III
But, after all, Barracks Hill it was, “poetic, historic Barracks Hill,” which spoke to her fancy,—held her heart!
This house and the hill of this house were suggestive; packed full of romance. Ruth, whose temper was a charming compound of mirth love and poesy,—Ruth who had the soul of a poet in the body of a fair woman,—Ruth now fell deep in love with reverie.—She spent long days in a singular sort of trance. Lingering in a room she pondered its messages—wandering upon the hill, she dreamed and mused. The room mysteriously unburdened itself of long pent emotions,—joys and woes; the hill unfolded its soul, opened wide its heart to her; and lonely desolate ghosts—the ghosts of monotonous, innocent, happy, sorry lives confided in her—told her their tales of pain; disclosed to her their rapture of hope, their mysteries of birth and love and aspiration—their tragedy of denial—and of death.
Ruth hearkened to invisible messengers. As she came and went in the still house, they floated towards her light as down,—intangible, so perceptible,—in the quiet house, and through the corridors. But Love's very breath greeted her on the hill.... Love met her there, with exuberance by day; Love wept there, in her heart—bitter tears—by night. Yes, a secret sadness brooded at the core of those ghostly souls. But a musical refrain, a simple entreaty seemed ever in the air and its contrapuntal burden: “Love, love and laughter! Give us love and laughter!” they implored—conquered her heart.
“They hope in me!” Ruth thought, wondering and wide-eyed.... “They have confidence in me! The old place believes in me; it trusts me, it knows that I love it; it knows I reverence them.... It knows, they know, how my spirit would wish to cull those unfulfilled desires, every one they long to lighten themselves of, and bring each one to its fruition if I can. Yes, each of you dear ghosts, you who have been lonely so long and friendless—you know I'll execute your bidding if I can.”
And, every day, at the little Catholic Parish Church, Ruth said a Rosary for the house and for the souls that had passed through it. And she visited the house, from attic to cellar. She was convinced that on one occasion she saw a veritable ghost who, smiling at her, passed across the attic. She discovered there, at all events, some fine old pieces of furniture, white with dust; and she caused these to be cleansed and polished and placed in the rooms.