I could not bear it. The vision I had seen had seemed so real, and both Mama and Papa were bent on having me think otherwise. “Papa,” I interjected one last time, though halfheartedly, “I am sure I saw her.”

“Listen to me, Maisie,” Papa said, his manner suddenly abrupt. “I must tell you—”

“Of ghosts?” I was in no mood to be treated like a child, and balked at Papa’s tone.

“Of the Granges,” he began.

“The Granges, Papa? Miss Grange’s family?”

He hesitated an instant. “Indeed,” he confirmed, and rushed on.

“At the middle of this century, the Grange family—the very Granges of Grange House—were prosperous and well-respected citizens of Middle Haven. It’s said that theirs was the money that laid the foundation stones beneath the church, and theirs, too, the money that raised the roof upon the schoolhouse. The eldest son was a tall and well-built man who looked throughout the county for a wife to take. Many a young girl was pushed forward into his view at market by clumsy mothers’ hands. Many a girl gazed at him pacing on his fine horse through the one street of Middle Haven. Many a soft pair of hands closed in prayer for a share of Rorie Grange’s heart.”

“Papa, stop. This does not sound like you. Where did you come upon all this?” My hand trembled on his arm.

“I read it once, my dear.” Evading my gaze, he continued on.

I dropped my hand from his arm. It could not be, but it seemed my father was telling me the story of the Widow Grange’s arrival in Middle Haven—the story before the tale Miss Grange had told me.

“There came a day, a sad day indeed for the native women of Middle Haven. Into the harbor sailed a ship, a mighty vessel that had crossed from Ireland, and though tending to Portland, it was blown off course in a fierce nor’easter that carried the unwitting crew into Middle Haven harbor. On board the ship were a dozen families who had left their bleak prospects and the weary search for food in time of famine to set sail for the verdant and bountiful promise of New England. Arriving in so unexpected a fashion in a town and harbor not marked on most maps, the ship’s crew and passengers took it as a sign from the heavens that indeed they must stop in Middle Haven and settle there.

“The Granges were among the first families to greet the weary ones on board, and, hearing of the Irish determination to stop and settle, they offered the shelter of three of their fish houses, the small snug huts the fishermen drew their nets into at the end of a catch, to three of the newcomer families. Among these three families, chance had it there was a family in great sorrow on account of its overabundance of girl children.”