ght pass
noiselessly, and began pushing at the swollen door of the study.

"She has not got any lamp," said Rebecca in a shaking voice.

Caroline, who was writing letters, rose again, took a lamp (there were
two in the room) and followed her sister. Rebecca had risen, but she
stood trembling, not venturing to follow.

The doorbell rang, but the others did not hear it; it was on the south
door on the other side of the house from the study. Rebecca, after
hesitating until the bell rang the second time, went to the door; she
remembered that the servant was out.

Caroline and her sister Emma entered the study. Caroline set the lamp
on the table. They looked at the wall. "Oh, my God," gasped Mrs.
Brigham, "there are--there are TWO--shadows." The sisters stood
clutching each other, staring at the awful things on the wall. Then
Rebecca came in, staggering, with a telegram in her hand. "Here is--a
telegram," she gasped. "Henry is--dead."

LUELLA MILLER

Close to the village street stood the one-story house in which Luella
Miller, who had an evil name in the village, had dwelt. She had been
dead for years, yet there were those in the village who, in spite of
the clearer light which comes on a vantage-point from a long-past
danger, half believed in the tale which they had heard from their
childhood. In their hearts, although they scarcely would have owned
it, was a survival of the wild horror and frenzied fear of their
ancestors who had dwelt in the same age with Luella Miller. Young
people even would stare with a shudder at the old house as they passed,
and children never played around it as was their wont around an
untenanted building. Not a window in the old Miller house was broken:
the panes reflected the morning sunlight in patches of emerald and
blue, and the latch of the sagging front door was never lifted,
although no bolt secured it. Since Luella Miller had been carried out
of it, the house had had no tenant except one friendless old soul who
had no choice between that and the far-off shelter of the open sky.
This old woman, who had survived her kindred and friends, lived in the
house one week, then one morning no smoke came out of the chimney, and
a body of neighbours, a score strong, entered and found her dead in her
bed. There were dark whispers as to the cause of her death, and there
were those who testified to an expression of fear so exalted that it
showed forth the state of the departi