DIE 03UAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
TOWANDA :
ThnrsAay Morning, January 29,1863.
©rigtual
(Written for the Bradford Reporter.)
ANOTHER YEAR.
BY I.'ASPIRANT.
Temp us Fugit—Time Flitt.
Another jear has gone-upon the midnight air
The bells ring out, but mournfully and clear,
The last sad requiem of passing time,
The funeral dirge of the departing year—
Which slowly fades away.
Another year has gone—its joy and hope
* Have faded now, and numbered with the past,
While round our pathway, 'mid the gathering gloom,
The shadows of the closing years are cast
Upon the weary heart.
Another year has gone—with tireless tread,
OM Father Time has swept along his way,
Unswerving from his course, to right or left,
And slowly drags our dearest joys away
Amid the gathering gloom.
The rolling seasons have again brought round
The closing scenes of still another year ;
Rut ere we turn another leaf, we pause
And drop upon the page a single tear—
la memory of the Bast.
Another year—with ail its hopes and fears,
Its joys, its cares and sorrows are no more ;
All these have faded now—have passed from view,
Beyond the swiftly lading shore,
Of Peath's Itiver.
Another year has gone —Low sau the thought 1
Another era passed—aud stiii we tind
Our dearest iovas, our brightest joys, on those
Which we are ever leaving far behind,
Upon Life's Road.
And thus it is—year after year sweeps on 1
Month follows month, and day the weary day—
The tide flows on—our brightest hours within
The gateway of the Past still fade away,
In gloom forever!
These evanescent years are but the sands with n
The hour-glass ol our lives—day alter day
The grains run out—the glass is turned—
Our life is finished and we pass away—
Beyond the River.
Another race of earth's ephemeral offspring now sue-
But their's Fss? ours is but a Reeling stay, [cced
TLey live, tliey suffer, and they taste
Of joy and sorrow's cup—they die and pass away—
From Life's arena.
And this is life—this the probation of mankind,
A weary pilgrimage of sorrow and of tears,
Soi otherwise—the record st-i-H the same,
Although wo lived a thousand years,
Throughout eternity !
The bell strikes one—the tale is told,
The year has passed—the sad array ,
Of earth's follies and its ioibte,
Hive faded, forever and for aye-
Forever !
Ei 5 T SMITIIFIELW, I'A.
Srhrttb Sale.
The Tenant of the Lumber-Room.
I had made np my mind to take an old
Louse at Brocklehnrst, if it suited me on in
fection, and I Lircd a boy to pilot me thither.
"There," he said, as we came oat of a thick
Ik plantation, and stood ou the edge of a
dreary broken Lit of eomaiou covered with
und heath, "do you see that red brick
Louse yonder by. the gravel pit ?" 1 looked
'die way his finger pointed, and through the
fathering twilight just discerned a low build -
g. " I'll tell you what, sir," he said, in a
tow tone, and coming closer to ray side, " t here's
'■•ot a lad in all the village would venture round
'Here after nightfall, for there were a murder
done at that hnuse uot two years ago."
"Murder !" I exclaimed.
" Yes, and the craelest murder it was too.
An old gentleman used to live there—trot so
T trj old either, uot much past sixty, I've heard
; but however that might be, he lived
there quite alone, except for one young ser
vant woman, who kept bis house. A pleasant
spoken la>s Ann Forrest was, aud eiany's the
s 'iid word she said to ine when she's been to
bother's shop. -She always seemed to take
frtat care of her old master, and no wonder,
br be was the best old man that ever lived,
ttl d was a good master to her ; but he had
jßouey laid bv, and that must have tempted
( ' er i for one morning some laborers going past
'-Dud the front door open, the house deserted,
|- i the poor old gentleman lying covered with
'°od, and quite dead, at the bottom of the
i-iien. They say he used to go dowu there
'■■ moke his pipe at night, and she chose that
-<■ as .-he knew he could lay hold of nothing
-cfeiid himself with. An old iron box, in
b'ch the old man kept his money and which
• ■■■}' she knew where to fiud, was lying, turn
-bottom uppermost anil empty, in the pes
-4-1 and there were clothes and mauy other
"* :u gs scattered about tbe floor of her room,
l °d ta one of her drawers they found a long
'.hat she had hidden, there. But they
found her; and from that day to this
lo °Ge has heard of her."
} : was a horrible story to listen to, with the
'•at* darkness closing round as, aud the lone
. touse close by. We hastened ou iu silence
" ross ihe common, down a dark steep road,
, trough some meadows, until we reached
house.
Te clang of the bell echoed through the
DOSS within, then silence settled down once
w ' I waited long, then rang agaiu, and at
yh there was a souud of steps aud voices ;
j-bt fur away, then uearcr. A key grated
| 'Q? rusty lock, and the door was partly
■-M by an old man, whose short thick set
°uce filled up the v ay, as though to
ot a hasty entrance. Behind him stood
J ®au, somewhat beut by age, and hold
o. la her baud a lantern. Both stared at
o silent woudermeut, as addressiug myself
j e old man, I told my erraud.
' ai( * l h'at I had meant to arrive sooner,
"! g'te but little (rouble, as some bread
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
I and cheese and a bed for the oight were all
1 should require. The man stood doubtful,
as though bulf inclined to shut the door iu my
face ; then his mind changed, and without a
word he took the lantern from his wife's hand,
and, signing to me to follow, led the Way across
a bare aud lofty ball, and along two stone pas
sages, to a large kitchen, where a fire was
blazing. Setting down the luntern on the ta
ble he turned round aud said : " You'll may
be see that this is the kitchen. If you're too
proud to sit here there are other rooms iu
j plenty, but you'll find no fires or caudles
and without waiting for a reply he walked
away. I turned to the woman, who had fol
lowed us, aud now stood by the fire and ask
ed some questions carelessly ; but she answer
ed me brit fly, with a hurried glance at her
husband ; and, weury of attempting to concili
ate, I said abruptly, that as my time was
; short I would see. the house at once.
" There's very little you'il be able to see at
this time of night," old Pearce said gruffly,
from the window where be stood,
i "At least," I answered, " I can go through
I the rooms and get some notion of their size
J aud I made a move.
For a moment it seemed as though they
i meant to let me go alone ; then Pearce step
ped suddenly forward, and harshly calling to
his wife to bring the keys, caught up the light.
Preceded by my unwilling guides 1 traversed
long passages, our lootsteps sounding hollow
i on the stone floors, mounted staircases, and
j crossed landings. We stopped from time to
time wLile the woman uulotked the doors of
empty and unshuttered rooms, where dust lay
tbivl:, r::d feeble glimmer of the lantern
only served to make the gloom and desolation
more apparent. We went on in silence until
we reached ihe f> ot of a narrow winding slai.
ease. My conductors bad begun to mount it,
when 1 touched a door on my right, aud said:
"Surely we have not. been iu here;'" The
man, half way up, stopped and looked down
at nie. "No," lie said ; "It is only a iuicber
room ; the key has been lost this loug while ;
if you wish to get in, you must have a fresh
key made before you tome again and he
went ou. It was a large rambling house,
where you carnc suddenly upon cupboards and
corners, and bits of winding stairs, or a step
tip here and down there, and passages with
such queer turns and twists tiiat one wonder
ed whither they woul.l lead ; still there was
something qniiut about it that took my fancy
greatly. Wtieu at last we got back to the
kitchen a man sat by tbe lire unlacing his
boots, and with his back toward the door. He
turned as I entered, and ri played a muscular
form and heavy face, like enough to old
Pearce's to mark hitn as his son. He return
ed m? greeting with a silent stare, resumed
his petit, and pulling at his father's sleeves,
muttering angrily : " And who on earth may
you be ?" I did not catch the answer, but
the gruff snort that followed was sufficiently
expressive.
The woman set about preparing supper, and
presently a repast of bacon, eggs, and beer
was put befoie rue ; and I was engaged upon
it, .-he and her husband together. The sun
sat on watching me in silence for a while, then
followed them, leaving tne alone for ihe fir.-i
uu.e since I had come into the house. He
and Lis father soon came back, but a change
hud come upou them ; their sullenuess was
gone, and they seemed most eager to hear my
intentions about the place. It was evident
how much they feared ihat I might take it,
and so ibprive them of their home ; and to
this fear they caught at every doubt of mine,
and tried to fo-U-r it. From their account,
the place was hot in summer, cold iu winter ;
it was even tumbling to pieces ; and it almost
touched ine, when, turning to the son, i said :
" And yet you seem to like to live in it 1" to
hear his curt answer : " I've been bred up
here, mid that makes r deal of difference."—
When the woman at last returned I saw that
she had been crying very bitteily, and with a
half-remorseful feeling I took a candle from
her trembling hand and followed her upstairs.
They had chosen for me one of the old state
bedrooms, ou the firt-L lloor, and a long way
from the kiteheu and hall, at the end of a wide
gullerv. fShe paused at the door to say that
she hoped I might fiud all i wanted, but that
if not, there was a bell, giving me no time to
answer, hurried off. I sat long, noting down
iu my pocket book ail I had observed, and
pondered ou various things, until the dull tones
of the far off stable clock striking twelve,
aroused me, and I began to prepare for bed.
Before lying down I weut instinctively across
the room to secure the door, arid found, to my
surprise, that I was without tbe means of do
ing >o, for there was no bolt, and the key was
uot in the lock. For a moment I wus startled;
then I remembered that the kets of all the
rooms had been iu one large bunch, and no
doubt the woman had forgotten to take this
one off. Should I ring for it ? 1 paused un
decided ; bet the btur was late, the people
must long siuce have beeu in bed, and 1 was
straugely unwilling to eueouuter those surly
looks again to uight. After all, it mattered
little. Traveling as X did without luggage or
ruouev, and iu a simple, almost shabby dress,
I had nothiug to loe, aud with bealtii and
strength iu my fuvor, none wou d choose light
ly to eueouuter me ; and so, without disquie
tude, I blew out my light and lay duwu in
bed. Still I was uot in darkness, for the moon
shone full into the room, oniy obscured from
time to time as a heavy clcud swept ucross,
aud passiug, seemed to leave it more clear and
beuutilul tbau ever. Gradually my thoughts
turued into dreamy fancies, my fancies faded,
and I slept soundly—for how loug, whether
for miuules or hours, I cannot tell, but I woke
in uu iustuut, and with a sudden start aud
thrill. All was quiet—a eloud had veiled
the moon, aud the room was dark and still as
death. No, uot so still—what was that which,
as 1 held my breath, came faintly ou my ear ?
A rustliug—so slight that I could scarcely
catch it, yet surely a rustling in the far corner
of the room. I was a mau of 6troug nerves.
Iu my youth I had beeu iu perils both by sea
aud laud, and I have ever kept my courage
aDd composure. I did not lose them now
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. 0. GOODRICH.
These men below might, despite the risk, be
purposing to rob me ; they might even, in their
anger and revenge at my mission here, medi
tate worse things ; but if the absence of the
key had been no aceideut, and they were now
in ray room, they should find burder work
than they had looked for. I had no firi-urais;
but a loaded stick, which weut with me iu all
my journeyiugs, WAS by my bed's head now.
Slowly and cautiously my baud stole out in
in the darkness and grasped it tight. Then I
waited. For a while there was perfect silence;
then the sound began afresh, aud there—there
by the door, I could just see a moving form !
On it cucie, theu stopped, us though listening-,
and hearing nothing but my steady breathing,
came on again, nearer and nearer, until, as it
reached the foot of my bed, I sprang up. My
stick was raised, was ready to descend, wheu
the moon shone out again, aud my hand drop
ped to my side, for a woman stood before me
—not the old woman I had seen, but one
many years younger, clad in dark garments,
with pale, haggard face and wild eyes. What
was it ? a spirit, an escaped mad woman, or
sotue plot to frighten tne ? As that last thought
[ came into my mind I summoned breath to ask:
" Who, in Heaven's uume, are you ?"
" O hush, hush !" moaned out a voice fee
ble and piteous as a crying child's. " Dou't.
speak, don't let them hear !"
" Tliey ! Who are th*.y, and who are you?"
" I will teli—l came to tell and with
sudden vehemence the figure seized my arm in
a convulsive grasp. "1 am a poor creature,
whom, for eighteen months, those wretches
have kept imprisoned in this away from
all who might have given rne help. You are
the first living soul who has been here ; and I
vowed to myt!f that if I died for it 1 would
. -ma to pray you to protect me, and <>h, dear
Sir, kind Sir, have pity on me !"
As she gasped out those wotds w.th pas
sionate earnestness, yet in faint faltering tones,
something seemed to teli me that this was uo
insane delusion, and no concerted scheme.
" My poor worn in," 1 said soothingly, in a
whisper low as her own, " 1 will help von if I
cau, but you must show me how. What is
your name, and why are you here ?"
" They brought me—l had seen them do it
—no one else, and tin y dared not leave me
behind to tell ; -o, wheu they had murdered
him, they brought me here and shut tne into
the dreadful room up stairs. lam Ana For
rest."
The boy's tale, the Peatce's reluctance to
let the house be seen, the closed lumber-room
—those few words threw light upon it all,
and in my horror I couid not speak at first, 1
could hardly even think. At last I asked how
she had freed herself.
"Tuere was three rusty broken keys—l
found thuu one day under some rubbish in an
oid chest up there, and I tried them nil, nnd
one fitted ; but I dared not use it while they
were always down stairs, and so I hid it again.
They would have killed me long ago, but she
die woman—is kinder than the others, and
would never let them, and to-night she talked
and cried about your being here, and her hus
band's anger, little dreaming how i heeded
her, for they think me almost silly now. Uut
I did heed ; and I thought you would help
me perhaps ; and so, when I knew that they
rnu-it all be in bed, 1 brought out my key and j
it unlocked the door ; and then I listened out
side every room until 1 lound you by your
bri&tbing." She stopped at this last word,
and looked at me with a wistful, searching
glance " I found you," she repeated ; " and
now, oh Sir, you will not forsake."
" 1 will not," I answered ; but when I paus
ed to think, a sense of our danger rushed up J
on me. Alone in this house-, more than a mile j
from any human aid, how could I defend her I
or myself from men desperate, as these would I
be, if they only guessed that I knew their tcr- ;
rible secret ? i, with a wife and children look- j
ing to me, had no light uselessly to peril my j
life I must be cautious ; and if it came to
the worst, then 1 couid but try what one |
strong arm in a good cause could do against
two villains. So I spoke gently to the wo
man, holding her hand as she stood beside me,
and trying to quiet her agony of terror and i
despair, while 1 said that i would save her,
but to do it at this moment would not be pos
sible. " Only wait till morning. Go bak
new to your prison, and trust to me." She
started and shuddered.
"The key stuck in the lock ; it would not
come out," she said. "They may fiud it there,
and theu tiny will murder me, as they have
threatened '
" Listen !" I whispered. ' There is no sign
that they have heard us yet. Go back and
try —try with all your strength to loosen the
key, and lock yourself in again ; then yon need
ftar nothing, for thev canuot guess. I will j
watch ; if you need me, cry out, and I will
come—if not, wait and hope for the morning
thut tball bring you safety and release ; only
go now, before they fiud us together."
She seemed to understand, and oiovod to
waid the door submissively, then stopped:—
" You would not deceive me ?" she said. The j
look and tone were so imploring, so iuexpres '
sibly mournful, that my heart smote tne for \
letting her go, for remembering anything but !
her misery. She gazed into my face. I know j
you would not," she said, in quite another i
voice, and ugaiu turned away, I following her. j
Her fingers softly turned tlie liandi ; she -
crept iuto the passage, and I watched the tall j
daik form flitting along the gallery, her bare i
feet moving noiselessly upou Ibe boards. I j
listened breathlessly, but there was neither
souni nor movement in the house. The old ;
couple slept at the foot of the back staircase
aud uear the kiteheu, the sou iu a small room
close to the hall, never dreaming that the
prisoner they had kept securely all those
months would fiud meaus to force her prison
on this very night—ouly the woman even
knowing that she had heard of my presence iu
the house. If any chance noise awoke these
sleepers, if any chapce suspicion had turned
them iuto watchers, then it might be a strug
gle for life aud death. No ; all was still as
yet. The moonlight flooded the room, and
closing the door, I softly crossed to tbe wio-
"REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER."
' dow seat, and eat down there to listen and to
j thiuk. Think—thiuk of what ? A horrible
i crime, a secret prison-houte not twenty miles
! from London.'the work that, must be doae to
| morrow ; all thes? thiogs seemed crowded to-
I getber wildly in my brain. By degrees I grew
! calmer. I must release her, but how ? Maoy
! ways flashed across me, and were cast aside
i again ; so I sat motionless, gazing into the
; sky, my ear strained for every cry, until the
first faint streak of dawn came into the east,
i No sound had broken the dead siieDce of tbe
house, and now at last my plan was made, and
• might be tried
I dressed quietly, then waited for a while,
1 and as the red rim of the rising sun showed
i through the trees, tramped noisily dowu stairs.
| I meaut that they should hear and see me,
I but no one appeared ; so crossing to the kitch
j en, I looked iu. The old man was there cut-
I ting up wood ; he did not hear my step till 1
was close upou him, then turued sharply round.
" You rise early," he said, iu his old surly toue.
Willi all the blood in my veins curdling at
the sight of that wicked, murderous face, I
forced my lips to speak naturally. " Why,
! yes," I said ; " I waut to see something of the
grounds before I break'ast. Can you tell me
the best way to take ?"
" I kuow nought about it," ho answered ;
"there is nothiug worth seeing anywhere
i about here."
j " Where docs the garden lie ?" I asked.—
i The Distant I had spoken I felt that ray ques
j tion, meaut to divert suspicion, had beeu a
I rash one. lie looked up, a new expression in
I his eys—v/as it fear or doubt ?
" Tuere is no garden now," he said hastily;
: " it's a wilderness ; aud breakfast will be rea
: dy directly, if only that old id' -t " —and he
: shouted ltis wife's uatne —" vus acre, as she
1 should be."
i The precious minutes were slippiug fast
' awoy. ami yet I dared uot seem ia haste. The
i old man had returued to his chopping, and
j the monotonous thud of the hatchet alone
! sounded through tbe room. Presently I.said,
1 carelessly : " Well, I'm just going for a turn
iu the wood now, and presently I shall get
; you to go round with me." I had uot done
| speaking when the old woman's door opened,
i and I heard her foot beginning slowly to dos
! cetid the stairs. Was she going there ? All
| might, perchance, be safe ; but if that broken
| key should stili be in the lock-the" secret was
! betrayed. In desperation I racked my brain
i for some device to briug her back. "Stay !"
I I exclaimed to the old man, " isn't that your
| wife ? I want her to get me, if she can, some
I eggs aud vegetables to take to towu ; I will
I p;ty well."
j His eyes brightened, and absorbed in that
| promise, he never saw the agitation of my
I manner ; he stepped to the door. " Meg," he
j called. " the gentleman wauls ye. Come dowu
| will ye ?"
A pause ; aud then she said from above :
j " I shan't be leng."
I breathed hard.
" Come now," he called again, " the gentle
| man's waiting ;" and then the foot came slow
ly dowu. A few u,hates later, 1 saw her, with
relief no words can tell, go off with a basket
1 on her arm to the henhouse uud garden. Now
was my time, and there wai not a moment to
lose. Followed by old Pearce, I crossed the
hull. As I stood waiting while he unfastened
the door, the lad's words about the son came
to my mind. lie might be away ; if so—if
there wa S but this one man to face, I would
battle it alone, aud not leave her lor an hour
iu their hands.
" 1 don't know," I said carelessly, " wheth
er your son's at home ; if so, would he direct
me, by and-by, to Leckford, and carry my bag
and basket?"
" Yes, he can go," was the reply.
That course, then, was hopeless, and I must
try the other way. Slowly I sauntered along
ihe wood path, pausing from time to time to
look with seeming interest at the trees and
shiubs around me and back at the old house
and stiil that man stood in the door-wav look
ing after me. At last I turned my head, and
he was gone ; but while withiu sight of those
windows 1 dare not quickeu my pace. A few
steps more, and I was close to the old gate :
I leaned upon it for a minute, aud then un
latched it and passed through. All was still
and quiet iu the early morning light, save a
rabbit bounding across the path aud the rooks
cawing overhead. I went ou a little way,
then stopped, and once agaiu looked back, the
old house was hidden now, and r.o human fig
ure was iu sight. Another glance, and then
away like the wind through the fields and
woods, aud over the common, where a low
red house stood iu its solitude. Ou I went,
into the fir plantation, through more fields,
aud then clambering a feoce, made for a white
house upon the brow of a hill near. That
house, my boy guide had said, belonged to a
Mr. Archer ; and he had said, too, that he
was a magistrate. Little as I had noticed his
words at the time, all—the name, the place
—had come fresh to my mind iu my night
watch, aud I was going there to ask his aid.
On, on ; and now my laboring breath was
lading, and my feet seemed fasteuc-d to the
ground ; but still I struggled forward, and at
last thank Heaveu for it ! I had gained the
door.
Mr. Archer looked surprised ; then led tbe
way indoors to a small study. In a few hur
ried words I told him all ; but as I went on I
avv the wonder in his face turning to disbe
lief, and the kiud, thoughtful eyes invoiuuta
rily glancing now at mv disordered dress, now
at my flushed and agitated face. He thought
me mad. With a great effort I composed
myself, steadied ray voice aud 6aid : " You
think this a wild story, but I swear solemnly
that every word is true, aud I call on you as
a magistrate to give mc help."
He was silent for a momeut ; theu replied:
" As a magistrate and as a man I should be
bound to help if this were so ; but pardon me;
it does seem a wild story ; aud I should hard
ly like, without strong proof, to enter a man's
hcuse with such a charge."
I laid my hand upon his arm. " ListeD," I
said : 41 I can give yon proof ouly, that on the
fruth of what I say hangs my own character.
If you go with me aud find it false you have
only been deluded by a madman or a rogue ;
if you refuse to go after my words, her blood
and mine may be upon your bead, for I, at
any rate, shall instantly return there."
He hesitated, then said: "Youspeak Btrong
ly ; and at least, as you say, my going can do
little harm, I am ready."
I stopped him again. " Not alone. Let
some of your servants go with us. Not for
my own sake." I added, as a half smile curl
ed his lip : " I only ask one man's aid ; but
I would not draw you into danger ; and they
are both stroDg men, aud may have to be se
cured."
" And if not ?" he said.
"If not, yon have been deluded," I re
peated.
" Very well, so be it," he answered.
Half an hour later Mr. Archer and myself,
with two servants, stood before the door of
Brocklehurst Grage. All seemed as undis
turbed and quiet as when I had left it, hard
ly more thuu an hour ugo. Was it as peace
ful within ? Were they still going about their
daily work, expiating my return, while the
solitary prisoner up t-tairs waited and watch
ed for me iu suspense that would be ended
now ? I rang, but no one came at first in an
swer to the summous. A terror seized me
Could they have murdered her aud fled, leav
ing the house deserted ? There had surely
not beeu time for that. No : there i 3 steps
sounding on the floor, uud the rattle of the
door chain as it fell. A moment more and I
should know. The key turued, and the door
was opened wide Litis time by old Pearce alone,
quietly regarding us with the old sullen look
and no more. They had guessed nothiug vet,
and now it mattered little that the three meu
by my side must kuow all.
" You have hud a long walk, sir," he said;
" And what may this gentleman waut ?" as
Mr. Archer stepped forward.
I looked him full iu the face. " lie has
come to take Ann Forrest from bis house."
At that name I thought to see him turu
pale or spring upon me, but no feature alter
ed—no change came over the dogged face.—
Then all at once my heart misgave me. Mr.
Archer looked embarrassed.
" I would uot willingly," be said, " intrude
upon you, or suspect you of this horrible crime
with which this gentleman charges you ; but
he is so positive, that, if you can, you ought
for your own sake, to clear yourself."
Pearce looked at him unmoved. " You are
Mr. Archer, of Holme Green, I think. Why
you are here, and what this man meaus, per
haps you cau tell, for I can not.
" This is what I meaD," I said ; " Ann
Forrest, whose mesteryou murdered two years I
ago, is now secretly detained in this house lest
she should accuse you as the murderers. She .
is iu the room which you call a lumber-room,
aud I am goiug there now."
"You are welcome to go there or any where,
all of you, though I know uo right that you
have to search this house. It signifies, little .
to me what you do, aud this is all of a piece j
with your couducttLis morning and turning
ou his heel, he went back to the kitchen.
My companions exchanged looks, aud I saw
that the old villaiu's cunuing words had
strengthened their suspicions of me. That
strange, that horrible composure, what could
it mean ? With a sick heart I led the way
up stairs to the locked door where I had
stood the night before ; it was locked now.
and above it hung the key. Could I have
mistaken the place ? No, there was the nar
row passage just before me, the wiuding stair
ease above and below. I snatched dowu the
key, unlocked the door, and entered a deso
late room half filled with boxes and old fur
uiture ; beyond it was another room quite
empty, with uo signs iu either of humau habi
tation This, theu, was what the old mau's
calmness meant ; yet I searched, searched
despairingly on every side, in every nook and
corner, Mr. Archer looking on silently the
while. All iu vain ! She was gone, aud not
a trace of her was left ; I went into the oth
er rooms ; 1 left uo spot unvisited ; I groan
ed aloud iu ray bitter remorse for having left
her to her fate. What had that fate beeu ?
That was the thought that lay heavy at my
heart as we went at last to the kitchen. As
we were about to enter it, Mr. Archer drew
me aside.
" You remember," he said, " your owo
words wheu you brought me here. I have
been p tieot ; I have given ycu every chance;
now c .'ies your turu. For my sake and
ycur owi, as well as the meu you wronged,
you niLS". coiifcsss openly either to a cruel
slander, or—"
" Au iusane fancy," I said, finishing the
sentence. " Not yet. There are gardeus
and out-houses ; I must search them. They
may even have carried her off."
" How could they iu broad daylight ?
You here till an hour ago aud no cart or horse
about the place—that at least is impossible.
Besides, the man is here."
I said nothing in reply. What could I
say ? The old man was still alone and sit
ting by the fire as we passed through the
kitchen to the baek-door. He raised his head,
aud pointing to a basket on the table, said :
" My wife got those ready before she went
to market. I don't ask if you have found any
thing up stairs, because there was nothing to
find ; but I hope you arc satisfied."
I was silent ; but Mr. Archer paused to
say a few words before following me out up
on my fruitless quest. Every where, in lofts
and sheds, summer houses and stables, round
the gardeus and yards—on all sides I hunted
and hunted in vain. The fowls in the chicken
yard, the old dog in his kennel were the ouly
living beings that met my eyes; and turning
to Mr. Archer, I said, at last, " I give it np."
" And withdraw your accusations?" he ask
ed.
"It is useless to press them," I answered
bitterly; " bat how can I disbelieve my own
senses?"
" Even our senses may deceive us," he said,
quietly.
I knew whet he meant very well His first
VOL. XXIII. —NO. 35.
step, when we returned to the kitcbeu, was to
go up to old Pearce and apolog ze gravely and
lortnally for the disturbance he bad caused.—
Ilis next was to turn to me, saying, " There
can be no further reason for my remaining ; I
will wish you good morning, hoping that your
painful impression may wear off."
His words came in straugely with the
thought in my mind. Was it. after ail, a
dream, a delusion of my own, created by che
lad's strry and the desolate bouse? Had
that midnight visit existed in my own fancy
alone ? Was Mr. Archer right, aud was I
going mad ? With that horrible idea now
tirst striking me, I stood silent until Mr. Ar
cher again repeated his farewell. Then I
roused myself. " Good-by," I said. "After
ail, you may be right, and I wrong. Stop V
And my voice in a new tone echoed through
the room. I was standing by the wiudow,
and close to my right hand was a common
kitcheu cupboard, and at that very iustaDt i
heard a moan come from it. T never could
have heard it had I not been so near ; I could
hardly hear it now ; but I turned and laid
my hand upon the key, and as I did so the
old man with an oath sprang up and rushed
upon me. There was a coufused struggle, a
loud outcry, and he was on the ground, and I
was wrenching open the door. It yielded to
my strength, and there, on the floor of that
narrow closet, bound baud and foot, aud gag
ged, lay the poor woman for whom I had
been seeking, powerless to move or cry out,
though with help so near, and only able, by
her desperate efforts, to utter that one faint
moan which Lad just reached my cars. Wo
lifted her on u. d unbound her, but she spoke
no word, only her wild eyes roamed incessant
ly about, ami she cluDg to me with a grasp
that 6cemed as though it would never uuloose.
1 and Mr. Archer led her away, leaving the
two men bring old Pearce afterward, for he
made no resistance aud only glated savagely
round upon us all.
It was many hours before Ann rarest cou'.d
speak of what happened to her ; but that
afternoon, in Mr. Archer's study, her band
still clasped io miue.sbe told her dreadful tale
—how in old timesshe had knowu the Ptarcea
well, and once bad even helped to cur.-e the
woman ; how they had asked her carelessly
one day i.bojt hr master's money-box, and
she had told them, not tbiukiug any I arm,
and had never dreamed of any until the cru
el deed was done. That evening she Lad
been bu6y in the house till after nightfull, aud
then went down the garden to call her master
into supper ; but as she neared the spot where
he wus wout to sit, she saw two iigurcs bend
ing over something on the ground, and as she
stood to watch, saw, too, that it was her mas
ter who lay there, and running forward with
a cry in sudden horror, bad fallen the next
moment stunned by a blow upon the head.—
She knew no more uutil she woke to find
herself iu the lonely room at Brockleburst,
and learned that they had brought her there
to ward suspicion from themselves ; that her
life had for the time been spared, because the
women, bearing grateful memory of that kiud
nursing, had vowed to tell all if they harmed
her, and might have kept her vow ; and so
for all these terrible months one weak woman
had aloae stood between her and a frightful
death.
Of i be end of that snspease, of the morning
wheu the old uian, comiug up alone. ha t found
the key, dispite the frantic effott- uui
made, still in the lock, aud the se
cret from that and from her terror, he bound
aud hid her from her approaching deliverers,
aud arranging ail thiuga iu her prison, had
sent his wife and son away end himself
on guard—of all this she could not even now
speak without convulsive shudders, aud we did
not pre 63 her.
My story is well nigh told. The father aud
sou suffered for their crimes, the woman was
mercifully dealt with. We did not take Brock
lehurst Grange, for we couid oot bear that oar
innocent children should live in sceues darken
ed by such deeds ; but we did go elsewhsro.
Years afterwards there might be seen moving
about the bouse a pale, tall woman, darkly
dressen, gentle in manner, and very, very qui
et. To her my wife turned for sympathy in
every trouble ; in her arms the children loved
to lie wheu sick or sorrowful. From her I
had the most faithful aud devoted service ;
and she died at last, holding my haod, aud
thanking me with her eyes, even when her
voice was silent forever. Her name was Ana
Forrest.
SIGNIFICANCE OF A WlNK. —Smith, the auc
tioneer, is a popular man, a wit and a geutle
mati. No person iscffjnded at what he says,
and many a hearty laugh has he provoked by
his huraerous sayings. lie was recently en
gaged in a sale of vcuerable household furni
ture and fixings. He had just got to " Going
going, and a half, a half, going 1" when ha
saw a smiling countenaucc upon agricultural
sholdiers, wink at him.
A wink, is always as good as a nod to a
blind horse or to a kcon sighted auctioneer—
so Smith winked, and the men winked, and
they kep 4 .ri-'ieg, and S n:tn kept "Going,
going!" * ib a lot of glassware, stove pipes,
carpets, pots and perfumery, and finally this
lot was knocked down.
To—whom 6aid Smith, gaziDgat the smil
ing stranger.
"Who? Golly!" said the stronger; " I
don't know who."
" Whv yon, sir" said Smith.
" Who?—me?"
" Yes—you bid on the lot," said Smith.
" Me ? hang me if I did," insisted the stran*
ger.
44 Why, did you not wink, and kept wink
ing?"
" Winking! Well, I, and so did yon at
me. I thought you were winking as much as
to say, 4 Keep dark, I'll stick somebody into
that "lot of stuff,' and I winked as much as to
say, 4 I'll be hanged if you don't, mister.' "
IQT A horse dealer describing a used np
horse, said he looked 44 as if he bad been edit
ing a da'dv paper n