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Otago Witness, Issue 2545, 24 December 1902, Page 44 (Supplement)

That was the third night that I spent in Anna's room without undressing, resting as well as I could in a big armcfiair, for Mrs Gresham had refused to have another bed put up for me, saying that it was not good for the sick girl, who should have as much air as possible. But I was determined not to leave Anna. Night was always her worst time. It was then that she heard the cry of the dead woman, and fancied that she herself was grieving for her lost child. About 12 o'clock, having settled her for the night, and read myself sleepy by a shaded lamp, I curled up in the big chair and prepared for a dose. Suddenly I heard stealthy steps outside, the door softly opened, and Mr Gresham entered. I had already extinguished my lamp, and congratulated myself that I had done so, for I thought that if I kept quite still he would not notice me, and if he did I could pretend to be asleep. He had a lighted candle in his hand, and paused at the foot of the bed. At first he shaded the light carefully, and then, finding that Anna did not stir, flashed it full upon her face. She looked so deathlike that I did not wonder at his exclamation, as leaning eagerly forward, he laid his hand upon her wrist. " Not yet," he murmured, " but soon, very soon. The ghosts have done my work well."

The greed, the hate, the horrible exultation that spoke in his face no words can describe. I closed my eyes in horror. When I opened them again Jhe was gone. I asked myself was it a real man that I had seen, or -a fiend in human form. Soon after his departure Anna began to sigh and moan, and after a while to talk in her sleep. At first the sounds •she uttered were inarticulate, but shortly they formed themselves into words. " Ah ! Do not curse me," she wailed ; " I will obey ; I will do anything you wish ; only leave me my child, my darling baby; I love her so much; she is my only comTfort. See ! See ! I will not cry, or groan, or complain any more. You shall go where you like, and do as you like. You shall have all my money, everything ; only leave me my child. Ah ! cruel ! cruel ! You say that she is your child, too, that I, her mother, am killing her ; that I am too doleful, too miserable, too sad. Nd, no, it is not true ; I do not hurt her ; I love her better than my life ; I will brighten up and look cheerful ; anything you like, only leave her with me. Who can look after a child as well as her own mother. See, I will do anything you wish. I ask you

for nothing, only leave me my child. Ah ! do not strike me, do not curse me ; I -will not give her to you ; you shall not have her." Anna's voice rose into a long-drawn shriek of indescribable anguish, and attained for a moment a strength and volume which seemed utterly incompatible with her extreme weakness. I hastily lighted the lamp, and beheld her kneeling on the bed with her hands clasped over her bosom, great tears oozing out of her closed eyes, and falling over her pale cheeks. I tried to lay her down without awakening her, but she shuddered away from me, and entreated me in the most moving accents not to hurt her, to spare the child. Finding no other course possible I woke her as gently as I could. Her high tones dropped suddenly into a low, plaintive moan; she sank on tne pillow too weak to speak or move, and became in a few moments as pale and lifeless as a corpse. I rubbed spirit on her hands and temples, and forced a few drops between her teeth. Shudderingly she returned to consciousness, recognised me, and smiled faintly. She was weaker than I had ever yet seen her, and I felt that her vital force was not sufficient to endure many more such experiences. If help did not come soon, it would come too late. I prayed for Dr Lomax's advent as I had never prayed before, and it seemed to me that the fervour of my petitions

was strong enough to remove mountains. With all my mental and moral powers I set myself against the influence that was overpowering my patient. That evil should ultimately triumph I felt to be impossible, and yet in the history of the world had not Might nearly always triumphed over Right? Had not the heavens been silent and the earth brass to the cry of millions of their children? What right had I to expect that a miracle should be worked on Anna's behalf? And yet in spite of that I prayed with a passionate insistency which wrought so powerfully with me that I rose from my knees greatly comforted and refreshed, and with the invincible assurance that help was at hand. ******** It was the 21st of December. On this day we must escape, for I felt convinced that another night in that deathtrap, another experience such as the last, and escape, for Anna at least, would be impossible. I had all along had a presentiment that she would not be allowed to see her twenty-first birthday, and as the date grew nearer this feeling became intensified. If she remained at Moana that day would never dawn for her. Of that I was as fully convinced as I was of my own existence, and what I had seen and heard the previous night had only served to deepen the impression. This day, or never, must see '

our escape. If the doctor arrived in time — and, oh, how earnestly I prayed that he might do so — I had such confidence in his wisdom and common sense that I felt sure that all would be well. If he did not, then we must put all trust in our unknown friend, Alec Bruce. We must trust him, and it would be wisdom, as well as policy, to trust him entirely. The day would offer us an unusual chance, for the house would be busy with preparations for the coming party, and our movements would be less closely watched than usual. It was perhaps strange that Mr Gresham should give a dinner while his stepdaughter was so ill, but it was an old-established custom to have such a party — half a dozen gentlemen — on his birthday, and there may have been a measure of policy in it, too, as he would doubtless expatiate on Miss Gresham 's illness, and hint at her speedy dissolution. Whatever the cause, the result would certainly be in favour of our plans, as it would give additional business and occupation to every member of the household. The drizzling rain and fog still contended for the mastery, and the damp, close air lay like a pall over the land. Anna was visibly worse. It was difficult to rouse her to any kind of consciousness, and it would have been impossible to make her understand, much less take any interest in, our wild scheme.

She was visibly drifting " over the bar." It she was to be saved, it must be done at once. Sometimes I feared that I had already left it too long. Yet, what could I have done more? I had written and telegraphed to our only friend. There was not another creature to whom I could apply. I could not leave Anna, for during my absence I knew not what might happen; and though under no restraint, I was practically a prisoner, for I felt convinced that if I left the house on any pretext, I should never be allowed to return. Add to this, if I had had a hundred friends, what could I have told them? That my patient was dying from the inimical influence of a haunted room! And which one, of all the hundred, would have believed me sufficiently to act upon my words. I knew this, none better; and I was prepared to take the risk and abide the consequences. When I went for Anna's lunch the kitchen was full of people. Mrs Mac was up to her eyes in work; the wife of one of the shepherds was helping; the two smart maids were cleaning the silver and rubbing up glass, and Mrs Gresham, more like an elderly sparrow than ever, was hopping up and down, and interfering with everything and everybody.