story which is a part and parcel
of the house, and came to you with it."

But I shook my head, still smiling, and answered, quite at my ease:

"No old wife's tale that I have ever heard amounts to much. I can make
up a better story any day than those which come down with a house like
this. It was all the work of my imagination, I assure you. I tried to
please them, and I hope I did it."

Her face changed at once. It was as if a black veil had been drawn away
from it.

"My daughter will be so relieved," she affirmed. "I don't mind such
lugubrious tales myself, but she is young and sensitive, and so
tender-hearted. I am sure I thank you, Mrs. Truax, for your
consideration, and beg leave to wish you a good-night."

I returned her civility, and we passed into our several rooms. Would I
could know with what thoughts, for my own were as much a mystery to me
as were hers.

* * * * *

OCTOBER 9, 1791.

Madame never addresses her daughter by her first name. Consequently we
do not know it. This is a matter of surprise to the whole house, and
many are the conjectures uttered by the young men as to what it can be.
I have no especial curiosity about it--I would much rather know the
mother's, and yet I frequently wonder; for it seems unnatural for a
mother always to address her child as mademoiselle. Is she her mother?
I sometimes think she is not. If the interest in the oak parlor is what
I think it is, then she cannot be, for what mother would wish to bring
peril to her child? And peril lies at the bottom of all interest there;
peril to the helpless, the trusting and the ignorant. But is she as
interested there as I thought her? I have observed nothing lately to
assure me of it. Perhaps, after all, I have been mistaken.

CHAPTER XIX.

IN THE HALLS AT MIDNIGHT.

OCTOBER 10, 1791.

I was not mistaken. Madame is not only interested in, but has serious
designs upon the oak parlor. Not content with roaming up and down the
hallway leading to it, she was detected yesterday morning trying to open
its door, and when politely questioned as to whom she was seeking,
answered that she was looking for the sitting room, which, by the way,
is on the other side of the house. And this is not all. As I lay in my
bed last night resting as only a weary woman can rest, I heard a light
tap at my door. Rising, I opened it, and was astonished to see standing
before me the light figure o