A Ghost in Court [pp. 569-571]

1872.] A GHOST IN COURT 66
back to Frankfort, from a visit to my parent,
.the shock I felt when I heard that an English
lord had come and carried away my bride,
and that she and her father were gone for ever from Frankfort without one line of ex planation or a word of adieu. Do you re member these things?"
"I do," said Amicia.
"Why, then, do you ask me why I told
Miss Carlton your name, when you had thrown
it away and forgotten me to become the wife
of an English lord?"
"He was not a lord," said Amicia, feebly.
"So much the worse," said the German.
' It would have been some consolation to
have lost my betrothed to a lord. Why did
you do it?"
"Because my father forced me," said
Amicia. "He said it was better for me, and
better for you to part so; and so we left the
college and made no sign."
"It was very hard," said Mr. Sonderling.
"All my spring-tide visions of life vanished,
and I became old at once. And now the lord
is dead?"
"Sir John Sweetapple has been dead four
years," said Amicia. "But why did you come
to England?"
"I could not rest in Germany after that,"
said the German. "I could not bear to tread
the soil on which I had been so happy. I
had heimweh of the worst kind-the hate, not
the longing for home. My mother died soon
after that. She never held up her head when
she saw I was so unhappy. Then I sold all the tobacco-fabric and all that had been in
the family one hundred and fifty years-the,
first tobacco-fabric in all the country round!
With the money I came to England; for it
fetched much money; and since then I have
lived here much happier than I could ever be
in Germany, till you come here and make me
nnhappy all at once. It is a sore trial to see
you again."
"But, Carl," said Amicia, "promise me
one thing."
"Any thing," said the German; "though
your behavior often makes me reflect on the
injustice of Providence. Why could we not
have lived at the Fabric and sold cigars, as
my forefathers did, and then have died and
left the business to our children, as my father
left it to me? Ach Himmel! Providence is
often very unjust."
"Don't say that," said Amicia, "it pains
my heart."
"What shall I say then?" said Mr. Sonderling.
"Promise never to tell any one that I was
your betrothed."
"I may show it in my face and accents,"
said the German, "but I have more self-respect than to parade my sorrows to the world.
There is no sympathy, no ritgefiul, in this
life for jilted men and women."
"Very true," said Amicia; "and besides,
what good would it do? We cannot recall
the past."
"Alas! no, we cannot," said the German.
"Then," said Amicia, "we understand
one another. We are good friends-almost
as good as we were before; but you are not
to tell any one what passed between us."
"I swear it," said Mr. Sonderling, grasp
ing Amicia's hand; "by all the gods, I swear
it!"
"Swear only by one-the little god Cu pid," said Amicia, "and I shall believe you
all the more."
"By him, then, I swear!" said Mr. Son derling, and they came out from the con servatory, both, it must be mentioned, look ing much happier than when they went in.
"We have been waiting for you ever so
long," said Florry, impatiently. "We did
not like to disturb you, dear Lady Sweetap ple, because we knew it must be so nice to
you to meet such an old friend as Mr. Son derling, and have a talk about old times.
Nothing does one so much good sometimes
as to meet an old friend. He can tell one so
much, and so can we him, if we choose. But,
dear Lady Sweetapple, mamma wants so much
to know if you feel equal to a walk this warm
afternoon. You know we should not like you
to faint again, as you did yesterday, all for
nothing."
"I am quite well, thank you, Miss Carl ton," said Amicia, "quite equal to any exer tion; and indeed it has been a great delight
to me to meet Mr. Sonderling again. He is
not the man to cut his acquaintances, though
their names may have been Smith and their
fathers doctors before they were married."
"Oh, dear no, of course not," said Florry,
not at all surprised, perhaps, to find Amicia
showing her teeth at last.
"That shows she did not like what I
said," were Florry's words to Alice at they
ran up to dress.
Had this been a sensation novel, or had
Lady Sweetapple been a woman like some
other Smiths, we would not have given much
for poor Mr. Sonderling's life. He would have
been poisoned with a cup of coffee, or lured
away into a wood to be slain like a rabbit by
a blow on the back of his head. As sure as
fate he would have been a dead man. But
this is a very sober story, and Amicia Smith
was not as other Smiths. She preferred to
effect her purpose-which, you all of you
know, is to marry Harry Fortescue-by more
legitimate, though not less certain, means. A
moment or two had convinced her that she
still maintained her ascendency over Mr. Sonderling's mind, and she determined at once
to work'upon his old affection, and to conceal the fact that she and the dreamy German
cigar-maker had been any thing more than aoquaintances at Frankfort. You see, too, she
was only just before Florry, who had all but
wormed her secret out of Mr. Sonderling, and
in fact still hoped to do so. So far, therefore,
as the struggle for Mr. Sonderling and his
information was concerned, Amicia had carried the day. She had a right to be proud,
she thought, of her influence; and altogether
she went up to get ready for the walk in a
much better frame of mind than when she
came down to luncheon. She would have
been very nearly quite happy had it not been
for that horrid Edith Price, who haunted her
in such a way that she felt she could take no
rest till that mystery was cleared up. "It
shall be done to-day out walking," she said,
as she again descended that black and slippery staircase.
[T o B coIorTII rUD..]
A GHOST IN COURT.
ARLY in the last century, Honor6 Mira bel, a poor laborer on the estate of a
family named Gay, near Marseilles, France,
invoked the protection of the law under the
following extraordinary circumstances:
He declared that, while lying under an al mond-tree, late one night, striving to sleep,
he suddenly noticed a man of remarkable ap pearance standing, in the full moonlight, at
the window of a neighboring house. Know ing the house to be unoccupied, he rose to
question the intruder, when the latter disap peared. A ladder being at hand, Mirabel
mounted to the window, and, on entering,
found no one. Struck with a feeling of ter ror, he descended the ladder with all speed,
and had barely touched the ground, when a
voice at his back accosted him:
"Pertuisan" (he was of Pertuis), "there
is a large treasure buried close at hand. Dig,
and it is yours."
A small stone was dropped on the terrace,
as if to mark the spot alluded to.
For reasons not explained, the favored
Mirabel shrank from pursuing the adventure
alone, but communicated with a friend, one
Bernard, a laborer in the employ of the
farmeress Paret. This lady being admitted
to their confidence, the three assembled next
night at the place indicated by the spectre,
and, after digging to a considerable depth,
came upon a large parcel wrapped in many
folds of linen. Struck with the pick-axe,
it returned unmistakably the melodious sound
of coin; but the filthy, and, as Paret sug gested, plague-stricken appearance of the cov ering, checked their eager curiosity, until,
having been conveyed home and well soaked
in wine, the parcel was opened, and revealed
to their delighted gaze more than a thousand
large gold-pieces, subsequently ascertained
to be Portuguese.
It was remarkable, yet so it was, that
Mirabel was allowed to retain the whole of
the treasure. Perhaps his friends felt some
scruple in interfering with the manifest intentions of the ghost. But Mirabel was not
much the happier for it. He feared for the
safety of his wealth-he feared for his own
life. Moreover, the prevailing laws respecting "treasure-trove" were peculiarly explicit, and it was questionable how far the decision of the ghost might be held to override
them.
In France, of treasure found in the highway, half belonged to the king, half to the
finder. If in any other public place, half to
the high-justiciary, half to the finder. If discovered by magical arts, the whole to the
king, with a penalty upon the finder. If,
when discovered, the treasure were concealed
from the proprietor of the ground, the finder
forfeited his share. To these existing claims
the phantom had made no allusion. In his
perplexity, honest Mirabel bethought him of
another friend, one Auguier, a substantial
tradesman of Marseilles.
The advice of this gentleman was, that the
secret should be rigorously confined to those
who already knew it, while he himself (Auguier) was prepared to devote himself, heart
1872.]
A GHlOST IN CO0URT.
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