Another first wife was seen after her husband’s second marriage, but under quite different circumstances. This was at Port Medway. There were several children by the first wife and their stepmother was always kind to them. But one of the children became ill and was not expected to recover. The stepmother was getting tired, so two friends of the family came to watch over the child at night while she got some rest. As they were sitting quietly in the sick room, they saw a woman come in and bend over the child and go out again. They said in astonishment, "That’s Annie Wharton!" (the child’s mother.) She did not look at them, but both recognized her. Telling of it afterwards they insisted they were not afraid.

In this case there were the two mothers both caring for the child, a love which they shared. They were both good women. Not so a stepmother reported from Sambro. She had beaten her stepchildren and then had thrown them in the same crib. They cried but she paid no attention. When midnight came she heard a little sound and looked up. To her horror the children’s own mother was standing looking down at them. She was so terrified that she persuaded her husband to leave with her the next day and the children were left to the care of neighbours. Perhaps that was what their mother wished for them when she allowed herself to be seen bending over their crib.

Spry Bay also has a story of two mothers. Here a mother had died and the father was being married again. The child was to be sent away to be brought up by another woman. One day the stepmother-to-be went to the well and the child’s mother appeared to her. She advised her not to send her to the place they had planned, and said what they should do for her. That was done, and the story has been told in Spry Bay for years.

My singer, Mr. Nathan Hatt of Middle River in Lunenburg County, was getting close to his proud record of recording eight-six songs. He had just sung one called "The Dreadful Ghost" which turned his thoughts to something he had once seen. His face could change suddenly from the merriest laughter to the most solemn expression and it now became sober. His aged, blue eyes looked into mine intently.

"I saw a woman one time dressed in white in the noonday. She had a white nightcap on her head and two long white ribbons hanging down over her bosom. I didn’t say anything about having seen her at the time but later I got talking to a friend and I told him. He said, ‘I believe I know who that was. I believe it was my sister. She married and she had a foolish girl (mentally deficient) and, just before she died, she called this girl to her side and said, "What’ll become of poor Ruth when I’m gone?" So you see she had trouble on her mind and that’s why she came back.’ The place I saw her was at Beech Hill, just a little piece from where she lived. Ruth was there at the time and the young fellows were tantalizing her. The woman was pale and deathly and I could see she was no living person. She watched those fellows with her eyes and she whipped away so quick I didn’t see where she went to. Her eyes looked natural. The man I spoke to was sure she was Ruth’s mother, and well she might have been but, as far as I know, I’m the only person who ever saw her."

Was the mother able to protect her defenceless child? Could we but know the answer to that question!