Waterbury evening Democrat., 1891-02-07
CHAPTER II.
AT LONE HOLLOW.

As WIG have sad, rambling stone man. sion loomed up on the summit of a mound that occupied the center of an immense basin or hollow.
 The elevated land was not raised as high as the surrounding country; on the con trary, tho hills about the basin were fully up to n line with the highest point of tho roof on tho dwelling in tho hollow. It was fully mile from the spot where the girl and young man stood to the farther side of tue sink beyond the dwelling.
 The country presented n wcirdiy wild ap- pearancc, not a human habitation being vis- ible save the stone house in the hollow.
 A wagon road wound its way down the side of the hill and passed up the elevation past the front of the old house, losing itself beyond, but again appearing on the further rise, cutting squarely through the low, yet dense growth of trees on it's summit. It would seem that Grace Penroy had wan dcred some distance from the home roof on this quiet, cloudless summer day. It was nothing new for her, however.
 That is Lonc Hollow," uttered Fingal, musingly. It is well named, that is ccr- tain.'
 "Yes, think so," return cd Grace. ''Thc house is old, having been built by my ma ternal grandfather"
 "Have you lived here all your lifc!"
 "Indeed, no. We have been here scarcc ly moro than year."
 "Wcw
 "Mother, grandfather and l."
 "And your father!'
 {" Is dCad," she answered, mournfully 1t was an accident. 4 vicious horse flung him, and neighbors found him by the road side dead-that was two years ago.
 "HeS. Where were you living theEw
 The young man seemed extremely Curi- ous, but Grace felt no offcnse. It had been a long time since she had met one of her own age with whom she could talk, ana so she indulged herself freely on the present occasion.
 "We were living not far from Detroit fathers business was in that city,"
 "Indeed! Do you like this lonesome placel"
 At first laid not"
 II see. You have become accustomed to the solemn old place." Yes, in a measure" Do you often wander so far from home l as to-days It seems to me not wholly safe for you to do so," persisted Fingal Not often. 1 am, however, privileged to do as please. l expect, when my cousin comes, shall take immense pleasure in visiting all the noted scenes and wild places 1 in the neighborhood," declared Grace, with | no little enthusiasm. "You tell me you have never seen your cousin. Certainly you do not know that you will like her. 'No, but then I mean to. It certainly will be her fault if do not" declared | Grace, omphatically. "I believe so myself," he returned, smil- ing into the pretty, flushed face of his beau tiful companion. ''There are noted spots in thus vicinity, you tell met" "Many. Just mile to the west is Hang mans Gulch, where 'tis said one of the first settlers was lynched for murder. Then l have heard that not far from this hollow IS cone where at one time old Lile Doty secreted himself several days from his pur- suers. You see, we live in a romantic re- | zion"
 "I should say so," agreed Fingal. "You ought to be a poet, or an artist, Miss Penroy, then you might immortallze the country roundabout' They walked on then, descending the hill | following the wagon road along up the next incline to the front door of the old mansion On the porch an old man sat smoking ( l pipe. His hair was white as the driver snow, his facS smooth shaven after the manner of olden times. His dress was | quaint and old, and altogether he presented the appearance of one of the revolutionary l patriarchS.