The Haunted Homestead: A NovelSouthworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte
Science
The Haunted Homestead: A Novel
Southworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte
Fiction
An hour I lay thus, watching the dawn growing brighter and brighter unto
the perfect day. And then I heard a key turned in the hall door, and
some one come in and ascend the stairs. It was the little black maid
Jet, come to make my fire. As she entered I saw her eyes grow wild, and
she inquired:
"Miss Agnes, is yer been up, miss, to open dis yer door?"
"I have been up this morning, Jet," said I, not wishing to let her into
my full confidence. The answer seemed to set her at rest, for her
countenance lost its wild terror, and she proceeded with cheerful
alacrity to light the fire, fill the ewers and so forth.
Before she had got through with her task, there was a rush of many feet
into the hall, and up the stairs, and Mathilde and such of her young
friends as were already up and dressed, bounded into the room,
exclaiming:
"A merry Christmas! A merry Christmas, Agnes!"
Their arrival was enough to put to flight all the supernatural visitants
that Hades ever sent forth. They hurried me with my toilet; they worried
me to come down and see the Christmas tree, and get some eggnog.
I was carried away with their gay excitement, and almost forgot my
mysterious dream or visitant, but not quite; for all through the morning
greetings of the family, the eggnog drinking, the visit to the Christmas
tree, the distributions of presents, the merry breakfast, the arrival of
invited guests, the Christmas dinner party, the afternoon sports, and
the evening dance, I was possessed with the haunting presence of that
dark, handsome woman, and her majestic woe.
We danced in the dining-room through all the Christmas night; and it was
two o'clock in the morning before we separated.
Again, when I was about to retire, Mrs. Legare came to accompany me.
"I hope you rested well last night, my dear Agnes, though I have
scarcely had an opportunity of asking you to-day," she said, as we
entered my room.
"I did not wake until dawn, ma'am," I answered, evasively, for I had
determined, since they let me into no confidence upon the subject of the
household mystery, to keep my own counsel in regard to my dream and the
open door.
"You slept until dawn. That is well. I hope you will have as good a rest
for the few remaining hours of the night. Good-evening, my dear. Lock
your door after me," said Mrs. Legare, going out with a look of relief
and satisfaction.
As upon the evening previous, I turned the key upon my retiring hostess,
listened until I heard her pass out and secure the hall door, then
searched my room, undressed, said my prayers, and went to bed.
As I hinted in the beginning of this narrative, nature had made me at
once superstitious and fearless. In the supernatural I "believed without
trembling." And now alone, in this supposed-to-be haunted chamber, I lay
with an interest devoid of uneasiness, waiting the development of
events.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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