THE EAGLE.

A GHOST STORY.

(Concluded from Vol. III., page 345.)

AGAIN must I apologize to the reader for the fact that my excited feelings brought the last part of my story to an abrupt termination; the best apology that I can make will be to conclude as speedily as it is possible a story which I feel has already occupied far too much space in the columns of a Magazine so well known and so deservedly distinguished as The Eagle. Let me then return at once in medias res."

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Fear like unto the fear which I had felt long years ago in the haunted room fell upon me. I stood in silence gazing on the handsome, though sombre features of my companion, and some minutes passed before I could ask him what object he had in this mysterious midnight interview.

"Tell me," he replied, "before I answer you, tell me if you believe that long years of repentance can blot out long years of wickedness. If days spent in alms-giving, nights in sorrow and sleeplessness, seem to you to be any atonement for the sins of one's past life, then you will not refuse the hand of forgiveness to him who now stands before and to another as sinful, as unhappy, and as repentant you, as he is.”

"If," I replied, "you speak of Agatha Snow-for I cannot help believing that you are in some way connected with

VOL. IV.

B

certain events of my early life-I have long forgiven her as heartily as I hope to be forgiven myself.”

"And what of him who now addresses you?" he asked in an agitated voice, can you extend to him who is far more guilty the same forgiveness?" "Convince me of your repentance," I replied, "and your offence will be indeed a heavy one, if I, who stand so much in need of forgiveness, cannot forgive it."

"Thank God!" I heard him murmur to himself; then handing me a sealed packet, "Read this," he said "at home, and remember that you have promised to forgive; remember that the sins related in this narrative have been bitterly repented of; and if, after you have read all, you can still forgive Agatha Snow and her wretched brother and accomplice who now stands before you, come to the address which you will find written for you, and by your forgiveness throw one ray of hope over the last days of two repentant sinners."

Nothing of any importance passed between us after these words; my companion crossed to the opposite side of the river to that from which I had come, and I rejoined my husband who was beginning to be alarmed at my absence. On reaching our hotel, the first thing we did was to sit down to read the MS. which I had received, and the contents of which I shall lay before the reader. The writing I saw was that of a woman, and I seemed to recognize it as that of Agatha Snow; the only title of the narrative, which I am going to translate, as well as I can, for the reader's benefit, was—

A CONFESSION.

I write this account of my life, in which I intend to hide nothing, in the hope that it may at some time reach the hands of Miss Hester and that she and anyone else whom I may have injured may forgive me. I shall address this confession to Miss Hester partly because she is

intimately connected with many of the events which I am about to relate, and partly out of a feeling of love towards her, and a desire to obtain her forgiveness for an injury done to her. Should she think that sufficient atonement has been done by my confession, I ask of her to destroy this confession, and to banish it and the events which it relates from her memory for ever. It would be painful for me, and useless for the reader of this confession, were I to enter into a description of my life previous to my marriage with Arthur Snow, my late mistress's butler; it is enough for me to say, that till the day of my marriage my life had been one of

peace, innocence and happiness; and, but for my marriage, I might even now have a conscience clear before God and I do not intend to defend my own guilt by laying my crimes at another's door; whatever may have been Arthur Snow's guilt he has atoned for it by his death, at least in the eyes of man. I had not been married long before by accident I discovered that I was married to a most profligate and lawless character; in fact, that the man who was to be my partner for life lived by coining.

It is needless now to describe how I strove to turn him to an honest life, how unavailing were all my tears, my reproaches, and my prayers; how my horror was increased, when I discovered that my brother Edward, my youngest and best-beloved brother, was one of the gang; and how by degrees I myself left the paths of honesty, and became the most eager, the most crafty, and the most accomplished coiner of the gang. My husband died within two years after our marriage, but before his death he had entrusted to me a most important secret. Previously to his having turned coiner, he had, as he told me, been guilty of several forgeries, in which your late uncle, Miss Hester, had been more or less implicated. Your uncle, though a wealthy, had always been an extravagant man, and I fear that he was induced by Arthur Snow, who, though only a butler, was much in his master's confidence, if not to participate in his crimes, occasionally to avail himself of money which he knew had been dishonestly got. A feeling of remorse at length drove him to take away his own life in the room which you know afterwards was called "the haunted room." My husband while a servant in the house had discovered that there was an underground chamber underneath this room, and connected with it by a secret passage; this chamber was also connected with one of the canals of the town by an underground passage, and had been formerly used by smugglers as a storehouse for their goods.

Arthur Snow on his master's death determined to employ this secret chamber as a safe place in which he might coin counterfeit money, the only room in the house which was connected with it being uninhabited, in consequence of the awful death which had taken place in it.

It was this chamber that was the scene of our illegal trade. One of our gang had a place as servant in your aunt's house, and, by judiciously inspiring a dread of the haunted room into the other servants, secured us from any interruption after night-fall. I must now return to my own

history. After my husband's death, you might imagine that I must have at once given up my dishonest life.

But alas! The excitement and the danger of our occupation, and a desire to share the fortunes of my brother Edward, determined me to follow the path of wickedness upon which I had entered. It was, however, the opinion of my accomplices that I could be of more use to the gang by obtaining the place of lady's maid to your aunt than by remaining with them. The servant in your aunt's house who had been in league with us had incurred the displeasure of your aunt, and had been in consequence dismissed. As you know very well I applied for and obtained the place of lady's maid to your aunt. Things went on very well, till one day to my horror we heard that the Haunted Room was again to be inhabited. Many were the anxious consultations which the gang held on the subject; and at length, contrary to my advice, it was determined that a Ghost should be got up for the occasion to terrify the first person who should invade our place of resort. My brother was the person who undertook to act the part of the Ghost. He was well acquainted with your aunt's private history, and being remarkably like your unfortunate uncle he resolved to represent him, and accordingly appeared for the occasion with one arm (your uncle had lost an arm some years before his death), and a ghastly cut across the throat. He thought that as your aunt's superstitious feeling about the room had made her refuse to let it be occupied for so many years, directly she heard of her husband's spirit having actually appeared in it, she would order the room once more to be shut up, and to remain uninhabited.

How little he knew the strong mind and dauntless spirit of your aunt, the sequel proved too well. I who knew her better than he, and who longed to save you from the danger which threatened you, tried in vain to dissuade him from what he was about to do. At the same time, wicked though I was, I still had a heart left, and loved you with all of it that was left. But selfishness was stronger than love within me: I thought that the occupation of the haunted room would certainly lead to the detection of our hiding-place, and I argued with myself that the love of self-preservation was an ample excuse for my conduct, and that it would be a squeamish piece of folly if I were to expose myself, my brother, and my friends to certain ruin, in order to save a young lady like you from one night of alarm. I will not describe the horrors of that night, nor my own feelings of

remorse, when on the next morning I thought I was standing over your lifeless body; I found that my brother also was troubled in his conscience at the part he had acted, and positively refused to appear as the Ghost again, if the haunted room were occupied by a woman. Fortunately good Mr. Broadbrim was our next guest. Strange as it may seem, I can hardly help laughing even now, when I think of the account which my brother gave me of his nocturnal interview with that sober gentleman, who then for the first time in his life forgot to address a stranger as "friend," and even to "thee" and "thou." The amusement produced by the absurd terror of this gentleman made my brother more reconciled to his character, and when I told him that his next victim was to be a general in the Indian army, he was perfectly delighted. But this time we knew our task was not so easy as before; and as my position in the house enabled me to go into all the bed-rooms, I was only too glad to be able to get at the General's pistols, while he was at dinner. He had imprudently talked in my presence of loading them, so as soon as he was at dinner I found my way to his room, and extracted the bullets. You know the rest, and how at one time our plot seemed likely to terminate in the crime of murder; I must go on to explain to you matters of which you are probably still ignorant.

You remember the sudden manner in which I left your aunt's house, and you must have connected it in some way with the emotion displayed by me while reading the newspaper a few days before. In that paper I saw for the first time that several of our gang, my brother amongst them, had been arrested. My mind was soon made up; I resolved to leave your aunt's house, and to devote myself to effecting my brother's escape. I shall not attempt to give an account of my futile efforts at plotting his escape. They all failed; and as I knew the police were observing your aunt's house at the time, and were also on the look out for the place in which we had coined all our money, I was in a state of terrible suspense; for had they discovered our underground chamber, they would have obtained positive proof of my brother's guilt. But I am thankful to say that with all their vigilance they were doomed to disappointment, and as they only had their suspicions and no evidence against my brother, he was acquitted on the day of his trial. But the gang was broken up from that time; the eye of the police was upon us; and ere long we migrated to England, that land whose shores ever welcome the destitute and the oppressed. But