as she finished reading a
letter which had just been delivered,
"Its from Judith. She wants Ellen to
go and stay a month at The Willows
But | do not like the idea. She never
even called on us when she came back
to England last summer. Besides, we
have known almost nothing of her for
years past"
"Oh! should like immensely to see
Aunt Judith, cried.
"But you have never seen, and don't
know anything about her." replied my
mother. 1T is nearly ten years now
since / saw her, and she didn't leave
very pleasant impression on my mind.
| had not seen her, of course, since
was child, but, as | have often told
you, there was something curious and
weird about her that was not to my lik-
ing. In fact, she did not seem like a
sister of mine"
Aunt Judith was my mothers elder
sister by fifteen years. When she was
about twenty she married q German
baron who was Il professor in univer-
sity. Why it was nobody knew, but
some two years or so after her marriage
Aunt Judith became very apathetic as
regarded her relations in England, and
but rarely corresponded with them.
Her husband, the baron and professor,
died about three years before the time of
which l speak. Mourning cards were
unknown in those days: still she might
have sent n word to inform her sister of
her bereavement. To our great aston
ishment, it was only from friend who
attended his funeral that we heard, cas-
ually, that he was dead and that she was
a widow.
Well, both my father and my mother
were unwilling to let me go to The Will
lows: my mother, because she had, or
seemed to me to have, prejudice
against her sister; my father, for no
reason that could make out, except that
he echoed my mother. At all events, !
overcame their opposition at last, and
started, one fine, or rather gloomy, morn
ing-for the clouds were dark and heavy,
| remember, as | left London-for The
Willows, mansion in Warwickshire
which had been left to my Aunt Judith
by my grandfather. Travelling was slower
in those days than it is now, and it was
not until nearly o'clock in the evening
that | drove, in the numbering coach
which conveyed me, up the dreary car
riage path which led to The Willows.
Aunt Judith had only returned to live
there during the past six months, so |
was not surprised to find the place in a
very untidy state. Such, at least, was
my impression from what | saw through
the darkness of the evening.
Things, however, seemed to change
for the better when we drew up at the
house itself. 1t was a great, struggling
building, which had stood for more than
a century, and was cold and forbidding
| TO look at from the outside. But from
| the windows, and what | could see of
the hall, it seemed to be well lit, warm
and well appointed within. A female
servant came out to meet me as the coach
stopped at the door.
Mile Marriott she inquired, in q
| German voice, as l descended.
"Yes," l replied.
"Ah! your aunt would like well to see
you," she said. Il shall take you to her
She is dressing for dinner" | followed
her up stairs, and into large bedroom
Standing before a glass at the end of the
room was a tall woman whom, from the
description had heard of her, imme
diately recognized as Aunt Judith.
Her figure was very erect, almost ma
iestic, but her face puzzled me. Tht
features were very regular, and clearly
drawn. There was in them a consider
able amount of power, and yet, what
could not understand, curious, wizened
almost craven expression, which jus
bordered on being sinister. l was only
girl at the time, and knew nothing o
physiognomy. but, instinctively, felt
sense of uneasiness as 1 met her keei
gray eyes, which seemed never to res
for moment but to wander about as i
at the bidding of an uneasy spirit, thougl
her demeanor was otherwise curiousl.
calm and self possessed.
"Your room is not ready yet, but
will be presently" she said, when W
had greeted each other; "you can dres
here. We have a few friends to Dime