MARA'S.GHOST.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 431, 25 December 1889, Page 6

MARA'S.GHOST.

f;T was at the earnest request of my J? friend, Rufus "Reed, conveyed, in a ' most melancholy and despairing ! letter, that I came to New Zealand to spend with him the festive season of Christmas. T found he was living in a large, two - storied house in the country, some miles from Auckland. He welcomed me heartily, but I was shocked to see how haggard and worn he looked. ' What's up with you, Rue?" I asked, as we sti oiled through the spacious around.-* that evening. Ho had told me in his letter that he had lost his wife on the previous Christmas Eve, but, kn wing she was the unfoituilate possessor of a most atrocious temper, I did noc believe he was pining for her company. 4 Phil,' he said, solemnly, ' I know you won't believe me, you are such an awful sceptic ; bub the truth is," and he lowered his voice to a whisper, 'I'm haunted." I laughed ; I couldn't help it. The idea of ghosts in a new colony —it was prepost3rous ! Rufus must be a monomaniac ! He had always enccitained a sneaking alection for spirit?, and rapping*, and E-oteric Buddhism, and all that sort of thing. Had ho imoke-:! one of his ancestor's" ghosts, and had the wraith bci-n so plea«od with tho blight sunshine and the delightful civilisation of this nineteenth century, that he had elected to remain hero ; and Rufus did not. know, or mid forgotten, the magic sign which alone could return Him to the world of spirits? Suddenly my companion grasped my arm. 'Do you' hear that ?' he murmured, between his clenched teeth. I listened, but could hoar nothing except the moaning of the wind amongst the sum trees under which we stood. Behind us sti etched a thick belt of pines, and as I turned towards them, I was startled by tho sound of a low mocking laugh, eomins from out thtii shadowy depth.-. It was a woman's laugh, and it recalled \ividly the day when 1, who had been in love with Mura Selb, had discovered she was both jealous an 1 revengeful ; and had, gladly, a lowed Rufus to risk matrimony with her : his blind infatuation of her beauty, making him deaf to till iemonstr:\nces. ♦ Do you recognise it, Phil ?' aske:l my friend, "in a haid, hopeless voice. 'It's very like what I remember as Maias - Mis Ree-l's," 1 said, reluctantly. flb i 3 M ra"s gho-r," answered Ttufns, 'let us go in. I think some nights she is worse outside.' Ws entered the house, and Rufus carefully locked tho dooi. We lefilled our pipes ard sat in the cosy smoking-ioom in j-iit'nee. At length I said. 'Do you mind fc-ivmg me bhe particulars of your wife's dVathT and telling mo if vhere is any reason why s*he fchould pty you nocturnal \iaifca h*c this. *'" •i will tell yon all I know; it will be almost a relief tv speak of it to some one, I have biooded over it in silence so long. I think it was about October last year, that Maras illn^-8 be^an. We had . doctor, but he didn't s°eem to know what was the matter with her. She had never been the Mime since I had ra de all my money and this house, Riverston, over to her. You see, I had been speculating in la >d, and things begon to look dark -, so I thought if I went <mask I should ba\e this house and enough to keep ib goinsr safely looked up in my life's name. \Yell, about fi\ c years after, Host every thin« ; and when Mara found she wa« rich, arid I was a busrgar, she behaved very queerly. She givw extraordinary jealous ; w mldn't allow me to speak to anj other woman, ugly or petty, young or old.' 'Bub you had given her no ciu»c for this idea, had you V* I ventured to ask. • Well, you remember E*sie Sidmonth, a l>retty little cousin of mine. Last IN ovember year &he wiote to me, begging me to send her *ome New Zealand curio* for a b.izaar, saying she hoped I should not mind the trouble for the sake of old times. I -howed the letter and my answer to my wife, and she at once declared^ I was going to poison her and many Essie. The doctor sent her some sleeping draught?, air» charged me to give them to her myself ; she vowed I put arsenic it. them. Do you know. Phil, that neaily everyone round be\Uvea 1 really did help to hill her.' 4 And what did she die from V I inquired, rather doubtfully. If ttufus had been the c iuse of his wifo't. death, no wonder that her ghost haunted him. 'Not from arsenical poisoning', 1 he returned, with a sardonic laugh. ' I was in N.ipter when it happened, called there on urgent business. She had quarrelled with her doctor and the servants, all except that Mrs. Flint who waited on in at dinner, and a housemaid, who \va* al=o very ill, and to whom she had taken a most unaccountable fancy. Before I went away, and when this new doctor— a stranger— began to attend her she could nob endure to have me in the room, so that I never spoke to, ami rarely saw her. When she wa? dead Mrs Flint allowed me to look at her lying in her coffin, but she was much altered— so thin mid wa-ted, and slightly disfigured also by erysipelas Jf you like, we will rifle over to Waikomiti to-morrow and I will show you her grave. I rcok this diamond ring o f her linger, but left the wedding ring on ' . - . I expressed my willingness to visit the cemetery, and asked, * Have you only the onf servant in this large house ':' 4 Is o one elee will remain he c an hour. Mrs Flint only stays because she is we'll paid, by bhe term- of the will.' ' Mra Reed left her an annuity, I suppose '(' ' Mara made a very queer will. She left everything to me on two condition?. The fiist was that I should always live at Riverston : if 1 did nob, Mrs Flint was to have tne house aid money, and I was to be a beggar. I wa« also to give her one hundred poii mis a year, and retain her as lung as she H\ed, as my housekeeper." 1 Com > and share my fortune, Rue," I one 1. '1A hy should you live this awful, ghost-ridden life ? ! ' I cannot dig, to beg I am ashamed,' he quoted mournfully. 'No, Phil, I must 14 dree my weird !" I shall remain heie, and wpar that Gfhost out ! Let us go to bed.' 1 I think it will wear you out first,' I Paid, a"- 1 followed him across tho passage. Both our rooms were on the groun i floor, and I h-id arranged to sleep" with Rufus that night ; fcelinj: him that I intended to lay his troublesome ghost. I was tired, and coon dropped off to sleep. I was awakened by hearing my name cal'ed .several times. I sprang out of bed, struck a light, and ran to ftufu«, who was lying on an extemporised couch a the other side of the room. He had the shr-ofc drawn tightly over his head. 'Rufus,' J cried, shaking him, ' did you call me?' Just as I spoke there came the low moekino- laughter we had' previously heard, and a "voice, so like Maras that it thrilled thronsh me, said, * Phil !' 1 rushed towards the locked door, followed by Rufus?, who exclaimed, ' Don't go ; it's no w>e, I have been after her scores of time3. It's' a spirit, Phil, you cant oatch ic.

' Nevertheless, I am going to try,' I answered, hastily putting on my clothes. Rufus again tried to prevent me. I am slightly built, and nob o,b all given to gymnastic exercises, but I quickly masb red my once powerful friend, ani was grieved to see how weak and wasted he was. Leaving him trying to free himself from the two sheets in which 1 had entangled him, I took the candle, opened the door and peered cautiously out. As I expected my light) was immediately extinguished. 1 was quite prepared for that : it's the correct thing tor a ghost to do. I struck a match, and, shading the flame with my hand, advanced down the hall. I heard nothing, saw nothing al all ppiritual. The wind shrieked and moaned in nbful {justs, making the timber creak in the peculiarly unpleasant manner, which is the special prerogative of a lonely wooden house, in the middle of the night. 1 even opened the front door, And softly invoked the restless spirit it perchance it had again retreated to the pine grove ; but nothing answered me. It was e«ie in the extreme. The moon had hidden her diminished head behind a thick bank of clouds which threatened r.yin, and the trees waved their dark boughs in an uncanny and menacing way. Alone in a strange, ghost-haunted house (I did not count Rufus, and Mrs Flint hud rooms upstairs), unarmed, and cold, it seemed wiser to give that mjsteiious spirit best, and seek my warm bed. As I shut the door of my friend's room, he said in that very disagreeable J-told you .«o sorb of tone,' * You did't nnH her?' Then I went to sleep, and dreamed that Kufus had murdered Mara, and that 1 discove»ed the crime and brought him to justice.