The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1915-08-21
THE LEGACY.

sale work of Smelling peas and drank
in the beauty of the scene before her.
Somewhere deep inside her was
strain of poetry which many busy
years on a farm had failed to deaden.
Stretching to the westward was a
| stretch of meadowland and then a
gently wooded hillside crowned with
dark masses of pine. She could smell
the fragrance of the frs on the sum-
mer wind, and, as she drew a deep
breath, she said:
| Il don't believe I'll ever tire of
that smell. Seems as if it holds all
the sweetness of summer and winter
| both. Well, l certainly am thankful
for it. I've got lots to be thankful
for"
But even as she spoke her eyes
took on troubled look. Nesting in
a natural hollow to the south was
cottage, the sight of which interrupt
ed her musing and caused shadow
to cross her face.
A man came in sight on the road
leading from the orchard, and as he
passed the cottage he walked slowly,
studying the house, and Mrs. Grant
felt nervous uneasiness, Fremont
tion of evil as he stood in it's shadow
for moment. He again walked to-
wards the porch on which she was
sitting, and it seemed as though the
shadow was still upon him as he
came toward her. The man was the
one person in the world on whom her
affection was conferred, and she sud-
denly resolved to breach a subject
which had tortured her for months.
"Silas, an artist was here yesterday
and wanted to rent the cottage. | told
him, perhaps if he saw you he might
make 1erms. He said he would call
today
eff he comes tell him it isn't for
hire" her husband answered shortly.
Mrs. Grant shelled her peas nerv-
ously. But, Silas, why don't you rent
it? He will be willing to pay we'll,
he, says it's the most picturesque
place about here
| 1--WE said right along l don't want
to let it. l have my own reasons for
not wishing to sell or rent. l don't
see why people keep Fostering me
about that cottage"
His wife caught a glimpse of his
face as he bent to fasten lacing in
his shoe. The troubled look which
had made her uneasy for months was
growing deeper. All the blood in her
body seemed to be gathering in her
head, she felt a queer feeling about
the heart, but she stammered out
bravely, setting the bowl of peas at
her feet and looking him squarely in
the eyes:
"Silas, do you know people are
whispering and talking, and do you
know what they are saying? They
say old Tim Murphy comes round
there even in the day time and that
there is always a shadow in the cot
tage! And, Silas, I'm beginning to
think so, too. There's a shadow there
and it's creeping up here and swal-
lowing the brightness of this place,
and it seems to have drawn you in
too"
She paused. At her first words her
husband had Strengthened; it seemed
as if he had been apprehensively
startled, but Immediately his face re-
sumed the expression it had worn of
late as he said kindly:
/ Nov, Susie, you're all nerved up.
Don't pay any attention to idle
tongues. About the cottage being
haunted, you know what the poet
says: "All houses in which men have
lived are haunted houses And as
for Tim Murphy, he never harmed
people living and guess he won't
bother them dead"
He left her and entered the house.
She finished her task in silence. She
no longer noticed the beauty of the
day or the surroundings, for she was
| far from satisfied. Deep down she
knew the end was not yet, and as she
picked up her bowl and turned to en-
| ter the house she looked toward the
cottage; chill came over her, every
thing else seemed to be bathed in
sunlight, only that place rested in the
/ shadow.
That even, Silas Grant walked
down the orchard road and paused
near the cottage. He seemed to see
a man somewhat past middle age,
shoulders slightly bent and silver
hair, pottering about in the weedy
garden, but as he came nearer the
man disappeared. 1t was not the first
time he thought he saw Tim Muir
phys ghost among the flower beds.
He had heretofore set it down as
freak of the imagination, but now
people where whispering and talking:
other people had seen it, too. Silas
Grant would have given half he pos
sessed to have got near enough to the
spirit, or whatever it was, to talk to
it. Tim Murphy had never anything
but a smile for him, but this potter
ing old man had always an averted
face.
He sat on the stone wall in front
of the cottage and tried to think. He
wondered how much longer he could
stand this thing.
Silas Grant was one of the best
known and respected men in Rent
ham. Squire" Grant he was called.
and he was one Of the old-fashioned