The Press., 1893-07-13
CHAPTER XVI.
A MIDNIGHT VISITOR.

Now all this time while the tragi- comedy of life was being played in these three suburban villas, while on com monplace stage love and humor and fears and lights and shadows were so swiftly succeeding each other, and while these three families, drifted together by fate, were shaping each others destinies and working out in their own fashion the strange, intricate ends of human life, there were human eyes which watched over every stage of the per formance, and which were keenly crit ical of every actor on it. Across the road beyond the green palings and the close cropped lawn, behind the curtains of their creeper framed windows, sat the two old ladies, Miss Bertha and Miss Monica Williams, looking out as from private box at all that was being enacted before them.
 The growing friendship of the three families, the engagement of Harold Den yer with Clara Walker, the engagement of Charles Westmacott with her sister, the dangerous fascination which the widow exercised over the doctor, the preposterous behavior of the Walker l girls and the unhappiness which they had caused their father, not one of these incidents escaped the notice of the two maiden ladies. Bertha, the younger, had smile or sigh for the lovers; Monica, the elder, frown or shrug for the elders. Every night they talked over what they had seen, and their own dull, uneventful life took warmth and 8 col. bring from their neighbors, as blank wall reflects :; beacon fire.
 And now it was destined that they should ezn:', iel.ce the one keen sensation of their la = years, the one memorable | incident fr,'. which all future incidents should be C; ted.
 It was the very night which suc- ceeded tha 'ents which have just been narrated lcn suddenly into Monica | Williams al, as ',e tossed upon her sleepleSs fer tt thought which made her upv d thrill and a gasp.
 "Ber; S i'd SIC, plucking at the shoulder, her sister, 'I have left the | front vii; W pen."
 "No, lL, ica, surely not" Bertha sat up also anu thrilled in sympathy.
 ''I am sure of it. You remember had forgotten to water the pots, and then l opened the window. and Jane called me about the jam, and have never been in | the room since."
 Good gracious, Monica, it is a mercy that we have not been murdered in our beds. There was house broken into at Forest Hill last week. Shall we go down and shut it?''
 T dare not go down alone, dear, but if you will come with me. Put on your slippers and dressing gown. We do not need candle. Now. Bertha, we will go down together"
 Two little white patches moved vaguely through the darkness, the stairs creaked, the door whined, and they were at the front room window. Monica closed it gently down and fastened the | snib.
 What beautiful moon!" said she, looking out. I've can see as clearly as if it were day. How peaceful and quiet the three houses are over yonder. It seems quite sad to see that 'To Let card upon No. 1. I wonder how Mo- 3 will like their going. For my part could better spare that dreadful woman at Mo- 3 with her short skirts and her snake But, oh, Bertha, look! look! look" Her voice had fallen suddenly to quivering whisper, and she was pointing to the Westmacotts' house. Her sister gave a l gasp of horror and stood with clutch l at Monica's arms, staring in the same direction.
 There was light in the front room, a slight wavering light such as would be l given by small candle or taper. The blind was down, but the light shone ] dimly through. Outside in the garden with his figure outlined against the luminous square, there stood man, his back to the road, his two hands upon the window ledge and his body rather bent as though he were trying to peep in past the blind. So absolutely still and motionless was he that in spite of the moon they might we'll have overlooked him were it not for that telltale light behind.
 | Good heaven!' gasped Bertha, ''it is a burglar"
 l But her sister set her mouth grim1y ! and shook her head. We shall see," she whispered. "It may be something worse"
 | Swiftly and furtively the man stood suddenly erect and began to push the window slowly up. Then he put one l knee upon the sash. glanced round to see that all was safe and climbed over into the room. As he did so he had to push the blind aside. Then the two spectators saw where the light came from. Mrs. Westmacott was standing as rigid as a statue in the center of the room, with a lighted taper in her right hand. For an instant they caught glimpse of her stern face and her white collar. Then the blind fell back into position, and the two figures disappeared from their view.
 "Oh, that dreadful woman!'' cried Monica. That dreadful, dreadful wom- an! She was waiting for him. You saw | it with your own eyes, Sister Berthaw l "Hush, dear, hush and listenr' said her more charitable companion. They pushed their own window up once more and watched from behind the curtains.
 For long time all was silent within the house. The light still stood motion less as though Mrs. Westmacott remained rigidly in the one position, while from | time to time a shadow passed in front of it to show that her midnight visitor was pacing up and down in front of her. | Once they saw his outline clearly, with his hands outstretched as if in appeal or entreaty. Then suddenly there was a dull sound, a cry, the noise of a fall, the | taper was extinguished, and dark fig ure fled in the moonlight rushed across the garden and vanished amid the shrubs l at the farther side
 Then only did the two old ladies un- derstand that they had looked on while | tragedy had been enacted. 'tHelp" they cried, and ''help!" in their high, thin voices, timidly at first, but gather