THE FORSAKEN INN.

CHAPTER I.

THE OAK PARLOR.

[Illustration: I]

I was riding between Albany and Poughkeepsie. It was raining furiously,
and my horse, already weary with long travel, gave unmistakable signs of
discouragement. I was, therefore, greatly relieved when, in the most
desolate part of the road, I espied rising before me the dim outlines of
a house, and was correspondingly disappointed when, upon riding forward,
I perceived that it was but a deserted ruin I was approaching, whose
fallen chimneys and broken windows betrayed a dilapidation so great
that I could scarcely hope to find so much as a temporary shelter
therein.

Nevertheless, I was so tired of the biting storm that I involuntarily
stopped before the decayed and forbidding structure, and was, in truth,
withdrawing my foot from the stirrup, when I heard an unexpected
exclamation behind me, and turning, saw a chaise, from the open front of
which leaned a gentleman of most attractive appearance.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"Hide my head from the storm," was my hurried rejoinder. "I am tired,
and so is my horse, and the town, according to all appearances, must be
at least two miles distant."

"No matter if it is three miles! You must not take shelter in that
charnel-house," he muttered; and moved along in his seat as if to show
me there was room beside him.

"Why," I exclaimed, struck with sudden curiosity, "is this one of the
haunted houses we hear of? If so, I shall certainly enter, and be much
obliged to the storm for driving me into so interesting a spot." I
thought he looked embarrassed. At all events, I am sure he hesitated for
a moment whether or not to ride on and leave me to my fate. But his
better impulses seemed to prevail, for he suddenly cried: "Get in with
me, and leave mysteries alone. If you want to come back here after you
have learned the history of that house, you can do so; but first ride on
to town and have a good meal. Your horse will follow easily enough after
he is rid of your weight."

It was too tempting an offer to be refused; so thankfully accepting his
kindness, I alighted from my horse, and after tying him to the back of
the chaise, got in with this genial stranger. As I did so I caught
another view of the ruin I had been so near entering.

"Good gracious!" I exclaimed, pointing to the structure that, with its
projecting upper story and ghastly apertures, presented a most
suggestive appeara