Some years later Blackburg had a fall of crimson
snow; it is cold in Blackburg when winter is on, and
the snows are frequent and deep. There can be no
doubt of it--the snow in this instance was of the
colour of blood and melted into water of the same
hue, if water it was, not blood. The phenomenon
had attracted wide attention, and science had as
many explanations as there were scientists who knew
nothing about it. But the men of Blackburg--men
who for many years had lived right there where the
red snow fell, and might be supposed to know a
good deal about the matter--shook their heads and
said something would come of it.
And something did, for the next summer was
made memorable by the prevalence of a mysterious
disease--epidemic, endemic, or the Lord knows
what, though the physicians didn't--which carried
away a full half of the population. Most of the other
half carried themselves away and were slow to re-
turn, but finally came back, and were now increasing
and multiplying as before, but Blackburg had not
since been altogether the same.
Of quite another kind, though equally 'out of the
common,' was the incident of Hetty Parlow's ghost.
Hetty Parlow's maiden name had been Brownon,
and in Blackburg that meant more than one would
think.
The Brownons had from time immemorial--from
the very earliest of the old colonial days--been the
leading family of the town. It was the richest and it
was the best, and Blackburg would have shed the
last drop of its plebeian blood in defence of the
Brownon fair fame.
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