Ghost Stories of Old New Orleans

The Ghost of Love

(/c?c?5) The Ghost of Love It was in 1870 that John Pelham brought his bride to live in the little house on the corner of Eighth and Chippewa streets. The house was set by itself in the midst of a garden space, and young Pelham had visions of fresh vegetables and tall flowering shrubs and many rose bushes. Already there were two fig trees and a magnolia, Japanese plums at one side of the house and a 'simmon tree on the other. His bride had been Caroline Andrews of Mobile—a slight, pretty girl with chestnut hair and a creamy complexion. They began housekeeping by planting a wisteria vine on the south side of the house, where it would run up over the galleries and form a leafy curtain when the weather was hot. John was over thirty and Caroline was twenty-two. And because of the eight years' difference, Caroline took extra care that the silver should be beautifully polished and the food served exactly right and that everything about the little house should be kept spick-and-span. John grew more charmed with his bride each day. He loved her canary, he frolicked with her big white cat, he enjoyed the fragrance of the verbenas and mignonette which she planted along the garden borders. He liked to see her sitting on the cool gallery with her sewing or knitting, or perhaps directing the Negro maid about the making of some special kind of cookies or preserves. Then suddenly Caroline decided to do without a maid. It would mean so much to the nest egg they were saving. Maids broke china and lost silverware and wasted food and stole 259 260 Ghost Stories of Old New Orleans things, she said. Besides which, she would dearly love to attend to everything herself. But the washing and ironing and scrubbing , these John objected to her doing—such tasks never should be performed by white hands. Caroline stood firm, however, and at the end of the month she let black Bessie go. From that day on, Caroline Pelham entered another existence . In the morning, shortly after John left for his work, a ring had come at the doorbell. Caroline answered it, her cheeks a little flushed, her step a trifle nervous. Her fingers trembled as she opened the door. "Well," smiled the tall young man who stood on the porch, "I kept my word—here I am." "Yes," Caroline replied breathlessly, as he stepped in and she closed and bolted the door. "And I'm so frightened, Joe! Suppose someone saw you and told John!" "Can't a book agent call to interest you in a set of art folios?" he laughed, catching her to him and kissing her hungrily . "Nobody in Mobile used to find out about us, and nobody here ever will. What's the use of being a pretty girl if you can't be loved? You know and I know that John Pelham couldn't love anybody as I love you. Am I to blame because I've got a rich wife whom I can't possibly divorce? I'd have married you myself if there'd been the ghost of a chance. But I can use Laura's money—and so can you, for that matter. You got rid of the nigger, I hope." "Yes, although I had a time convincing John I didn't need her. We couldn't have her here, I know that. Help always talk. At that, I'm terribly afraid the neighbors will make remarks if you come often." She laid her head on his shoulder and he smothered her face with kisses. "The neighbors won't see me," he said, and winked at her knowingly. "I'm going to stay here all day—every day—and leave the house after dark. Your John never will know I'm here. There's plenty of room upstairs for me, if he comes home early." "Oh!" gasped Caroline. "You never could stay here—not like that! John would find you and he might kill us both. You mustn't think of such a thing!" The Ghost of Love 261 "Very well, my dear." And Joe Curtis drew away from her coldly. "Just as you wish. But either I'll stay here, as I propose, or I'll find speedy means of letting your John know that you were my mistress...