The Haunted Homestead. Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth

what favorable circumstances—the invited guest of your father. How very providential the whole train of events! Trust still in Divine Providence; and if your love is a true love, it will end happily," I answered.

      And in my deep sympathy with Mathilde's joy, I almost forgot that I was a haunted maiden, with some, as yet unknown, supernatural mission to accomplish.

      I was resolved, if possible, before the day should be over, to hear from Mathilde the tragic story of Madeleine Van Der Vaughan, whose portrait I had mentally identified as that of the awful visitant of my midnight hours. The opportunity came, or rather, I made it. Mathilde had early completed her toilet for the evening. I had done likewise. And at five o'clock we found ourselves alone together in the drawing-room of the new house. The lamps were not as yet lighted. The hickory fire had ceased to blaze, and now only burned redly, showing out a strong, solid heat, in what Uncle Judah called "solemn columns," and casting over the dark chamber a sombre, ruddy twilight. We sat down by the fire together. There would be no chance for the next half hour of being interrupted.

      For Mr. Legare was still engaged at his breakfast in the dining-room. Mrs. Legare was busy in her pantry and the kitchen, and the few servants of the now reduced establishment were in constant attendance upon their master or mistress.

      Rachel Noales was upstairs in my chamber, dressing for the evening, and the other young persons of the Christmas party were in the bedrooms of the old house, similarly engaged.

      There was not the slightest possibility of an interruption.

      Mathilde commenced speaking.

      "I believe you are pleased with your chamber, Agnes?"

      "Charmed," I answered.

      Without perceiving the double entendre hidden in my reply, she said:

      "And you have always slept well, then?"

      "Never better," I replied; "in that chamber," I mentally added.

      In her ignorance of this silent reservation, she was pleased with my answer, and sat smiling quietly and studying, apparently, the glowing coals of fire in the chimneyplace.

      I broke her reverie by saying, in a careless, off-hand way:

      "Apropos de rien, you have not told me the story of that mysterious portrait yet."

      "No, I haven't! But, indeed, I am not sure that the history of Madeleine Van Der Vaughan has anything to do with that portrait, since I am not sure that it is hers."

      "No matter; take it for granted that it is; or at least tell the story whether or not."

      "Very well; listen, then," said Mathilde, settling herself comfortably in her chair, and commencing the narrative.

      "The Van Der Vaughans, as you may perceive by their name, are of Teutonic origin, though by frequent intermarriage with other races, they have no doubt lost, or modified, many of their national traits. Their residence, in this part of the country, dates back to the time of the first settlement of New York by the Dutch.

      "Why this particular family should have wandered down to the backwoods and mountains of Virginia remains a mystery, unless they were of a patriotic and poetical turn, and found in her wild hills and boundless woods something to remind them of the Hartz Mountains and the Black Forest. However that may be, they came, took up a great tract of land, built themselves a dwelling place (the old house adjoining this), and settled down permanently.

      "For a time they were prosperous, as others were, and then, by bad agriculture, they grew poor, as others in this neighborhood did. If we may believe tradition the poorer this family grew the prouder they became, until at last, pride and poverty united, culminated in the character and the circumstances of the last heiress of the elder branch of the family, Madeleine Van Der Vaughan.

      "At the age of twenty-five Madeleine Van Der Vaughan was left, by the death of her father (her mother died long before), sole heiress of a worn-out plantation and dilapidated house.

      "Madeleine is reported to have possessed great and singular beauty—a tall and imperial form, a fine head, with strongly marked and perfectly regular features, a deep, rich complexion, and hair, eyes and eyebrows all black as Erebus. Gifted and accomplished was she also, and, as I stated, proud as Lucifer. It is said that this overweening pride prevented her taking a husband from among her numerous visitors, none of whom, though of the best families in the State, she deemed worthy of her own "high alliance.""

      "Until at last her relative, Ernest Wolfgang Van Der Vaughan, made his appearance in her train and claimed her hand; a claim that was indorsed by her acceptance.

      "It is said that family pride had to do with this marriage much more than love. However that might be, no sooner was the knot securely tied, than Mr. Van Der Vaughan began to importune his wife to sell her land and homestead that they might emigrate to the West. But in vain; for Mrs. Van Der Vaughan would not, for an instant, entertain the idea of alienating her patrimony.