Her family was wealthy. Her father was one of the most prominent surgeons in Illinois. In the city in which they lived he had served several terms as mayor. She had been the belle of the town. Her many accomplishments and innocence had won her many suitors. But she spurned them all for the love of her father and mother. She was the only child in the family. Her every wish and want had been fulfilled.
But a year before the reporter had heard that she had died. The papers in the town contained articles at the time lamenting her death. According to the stories, she had been drowned in Lake Michigan while sailing in a yacht. A body of a girl supposedly that of her's had been shipped home. There had been a funeral.
Since that time the father and mother had been disconsolate. The memory of the daughter was never from their minds. They spent the greater part of the days at the side of the grave in the cemetery. After dusk had fallen they sat in the pretty boudoir that had been the room of their child. Not a thing had been touched in the room. The beautiful dresses and garments that had once been worn by their daughter still were neatly hung in their places. The little mementoes still lay about the room. And in the dim light that radiated from a fireplace the father and mother could picture the face of their daughter, whom they believed to have been so ruthlessly torn from them by death.
Quickly recovering from the shock, the seeming apparition had given him, the reporter dashed after the girl.
She ran into a room and attempted to lock the reporter out. He forced his way in. As he did so, she fell at his feet screaming and pleading. Her mind seemed to have suddenly become unbalanced.
"Don't tell papa and mamma I'm alive," she shrieked; "they believe me to be dead and it is better so. I'll kill myself if you tell them."
The reporter could scarcely believe that girl could be the same innocent, high-minded child he had known but a few months before.
After much persuasion, she was finally calmed. She would not lift her head or look into her childhood friend's eyes.
"Come and get out of this fearful hole at once," the reporter demanded, grasping her by the arm.
The crying of the girl ceased. Her muscles grew tense and rigid.