“Under these circumstances, early in the new year, Mr. Dubarry took his wife to Williamsburg, to spend the winter among the gayeties of the colonial Governor’s court.
“The haunted house was shut up, and left to itself. Not a man or woman could be found to live in it, for love or money.
“In the glories of the colonial capital, Mrs. Dubarry completely recovered from her nervous malady. She was visited by no more ‘optical illusions’ or ‘cataleptic’ fits. She even grew to regard her former visitations in the same way in which her husband pretended to view them—as mere nervous phenomena. And as the fashionable season at Williamsburg closed, and as the spring opened, Mrs. Dubarry expressed an ardent desire to return to ‘Shut-up Dubarry’ for her confinement. ‘The heir of the manor should be born on the manor,’ she said.
“Mr. Dubarry had great doubts about the safety of this measure, and attempted to dissuade his wife from it; but she was firm in her purpose, and so she carried it.
“It was early in the royal month of June that the young wife was taken back to her country home. Shut-up Dubarry looked as little like a ‘haunted house’ as any house could look: waving woods, sparkling waters, blossoming trees, blooming flowers, singing birds—all the richness, beauty and splendor of summer turned it into a paradise. Besides, Mrs. Dubarry brought down half a dozen young cousins of both sexes with her, and they filled the house with youthful life. Under these circumstances, the old servants were tempted back. And all went on very well until one day one of the young girls suddenly spoke out at the full breakfast-table, and asked:
“‘Alicia, who is that strange, silent girl, in the red cloak, that is always following you about?’
“Mrs. Dubarry grew deadly pale, sat down the cup that she had held in her hand, but she did not attempt to speak.
“‘Have I said anything wrong? I did not mean to do so. I am sure I beg pardon, if I have,’ faltered the young cousin, looking from the pale face of Mrs. Dubarry to the troubled countenance of Mr. Dubarry.
“‘I am very sorry if I have said anything wrong,’ repeated the little cousin, in dismay.
“‘No, no, you have said nothing amiss; but it is a very painful subject; let us drop it,’ replied Mr. Dubarry rather inconsistently. And every one around the table silently wondered what the matter could be.