Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1905-03-01

peared. Upon this, however, there was
a divergence of opinion. Many still
believed AMI yet alive, some insisted
that he must be land that it was known
to DAVID, and few were positive that
his ghostly presence had been the
cause of Davids first case OF fits" as
return on Hallowee EN- had been of the
final scare.
1t was but justice, as all agreed, and
yet it was mystery as dark and I'M
canny us the hackmatack swamp where
David was found. For three months
many had considered his premises
haunted, now this number was in
creased; and out of those who stils
secuted the idea of any ghostly connec-
ton, there were few who would have
visited either mill or the big empty
house after dark.
But the Mizzy falls kept on rumbling.
the autumn winds swept the dead
leaves into every nook and Granny of
the premises, the leafless elms moaned,
the loose boards of the old house
creaked by night, and if Amzi's ghost
came not, it seemed that David would
be like to come.
A foolish will had wrought its worse
than finite Woe, mean apd miserly
hypocrite had continued it, and dead.
had-like serpent-left Ills trail and
impress upon Greenvale.
When the outcome Of David's death,
scarcely realized as yet by Aunt Com
fort, was conveyed by her to Angie,
it was told with bated breath and as
il ghost might be listening. 1t was
all so sudden, aisd SO quite overwhelm-
ing also, Angie was stunned. All her
life long she had felt a grievOus wrong
had been done her father, and she had
been left to suffer for it. At times
she had felt such bitter hatred of her
uncle that his very name and sight of
his Pinched face was obnoxious. At his
funeral she would not look upon him,
and when the "earth to earth and dust
to dust" finale came, only it's solemnity
impressed her.
We do not even admit some thoughts
and feelings, and when those who have
wronged us most pass down into their
final resting-place, our lips must also
remain sealed, and when Angie turned
away from her uncle's grave, she would
not say, Il am glad" and could not
say, II am sorry"
Neither did the fact that she was to
inherit his estate undo the sense of
wrong. 1t was not his will and wish
that this was to be, he had not thought
of her, or justice to her in life, and
only the laws mandate now said so,
and that left faint on the heritage.
He had wronged her father in the long
ago, and had driven him from home,
had kept what was hers by right, and,
in spite Of public opinion, willingly saw
her dependent upon charity and her
! own effort to earn a trifle, and now, in
passing, had left her to stif1e her natu-
raj feelings as best she could. But there
was one spot of silver beneath the
cloud, and that, the face Of Aunt Com
fort and the chance to reward her, was
some compensation for all her self
| denials. 1t was the first and about
the only impulse that came to Angie
when the tragic shock had passed
away, and that night when the two sat
! beside their little round table recount
ing all that had been said and done in
the past few days, this chance was
| Angles only sense of gratitude. She
| had weeks before come to realize that
| any change in her own life would and
| must be impossible while Aunt Com
fort lived, and Martins self-evident
| hopes seemed doomed to fail. To care
| for the good old soul, who had been
| home and mother since childhood, she
must, or forever despise herself, and al
though this legacy would remove the
narrow and cramping poverty that had
| been theirs always, the obligation re-
| NAMED, and with Angie such a debt
| was sacred.
With Aunt Comfort it was other
wise, as might be expected, and when
the evening had grown late and the
fire had burned low, her resume of tho
situation may well be quoted.
I've alters b'lieved the Lord I'D see
justice done US ALL" she said, "and I
b'lieve He has. He amt like to bring
AMI back to life, but maybe He's gin
David his just desarts. don't exact
ly believe in sperits, yet it looks ez if
the hantin' O. conscience had made
David see one the night he was took
with fit last summer n again now
when he run of in the night. He's
wronged your father n you all his
life long, n II his su1ferin' from con-
science amt a dispensation O. Provi-
dence n his just desarts, I dunno
what would be. Thar'is one thing I
can't quite f1gger out, n that is, what
made Martin Frisbie pay him $4,000
fer an agreement O. deed O. the mills
m Mizzy lands, n what he wanted
on EN-. It looks Gurus, but I s'poso
he'll explain when he gifts back. It's
most time he did. too; he's ben gone
now most two months" Then she
paused, looking at Angie and smiling
benevolently. "1t'n all be in the fam
lily, s'pose," she continued, still smil-
ing, when you n Martin git married,
ez spect you will in time. Thar amt
no reason why you shouldn't, n you
will be middlin' we'll off in your own
right now, If anything happens, n
fer that you ought to be thankful"
! To Aunt Comfort this contamination
seemed most natural and to be expect
ed. More than that no thought Of how
that event would affect her own hap
ptness came to her.
! ITO Be Continued.l
Ill r. .5..g.5..:, e. -. e, y 49,. -