Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1907-12-14
XIV.

zoo III Nl1
Der. He had come to the room
without further permission
from Mrs. Morningstar than the reluc-
tant half consent he had extracted
from her at noon. The subject had rot
been broached between them again,
hands. and soon after the family re
tired he carried his kerosene lamp
down the long corridor which cut Off
the haunted part from the rest OF the
house and reached the fatal room.
He was relieved to find that the door
was not locked. Once across the
threshold he did not even glance about
him until he had carefully closed the
door behind him. Then. turning. he
raised high his lamp.
The ghost herself. ii she appeared in
the course of his vigil. would not give
him a greater shock Of surprise than
he received as his eye fell upon the OPP
posite wall of the room. The last thing
he would have expected to find In the
vicinity of the Morningstar farm con-
fronted hlm-a bookcase filed with
books. q little library of classics. for
ever across the width of the room he
could read the gilt lettered names,
Shakespeare. Milton, Spenser, Eliot,
Browning and the rest.
The rest Of the room-a bedchamber
was not In any way noteworthy save
that there was something in its gener-
al aspect which seemed to give evil
dence of u higher grade of people than
the Morningstars. There was nothing
sufficiently grewsome about it, at least
in the matter Of It's appointments, to
suggest either a murder or a ghost.
True, he felt an atmosphere OF uncan-
nlness about the place hard to account
for except on the theory that his i'm
agination. filled with the account OF
the deed OF horror these walls had
witnessed, colored the with all
the somberness of the tale.
He walked across the floor and, plac-
ing his lamp on the top Of a low shelf.
plunged into an examination Of the
bookshelves.
There were the novels of Scott, Du-
mas, Dickens, Thackeray. George Eliot
and Charlotte Bronte, the tales of
Poe, Macaulay's England" Gibbons
Rome" Carlyle's French Revolu-
tion," the, plays Of Shakespeare, many
of the modern English and American
poets, the works Of Spenser, Milton
and Pope, the Canterbury Tales" and
Johnson's Lives of the British Poets"
Taking down a volume at random,
he had a vague instructive surprise at
finding no dust on 1T. The fact had
no definite significance at the mo-
ment, but later, In the light Of other
developments, he recalled the circum-
stance.
He had soon made a mental inven-
tory Of the lower shelves. The books
were in good condition, though they
showed signs Of having been handled
considerably.
1.-The parents Of Eunice were at
least not illiterate," he concluded.
He now turned his attention to the
topmost row of books, which was out
of his reach. 1t consisted of a set of
Balzac. He mounted a chair and,
taking down a volume, was a little
surprised to find that it was a French
edition. The book was thick with
dust, and it's removal from the shelf
had sent a little cloud of dust into his
eyes. FEe had a passing wonder In the
fact that the top shelf alone was
dusty.
perhaps. the ghost can't read
French, but enjoys the English clas-
sizes"
He turned the pages of the Balzac.
1t, too, however, showed signs Of hav-
ing been read, for it bore several
marked passages.
Suddenly as he turned a leaf his eye
fell upon, not a printed page, but a
sheet OF letter paper, yellow with age,
closely covered with a feminine hand
writing. He turned toward his lamp
and read:
A CONFESSION.
I. Beatrice Daniels, make the following
confession in the face of imminent death.
being unable longer to live and bear the
burden of my crime. My husband threat
ems to murder me if I confess our crime.
and I rnyself would choose death at my
w hands rather han languish in a pris-
on, which is the fate my confession would
bring Upon me if I lived to face it. There
fore when this paper is found and read ]
shall be dead. either having aiken my
own life or having been murdered.
The child, Eunice-
Kinross started as at this instant his
ear was suddenly caught by a faint
sound in the corridor without-the
sound, he thought, of an approaching
light step. In a moment he had blown
out his light and stepped down from
his chair, folding and thrusting the
paper into his pocket as he did so. One
quick glance about him, and he slipped
behind the high headboard of the old
fashioned bed. There he waited mo-
tionless for the appearing of the spirit
or whatever it was that was coming,
for the sound of approaching steps on
the pare wooden floor Of the hall was
now quite un~mistakable. 1t was not
mice either. or that he was sure as
with tense expectation he waited and
listened. So there was actually some
foundation for this story of h ghost:
Nonsense! Old M~orningstar was com
ing to warn him away from the roon
perhaps. No; the step was too light fo1
This. Who or what would he see!
Would it come into this room! II II