Year: 1874

1t happened ten years ago, and it
stands out, and ever will stand out in
my memory, like some dark, awful bar
rier, dividing the happy gleeful years of
girlhood with their foolish petulant
sorrows and eager innocent joys, and
the bright lovely life which has been
mine since. In looking back, that time
seems to me shadowed by a dark and
terrible brooding cloud bearing in its
! lurid gloom what, but for love and
patience the tenderest and most untir-
ing, might have been the bolt of death,
or, worse thousand times, of madness
/ As it was, for months after, ''life crept
on a broken wing" if not Through
cells of Madness" yet verify Through
haunts of horror and fear" o, the
weary, weary days and months when l
longed piteously for rest when sun
shine was torture, and every shadow
/ filed with horror unspeakable when
my soul's craving was for death to be
allowed to creep away from the terror
/ which lurked IN the softest murmur of
/ the summer breeze, the flicker of the
shadow OF the tiniest leaf on the sunny
| grass, in every corner and curtain-fold
| in my dear old home. But love con-
/ quered all, and / can tell my story now,


with awe and wonder, it is true, but
quietly and calmly:


Ten years ago / was living with my
only brother in one of the quaint ivy
| grown red-gabled rectories which are so
| picturesquely scattered over the fair
/ breadth of England. We were orphans
/ Archibald and L and / had been the
I busy, happy mistress of his pretty home
/ for only one year after leaving school,
when Robert Draye asked me TO be his
wife. Robert and Archie were old


friends, and my new home, Draye's


parsonage by an old gray wall, a low
iron studded door which admitted us
from the sunny parsonage lawn to the
old, old park which had belonged to the
Drayes for centuries. Robert was lord
of the manor and it was he who had
given Archie the living of Draye If the
Void.


1t was the night before my wedding
day, and our pretty home was crowded
with the wedding guests. We were all
gathered in the large old-fashioned
drawing-room after dinner. When
Robert left us late in the evening, /
walked with him as usual to the little
gate for what he called our last parting !;
we fingered a while under the great
walnut tree, through the heavy sombre
branches of which the September moon
poured its soft, pure light. With his
last goodnight kiss on my lips and my
heart full of him and the love which
warmed and glorified the whole world
for me, did not care to go back to
share in the fun and frolic in the draw
ing-room, but went softly up stairs to
my own room. l say ''my own room, "
but was to occupy it as a bedroom
tonight for the first-time. 1t was a
pleasant south room, wainscoted in a
richly carved cedar, which gave the
atmosphere a spicy fragrance. L had
chosen it as my mornlng-room on my
arrival in our home here / had read,
and sung, and painted, and spent long
sunny hours while Archibald was busy
in his study after breakfast. L had had
a bed arranged there, as L preferred
being alone to sharing my own larger
bedroom with two of my bridesmaids.
1t looked bright and coy as l came in !;
IlN ldNOIllt lON thhii "ho
the fire, whose rosy light glanced and
fiickered on the glossy dark walls, which
grave the room its name, ''The Cedar
Closet" My maid was busy preparing
my toilet-table L sent her away, and
sat down to wait for my brother, who l
knew would come to bid me goodnight.
He came we had our last fireside talk
in my girlhood's home and when he
left me there was an incursion of all my
bridesmaids for a "dressing-gown gos-
sip."


When at last l was alone / drew back
the curtain and curled myself up on the
low, wide window-seat. The moon was
at its brightest the little church and
quiet churchyard beyond the lawn
| looked fair and calm beneath its rays !;


the CLEAN of the white headstones here
and there between the trees might have


reminded me that life is not all peace
and ioy-that tears and pain, fear and


parting, have their share in its story
but it did not. The tranquil happiness
with which my heart was full, over
flowed in some soft tears which had no
tinge of bitterness and when at last /
did lay down, peace, deep and perfect,
still seemed to flow in on me with the
moonbeams which filed the room, SHIN
mering on the folds of my bridal dress,
which was laid ready for the morning.
l am thus minute in describing my last
waking moments, that it may be under
stood that what followed was no creation
of morbid fancy.


[ do not know how long l had been
asleep, when l was suddenly, as it were,
wrenched back to consciousness. The
moon had set, the room was quite dark
L could Just distinguish the glimmer of
a clouded, starless sky through the open
window. 1 could not see or hear any
thing unusual, but not the less was l
conscious of ah unwonted, a baleful
presence near; an indescribable horror
cramped the very beatings of my heart
with every instant the certainty grew
that my room was shared by some evil
being. could not cry for help, though
Archie's room was close, and / knew
that one call through the death-like
stiffness would bring him to me all 1
could do was to gaze, gaze, gaze into
the darkness. Suddenly-and throb
stung through every nerve-I heard
distinctly from behind the wainscot
against which the head of my bed was
placed, a low, hollow moan, followed
on the instant by cackling, malignant
laugh from the otheI side of the room.
If had been one of the monumental
figures in the churchyard on which 1
had seen the quiet moonbeams shine a
few hours before, / could not have been
more utterly unable to move or speak
every other faculty seemed to be lost in
the one intent strain of eye and ear.
There came at last the sound of halt
ing step, the tapping of cruteh upon
the floor, then stiffness, and slowly,
gradually the room filed with light-a
pale, cold, steady light. Everything
around was exactly as L had last seen it
in the mingled shine of the moon and
fire, and though l heard at intervals
the harsh laugh, the curtain of the bed
hid from me whatever uttered it. Again,