“‘Dearest Love:–I am sorry to have left without saying goodbye, but my intentions were not sincere, for while I admired your beauty and good sense, which none can deny, I was only here to find out where your father kept his money. But since he has none, and has gone into debt, I need remain no longer. I thank you for all the information you gave me, and for your kind attentions. Gratefully yours, David Lewis.’
“The poor girl had been one of the dupes of the celebrated ‘Lewis the Robber,’ or some one impersonating him, as he had many alter egos, some more daring than himself, and understudies. If half the stories told of his exploits were true, he would have had to be a hundred years old to do them, and get to so many places.
"At any rate, the pretty girl was frightfully cut up by her misfortune, and took to the bed lately vacated by ‘Lewis.’ She had told all of her friends that she was to marry in a fortnight, and go to live in a big house on Grant’s Hill, Pittsburg, and it was all terrible and humiliating. Rather than let the real story get out, the girl’s parents connived with her to say that word had been brought that the young gentleman, while riding near Standing Stone Town, had been thrown from his horse and killed. Hence when the girl was able to reappear, she was dressed in black, as if in mourning for her dashing sweetheart.
"The first time she came out of doors she went for a walk alone just about dusk, so that not many people would be abroad, towards the lower part of the village. She was never seen or heard of again. There was no stream or pool big enough for her to drown herself in; a panther could hardly have dragged her off and not left signs of a struggle; she might have fallen in a cave or sink, it is true. At all events, it seemed as if the earth had swallowed her up. Perhaps Lewis, or whoever he was, came back after her.
"When I came to Logansville to learn millinery with Emilie Knecht, I lived in her house over the store, just across the way from this hotel; the building was burned down afterwards. How such a gifted milliner came to settle off here in the mountains I could never tell, but I suppose mountain ladies must have nice hats just like those in the valleys.
"We became good friends, and very confidential, though at that time she was over thirty years of age and I was at least a dozen years younger. She would never tell where she came from, except that it was down country, and there seemed to be something on her mind which weighed on her terribly. Though I think she was the loveliest looking woman I have ever seen, she cared absolutely nothing for the men. As she believed in ghosts, and so did I, we compared experiences.
"I told her of a ghostly episode which left a deep impression on my childish nature, which happened when I was six years old. My father worked in the mines, and was on ‘night shift.’ Mother locked the doors and we all went to bed. Mother’s room adjoined mine and my sister’s. After we were in bed for some time, but not yet asleep, a man–he seemed to be black–came to the door which led from mother’s room to ours, and smiled at us. He drew back, re-appeared and smiled again, or rather grinned, showing his white teeth; it was a peculiar smile.
"I wanted to call mother, but sister, who was eight, said I must not speak, I must keep very still.
"Next morning we asked father what time he came home, and he said ‘not until morning.’ We told our experience, but father and mother seemed to think we had only imagined it.
"But two persons do not imagine the same thing at the same time. Besides, we were not afraid. I have often wondered what it was. My sister died shortly after that. Could it have been a ‘warning,’ I wonder?