It gave promise of being a most interesting sketch, and I crossed over to examine it; but instead of doing so, found my eyes drawn toward something more vital than any picture and twice as enchaining.

It was a face, the face of an old woman staring down at me from a semicircular opening in the gable of the adjoining house.  An ordinary circumstance in itself, but made extraordinary by the fixity of her gaze, which was leveled straight on mine, and the uncommon expression of breathless eagerness which gave force to her otherwise commonplace features.  So remarkable was this expression and so apparently was it directed against myself, that I felt like throwing up my window and asking the poor old creature what I could do for her.  But her extreme immobility deterred me.  For all the intentness of her look there was no invitation in it warranting such an advance on my part.  She simply stared down at me in unbroken anxiety, nor, though I watched her for some minutes with an intensity equal to her own, did I detect any change either in her attitude or expression.

“Odd,” thought I, and tested her with a friendly bow.  The demonstration failed to produce the least impression.  “A most uncanny neighbor,” was my mental comment on finally turning away.  Truly I was surrounded by mysteries, but fortunately this was one with which I had no immediate concern.  It did not take me long to put away my few belongings and prepare for dinner.  When quite ready, I sat down to write a letter.  This completed, I turned to go downstairs.  But before leaving the room I cast another look up at my neighbor’s attic window.  The old woman was still there.  As our glances met I experienced a thrill which was hardly one of sympathy, yet was not exactly one of fear.  My impulse was to pull down the shade between us, but I had not the heart.  She was so old, so feeble and so, evidently the prey of some strange and fixed idea.  What idea?  It was not for me to say, but I found it impossible to make any move which would seem to shut her out; so I left the shade up; but her image followed me and I forgot it only when confronted once again with Mrs. Packard.

That lady was awaiting me at the dining-room door.  She had succeeded in throwing off her secret depression and smiled quite naturally as I approached.  Her easy, courteous manners became her wonderfully.  I immediately recognized how much there was to admire in our mayor’s wife, and quite understood his relief when, a few minutes later, we sat at table and conversation began.  Mrs. Packard, when free and light-hearted, was a delightful companion and the meal passed off cheerily.  When we rose and the mayor left us for some necessary business it was with a look of satisfaction in my direction which was the best possible preparation for my approaching tete-a-tete with his moody and incomprehensible wife.

But I was not destined to undergo the contemplated ordeal this evening.  Guests were announced whom Mrs. Packard kindly invited me to meet, but I begged to be allowed to enjoy the library.  I had too much to consider just now, to find any pleasure in society.  Three questions filled my mind.