The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1898-03-06
CHAPTER XXII.
The Third Night,

The afternoon was spent not alto
gether unprofitably. Having seen many
things in the housekeeping which
would bear changing, 1 took occasion
to spend some time with Hannah in
the kitchen, giving her during my
visit some hints In regard to house
hold affairs which If followed would
make considerable difference in the
comfort of those concerned. She re-
ceived them patiently, but I have seen
no change in her management Of the
kitchen that 1 feel justified in attribut-
ing to my influence. But I know human
nature well enough not to have expect
ed 1t. Had the kitchen been farther
from the door of the flower parlor I
might not have thrown away so much
energy.
l did not effect an entrance into the
flower parlor, however, nor did l sue
coed in seeing any one else enter it.
Neither did 1 succeed in making Han
nah talk on any other topic than ordi-
nary domestic concerns, but l saw GER
tain things.
l had formed a plan for the night
that required some courage. Recalling
Lucetta'S expression of the morning
that l might expect a repetition of the
experience which, if a dream, had had
the appearance of a most formidable
reality. l prepared to profit by the
warning in a way she had certainly
never meant that l should. Satisfied
that if there was any truth in my sus-
picions there would be an act per
formed in this house tonight which, if
seen by me, would forever settle the
question that was agitating the whole
countryside, l made up my mind that
no locked door should interfere with
my opportunity of doing so. How
effected this result 1 will relate in a
few minutes
After an evening more solemn than
the day, but characterized, as the two
previous ones had not been, by a long
talk with the two girls together,
went to my room in a state of SEEM
ing fatigue that evidently met with
the appreciation of Lucetta, who had
accompanied me to my door with a
lighted candle.
Il hear you had some trouble with
matches last night" said she. You
will find them all right now. Hannah
must be blamed for some of this care
lessness." Then, as | began some re-
assuring reply, she turned upon me
with look that was almost fond, and,
throwing out her arms, cried entreat
mgly: Wont you give me a little kiss,
Miss Butterworth? We have not given
you the best of welcomes, but you are
my mothers old friend, and sometimes
l feel a little lonely"
l could easily believe that, and yet
I found it hard to embrace her. Too
many shadows swan between Althea's
children and myself. She saw my hest
fancy "a hesitancy 1 could not but have
shown even at the risk of her losing
confidence), and, paling slightly, drop
ped her hands with a pitiful smile.
You don't like me-" she said. II do
not wonder but l was In hopes you
would for my mothers sake. have no
claims myself. That you must be sure
I am thoroughly convinced off,
You are an interesting girl, and you
have. what your mother had not, a
serious side to your nature that is any
thing but displeasing to me. But my
kisses, Lucetta, are as rare as my
tears. / had rather give you good ad-
vice, and that is fact. Perhaps it is
as strong proof of affection as any
ordinary careSS might be-
Perhaps" she murmured, but she
did not encourage me to give it to her
Notwithstanding. Instead of that she
drew back and bid me a gentle good
night, which for some reason made me
sadder than l wished to be at a crisis
demanding so much nerve. Then she
walked quickly away, and 1 was left
to face the night alone.
Knowing that 1 should be rather
weakened than helped by the omission
of any of the little acts of preparation
with which I am accustomed to call my
spirits for the night L went through
them all with just as much precision
as if l had expected to spend the en-
suing hours in rest. When all was
done and only my cup of tea remain
ed to be quaffed, 1 had a little strug-
gle with myself, which ended in my
not drinking 1t at ALL Nothing, not
even this comfortable solace for an un-
satisfactory day, should stand ia the
way of my being the complete mis-
tress Of my wits this night. Had I
known that this tea contained sopor-
fife in the shape of a little harmless
morphine 1 would have found this act
of self-denial much easier
II was now II. Confident that moth
ing would be done while my light was
burning, 1 blew it out, and, taking a
candle and matches in my hand, softly
opened my door and after moment of
intense listening stepped out and closed
it carefully behind me. Nothing could
he stiller than the house or darker than
the corridor.
Am L watched or am I not watch
ed?' thought I, and for an instant
stood undecided. Then, seeing nothing
and hearing nothing, / slipped down
the hall to the door beyond mine and,
opening it with all the care possible,
stepped inside.
I knew the room. I had taken espe-
cial note of it in my visit of the morn
ing. I knew that it was nearly empty
and that there was a key in the lock
which I could turn. I therefore felt
more or less safe in it, especially as it's
window was undarkened by the branch
es that hung so thickly across my own
to shut me in, from all communication
known guardian which I had been as
sured constantly attended my sum-
mons.
That I might strengthen my spirits
by one glimpse of this same outside
world before settling down to the watch
I had set for myself 1 stepped softly to
the window and took one lingering look
without a belt Of forest illumined by
gibbous moon met my eyes; nothing
else Yet this sight was welcome, and 1t
was only after had been struck by the
possibility of my own figure being seen
at the easement by some possible
watcher in the shadows below that ]
found the hardihood necessary to with
draw into the darker precincts of the
room and begin that lone watch which
my doubts and expectations rendered
necessary.
This was the third I had been forced
to keep, and it was by far the most dis
nal, for though the bolted door be.