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.
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