Newport daily independent., 1903-04-10

sweet and composed slumber. Judge, then, of the shock of her being awakened almost immediately by the violent shaking at the front door.
 Leaping to her feet, she felt her way into her dressing-gown and slip pers, and reached the front hall just as Aunt Dorothy in her list shoes came swiftly down the stairs.
 Brenda! Brenda!" she called, in a cautious tone, "some one wants to come in"
 But Brenda had flung herself ~.th all her force against the locked and barred door.
 No, no,'' she cried. Let no one l in! It is the ghost of the Round House. l saw him."
 In her excitement, she was half conscious of Aunt Dorothy's look of amazed terror, but she was using all her strength to resist the force with out with which the strong oaken door, in spite of bolted bars, trem- bled.
 Finally, the effort without ceased. But the next moment there was dismal shriek from Aunt Dorothy. She stood with fixed eyes gazing into the parlor, and there against one of the windows was the figure of young man, with pale, distorted coun- tenance, using all his efforts to get in.
 Hold the windows down! Oh, Aunt Dorothy. help mel" screamed Brenda, springing for the sash.
 "Wait, child wait. Ask him what he wants. Ask him that, anyway, whether he is ghost or not!" cried Aunt Dorothy.
 Brenda still hung upon the sash, but fixed her faring eyes upon the pale face outside, and called loudly, What do you want? What do you want here? No, no; you cannot come in!" as with eager gestures not to be mistaken the apparition signaled his desire to enter.
 "Oh, God! it must be the devil! " groaned Aunt Dorothy. "He moves his lips, but he don't make sound!" cried Aunt Dorothy, now even more terrified than Brenda.
 And now that the object of their terror appeared at new window, she followed her example and ran to hold it down with all her strength.
 The cries of the two could not. fail to arouse the doctor. He listened moment, and then, in his alarm, for getting his illness, rose and drew on his dressing-gown and came quietly down the stairs. There he stood be- hind the unconscious women for sev- eral seconds, gazing in amazement upon the scene.
 Stop! stop!" he cried at last, in a voice of command. "Why don't you let him in? Why don't you let him in out of the storm? It must be MT. Lorillard."
 Brendas hands fell down, and she turned toward her father, paralyzed by his presence.
 As soon as she did so, the sash flew up and the stranger sprang into the room. He was dripping wet, with red scarf tied closely about his throat.
 Why" he cried wildly, in hoarse whisper-"why, for Heavens sake, do you refuse me your hospitality on such a night as this?'
 For a moment the whole group stood silently looking at each other. If Brenda and Dorothy looked with wonder upon the stranger, with no less astonishment he gazed upon them.
 You, Dr. Amberly-" he said, in the same strange whisper, turning to the doctor.
 Yes" he assented
 You surely know that to be ex- posed to this storm in my con dition-"
 "Yes, yes, Mir. Lorillard. This is some astounding mistake Aunt Dorothy find him dry clothes and hot drink at once. He is my patient But l, too, am sick"
 Brenda sprang to his side.
 "Oh, father, father, this will kill you!"
 She hurried him back to bed, while Aunt Dorothy silently took charge of the stranger.
 The next uaN came eNplanaUonS, and this was Paul Lorillard's story: The train had left him at Wellbridge the day before. Mistaking the dis tance to the Round House, he started on foot, and, after a four-mile walk, finally reached it quite late. The night was inlly dark, the llnocker so high mp on the door that he could not fud it, and there being no sign of any one awake in the house, he had finally turned about and retraced his steps to the village.
 But on this, the second night, he had been equally unfortunate, for in the storm he had lost his way, and found it with difficulty. But drenched to the skin, in spite of his warm and rich apparel, and knowing, in his pre-