Idaho news. (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1887-1891, 1890-04-26
ONE AWFUL NIGHTS WORK.
London Saturday Review.

|NE> to bed with glossy
- 60. IA brown hair, and
Fl ,llt:N ssfs& rs the face of a girl
Y kse:s,A cssYSlg- of Is; next morn
NTk;3 sSyH/ ing l left my room
E HS with hair as gray
tE as it is now,
though forty-two years have passed
away since then.
In onenight anawtul horror struck
me suddenly with the weight of scores
of years
My father was q Mr.. Marriott, a
ship broker, who lived in Russell
square with his family, consisting of
my mother and four children of
whom / was the eldest. One morn
ing, in the December of 1912, while
we were sitting at breakfast, my
mother said, as she finished reading
a letter which had just been delivered,
tits from Judith. She wants Ellen
to go and stay month at The Will
lows. But | do not like the idea.
She never even called on US when she
came back to England last summer.
Besides, wehave known almost moth
ing of her for years past"
"0h! / should like immensely to see
Aunt Judith" ] cried.
But you have never seen, and
don't know anything about her, re-
piled my mother. 1T is nearly ten
years now since | saw her, and she
didn't leave very pleasant impress
sion on my mind. | had not seen her
of course, since / was a child, but, as
l have often told you, there was
something curious and weird about
her that was not to my liking. In
fact, she did not seem like sister of
mine"
Aunt Judith was my mothers eI-
der sister by fifteen years. When she
was about twenty she married n
German baron who was a professor
in university. Why it was nobody
knew, but some two years or so aft
er her marriage Aunt Judith became
very apathetic as regarded her rela-
tions in Englafrfs and but rarely cor
responded with them.
Her husband, the baron and pro-
lessor, died about three years before
the time of which Ispeak. Mourning
cards were unknown in those days;
still she might have sent a word to
! inform her sister of her bereavement.
/ To our great astonishment, it was
| only from a friend who attended his
| funeral that we heard, casually, that
he was dead and that she was wild.
ow.
Well, both my father and my moth.
er we're unwilling to let me go to The
Willows: my mother, because she had,
or seemed to me to have o prejudice
against her sister; my father, for nc
reason that / could make out, except
that he echoed my mother. At all
events, overcame their opposition
at last, and started, one fine, OIL
rather gloomy, morning-for the
clouds were dark and heavy.
/ remember, as l left London-for
The Willows, a mansion in Warwick
shire which had been left to my Aunt
Judith by my grandfather. Travel
ing was slower in those days than il
is now, and it was not until 6 O'Clock
in the evening that / drove, in the
numbering coach which conveyed me
up the dreaFy carriage path which
led to The Willows.
Aunt Judith had only returned tC
live there during hepast 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 o
the evening.
Things, however, seemed to change
for the better when we drew up to thu
house itself. Itwas agreat struggling
building, which stood for more thar
q century, and was cold and forbid
ding to look at from the outside. But
from the windows, and what could
see of the hall, it seemed to be vel
lit, warm and well appointed within
A female servant same out to NEE
me as the coach stopped at the door
"Mlle. Marriott" she inquired, IL
a German voice, as descended.
"Yes," / replied.
"Ahl your aunt would like well tt
see you," she said. II shall take yot
TO her. She is dressing for dinner.
/ followed her upstairs, and into {
large bedroom. Standing before {
glass at the end of the room was {
fall woman whom, from the descrip
ton / had heard of her, immediate
/ " recognized as Aunt Judith.
Her figure WIS very erect, almost
majestic, but her face puzzled me