The Wreck of the South Pole and Other Strange Tales — page 145: what you’re looking at

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

138 What Shall She Do? parted to me the information that he was a Roman Catho- lic, and superstitious. It also left me in doubt as to whether he had seen her, and crossed himself lest she should again appear, or whether he had not, but feared that on mention she might come up and stand between us to reprove me for my lightness. But I took the house, or rather moved into it, for I already held the deed, and that week found us comforta- bly settled. Comfortably, did I say? Ina manner. It was late October. Already the leaves were putting on their dying colors of red and scarlet or turning into autumn brown. Besides the family (my aunt and my- self) I brought with me a deaf man of all work (an Englishman), a cook, and a waiter girl. Together we went over the house, | taking the lead as lord and master, and John bringing up the rear. Into the parlor, with its faded grandeur, and into the sitting room, now bleak and bare as an old granary; into the bedrooms, with their torn paper and shaky windows, and into the long dining room, with its walnut casing and broken cement. Mixed up with roomis and halls were queer little alcoves and closets and wardrobes, stairs and lofts, scattered about promiscuously and in the most unexpected places. Upstairs there was the same air of decay and loneliness. But I must confess that a different feeling came over me when I approached a little room at the rear of the house. It was an unseemly, uncomfortable looking place, with one window opening out upon the kitchen roof and making an easy escape to the hill back of the house. When GOMmIIGchboo! <S Goh