Miss Georgine's Husband

DID I ever see a ghost? I don’t know just what you mean by a ghost, Miss Bessy, but if you mean the appearance of a person after I had seen him die with my own eyes, and laid him out with my own hands . . .

I don’t exactly know about telling you the story.You see, it’s a true story, and a very solemn one, and I should n’t like to have it laughed at, or to have any one tell me I did n’t see what I did see. But you was always a pretty-behaved young lady, and you know I can’t refuse you anything, so if you will sit down quiet and take your work, I ’ll tell you all about it, my dear.

You know, honey, I ’m a very old woman, and when I was young I was a slave to old Judge Cleaveland, over on the Flats. There were slaves in York State then. I was born down in Maryland, but the Judge moved up to these parts when I was very small, and brought his servants with him. We were well enough treated. Judge Cleaveland was a hard, high-tempered man, and used to have awful ugly fits sometimes, but, like most folks of that kind, he could keep his temper well enough when it suited him, and he knew it was easy enough for his servants to run away if they did n’t like their treatment. When I was eighteen I married Zack Davis, the coachman, and after that we lived mostly in a house of our own. We were free by that time, and we bought a nice little log-house and some land for a garden, but we worked up at the house all the same.

The old Judge was a widower when he moved up here, but very soon he married a pretty young lady from the Mohawk Valley. She was only eighteen, and a sweet child as ever I saw. The Judge meant to be good to her, I guess, but she never seemed very happy. When the second little girl was born the Judge was dreadfully disappointed. I suppose he wanted a son, to inherit his great estate and keep up the family name. He never was the same to his wife after that. He was polite to her, especially before company, but he had a kind of cold, sneering way with her, that I could see cut her to the heart. Her health failed, and she went home to her father’s house for a change, and there she died. The Judge seemed a good deal cast down by her death — more than I should have expected. I dare say some things camp back to him when it was too late. After the funeral he shut up the house and went abroad. He was in foreign parts or down in New York for ten years and more. The young ladies, Miss Anna and Miss Georgine, stayed with their grandma some years, and then they were put to school in New York. All that time Zack and I lived in the old house, to take care of it. It was lonesome enough sometimes, especially in winter, but though I used to go all over the great rooms alone by day and by night, I never saw anything then — not a thing.

Well, when the young ladies were sixteen and seventeen, the Judge wrote and told me to clean up the rooms, and have everything ready, for he was coming home. His wild land was growing very valuable, and there was no one to see to it properly, and for that and other reasons lie had decided to come home to the Flats to live. So at the time set they came, with loads of new furniture and carpets and what not, and a very nice widow lady for housekeeper. She had a son, an officer in the army and a very line man, who would willingly have, supported her, but she preferred to do for herself.

I expected to see Miss Anna the favorite, as she was the elder, and Miss Georgine had so disappointed her pa by not being a boy; but I soon found out it was the other way. Miss Anna was not pretty. She looked like her ma, and had just such a quiet, gentle way with her. She was afraid of her father, too, as her mother had been, and with some reason — and she was afraid of her sister. She didn’t care much for company, but liked best to sit down and sew or read. Miss Georgine was like her father, and had just his free, bold way. She was n’t afraid of anything at all except that she should not be first in everything. She was very handsome, with regular features, and beautiful wavy black hair, and long curled eyelashes. I don’t know that I ever saw a handsomer girl, but for real goodness and truth she was no more to be compared to Miss Anna than a great red woodpecker is to a little sweet bluebird. She always contrived to get the best of everything, and if she got into any trouble or mischief, she generally made her father believe it was Miss Anna’s fault. She made a great show of openness and saying what she thought, but she did n’t think all she said, by a great deal.

When Miss Anna was about eighteen, Mrs. Gracie’s son came to visit his mother, and a very fine, sober, nice young man he was. Every one liked him, especially the Judge, who could not make enough of him till he found that the captain and Miss Anna were taking to each other; then he began to cool off. Captain Gracie stayed at the tavern in the village, and called most every day to see his mother, and before he left he asked the Judge for Miss Anna. Then there was a time. The Judge went into one of his furious rages, ordered both mother and son out of the house, and shut Miss Anna up in her room. Miss Georgine was as bad as her father, and the way they treated that poor girl was shameful. But Miss Anna had got her spunk up, and she contrived — I never knew how — to send word to Captain Gracie. A few days after, when the Judge was out about his land, Captain Grade drove up to the door, and asked for Miss Anna. She must have expected him, for she came down in her traveling-dress, and with her bag in her hand. Miss Georgine stormed and scolded and sent all ways for her father, but nobody could find him, and in fact I don’t think anybody tried. Miss Anna bade her sister a kind farewell and got into the carriage, and that was the last we saw of her for many a year. They were married that same day in the city, and went away wherever his regiment was. Captain Gracie sent her father his address and a copy of his marriage lines, but the Judge never look any notice; only he handed me the paper and told me to pack up her clothes and things and send them to her. I don’t approve of runaway matches as a general thing, but I can’t say I blamed Miss Anna one bit.

About this time Judge Cleaveland found out that he needed a clerk, or secretary as he called it; so he sent for Mr. Bogardus, a cousin of his wife’s, to come and live in his house and attend to his business. Mr. Bogardus was a fine, handsome man, about thirty, very grave and sober ; but with beautiful manners — a real fine gentleman. The Judge made much of him in his pompous, condescending way. Miss Georgine began by being very cold and scornful, but she soon changed her tone when she found her cousin did not take any particular notice of it or of her, and began to be very polite to him. He had a fine voice, and played beautifully on the violin, and she used to ask him to sing and play with her, especially when they had company; but he almost always excused himself and would often stay in the library till midnight, writing or reading. He seemed like a smart man, and yet he never accomplished anything for himself. He was one of the unlucky ones, poor fellow.

But the more Mr. Bogardus kept out of Miss Georgine’s way, the more she courted him. That was her fashion. If there were ten men in the room and she had nine of them around her, she did n’t care anything about it till she got the tenth. She always had plenty of sweethearts, being such a beauty and a great heiress besides. Mr. Bogardus resisted a good while, but by and by I saw a change. He began to be more attentive to his cousin - to sing with her evenings, and sometimes to go out riding and walking with her. Miss Georgine was altered too. I never saw her so gentle and so — " lovable ? ” yes, that ’s just the word, my dear! as she was that summer; and I thinks to myself, “ My beauty, you ’re caught at last, but I wonder what your father will say.”For you see he looked on Mr. Bogardus only as a kind of upper servant, for all he was Mrs. Cleaveland’s own cousin.

The Judge didn’t seem to notice for a while, but by and by I think he got his eyes open. He went down to New York for a week or two, and when he catne back, he called Mr. Bogardus and told him he had found him a fine position with a gentleman who was going out to Brazil to set up some kind of manufactures, — a place of great trust, and where he would make a fortune in no time. Mr. Bogardus was much pleased. He was always ready to take up any new notion, and he thought he should make himself rich directly. But Miss Georgine had a bad headache that day, and she was n’t well for a week afterward.

The very day Mr. Bogardus left, I was sitting in my own door, and as I looked up I saw Miss Georgine walking across the field toward my house. I was rather surprised, for she was n’t fond of walking, and almost always rode her pony wherever she wanted to go. She walked in a weary kind of way too, and when she came near, I saw she looked very pale. I got out the rocking-chair for her, and made much of her, but she sat down on a little stool and put her beautiful head in my lap, as her poor mother had done many a time, and says she, bursting out crying, —

“ Oh, Aunt Dolly! My husband’s gone!”

Honey, you might have knocked me down with a feather. I could n’t think what she meant at first, and thought she had got light-headed from being out in the sun.

“ Child! ” says I, “ you don’t know what you are saying! ”

“ Yes I do — too well!” says she; and then she told me between her sobs that she and Mr. Bogardus had been privately married while her father was away, the day that they went down to the city together, and that they meant to keep it quiet till Mr. Bogardus made his fortune.

“ I never meant to tell anybody,” says she, “ but, Aunt Dolly, I could n't bear it all alone, and I knew I could trust you ! ”

Well, I could have wished she had chosen some one else, but I tried to comfort her as well as I could. Presently I said, “ Ah, child, you can feel for your poor sister now! ”

“ That was very different!” says she, lifting up her head as proud as could be; “ I have n’t disgraced myself as Anna did. My husband is a gentleman — not a servant’s son! ”

When she said that, Miss Bessy, I knew she had more yet to suffer.

Says I, “ Miss Georgine, I shall never betray you, you may be sure, but you ought to tell your pa. Suppose he finds it out: what will he say, and what will you do? ”

“ He won’t find it out! ” says she, “ and if he does, I shall know what to do.” But then she put her head down in my lap again, and oh, how she did cry! I couldn’t but pity her, though she showed such a wrong spirit; and I tried to tell her of a better comfort than mine, but she would n’t hear a word of that. She did n’t want any cant, she said. By and by I made her some tea and coaxed her to drink it and to eat a little, and when the sun got low, I walked home with her. She was always gentler with me after that, and whenever she got a letter from Mr. Bogardus she would come and tell me about it. I was on thorns for a while, and watched her as a cat watches a mouse; but everything went on as usual, and nobody but our two selves knew or mistrusted anything about the matter.

Miss Georgine got her letters pretty regular for about six months, and then they stopped, and she never had another. At first she pined a good deal, and I was afraid she was going into a decline; but presently I saw a change. Her old proud self came back, only harder and colder than before. She was handsomer than ever, and more fond of company and admiration. One day I ventured to ask her if she had heard any more of Mr. Bogardus.

Oh, how her eyes flashed as shy said, “ Never mention that man’s name to me again! He has shamed and deserted me!” says she.

“ You don’t know that,” says I; “ he may be dead.”

“ He isn’t dead!” she answered. “ My father heard he was married to a rich Spanish widow up at the mines.”

“ I don’t believe it! ” says I boldly. “ It is n’t a bit like him.” For you see I had come to know him pretty well. I had nursed him in his sick turns, of which he had a good many, and though I did n’t approve of the secret marriage, I liked him and felt like standing up for him.

“ Never mention his name to me again, Dolly !” says she, and I didn’t for a long time, till the day came that I had to do it.

Well, the time went on, year after year in much the same way. Our folks spent the summers on their own estate, and the winters in New York or at the South with the Judge’s family, spending a deal of money and seeing a deal of fine company. It was nine years that very spring since Mr. Bogardus went away, when, after they had been home a couple of days, Miss Georgine rode over to see me. She brought me a fine gown and some other things from New York, and after she had showed them to me, says she, speaking proud and careless like, —

“ Aunt Dolly, I want you to come up to the house next week, to make my wedding cake and keep house a while, because I am going to be married.”

Miss Bessy, I couldn’t believe my ears; and says I, “ Miss Georgine, I don’t know as I quite understand you.”

“ You are growing stupid, Dolly! ” says she pettishly. “ I’m going to be married to Mr. Philip Livingstone, and I want you to make the cake.”

I don’t know what made me, but I spoke right out. “ Mrs. Bogardus.” says I. “ have you told your pa and Mr. Livingstone about your first marriage ? ”

“ How dare you call me by that name? ” says she, and her eyes fairly blazed. “ No, I have not told them and I shall not. You can, if you choose!” says she. “ How much do you mean to ask me as the price of keeping the secret I was fool enough to tell you? ”

Then I flared up. “ Mrs. Bogardus,” says I, “ there’s the door. Please walk out of it, and don't come insulting a woman in her own house that thinks as much of herself as you do, if she is black! If that’s what you think of me, you may get some one else to make your cake!” says I.

Well, she saw she had gone too far. Like her father, she could command her temper well enough when she chose, and she knew she could n’t get any one to make such cake as mine, if she went down on her knees to them. Besides, I knew all the ways of the house, and they could n’t do without me. So she came down and said she was sorry, and she did not mean anything, and so on, till she coaxed me round, and I promised to do all she wanted.

“ But if it was the last word I ever spoke, I do say you ought to tell Mr. Livingstone,”says I. “ What if Mr. Bogardus should come back some day? ”

I knew I was doing right, but I felt sorry for her when I saw how pale she turned. “ That unhappy man is dead long ago,” says she, “ and if he were not, it is nearly nine years since I heard from him, and that is enough to release me. But you ’ll be glad to hear,” says she, “ that I have coaxed my father to write to sister Anna, and ask her and her son to the wedding. You know she is a widow now, and there is no use in keeping up the quarrel any longer.”

So then I agreed to make the cake, and keep house for her father while she was away. They were coining back to spend the summer at home. But I did n’t feel happy. I knew she was doing wrong, and that harm would come of it.

The wedding went off nicely. Mr. Livingstone was a fine, handsome man, a good deal older than Miss Georgine. He looked good and sensible, and it was easy to see that he fairly worshiped his wife. My heart ached for both of them, because I knew as things were they never could be happy. You see I felt sure Mr. Bogardus wasn’t dead.

How did I feel sure? Well, it was just like this. Whenever any of my folks had died away from me, I had always seen them in my dreams that same night. I saw my own brother, who was drowned in the lake, and my aunt with her baby, and Miss Georgine’s mother. Now Mr. Bogardus was fond of me. He said once that I was more like a mother than any one had ever been to him, and I knew he would n’t die without coming to let me know.

Miss Anna, that was, and her boy were at the wedding and stayed a fortnight after. She wore her deep widow’s weeds, and looked thin and worn, but she had a sweet, placid, happy look, worth more than all her sister’s beauty. She told me that through all her trials, in sickness and loneliness, and losing her husband and her children, she had never regretted her marriage, not one minute.

The boy was a fine, manly fellow, the image of his father. The Judge took to him greatly, and wanted Mrs. Gracie to come home to live; but she excused herself and said she must take care of her husband’s mother, who was feeble and needed her. She told me privately that she did n’t think such a life would be good for her boy, and I dare say she was right.

The bride and bridegroom came home after a month and settled down with us for the summer, and the day she came home, I noticed a scared look in Miss Georgine’s face that I never saw there before.

That night I was sitting in my own house (and glad enough I was to get back to it), when Some one knocked softly at the door. Zack opened it, and the minute he did so, he cried out, “ Lord ’a’ mercy ! ” I jumped up, and then I thought surely I saw a ghost, but I didn’t. It was Mr. Bogardus himself, but oh how thin and pale, and with his beautiful hair white as snow!

“ Will you take me in, Dolly? ” says he. " I am sick to death, old friend, and I have come to die with you.”

In a minute all the consequences rushed on my mind, but I could n’t help that. We took him and put him to bed in our best room, and as soon as the light fell on his face, I saw it was marked for death. I sat up with him all night. He did n’t sleep much, and seemed to want to talk, and I knew it could not make much difference, so I let him have his way. He told me he had written home by every mail for more than a year after he stopped getting any letters in return. From all I could make out he had gone on just in his old way, trying first one thing and then another, always thinking he was just going to make a great fortune.

“ But I never was unfaithful to Georgine, not for one moment,” said he. “ I always loved her and I never distrusted her. When my health failed, and I knew I must die, I felt I must see Georgine once more. I landed in New York, and there I heard she was married, and saw her walking with her husband.”

And then he begged me to ask Miss Georgine to come and see him if only for a moment, before he died.

“ I will never betray her! ” said he. “ No one will think it strange that she should come to see me. But oh, mammy,” — he used to call me mammy,— “ I can’t leave the world till I see her once more.”

The next morning at breakfast-time I went up to the house, and told the Judge and Miss Georgine that Mr. Bogardus was at my house; that he had n’t many hours to live, and would take it kind if they would come and see him.

“ Poor young man, is he so low? ” says the Judge. “ He should have come to us; but he was always fond of you, Dolly. I will certainly come over, and you must take anything he needs from the house.” And then he turns to his daughter and says, “ You will go to see your poor cousin, Georgine ?”

“ Why no, I think not!” says she, pouring out her coffee as unconcerned as could be. “ I never took any special interest in your clerk, papa, and I am not fond of doleful scenes. I don’t think I could endure to be in the house with a dying person.”

I saw Mr. Livingstone look at her as she said these last words, and he answered her very gravely: —

“ Sometime, Georgine, you will have to be in the room with a dying person.”

“ Time enough when it comes! ” said she lightly. “ Of course I am sorry for the poor man, but it is quite out of the question that I should go to see him. He is nothing to me! ”

I wasn’t going to be put off like that. I followed her to her room, and says I to her, “ Mrs. Livingstone, what answer am I to carry to that dying man? ”

“ Tell him I will not see him! ” said she, speaking hard and slow. “ He is nothing to me, nor I to him.”

“ Won’t you send him your forgiveness? ” I asked her.

“No!” she cried passionately. “ I will never forgive him —never. Tell him that, if you like.”

“Mrs. Livingstone,” said I, “you will bringdown the judgment of Heaven on your head!” And with that I left her. I wasn’t afraid of her, whoever else was.

It was hard to go back to Mr. Bogardus with such a message, but he would have me tell him her very words. He groaned, and was silent for a few minutes, and then says he, —

“ Dolly, tell her she shall see me, alive or dead! ” And then he fainted, and I had hard work to bring him to. Later in the day Judge Cleaveland and Mr. Livingstone came down. Mr. Bogardus didn’t say much to them, only thanked the Judge for his goodness to him, and begged forgiveness if he had ever injured him. The Judge said everything that was kind — he was a good deal softened in those days. Then Mr. Livingstone asked Mr, Bogardus if lie should read and pray with him, and Mr, Bogardus said yes. So Mr. Livingstone read a chapter, and made a beautiful prayer. He was a very religious man in his quiet way, which made it the more strange that he should be taken with Miss Georgine. When he got tip from his knees, Mr. Bogardus stretched out his hand to him.

“Thank you, Livingstone; you have done me good! ” said he, squeezing his hand hard. “ I want to tell you that there is no bitterness in my heart toward any human being. It is all washed away. God bless you! ”

Honey, it did me good to hear him speak in that way to the man who was, as you might say, standing in his shoes. The minute they were gone Mr. Bogardus fainted once more. I thought he would never breathe again, hut lie did, and seemed to brighten up a good deal. Zaek thought he was better, hut I did n’t. I liad seen too many people die, not to know the lighting up for death. About midnight, when we were both sitting by him, he asked to be raised up and have his head laid on my breast, and then lie asked Zack to get him some fresh water from the spring. When we were alone together, he looked up in my face and says he, —

“ Mammy, tell Georgine that I have never been unfaithful to her, and I shall be faithful still. She must see me, alive or dead.”

Says I, “ Oh, Mr. Bogardus, my dear boy, you must n’t hear malice now.”

“ I don’t! ” said he. “ I told Livingstone true when I said that all bitterness was washed away. But it is borne in on my mind, that for her own sake, alive or dead, Georgine must see me, and you must tell her so. Will you? ”

“ I will! ” says I. I never mistrusted that he meant anything but that she should come and look at him after he was dead.

“ That’s all!” said he. “ Kiss me, mammy. You’ve been more like a mother to me than any woman was before, and you won’t lose by it, I know.” Then I kissed him, and he just laid his head on my breast and with one sigh he was gone.

Never mind me, Miss Bessy, honey! You see I loved him dearly, with all his faults, and dying on my breast and all . . .

We laid him out, Zack and I, and though I ’ve done the same for many a one, I never saw a sweeter smile on the face of man, woman, or child, than rested on his. As soon as it was time in the morning, I went up to the house and told them as they sat at breakfast.

“ So he is gone, poor soul!" says the Judge, wiping his eyes. “ Take no trouble about, the funeral, Dolly; I will arrange it all. Georgine, can you find some mourning for Dolly ? I dare say she will like to wear it.”

“ I should be much obliged if you would, Mrs. Livingstone,” says I.

She told me to come to her room and she would see. So I went up after breakfast, and she pulled out a couple of nice black dresses and a black bonnet and crape veil which she had worn a year before in mourning for her grandma.

“ There, you may have those! ” said she, in a careless, contemptuous way, “ though I don’t see why you should wear mourning. But I suppose you think it ’s genteel.”

She always riled me when she spoke in that way, but I kept, myself down, and after I had thanked her for the things, I told her Mr. Bogardus' message. She winced a little in spite of herself, and the scared look came into her eyes again, but it was gone in a minute, and she said coldly,—

“ Dolly, there has been enough of this! If you mention that person’s name to me again we shall quarrel! ”

I had no call to mention it again, for I had cleared my conscience, and that was enough. Mr. Bogardus was buried next day from the church, the weather being warm and our house small. Mr. Livingstone sent the carriage for Zack and me, and Zack and Mr. Livingstone, and some gentlemen from the village, were the bearers. It was quite a large funeral, and the coffin and everything was as nice as one could wish to see.

The next morning Judge Cleaveland and Mr. Livingstone went down to the city to some convention, expecting to be gone a week. That very day the cook they had brought from New York took offense at something, and she and the other woman packed up and went over to the village, leaving Miss Georgine alone. So she sent down to ask if Zack and I would come up and stay, because she was expecting company; so we went, of course. I found everything at sixes and sevens — no cake in the house fit to look at, all the summer fruit spoiling to be done up, and so on. I sent for my niece Car'line to come and help, and we soon got things in order.

The second night, I sent Zack and Car'line off to bed, and sat up till late, attending to some plum cake I had in the great oven. It was a fancy of mine when I had any special baking, to do it late in the evening, when I had the kitchen to myself. Well, I got my cake done to my liking — I little knew what kind of party I was baking for& emdash; and then I thought I would take a look through the house and see that all was right, as I used to do when I lived there before.

The house was an odd one in its shape. A long, wide hall ran through the front part. When it got to the back it turned in an L, as they say now, and went on to a side door, and in this side hall were the stairs. At the top of them was Miss Georgine’s own room, and at the foot a door leading by a passage to the kitchen. Half-way from this door to the front was the library door, with a narrow glass window over it.

I had opened the passage door, and had just turned down the lamp that always burned at the foot of the stairs, when I saw that there was a light in the library. Thinks I, “ What in the world is Miss Georgine doing in the library at this time of night? ” Before I could move I heard some one’s hand on the lock, and stood still to see who it should be.

Miss Bessy, as sure as you sit there, I saw the appearance of Mr. Bogardus, just as he used to look when he was a young man and worked in that library for Judge Cleaveland. I was n’t scared, that I know of, but I could n’t move. He came straight toward me, but did n't look at me, and passing as close to me as I am to you he walked rather slowly up the stairs to Miss Georgian’s room. When he reached it, he turned and looked at me, holding up his hand in a warning kind of way, and then he opened the door and went in.

I couldn’t go up-stairs — something held me back. I sat down on the bottom stair and listened a long time, but I did n’t hear a sound, and by and by I crept away to bed, my teeth chattering as if I had an ague fit.

The next morning I was in the diningroom when Miss Georgine came down. Child, I should n’t have known her! She was gray as ashes, only with a purple spot in each check, and her face was all drawn and sunken. She looked thirty years older than when she went to bed.

Says I, “ Mrs. Livingstone, are you sick ? ’ ’

“ I have a headache., but the air will drive if off,” says she, proud to the last. " I think, Dolly, that as our friends have written to put off their visit, I will go down to the city to Mr. Livingstone. I need a little change, and I suppose you won’t mind staying here a few days with Car’line for company,” says she. " You won’t be afraid without your husband, will you? ”

Well, I was, — a little,—after what I had seen, there is no denying it; but I felt that somehow she ought to be with her husband; so I said, “ Oh no, I was n’t afraid, I had Carline for company, and the gardener could sleep in the house.” I helped Miss Georgine put up her things, and dressed her. She was quiet and gentle-like for her, but when I said, “ Mrs. Livingstone, I’m afraid you an't well enough for such a long ride all by yourself,” she just laughed that hard laugh I hated so to hear.

“ You’re nervous yourself, Dolly!” says she. “ I have only a headache, but you know that always makes me look ghastly. It will all be gone in an hour.”

I did n’t say any more, but I knew better. On the steps she turned to me and held out her hand.

“ Good-by, Dolly,” said she. “ You ’ve always been good to me, and I ’m afraid I have sometimes been cross to yon, but don’t remember it against me.”

Child, I was always glad She said that. I watched the carriage away, and then I went back to her room and put it all in nice order with my own hands. I felt full of anxiety, and I kept myself as busy as I could. Zack didn't come back the next day, nor the next; but the morning of the fourth day, Car’line looked out of the window when she got up, and says she, " Aunt Dolly, Uncle Zack’s coming on horseback as hard as he can drive. Something must have happened!”

Something had happened, sure enough. Zack had been riding ever since midnight, and he could hardly speak, he was so tired; but at last he got it out. Miss Georgine had died in a fit the night before, and the body was to be brought home that day.

“ What time did she die? ” I asked presently.

“ It was just half-past eleven when she took the first fit,” said he; " and she died at the same hour last night.” Then I knew.

Well, they brought her home in her coffin and laid her in the front parlor, and when all was done, I went to the Judge and told him I was going to watch myself, and nobody else would be needed. You see, I did n’t know what might happen, and I did n’t want stories going all over the country. I told Zack he might take a blanket and lie down on the sofa in the back parlor, and I would sit up.

About half - past eleven, I went into the room where the corpse lay. I had half a mind to call Zack to go with me, but I knew how tired he was, and I let him sleep. There was a shaded lamp in the room, and I had a candle in my hand that I set down on a table near by, and stood a few minutes looking at her. She was n’t a pleasant corpse to look at. Those same purple spots were on her cheeks, and a dark frown on her forehead; but the worst was that her eyes would n’t stay shut. I had tried every way to close them, and the doctor had tried, but they would n’t stay shut!

I turned. away and went to the window, when something, I don’t know what, made me look round. Then I saw him for the second time — saw Mr. Bogardus looking into his wife’s coffin, with just the same sad, sweet smile that was on his face when he bade me goodby. As I stood looking — for I had no power to move — the appearance stooped down, and seemed to kiss the corpse, and then it vanished away, and I saw it no more.

I was like one turned to stone for a few minutes. When I came to myself, Miss Bessy, there was a change! Her eyes were shut — closed as naturally as a sleeping babe’s, with the long curled lashes resting on her cheeks. The ugly purple spots had faded away; the face was like fine marble, and the pale lips had a meek, peaceful look, such as I had never seen them wear since the days that she and Mr. Bogardus were lovers.

That’s all the story. Poor Miss Georgine was buried next day, alongside the only man she ever really loved. I can’t but hope it was well with both of them, poor unlucky children. The doctor, he talked learnedly about contraction of muscles and what not, but doctors don’t know everything, and he had n’t seen what I had. My own opinion is that she wasn’t free to go till it was made up, and that they made it up then.¹

Lucy Ellen Guernsey.