Cruel As The Grave

"'That must be reformed at once!' said the Fairfax bride, drawing

herself up with much dignity, and also perhaps with some jealous

suspicion.

"'It shall, by my soul! I will give orders to that effect,' quavered

Philip Dubarry.

"'Nay, do not take that trouble. It is my prerogative to order my

household, and I shall do it,' proudly answered the lady.

"And here the matter might have ended, but for that interest Philip

Dubarry felt in the subject. He remembered the most awful threat of his

betrayed gipsy wife: 'In the flesh or in the spirit, to dwell in the

house as long as its walls should stand! In the flesh or in the spirit,

to blast and destroy the bride he should bring there to take her place.'

Up to this time he had never had any reason to suppose that the gipsy

girl had kept her word. He had never seen nor heard of anything unusual

about the house. But now when his wife spoke of this silent inmate in

the red cloak, he recognized the portrait all but too well, and his

guilty soul quaked with fear. And yet he was not superstitious. He was a

son of the eighteenth century, which was much more incredulous of the

supernatural than the nineteenth, with all its mysterious spiritual

manifestations, can be. He was a scientific and practical man. Yet he

shuddered with awe as he listened to the description given by his

unconscious wife of this strange visitant. And he could not forbear to

question her.

"'Did you speak to the girl when you found her in your room at

midnight?' he inquired.

"'Yes, certainly; I asked her how she came to be there so late. But

instead of answering my question, she glided silently away.' "'Have you spoken to any of the servants of this girl's intrusion into

parts of the house where she has no business to come?' "'No, not until this morning; for I never really felt interest enough in

the little creature that I only casually met in the passages of the

house, until I found her in my bedroom at midnight. So this morning I

described her to the housekeeper, and asked who she was, and who gave

her liberty to intrude into my bedroom so late. And what do you think

old Monica answered?' "'I'm sure I don't know.' "'She crossed herself, and cried out, 'Lord have mercy on all our souls!

You have seen her!' I inquired, 'Seen who?' But she answered, 'Nothing.

Nobody. I don't know what I'm talking about. My head's wool-gathering,

I believe.' Nor could any further questioning of mine draw from her any

more satisfactory answer. And so I came to you for an explanation. And

you tell me that she is Milly Jones, the child of poor parents, living

on the mountain, and that she comes here for broken victuals and old

clothes. Very well. In future I shall pension the poor family on the

mountain, for I would not have any fellow-creature in my reach to suffer

want; but I shall do it on condition that Miss Milly Jones stays home,

and helps her mother with the family cooking and washing, instead of

losing her time by day and her sleep by night in wandering through all

the rooms of a gentleman's house, and taking possession of a lady's

bed-chamber.' "You see this bride never imagined a ghost, but strongly suspected a

sweetheart, and so she was a little surprised when her husband answered: "'Do so, my dear; and may Heaven grant that you may get rid of this

unpleasant visitor at once and forever.' "And as he said this, Philip Dubarry arose and went into his library and

rung the bell, and to the servant who answered it, he said: "'Send Monica the housekeeper here.' "In a few minutes Monica entered the room.