THE OLD MANSION.
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��N , only a mile distant from her
home. For three years previous to the opening of our story, she had, day after day, with but few exceptions, wended her way from her home in the cosy little cottage beside the river along the unfre- quented road that led to the village. There was but one building between her home and the village, and a more lonely, dreary old mansion could hardly be imagined than this.
Esther could not remember its ever having been occupied, but there it stood, gradually falling iu pieces — that is, the out-buildings, the main portion being in decent repair as yet. There was some- thing about the old mansion that had a strange attraction for Esther, and she used often to stand by the old gate which led to it and wonder who had for- merly lived there and why it had so long been deserted. To be sure, there were strange stories of its being haunted, but Esther was a strong-minded young lady and believed none of them.
It was a lovely morning in October. The forests, as far as the eye could reach, seemed literally ablaze with the mauy- hued robes of autumn. The road was carpeted with fallen leaves, and as Esther stepped blithely along it seemed to her that she had never before seen nature one-half so beautiful. She was a great admirer of nature as well as of art, and as she walked she often stopped to se- cure some of the prettiest ot the fallen leaves, until she had secured quite a bou- quet of them. As she reached the old gate opposite the mansion, she paused, and, seating herself upon a moss-grown rock, proceeded to arrange her bouquet. She was quite early and had plenty of time, so she worked leisurely, her thoughts dwelling upon the beauties which surrounded her. At length she arose, and as she did so she turned her face toward the mansion, and an excla- mation of surprise escaped her lips, for from one of its many chimneys she could plainly discern smoke issuing. She rubbed her eyes, as if to assure herself it was no optical illusion, paused a mo- ment, and after consulting her watch, drew the rusty bolt which fastened the dilapidated gate, and swinging it open,
��entered the pathway, overgrown with weeds and thistles, and walked resolute-* ly up towards the mansion. As she drew near, a murmur of voices reached her ear, followed by a burst of childish laugh- ter, so near by as to startle her, and tnrn- ing her head, she saw seated upon the ground two children, the elder apparent- ly ten or twelve, the younger three or four years of age.
They had woven together some of the autumn leaves so as to form a chain two or three yards in length, and this they had wound around a large Newfoundland dog who stood eyeing his tormentors in perfect good humor.
As Esther approached, his quick ear caught the sound of her footsteps, and with a low growl he bounded quickly toward her.
" Down, Nero, down, sir ! Don't touch him, please!" cried the eldest child in alarm, as Esther quietly maintained her ground, at the same time reaching out her hand and stroking the dog kindly upon his head.
"He is very cross to strangers, lady; do not touch him, please," she repeated, as the dog continued to growl and eye the new comer distrustfully.
" What is your name, my dear?" said Esther, turning to the youngest girl, who stood clinging to her sister's hand. That they were k sisters one, could tell at a glance, for there was a strong resem- blance between them.
" Susie Lane," lisped the child bash- fully.
"Do you live here, Susie?" she next inquired.
•'Ess, I dess so; don't we, Bessie?" inquired the child.
The dog, evidently assured that no harm was intended the children, had walked slowly away and stretched him- self lazily beneath a tall pine which stood near. It was a picture for an artist. The dilapidated mansion in the background, the large, magnificent trees of oak, ma- ple, and the solitary pine, the sweet-faced children, dressed in snowy white, their short, golden curls kissed by the morn- ing breeze, and the young lady quietly regardiug them.
" Will you tell me who yon are and
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