The Mayors Wife | Page 8

the door, remarking in a different and
very pleasant tone of voice:
"Dinner at seven, Miss. There'll be no extra company to-night. I'm
coming." This to some one in the hall as she hastily passed through the
door.
Dropping the bag I had lifted to unpack, I stared at the door which had
softly closed under her hand, then, with an odd impulse, turned to look
at my own face in the glass before which I chanced to be standing. Did
I expect to find there some evidence of the excitement which this
strange conversation might naturally produce in one already keyed up
to an expectation of the mysterious and unusual? If so, I was not
disappointed. My features certainly betrayed the effect of this
unexpected attack upon my professional equanimity. What did the girl
mean? What was she hinting at? What underlay--what could underlie
her surprising remark, "I guess you never heard about this house"
Something worth my knowing; something which might explain Mayor

Packard's fears and Mrs. Packard's--
There I stopped. It was where the girl had stopped. She and not I must
round out this uncompleted sentence.
Meanwhile I occupied myself in unpacking my two bags and making
acquaintance with the room which, I felt, was destined to be the scene
of many, anxious thoughts. Its first effect had been a cheerful one,
owing to its two large windows, one looking out on a stretch of clear
sky above a mass of low, huddled buildings, and the other on the wall
of the adjacent house which, though near enough to obstruct the view,
was not near enough to exclude all light. Another and closer scrutiny of
the room did not alter the first impression. To the advantages of light
were added those of dainty furnishing and an exceptionally pleasing
color scheme. There was no richness anywhere, but an attractive
harmony which gave one an instantaneous feeling of home. From the
little brass bedstead curtained with cretonne, to the tiny desk filled with
everything needful for immediate use, I saw evidences of the most
careful housekeeping, and was vainly asking myself what could have
come into Mrs. Packard's life to disturb so wholesome a nature, when
my attention was arrested by a picture hanging at the right of the
window overlooking the next house.
It gave promise of being a most interesting sketch, and I crossed over to
examine it; but instead of doing so, found my eyes drawn toward
something more vital than any picture and twice as enchaining.
It was a face, the face of an old woman staring down at me from a
semicircular opening in the gable of the adjoining house. An ordinary
circumstance in itself, but made extraordinary by the fixity of her gaze,
which was leveled straight on mine, and the uncommon expression of
breathless eagerness which gave force to her otherwise commonplace
features. So remarkable was this expression and so apparently was it
directed against myself, that I felt like throwing up my window and
asking the poor old creature what I could do for her. But her extreme
immobility deterred me. For all the intentness of her look there was no
invitation in it warranting such an advance on my part. She simply
stared down at me in unbroken anxiety, nor, though I watched her for

some minutes with an intensity equal to her own, did I detect any,
change either in her attitude or expression.
"Odd," thought I, and tested her with a friendly bow. The
demonstration failed to produce the least impression. "A most uncanny
neighbor," was my mental comment on finally turning away. Truly I
was surrounded by mysteries, but fortunately this was one with which I
had no immediate concern. It did not take me long to put away my few
belongings and prepare for dinner. When quite ready, I sat down to
write a letter. This completed, I turned to go downstairs. But before
leaving the room I cast another look up at my neighbor's attic window.
The old woman was still there. As our glances met I experienced a
thrill which was hardly one of sympathy, yet was not exactly one of
fear. My impulse was to pull down the shade between us, but I had not
the heart. She was so old, so feeble and so, evidently the prey of some
strange and fixed idea. What idea? It was not for me to say, but I found
it impossible to make any move which would seem to shut her out; so I
left the shade up; but her image followed me and I forgot it only when
confronted once again with Mrs. Packard.
That lady was awaiting me at the dining-room door. She had succeeded
in throwing off her secret depression and smiled quite naturally