The Arm Chair Library No. 79: The Haunted Homestead — page 10: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SIE beat <8 lie acteteeel eo he sein Sen pte. — ~~ > ad a ee ee «a a THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD. place on the driver’s seat to Uncle Judah, and then take charge of the And so we proceeded through the snow-coy- mules, to lead them home. ered bottom toward the house. As I said, it was so dark that J] could not clearly distinguish the out- line of the buildings, but there ap- peared to be two houses, an old one and a new one, joined by a covered piazza, and shaded by many trees, We stopped before the door of the new house, from the parlor windows of which a stream of hight from the lamps within was pouring. We were met by Mrs. Legare, who gave me a cordial welcome, and took me at once to an upper front cham- ber, comfortably furnished, where a fine wood fire burned, and a kettle of hot water stood upon the hearth for the convenience of warm ablutions. “This is your room, my dear Agnes, where I hope you will find yourself at home,” said my kind hostess. I thanked her, but secretly hoped that she would leave me alone with Mathilde, to hear the mystery of the haunting presence explained, for as yet we had no opportunity of a tete- a-tete. But the old lady lingered with motherly solicitude until J had washed myself and changed my tray- eling habit for a home dress; and then directing Jacinthe, or “Jet,” as she was nicknamed, to restore the room to order, she invited me down mto the parlor. As I left the chamber I observed Jet’s eyes start out like beads, and she made a motion to follow us; but a per- emptory gesture from her mistress re- pelled her, and she remained, though evidently terrified at the idea of being left alone. “Can it be possible,” thought I, “that the child is afraid to stay by herself in the new house, when, of course, the supernatural inmate, if there is one, must be a denizen of the old one?” And at the same time I experienced a feeling of disappointed love of acl- venture in being accommodated with a chamber so shining in freshness and so distant in character as well as lo- cation from what I fancied must be the scene of the mystery. When we reached the parlor we found a party of young people cok lected to celebrate Christmas Eve. But scarcely were the introductions over before a servant opened the door and announced supper—and, concuct- ed by Mrs. Legare, we all went out by way of the hall and the covered piazza to the dining-room in the old house. where the feast was spread. I cannot stop to analyze the sensa- tions with which I crossed the thresh- old of this mystery-haunted house, and entered the quaint, old-fashioned parlor where the supper table was set. The polished oak floor, the oak pan- eled walls, the high, narrow, deep-set windows, the tall, black walnut chim- ney-pliece over the broad fireplace, flanked by a high cupboard in one cor- ner, and a coffin-like clock in the other—all whispered of those who had lived and died there long years before. There was a well-spread and cheerfully lighted table, and a merry, youthful company assembled around it, but even these animating influ- ences were not sufficiently powerful to exercise the thoughts of the dead— for, talkative and frolicksome though they were, their talk was still of the supernatural, of ghosts, and ghosts’ seers. I did not talk—J was too ear- nestly interested in hearing. And I listened breathlessly to learn the mys- In vain! not a single allusion was made to a spectre Im connection of Wolfbrake Lodge. They ignored the supposition. Per- haps they were really ignorant of it. Snpper over and cleared away, the CS (e(o) : comicboo Cea Te a a es Se