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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Stable for Nightmares, by 
+J. Sheridan Le Fanu and Charles Young and and Others
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Stable for Nightmares
+       or Weird Tales
+
+Author: J. Sheridan Le Fanu
+        Charles Young
+        and Others
+
+Release Date: August 28, 2008 [EBook #26451]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STABLE FOR NIGHTMARES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Jacqueline Jeremy and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    A STABLE FOR NIGHTMARES
+
+    [Illustration: A STABLE FOR NIGHTMARES]
+
+    A STABLE FOR NIGHTMARES
+
+    OR
+
+    WEIRD TALES
+
+    BY
+
+    J. SHERIDAN LE FANU
+    AUTHOR OF “UNCLE SILAS,” “HOUSE BY THE CHURCHYARD,”
+
+    SIR CHARLES YOUNG, BART.
+
+    AND OTHERS
+
+    Illustrated
+
+    NEW YORK NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY
+    156 FIFTH AVENUE
+    1896
+
+
+    Copyright, 1896,
+    by
+    NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+    TABLE OF CONTENTS
+
+                                                    PAGE
+
+    DICKON THE DEVIL,                                  9
+
+    A DEBT OF HONOR,                                  27
+
+    DEVEREUX’S DREAM,                                 59
+
+    CATHERINE’S QUEST,                                89
+
+    HAUNTED,                                         115
+
+    PICHON AND SONS, OF THE CROIX ROUSSE,            135
+
+    THE PHANTOM FOURTH,                              163
+
+    THE SPIRIT’S WHISPER,                            185
+
+    DR. FEVERSHAM’S STORY,                           209
+
+    THE SECRET OF THE TWO PLASTER CASTS,             229
+
+    WHAT WAS IT?                                     241
+
+
+
+
+DICKON THE DEVIL.
+
+
+About thirty years ago I was selected by two rich old maids to visit a
+property in that part of Lancashire which lies near the famous forest of
+Pendle, with which Mr. Ainsworth’s “Lancashire Witches” has made us so
+pleasantly familiar. My business was to make partition of a small
+property, including a house and demesne to which they had, a long time
+before, succeeded as coheiresses.
+
+The last forty miles of my journey I was obliged to post, chiefly by
+cross-roads, little known, and less frequented, and presenting scenery
+often extremely interesting and pretty. The picturesqueness of the
+landscape was enhanced by the season, the beginning of September, at
+which I was travelling.
+
+I had never been in this part of the world before; I am told it is now a
+great deal less wild, and, consequently, less beautiful.
+
+At the inn where I had stopped for a relay of horses and some
+dinner—for it was then past five o’clock—I found the host, a hale old
+fellow of five-and-sixty, as he told me, a man of easy and garrulous
+benevolence, willing to accommodate his guests with any amount of talk,
+which the slightest tap sufficed to set flowing, on any subject you
+pleased.
+
+I was curious to learn something about Barwyke, which was the name of
+the demesne and house I was going to. As there was no inn within some
+miles of it, I had written to the steward to put me up there, the best
+way he could, for a night.
+
+The host of the “Three Nuns,” which was the sign under which he
+entertained wayfarers, had not a great deal to tell. It was twenty
+years, or more, since old Squire Bowes died, and no one had lived in the
+Hall ever since, except the gardener and his wife.
+
+“Tom Wyndsour will be as old a man as myself; but he’s a bit taller, and
+not so much in flesh, quite,” said the fat innkeeper.
+
+“But there were stories about the house,” I repeated, “that, they said,
+prevented tenants from coming into it?”
+
+“Old wives’ tales; many years ago, that will be, sir; I forget ’em; I
+forget ’em all. Oh yes, there always will be, when a house is left so;
+foolish folk will always be talkin’; but I han’t heard a word about it
+this twenty year.”
+
+It was vain trying to pump him; the old landlord of the “Three Nuns,”
+for some reason, did not choose to tell tales of Barwyke Hall, if he
+really did, as I suspected, remember them.
+
+I paid my reckoning, and resumed my journey, well pleased with the good
+cheer of that old-world inn, but a little disappointed.
+
+We had been driving for more than an hour, when we began to cross a wild
+common; and I knew that, this passed, a quarter of an hour would bring
+me to the door of Barwyke Hall.
+
+The peat and furze were pretty soon left behind; we were again in the
+wooded scenery that I enjoyed so much, so entirely natural and pretty,
+and so little disturbed by traffic of any kind. I was looking from the
+chaise-window, and soon detected the object of which, for some time, my
+eye had been in search. Barwyke Hall was a large, quaint house, of that
+cage-work fashion known as “black-and-white,” in which the bars and
+angles of an oak framework contrast, black as ebony, with the white
+plaster that overspreads the masonry built into its interstices. This
+steep-roofed Elizabethan house stood in the midst of park-like grounds
+of no great extent, but rendered imposing by the noble stature of the
+old trees that now cast their lengthening shadows eastward over the
+sward, from the declining sun.
+
+The park-wall was gray with age, and in many places laden with ivy. In
+deep gray shadow, that contrasted with the dim fires of evening
+reflected on the foliage above it, in a gentle hollow, stretched a lake
+that looked cold and black, and seemed, as it were, to skulk from
+observation with a guilty knowledge.
+
+I had forgot that there was a lake at Barwyke; but the moment this
+caught my eye, like the cold polish of a snake in the shadow, my
+instinct seemed to recognize something dangerous, and I knew that the
+lake was connected, I could not remember how, with the story I had heard
+of this place in my boyhood.
+
+I drove up a grass-grown avenue, under the boughs of these noble trees,
+whose foliage, dyed in autumnal red and yellow, returned the beams of
+the western sun gorgeously.
+
+We drew up at the door. I got out, and had a good look at the front of
+the house; it was a large and melancholy mansion, with signs of long
+neglect upon it; great wooden shutters, in the old fashion, were barred,
+outside, across the windows; grass, and even nettles, were growing thick
+on the courtyard, and a thin moss streaked the timber beams; the plaster
+was discolored by time and weather, and bore great russet and yellow
+stains. The gloom was increased by several grand old trees that crowded
+close about the house.
+
+I mounted the steps, and looked round; the dark lake lay near me now, a
+little to the left. It was not large; it may have covered some ten or
+twelve acres; but it added to the melancholy of the scene. Near the
+centre of it was a small island, with two old ash-trees, leaning toward
+each other, their pensive images reflected in the stirless water. The
+only cheery influence of this scene of antiquity, solitude, and neglect
+was that the house and landscape were warmed with the ruddy western
+beams. I knocked, and my summons resounded hollow and ungenial in my
+ear; and the bell, from far away, returned a deep-mouthed and surly
+ring, as if it resented being roused from a score years’ slumber.
+
+A light-limbed, jolly-looking old fellow, in a barracan jacket and
+gaiters, with a smirk of welcome, and a very sharp, red nose, that
+seemed to promise good cheer, opened the door with a promptitude that
+indicated a hospitable expectation of my arrival.
+
+There was but little light in the hall, and that little lost itself in
+darkness in the background. It was very spacious and lofty, with a
+gallery running round it, which, when the door was open, was visible at
+two or three points. Almost in the dark my new acquaintance led me
+across this wide hall into the room destined for my reception. It was
+spacious, and wainscoted up to the ceiling. The furniture of this
+capacious chamber was old-fashioned and clumsy. There were curtains
+still to the windows, and a piece of Turkey carpet lay upon the floor;
+those windows were two in number, looking out, through the trunks of the
+trees close to the house, upon the lake. It needed all the fire, and all
+the pleasant associations of my entertainer’s red nose, to light up this
+melancholy chamber. A door at its farther end admitted to the room that
+was prepared for my sleeping apartment. It was wainscoted, like the
+other. It had a four-post bed, with heavy tapestry curtains, and in
+other respects was furnished in the same old-world and ponderous style
+as the other room. Its window, like those of that apartment, looked out
+upon the lake.
+
+Sombre and sad as these rooms were, they were yet scrupulously clean. I
+had nothing to complain of; but the effect was rather dispiriting.
+Having given some directions about supper—a pleasant incident to look
+forward to—and made a rapid toilet, I called on my friend with the
+gaiters and red nose (Tom Wyndsour), whose occupation was that of a
+“bailiff,” or under-steward, of the property, to accompany me, as we had
+still an hour or so of sun and twilight, in a walk over the grounds.
+
+It was a sweet autumn evening, and my guide, a hardy old fellow, strode
+at a pace that tasked me to keep up with.
+
+Among clumps of trees at the northern boundary of the demesne we lighted
+upon the little antique parish church. I was looking down upon it, from
+an eminence, and the park-wall interposed; but a little way down was a
+stile affording access to the road, and by this we approached the iron
+gate of the churchyard. I saw the church door open; the sexton was
+replacing his pick, shovel, and spade, with which he had just been
+digging a grave in the churchyard, in their little repository under the
+stone stair of the tower. He was a polite, shrewd little hunchback, who
+was very happy to show me over the church. Among the monuments was one
+that interested me; it was erected to commemorate the very Squire Bowes
+from whom my two old maids had inherited the house and estate of
+Barwyke. It spoke of him in terms of grandiloquent eulogy, and informed
+the Christian reader that he had died, in the bosom of the Church of
+England, at the age of seventy-one.
+
+I read this inscription by the parting beams of the setting sun, which
+disappeared behind the horizon just as we passed out from under the
+porch.
+
+“Twenty years since the Squire died,” said I, reflecting, as I loitered
+still in the churchyard.
+
+“Ay, sir; ’twill be twenty year the ninth o’ last month.”
+
+“And a very good old gentleman?”
+
+“Good-natured enough, and an easy gentleman he was, sir; I don’t think
+while he lived he ever hurt a fly,” acquiesced Tom Wyndsour. “It ain’t
+always easy sayin’ what’s in ’em, though, and what they may take or turn
+to afterward; and some o’ them sort, I think, goes mad.”
+
+“You don’t think he was out of his mind?” I asked.
+
+“He? La! no; not he, sir; a bit lazy, mayhap, like other old fellows;
+but a knew devilish well what he was about.”
+
+Tom Wyndsour’s account was a little enigmatical; but, like old Squire
+Bowes, I was “a bit lazy” that evening, and asked no more questions
+about him.
+
+We got over the stile upon the narrow road that skirts the churchyard.
+It is overhung by elms more than a hundred years old, and in the
+twilight, which now prevailed, was growing very dark. As side-by-side we
+walked along this road, hemmed in by two loose stone-like walls,
+something running toward us in a zig-zag line passed us at a wild pace,
+with a sound like a frightened laugh or a shudder, and I saw, as it
+passed, that it was a human figure. I may confess, now, that I was a
+little startled. The dress of this figure was, in part, white: I know I
+mistook it at first for a white horse coming down the road at a gallop.
+Tom Wyndsour turned about and looked after the retreating figure.
+
+“He’ll be on his travels to-night,” he said, in a low tone. “Easy served
+with a bed, _that_ lad be; six foot o’ dry peat or heath, or a nook in a
+dry ditch. That lad hasn’t slept once in a house this twenty year, and
+never will while grass grows.”
+
+“Is he mad?” I asked.
+
+“Something that way, sir; he’s an idiot, an awpy; we call him ‘Dickon
+the devil,’ because the devil’s almost the only word that’s ever in his
+mouth.”
+
+It struck me that this idiot was in some way connected with the story of
+old Squire Bowes.
+
+“Queer things are told of him, I dare say?” I suggested.
+
+“More or less, sir; more or less. Queer stories, some.”
+
+“Twenty years since he slept in a house? That’s about the time the
+Squire died,” I continued.
+
+“So it will be, sir; not very long after.”
+
+“You must tell me all about that, Tom, to-night, when I can hear it
+comfortably, after supper.”
+
+Tom did not seem to like my invitation; and looking straight before him
+as we trudged on, he said:
+
+“You see, sir, the house has been quiet, and nout’s been troubling folk
+inside the walls or out, all round the woods of Barwyke, this ten year,
+or more; and my old woman, down there, is clear against talking about
+such matters, and thinks it best—and so do I—to let sleepin’ dogs be.”
+
+He dropped his voice toward the close of the sentence, and nodded
+significantly.
+
+We soon reached a point where he unlocked a wicket in the park wall, by
+which we entered the grounds of Barwyke once more.
+
+The twilight deepening over the landscape, the huge and solemn trees,
+and the distant outline of the haunted house, exercised a sombre
+influence on me, which, together with the fatigue of a day of travel,
+and the brisk walk we had had, disinclined me to interrupt the silence
+in which my companion now indulged.
+
+A certain air of comparative comfort, on our arrival, in great measure
+dissipated the gloom that was stealing over me. Although it was by no
+means a cold night, I was very glad to see some wood blazing in the
+grate; and a pair of candles aiding the light of the fire, made the room
+look cheerful. A small table, with a very white cloth, and preparations
+for supper, was also a very agreeable object.
+
+I should have liked very well, under these influences, to have listened
+to Tom Wyndsour’s story; but after supper I grew too sleepy to attempt
+to lead him to the subject; and after yawning for a time, I found there
+was no use in contending against my drowsiness, so I betook myself to my
+bedroom, and by ten o’clock was fast asleep.
+
+What interruption I experienced that night I shall tell you presently.
+It was not much, but it was very odd.
+
+By next night I had completed my work at Barwyke. From early morning
+till then I was so incessantly occupied and hard-worked, that I had no
+time to think over the singular occurrence to which I have just
+referred. Behold me, however, at length once more seated at my little
+supper-table, having ended a comfortable meal. It had been a sultry day,
+and I had thrown one of the large windows up as high as it would go. I
+was sitting near it, with my brandy and water at my elbow, looking out
+into the dark. There was no moon, and the trees that are grouped about
+the house make the darkness round it supernaturally profound on such
+nights.
+
+“Tom,” said I, so soon as the jug of hot punch I had supplied him with
+began to exercise its genial and communicative influence; “you must tell
+me who beside your wife and you and myself slept in the house last
+night.”
+
+Tom, sitting near the door, set down his tumbler, and looked at me
+askance, while you might count seven, without speaking a word.
+
+“Who else slept in the house?” he repeated, very deliberately. “Not a
+living soul, sir;” and he looked hard at me, still evidently expecting
+something more.
+
+“That _is_ very odd,” I said, returning his stare, and feeling really a
+little odd. “You are sure _you_ were not in my room last night?”
+
+“Not till I came to call you, sir, this morning; I can make oath of
+that.”
+
+“Well,” said I, “there was some one there, _I_ can make oath of that. I
+was so tired I could not make up my mind to get up; but I was waked by a
+sound that I thought was some one flinging down the two tin boxes in
+which my papers were locked up violently on the floor. I heard a slow
+step on the ground, and there was light in the room, although I
+remembered having put out my candle. I thought it must have been you,
+who had come in for my clothes, and upset the boxes by accident. Whoever
+it was, he went out, and the light with him. I was about to settle
+again, when, the curtain being a little open at the foot of the bed, I
+saw a light on the wall opposite; such as a candle from outside would
+cast if the door were very cautiously opening. I started up in the bed,
+drew the side curtain, and saw that the door _was_ opening, and
+admitting light from outside. It is close, you know, to the head of the
+bed. A hand was holding on the edge of the door and pushing it open; not
+a bit like yours; a very singular hand. Let me look at yours.”
+
+He extended it for my inspection.
+
+“Oh no; there’s nothing wrong with your hand. This was differently
+shaped; fatter; and the middle finger was stunted, and shorter than the
+rest, looking as if it had once been broken, and the nail was crooked
+like a claw. I called out, “Who’s there?” and the light and the hand
+were withdrawn, and I saw and heard no more of my visitor.”
+
+“So sure as you’re a living man, that was him!” exclaimed Tom Wyndsour,
+his very nose growing pale, and his eyes almost starting out of his
+head.
+
+“Who?” I asked.
+
+“Old Squire Bowes; ’twas _his_ hand you saw; the Lord a’ mercy on us!”
+answered Tom. “The broken finger, and the nail bent like a hoop. Well
+for you, sir, he didn’t come back when you called, that time. You came
+here about them Miss Dymock’s business, and he never meant they should
+have a foot o’ ground in Barwyke; and he was making a will to give it
+away quite different, when death took him short. He never was uncivil to
+no one; but he couldn’t abide them ladies. My mind misgave me when I
+heard ’twas about their business you were coming; and now you see how it
+is; he’ll be at his old tricks again!”
+
+With some pressure, and a little more punch, I induced Tom Wyndsour to
+explain his mysterious allusions by recounting the occurrences which
+followed the old Squire’s death.
+
+“Squire Bowes, of Barwyke, died without making a will, as you know,”
+said Tom. “And all the folk round were sorry; that is to say, sir, as
+sorry as folk will be for an old man that has seen a long tale of years,
+and has no right to grumble that death has knocked an hour too soon at
+his door. The Squire was well liked; he was never in a passion, or said
+a hard word; and he would not hurt a fly; and that made what happened
+after his decease the more surprising.
+
+“The first thing these ladies did, when they got the property, was to
+buy stock for the park.
+
+“It was not wise, in any case, to graze the land on their own account.
+But they little knew all they had to contend with.
+
+“Before long something went wrong with the cattle; first one, and then
+another, took sick and died, and so on, till the loss began to grow
+heavy. Then, queer stories, little by little, began to be told. It was
+said, first by one, then by another, that Squire Bowes was seen, about
+evening time, walking, just as he used to do when he was alive, among
+the old trees, leaning on his stick; and, sometimes, when he came up
+with the cattle, he would stop and lay his hand kindly like on the back
+of one of them; and that one was sure to fall sick next day, and die
+soon after.
+
+“No one ever met him in the park, or in the woods, or ever saw him,
+except a good distance off. But they knew his gait and his figure well,
+and the clothes he used to wear; and they could tell the beast he laid
+his hand on by its color—white, dun, or black; and that beast was sure
+to sicken and die. The neighbors grew shy of taking the path over the
+park; and no one liked to walk in the woods, or come inside the bounds
+of Barwyke; and the cattle went on sickening and dying, as before.
+
+“At that time there was one Thomas Pyke; he had been a groom to the old
+Squire; and he was in care of the place, and was the only one that used
+to sleep in the house.
+
+“Tom was vexed, hearing these stories; which he did not believe the half
+on ’em; and more especial as he could not get man or boy to herd the
+cattle; all being afeared. So he wrote to Matlock, in Derbyshire, for
+his brother, Richard Pyke, a clever lad, and one that knew nout o’ the
+story of the old Squire walking.
+
+“Dick came; and the cattle was better; folk said they could still see
+the old Squire, sometimes, walking, as before, in openings of the wood,
+with his stick in his hand; but he was shy of coming nigh the cattle,
+whatever his reason might be, since Dickon Pyke came; and he used to
+stand a long bit off, looking at them, with no more stir in him than a
+trunk o’ one of the old trees, for an hour at a time, till the shape
+melted away, little by little, like the smoke of a fire that burns out.
+
+“Tom Pyke and his brother Dickon, being the only living souls in the
+house, lay in the big bed in the servants’ room, the house being fast
+barred and locked, one night in November.
+
+“Tom was lying next the wall, and, he told me, as wide awake as ever he
+was at noonday. His brother Dickon lay outside, and was sound asleep.
+
+“Well, as Tom lay thinking, with his eyes turned toward the door, it
+opens slowly, and who should come in but old Squire Bowes, his face
+lookin’ as dead as he was in his coffin.
+
+“Tom’s very breath left his body; he could not take his eyes off him;
+and he felt the hair rising up on his head.
+
+“The Squire came to the side of the bed, and put his arms under Dickon,
+and lifted the boy—in a dead sleep all the time—and carried him out
+so, at the door.
+
+“Such was the appearance, to Tom Pyke’s eyes, and he was ready to swear
+to it, anywhere.
+
+“When this happened, the light, wherever it came from, all on a sudden
+went out, and Tom could not see his own hand before him.
+
+“More dead than alive, he lay till daylight.
+
+“Sure enough his brother Dickon was gone. No sign of him could he
+discover about the house; and with some trouble he got a couple of the
+neighbors to help him to search the woods and grounds. Not a sign of him
+anywhere.
+
+“At last one of them thought of the island in the lake; the little boat
+was moored to the old post at the water’s edge. In they got, though with
+small hope of finding him there. Find him, nevertheless, they did,
+sitting under the big ash-tree, quite out of his wits; and to all their
+questions he answered nothing but one cry—‘Bowes, the devil! See him;
+see him; Bowes, the devil!’ An idiot they found him; and so he will be
+till God sets all things right. No one could ever get him to sleep under
+roof-tree more. He wanders from house to house while daylight lasts; and
+no one cares to lock the harmless creature in the workhouse. And folk
+would rather not meet him after nightfall, for they think where he is
+there may be worse things near.”
+
+A silence followed Tom’s story. He and I were alone in that large room;
+I was sitting near the open window, looking into the dark night air. I
+fancied I saw something white move across it; and I heard a sound like
+low talking, that swelled into a discordant shriek—“Hoo-oo-oo! Bowes,
+the devil! Over your shoulder. Hoo-oo-oo! ha! ha! ha!” I started up, and
+saw, by the light of the candle with which Tom strode to the window, the
+wild eyes and blighted face of the idiot, as, with a sudden change of
+mood, he drew off, whispering and tittering to himself, and holding up
+his long fingers, and looking at them as if they were lighted at the
+tips like a “hand of glory.”
+
+Tom pulled down the window. The story and its epilogue were over. I
+confessed I was rather glad when I heard the sound of the horses’ hoofs
+on the courtyard, a few minutes later; and still gladder when, having
+bidden Tom a kind farewell, I had left the neglected house of Barwyke a
+mile behind me.
+
+
+
+
+A DEBT OF HONOR.
+
+A GHOST STORY.
+
+
+Hush! what was that cry, so low but yet so piercing, so strange but yet
+so sorrowful? It was not the marmot upon the side of the Righi—it was
+not the heron down by the lake; no, it was distinctively human. Hush!
+there it is again—from the churchyard which I have just left!
+
+Not ten minutes have elapsed since I was sitting on the low wall of the
+churchyard of Weggis, watching the calm glories of the moonlight
+illuminating with silver splendor the lake of Lucerne; and I am certain
+there was no one within the inclosure but myself.
+
+I am mistaken, surely. What a silence there is upon the night! Not a
+breath of air now to break up into a thousand brilliant ripples the long
+reflection of the August moon, or to stir the foliage of the chestnuts;
+not a voice in the village; no splash of oar upon the lake. All life
+seems at perfect rest, and the solemn stillness that reigns about the
+topmost glaciers of S. Gothard has spread its mantle over the warmer
+world below.
+
+I must not linger; as it is, I shall have to wake up the porter to let
+me into the hotel. I hurry on.
+
+Not ten paces, though. Again I hear the cry. This time it sounds to me
+like the long, sad sob of a wearied and broken heart. Without staying to
+reason with myself, I quickly retrace my steps.
+
+I stumble about among the iron crosses and the graves, and displace in
+my confusion wreaths of immortelles and fresher flowers. A huge
+mausoleum stands between me and the wall upon which I had been sitting
+not a quarter of an hour ago. The mausoleum casts a deep shadow upon the
+side nearest to me. Ah! something is stirring there. I strain my
+eyes—the figure of a man passes slowly out of the shade, and silently
+occupies my place upon the wall. It must have been his lips that gave
+out that miserable sound.
+
+What shall I do? Compassion and curiosity are strong. The man whose
+heart can be rent so sorely ought not to be allowed to linger here with
+his despair. He is gazing, as I did, upon the lake. I mark his
+profile—clear-cut and symmetrical; I catch the lustre of large eyes.
+The face, as I can see it, seems very still and placid. I may be
+mistaken; he may merely be a wanderer like myself; perhaps he heard the
+three strange cries, and has also come to seek the cause. I feel
+impelled to speak to him.
+
+I pass from the path by the church to the east side of the mausoleum,
+and so come toward him, the moon full upon his features. Great heaven!
+how pale his face is!
+
+“Good-evening, sir. I thought myself alone here, and wondered that no
+other travellers had found their way to this lovely spot. Charming, is
+it not?”
+
+For a moment he says nothing, but his eyes are full upon me. At last he
+replies:
+
+“It is charming, as you say, Mr. Reginald Westcar.”
+
+“You know me?” I exclaim, in astonishment.
+
+“Pardon me, I can scarcely claim a personal acquaintance. But yours is
+the only English name entered to-day in the Livre des Étrangers.”
+
+“You are staying at the Hôtel de la Concorde, then?”
+
+An inclination of the head is all the answer vouchsafed.
+
+“May I ask,” I continue, “whether you heard just now a very strange cry
+repeated three times?”
+
+A pause. The lustrous eyes seem to search me through and through—I can
+hardly bear their gaze. Then he replies.
+
+“I fancy I heard the echoes of some such sounds as you describe.”
+
+The _echoes_! Is this, then, the man who gave utterance to those cries
+of woe! is it possible? The face seems so passionless; but the pallor of
+those features bears witness to some terrible agony within.
+
+“I thought some one must be in distress,” I rejoin, hastily; “and I
+hurried back to see if I could be of any service.”
+
+“Very good of you,” he answers, coldly; “but surely such a place as this
+is not unaccustomed to the voice of sorrow.”
+
+“No doubt. My impulse was a mistaken one.”
+
+“But kindly meant. You will not sleep less soundly for acting on that
+impulse, Reginald Westcar.”
+
+He rises as he speaks. He throws his cloak round him, and stands
+motionless. I take the hint. My mysterious countryman wishes to be
+alone. Some one that he has loved and lost lies buried here.
+
+“Good-night, sir,” I say, as I move in the direction of the little
+chapel at the gate. “Neither of us will sleep the less soundly for
+thinking of the perfect repose that reigns around this place.”
+
+“What do you mean?” he asks.
+
+“The dead,” I reply, as I stretch my hand toward the graves. “Do you not
+remember the lines in ‘King Lear’?
+
+    “‘After life’s fitful fever he sleeps well.’”
+
+“But _you_ have never died, Reginald Westcar. You know nothing of the
+sleep of death.”
+
+For the third time he speaks my name almost familiarly, and—I know not
+why—a shudder passes through me. I have no time, in my turn, to ask him
+what he means; for he strides silently away into the shadow of the
+church, and I, with a strange sense of oppression upon me, returned to
+my hotel.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The events which I have just related passed in vivid recollection
+through my mind as I travelled northward one cold November day in the
+year 185—. About six months previously I had taken my degree at Oxford,
+and had since been enjoying a trip upon the continent; and on my return
+to London I found a letter awaiting me from my lawyers, informing me
+somewhat to my astonishment, that I had succeeded to a small estate in
+Cumberland. I must tell you exactly how this came about. My mother was a
+Miss Ringwood, and she was the youngest of three children: the eldest
+was Aldina, the second was Geoffrey, and the third (my mother) Alice.
+Their mother (who had been a widow since my mother’s birth) lived at
+this little place in Cumberland, and which was known as The Shallows;
+she died shortly after my mother’s marriage with my father, Captain
+Westcar. My aunt Aldina and my uncle Geoffrey—the one at that time aged
+twenty-eight, and the other twenty-six—continued to reside at The
+Shallows. My father and mother had to go to India, where I was born, and
+where, when quite a child, I was left an orphan. A few months after my
+mother’s marriage my aunt disappeared; a few weeks after that event, and
+my uncle Geoffrey dropped down dead, as he was playing at cards with Mr.
+Maryon, the proprietor of a neighboring mansion known as The Mere. A
+fortnight after my uncle’s death, my aunt Aldina returned to The
+Shallows, and never left it again till she was carried out in her coffin
+to her grave in the churchyard. Ever since her return from her
+mysterious disappearance she maintained an impenetrable reserve. As a
+schoolboy I visited her twice or thrice, but these visits depressed my
+youthful spirits to such an extent, that as I grew older I excused
+myself from accepting my aunt’s not very pressing invitations; and at
+the time I am now speaking of I had not seen her for eight or ten years.
+I was rather surprised, therefore, when she bequeathed me The Shallows,
+which, as the surviving child, she inherited under her mother’s
+marriage settlement.
+
+But The Shallows had always exercised a grim influence over me, and the
+knowledge that I was now going to it as my home oppressed me. The road
+seemed unusually dark, cold, and lonely. At last I passed the lodge, and
+two hundred yards more brought me to the porch. Very soon the door was
+opened by an elderly female, whom I well remembered as having been my
+aunt’s housekeeper and cook. I had pleasant recollections of her, and
+was glad to see her. To tell the truth, I had not anticipated my visit
+to my newly acquired property with any great degree of enthusiasm; but a
+very tolerable dinner had an inspiriting effect, and I was pleased to
+learn that there was a bin of old Madeira in the cellar. Naturally I
+soon grew cheerful, and consequently talkative; and summoned Mrs. Balk
+for a little gossip. The substance of what I gathered from her rather
+diffusive conversation was as follows:
+
+My aunt had resided at The Shallows ever since the death of my uncle
+Geoffrey, but she had maintained a silent and reserved habit; and Mrs.
+Balk was of opinion that she had had some great misfortune. She had
+persistently refused all intercourse with the people at The Mere. Squire
+Maryon, himself a cold and taciturn man, had once or twice showed a
+disposition to be friendly, but she had sternly repulsed all such
+overtures. Mrs. Balk was of opinion that Miss Ringwood was not “quite
+right,” as she expressed it, on some topics; especially did she seem
+impressed with the idea that The Mere ought to belong to her. It
+appeared that the Ringwoods and Maryons were distant connections; that
+The Mere belonged in former times to a certain Sir Henry Benet; that he
+was a bachelor, and that Squire Maryon’s father and old Mr. Ringwood
+were cousins of his, and that there was some doubt as to which was the
+real heir; that Sir Henry, who disliked old Maryon, had frequently said
+he had set any chance of dispute at rest, by bequeathing the Mere
+property by will to Mr. Ringwood, my mother’s father; that, on his
+death, no such will could be found; and the family lawyers agreed that
+Mr. Maryon was the legal inheritor, and my uncle Geoffrey and his
+sisters must be content to take the Shallows, or nothing at all. Mr.
+Maryon was comparatively rich, and the Ringwoods poor, consequently they
+were advised not to enter upon a costly lawsuit. My aunt Aldina
+maintained to the last that Sir Henry had made a will, and that Mr.
+Maryon knew it, but had destroyed or suppressed the document. I did not
+gather from Mrs. Balk’s narrative that Miss Ringwood had any foundation
+for her belief, and I dismissed the notion at once as baseless.
+
+“And my uncle Geoffrey died of apoplexy, you say, Mrs. Balk?”
+
+“_I_ don’t say so, sir, no more did Miss Ringwood; but _they_ said so.”
+
+“Whom do you mean by _they_?”
+
+“The people at The Mere—the young doctor, a friend of Squire Maryon’s,
+who was brought over from York, and the rest; he fell heavily from his
+chair, and his head struck against the fender.”
+
+“Playing at cards with Mr. Maryon, I think you said.”
+
+“Yes, sir; he was too fond of cards, I believe, was Mr. Geoffrey.”
+
+“Is Mr. Maryon seen much in the county—is he hospitable?”
+
+“Well, sir, he goes up to London a good deal, and has some friends down
+from town occasionally; but he does not seem to care much about the
+people in the neighborhood.”
+
+“He has some children, Mrs. Balk?”
+
+“Only one daughter, sir; a sweet pretty thing she is. Her mother died
+when Miss Agnes was born.”
+
+“You have no idea, Mrs. Balk, what my aunt Aldina’s great misfortune
+was?”
+
+“Well, sir, I can’t help thinking it must have been a love affair. She
+always hated men so much.”
+
+“Then why did she leave The Shallows to me, Mrs. Balk?”
+
+“Ah, you are laughing, sir. No doubt she considered that The Mere ought
+to belong to you, as the heir of the Ringwoods, and she placed you here,
+as near as might be to the place.”
+
+“In hopes that I might marry Miss Maryon, eh, Mrs. Balk?”
+
+“You are laughing again, sir. I don’t imagine she thought so much of
+that, as of the possibility of your discovering something about the
+missing will.”
+
+I bade the communicative Mrs. Balk good night and retired to my
+bedroom—a low, wide, sombre, oak-panelled chamber. I must confess that
+family stories had no great interest for me, living apart from them at
+school and college as I had done; and as I undressed I thought more of
+the probabilities of sport the eight hundred acres of wild shooting
+belonging to The Shallows would afford me, than of the supposed will my
+poor aunt had evidently worried herself about so much. Thoroughly tired
+after my long journey, I soon fell fast asleep amid the deep shadows of
+the huge four-poster I mentally resolved to chop up into firewood at an
+early date, and substitute for it a more modern iron bedstead.
+
+How long I had been asleep I do not know, but I suddenly started up, the
+echo of a long, sad cry ringing in my ears.
+
+I listened eagerly—sensitive to the slightest sound—painfully
+sensitive as one is only in the deep silence of the night.
+
+I heard the old-fashioned clock I had noticed on the stairs strike
+three. The reverberation seemed to last a long time, then all was silent
+again. “A dream,” I muttered to myself, as I lay down upon the pillow;
+“Madeira is a heating wine. But what can I have been dreaming of?”
+
+Sleep seemed to have gone altogether, and the busy mind wandered among
+the continental scenes I had lately visited. By and by I found myself in
+memory once more within the Weggis churchyard. I was satisfied; I had
+traced my dream to the cries that I had heard there. I turned round to
+sleep again. Perhaps I fell into a doze—I cannot say; but again I
+started up at the repetition, as it seemed outside my window, of that
+cry of sadness and despair. I hastily drew aside the heavy curtains of
+my bed—at that moment the room seemed to be illuminated with a dim,
+unearthly light—and I saw, gradually growing into human shape, the
+figure of a woman. I recognized in it my aunt, Miss Ringwood.
+Horror-struck, I gazed at the apparition; it advanced a little—the lips
+moved—I heard it distinctly say:
+
+“_Reginald Westcar, The Mere belongs to you. Compel John Maryon to pay
+the debt of honor!_”
+
+I fell back senseless.
+
+When next I returned to consciousness, it was when I was called in the
+morning; the shutters were opened, and I saw the red light of the
+dawning winter sun.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There is a strange sympathy between the night and the mind. All one’s
+troubles represent themselves as increased a hundredfold if one wakes in
+the night, and begins to think about them. A muscular pain becomes the
+certainty of an incurable internal disease; and a headache suggests
+incipient softening of the brain. But all these horrors are dissipated
+with the morning light, and the after-glow of a cold bath turns them
+into jokes. So it was with me on the morning after my arrival at The
+Shallows. I accounted most satisfactorily for all that had occurred, or
+seemed to have occurred, during the night; and resolved that, though the
+old Madeira was uncommonly good, I must be careful in future not to
+drink more than a couple of glasses after dinner. I need scarcely say
+that I said nothing to Mrs. Balk of my bad dreams, and shortly after
+breakfast I took my gun, and went out in search of such game as I might
+chance to meet with. At three o’clock I sent the keeper home, as his
+capacious pockets were pretty well filled, telling him that I thought I
+knew the country, and should stroll back leisurely. The gray gloom of
+the November evening was spreading over the sky as I came upon a small
+plantation which I believed belonged to me. I struck straight across it;
+emerging from its shadows, I found myself by a small stream and some
+marshy land; on the other side another small plantation. A snipe got up,
+I fired, and tailored it. I marked the bird into this other plantation,
+and followed. Up got a covey of partridges—bang, bang—one down by the
+side of an oak. I was about to enter this covert, when a lady and
+gentleman emerged, and, struck with the unpleasant thought that I was
+possibly trespassing, I at once went forward to apologize.
+
+Before I could say a word, the gentleman addressed me.
+
+“May I ask, sir, if I have given you permission to shoot over my
+preserves?”
+
+“I beg to express my great regret, sir,” I replied, as I lifted my hat
+in acknowledgment of the lady’s presence, “that I should have trespassed
+upon your land. I can only plead, as my excuse, that I fully believed I
+was still upon the manor belonging to The Shallows.”
+
+“Gentlemen who go out shooting ought to know the limits of their
+estates,” he answered harshly; “the boundaries of The Shallows are well
+defined, nor is the area they contain so very extensive. You have no
+right upon this side the stream, sir; oblige me by returning.”
+
+I merely bowed, for I was nettled by his tone, and as I turned away I
+noticed that the young lady whispered to him.
+
+“One moment, sir,” he said, “my daughter suggests the possibility of
+your being the new owner of The Shallows. May I ask if this is so?”
+
+It had not occurred to me before, but I understood in a moment to whom I
+had been speaking, and I replied:
+
+“Yes, Mr. Maryon—my name is Westcar.”
+
+Such was my introduction to Mr. and Miss Maryon. The proprietor of The
+Mere appeared to be a gentleman, but his manners were cold and reserved,
+and a careful observer might have remarked a perpetual restlessness in
+the eyes, as if they were physically incapable of regarding the same
+object for more than a moment. He was about sixty years of age,
+apparently; and though he now and again made an effort to carry himself
+upright, the head and shoulders soon drooped again, as if the weight of
+years, and, it might be, the memory of the past, were a heavy load to
+carry. Of Miss Maryon it is sufficient to say that she was nineteen or
+twenty, and it did not need a second glance to satisfy me that her
+beauty was of no ordinary kind.
+
+I must hurry over the records of the next few weeks. I became a frequent
+visitor at The Mere. Mr. Maryon’s manner never became cordial, but he
+did not seem displeased to see me; and as to Agnes,—well, she certainly
+was not displeased either.
+
+I think it was on Christmas Day that I suddenly discovered that I was
+desperately in love. Miss Maryon had been for two or three days confined
+to her room by a bad cold, and I found myself in a great state of
+anxiety to see her again. I am sorry to say that my thoughts wandered a
+good deal when I was at church upon that festival, and I could not help
+thinking what ample room there was for a bridal procession up the
+spacious aisle. Suddenly my eyes rested upon a mural tablet, inscribed,
+“To the memory of Aldina Ringwood.” Then with a cold thrill there came
+back upon me what I had almost forgotten, the dream, or whatever it was,
+that had occurred on that first night at The Shallows; and those strange
+words—“The Mere belongs to you. Compel John Maryon to pay the debt of
+honor!” Nothing but the remembrance of Agnes’ sweet face availed for the
+time to banish the vision, the statement, and the bidding.
+
+Miss Maryon was soon down-stairs again. Did I flatter myself too much in
+thinking that she was as glad to see me as I was to see her? No—I felt
+sure that I did not. Then I began to reflect seriously upon my position.
+My fortune was small, quite enough for me, but not enough for two; and
+as she was heiress of The Mere and a comfortable rent-roll of some six
+or eight thousand a year, was it not natural that Mr. Maryon expected
+her to make what is called a “good match“? Still, I could not conceal
+from myself the fact, that he evinced no objection whatever to my
+frequent visits at his house, nor to my taking walks with his daughter
+when he was unable to accompany us.
+
+One bright, frosty day I had been down to the lake with Miss Maryon, and
+had enjoyed the privilege of teaching her to skate; and on returning to
+the house, we met Mr. Maryon upon the terrace, He walked with us to the
+conservatory; we went in to examine the plants, and he remained outside,
+pacing up and down the terrace. Both Agnes and myself were strangely
+silent; perhaps my tongue had found an eloquence upon the ice which was
+well met by a shy thoughtfulness upon her part. But there was a lovely
+color upon her cheeks, and I experienced a very considerable and unusual
+fluttering about my heart. It happened as we were standing at the door
+of the conservatory, both of us silently looking away from the flowers
+upon the frosty view, that our eyes lighted at the same time upon Mr.
+Maryon. He, too, was apparently regarding the prospect, when suddenly he
+paused and staggered back, as if something unexpected met his gaze.
+
+“Oh, poor papa! I hope he is not going to have one of his fits!”
+exclaimed Agnes.
+
+“Fits! Is he subject to such attacks?” I inquired.
+
+“Not ordinary fits,” she answered hurriedly; “I hardly know how to
+explain them. They come upon him occasionally, and generally at this
+period of the year.”
+
+“Shall we go to him?” I suggested.
+
+“No; you cannot help him; and he cannot bear that they should be
+noticed.”
+
+We both watched him. His arms were stretched up above his head, and
+again he recoiled a step or two. I sought for an explanation in Agnes’
+face.
+
+“A stranger!” she exclaimed. “Who can it be?”
+
+I looked toward Mr. Maryon. A tall figure of a man had come from the
+farther side of the house; he wore a large, loose coat and a kind of
+military cap upon his head.
+
+“Doubtless you are surprised to see me, John,” we heard the new-comer
+say, in a confident voice, “but I am not the devil, man, that you should
+greet me with such a peculiar attitude.” He held out his hand, and
+continued, “Come, don’t let the warmth of old fellowship be all on one
+side, this wintry day.”
+
+We could see that Mr. Maryon took the proffered right hand with his left
+for an instant, then seemed to shrink away, but exchanged no word of
+this greeting.
+
+“I don’t understand this,” said Agnes, and we both hurried forward. The
+stranger, seeing Agnes approach, lifted his cap.
+
+“Ah, your daughter, John, no doubt. I see the likeness to her lamented
+mother. Pray introduce me.”
+
+Mr. Maryon’s usually pallid features had assumed a still paler hue, and
+he said in a low voice:
+
+“Colonel Bludyer—my daughter.” Agnes barely bowed.
+
+“Charmed to renew your acquaintance, Miss Maryon. When last I saw you,
+you were quite a baby; but your father and I are very old friends—are
+we not, John?”
+
+Mr. Maryon vaguely nodded his head.
+
+“Well, John, you have often pressed your hospitality upon me, but till
+now I have never had an opportunity of availing myself of your kind
+offers; so I have brought my bag, and intend at last to give you the
+pleasure of my company for a few days.”
+
+I certainly should have thought that a man of Mr. Maryon’s disposition
+would have resented such conduct as this, or, at all events, have given
+this self-invited guest a chilling welcome. Mr. Maryon, however, in a
+confused and somewhat stammering tone, said that he was glad Colonel
+Bludyer had come at last, and bade his daughter go and make the
+necessary arrangements. Agnes, in silent astonishment, entered the
+house, and then Mr. Maryon turned to me hastily and bade me good-by. In
+a by no means comfortable frame of mind I returned to The Shallows.
+
+The sudden advent of this miscellaneous colonel was naturally somewhat
+irritating to me. Not only did I regard the man as an intolerable bore,
+but I could not help fancying that he was something more than an old
+friend of Mr. Maryon’s; in fact, I was led to judge, by Mr. Maryon’s
+strange conduct, that this Bludyer had some power over him which might
+be exercised to the detriment of the Maryon family, and I was convinced
+there was some mystery it was my business to penetrate.
+
+The following day I went up to The Mere to see if Miss Maryon was
+desirous of renewing her skating lesson. I found the party in the
+billiard-room, Agnes marking for her father and the Colonel. Mr. Maryon,
+whom I knew to be an exceptionally good player, seemed incapable of
+making a decent stroke; the Colonel, on the other hand, could evidently
+give a professional fifteen, and beat him easily. We all went down to
+the lake together. I had no chance of any quiet conversation with Agnes;
+the Colonel was perpetually beside us.
+
+I returned home disgusted. For two whole days I did not go near The
+Mere. On the third day I went up, hoping that the horrid Colonel would
+be gone. It was beginning to snow when I left The Shallows at about two
+o’clock in the afternoon, and Mrs. Balk foretold a heavy storm, and bade
+me not be late returning.
+
+The black winter darkness in the sky deepened as I approached The Mere.
+I was ushered again into the billiard-room. Agnes was marking, as upon
+the previous occasion, but two days had worked a sad difference in her
+face. Mr. Maryon hardly noticed my entrance; he was flushed, and playing
+eagerly; the Colonel was boisterous, declaring that John had never
+played better twenty years ago. I relieved Agnes of the duty of marking.
+The snow fell in a thick layer upon the skylight, and the Colonel became
+seriously anxious about my return home. As I did not think he was the
+proper person to give me hints, I resolutely remained where I was,
+encouraged in my behavior by the few words I gained from Agnes, and by
+the looks of entreaty she gave me. I had always considered Mr. Maryon to
+be an abstemious man, but he drank a good deal of brandy and soda during
+the long game of seven hundred up, and when he succeeded in beating the
+Colonel by forty-three, he was in roaring spirits, and insisted upon my
+staying to dinner. Need I say that I accepted the invitation?
+
+I made such toilet as I could in a most unattainable chamber that was
+allotted to me, and hurried back to the drawing-room in the hope that I
+might get a few private words with Agnes. I was not disappointed. She,
+too, had hurried down, and in a few words I learned that this
+abominable Bludyer was paying her his coarse attentions, and with,
+apparently, the full consent of Mr. Maryon. My indignation was
+unbounded. Was it possible that Mr. Maryon intended to sacrifice this
+fair creature to that repulsive man?
+
+Mr. Maryon had appeared in excellent spirits when dinner began, and the
+first glass or two of champagne made him merrier than I thought it
+possible for him to be. But by the time the dessert was on the table he
+had grown silent and thoughtful; nor did he respond to the warm
+eulogiums the Colonel passed upon the magnum of claret which was set
+before us.
+
+After dinner we sat in the library. The Colonel left the room to fetch
+some cigars he had been loudly extolling. Then Agnes had an opportunity
+of whispering to me.
+
+“Look at papa—see how strangely he sits—his hands clenching the arms
+of the chair, his eyes fixed upon the blazing coals! How old he seems to
+be to-night! His terrible fits are coming on—he is always like this
+toward the end of January!” The Colonel’s return put an end to any
+further confidential talk.
+
+When we separated for the night, I felt that my going to bed would be
+purposeless. I felt most painfully wide awake. I threw myself down upon
+my bed, and worried myself by trying to imagine what secret there could
+be between Maryon and Bludyer—for that a secret of some kind existed, I
+felt certain. I tossed about till I heard the stroke of one. A dreadful
+restlessness had come upon me. It seemed as if the solemn night-side of
+life was busy waking now, but the silence and solitude of my antique
+chamber became too much for me. I rose from my bed, and paced up and
+down the room. I raked up the dying embers of the fire, and drew an
+arm-chair to the hearth. I fell into a doze. By and by I woke up
+suddenly, and I was conscious of stealthy footsteps in the passage. My
+sense of hearing became painfully acute. I heard the footsteps
+retreating down the corridor, until they were lost in the distance. I
+cautiously opened the door, and, shading the candle with my hand, looked
+out—there was nothing to be seen; but I felt that I could not remain
+quietly in my room, and, closing the door behind me, I went out in
+search of I knew not what.
+
+The sitting-rooms and bedrooms in ordinary use at The Mere were in the
+modern part of the house; but there was an old Elizabethan wing which I
+had often longed to explore, and in this strange ramble of mine I soon
+had reason to be satisfied that I was well within it. At the end of an
+oak-panelled narrow passage a door stood open, and I entered a low,
+sombre apartment fitted with furniture in the style of two hundred years
+ago. There was something awfully ghostly about the look of this room. A
+great four-post bedstead, with heavy hangings, stood in a deep recess; a
+round oak table and two high-backed chairs were in the centre of the
+room. Suddenly, as I gazed on these things, I heard stealthy footsteps
+in the passage, and saw a dim light advancing. Acting on a sudden
+impulse, I extinguished my candle and withdrew into the shadow of the
+recess, watching eagerly. The footsteps came nearer. My heart seemed to
+stand still with expectation. They paused outside the door, for a
+moment really—for an age it seemed to me. Then, to my astonishment, I
+saw Mr. Maryon enter. He carried a small night-lamp in his hand. Another
+glance satisfied me that he was walking in his sleep. He came straight
+to the round table, and set down the lamp. He seated himself in one of
+the high-backed chairs, his vacant eyes staring at the chair opposite;
+then his lips began to move quickly, as if he were addressing some one.
+Then he rose, went to the bureau, and seemed to take something from it;
+then he sat down again. What a strange action of his hands! At first I
+could not understand it; then it flashed upon me that in this dream of
+his he must be shuffling cards. Yes, he began to deal; then he was
+playing with his adversary—his lips moving anxiously at times.
+
+A look of terrible eagerness came over the sleepwalker’s countenance.
+With nimble fingers he dealt the cards, and played. Suddenly with a
+sweep of his hand he seemed to fling the pack into the fireplace,
+started from his seat, grappled with his unseen adversary, raised his
+powerful right hand, and struck a tremendous blow. Hush! more footsteps
+along the passage! Am I deceived? From my concealment I watch for what
+is to follow. Colonel Bludyer comes in, half dressed, but wide awake.
+
+“You maniac!” I hear him mutter: “I expected you were given to such
+tricks as these. Lucky for you no eyes but mine have seen your abject
+folly. Come back to your room.”
+
+Mr. Maryon is still gazing, his arms lifted wildly above his head, upon
+the imagined foe whom he had felled to the ground. The Colonel touches
+him on the shoulder, and leads him away, leaving the lamp. My reasoning
+faculties had fully returned to me. I held a clue to the secret, and for
+Agnes’ sake it must be followed up. I took the lamp away, and placed it
+on a table where the chamber candlesticks stood, relit my own candle,
+and found my way back to my bedroom.
+
+The next morning, when I came down to breakfast, I found Colonel Bludyer
+warming himself satisfactorily at the blazing fire. I learned from him
+that our host was far from well, and that Miss Maryon was in attendance
+upon her father; that the Colonel was charged with all kinds of
+apologies to me, and good wishes for my safe return home across the
+snow. I thanked him for the delivery of the message, while I felt
+perfectly convinced that he had never been charged with it. However that
+might be, I never saw Mr. Maryon that morning; and I started back to The
+Shallows through the snow.
+
+For the next two or three days the weather was very wild, but I
+contrived to get up to The Mere, and ask after Mr. Maryon. Better, I was
+told, but unable to see any one. Miss Maryon, too, was fatigued with
+nursing her father. So there was nothing to do but to trudge home again.
+
+“_Reginald Westcar, The Mere is yours. Compel John Maryon to pay the
+debt of honor!_”
+
+Again and again these words forced themselves upon me, as I listlessly
+gazed out upon the white landscape. The strange scene that I had
+witnessed on that memorable night I passed beneath Mr. Maryon’s roof had
+brought them back to my memory with redoubled force, and I began to
+think that the apparition I had seen—or dreamed of—on my first night
+at The Shallows had more of truth in it than I had been willing to
+believe.
+
+Three more days passed away, and a carter-boy from The Mere brought me a
+note. It was Agnes’ handwriting. It said:
+
+“DEAR MR. WESTCAR: Pray come up here, if you possibly can. I cannot
+understand what is the matter with papa; and he wishes me to do a
+dreadful thing. Do come. I feel that I have no friend but you. I am
+obliged to send this note privately.”
+
+I need scarcely say that five minutes afterward I was plunging through
+the snow toward The Mere. It was already late on that dark February
+evening as I gained the shrubbery; and as I was pondering upon the best
+method of securing admittance, I became aware that the figure of a man
+was hurrying on some yards in front of me. At first I thought it must be
+one of the gardeners, but all of a sudden I stood still, and my blood
+seemed to freeze with horror, as I remarked that the figure in front of
+me _left no trace of footmarks on the snow_! My brain reeled for a
+moment, and I thought I should have fallen; but I recovered my nerves,
+and when I looked before me again, it had disappeared. I pressed on
+eagerly. I arrived at the front door—it was wide open; and I passed
+through the hall to the library. I heard Agnes’ voice.
+
+“No, no, papa. You must not force me to this! I cannot—will not—marry
+Colonel Bludyer!”
+
+“You _must_,” answered Mr. Maryon, in a hoarse voice; “you _must_ marry
+him, and save your father from something worse than disgrace!”
+
+Not feeling disposed to play the eavesdropper, I entered the room. Mr.
+Maryon was standing at the fireplace. Agnes was crouching on the ground
+at his feet. I saw at once that it was no use for me to dissemble the
+reason of my visit, and, without a word of greeting, I said:
+
+“Miss Maryon, I have come, in obedience to your summons. If I can
+prevent any misfortune from falling upon you I am ready to help you,
+with my life. You have guessed that I love you. If my love is returned I
+am prepared to dispute my claim with any man.”
+
+Agnes, with a cry of joy, rose from her knees, and rushed toward me. Ah!
+how strong I felt as I held her in my arms!
+
+“I have my answer,” I continued. “Mr. Maryon, I have reason to believe
+that your daughter is in fear of the future you have forecast for her. I
+ask you to regard those fears, and to give her to me, to love and
+cherish as my wife.”
+
+Mr. Maryon covered his face with his hands; and I could hear him murmur,
+“Too late—too late!”
+
+“No, not too late,” I echoed. “What is this Bludyer to you, that you
+should sacrifice your daughter to a man whose very look proclaims him a
+villain? Nothing can compel you to such a deed—not even a _debt of
+honor_!”
+
+What it was impelled me to say these last words I know not, but they had
+an extraordinary effect upon Mr. Maryon. He started toward me, then
+checked himself; his face was livid, his eyeballs glaring, and he threw
+up his arms in the strange manner I had already witnessed.
+
+“What is all this?” exclaimed a harsh voice behind me. “Mr. Westcar
+insulting Miss Maryon and her father! it is time for me to interfere.”
+And Colonel Bludyer approached me menacingly. All his jovial manner and
+fulsome courtesy was gone; and in his flushed face and insolent look the
+savage rascal was revealed.
+
+“You will interfere at your peril,” I replied. “I am a younger man than
+you are, and my strength has not been weakened by drink and dissipation.
+Take care.”
+
+The villain drew himself up to his full height; and, though he must have
+been at least some sixty years of age, I felt assured that I should meet
+no ordinary adversary if a personal struggle should ensue. Agnes
+fainted, and I laid her on a sofa.
+
+“Miss Maryon wants air,” said the Colonel, in a calmer voice. “Excuse
+me, Mr. Maryon, if I open a window.” He tore open the shutters, and
+threw up the sash. “And now, Mr. Westcar, unless you are prepared to be
+sensible, and make your exit by the door, I shall be under the
+unpleasant necessity of throwing you out of the window.”
+
+The ruffian advanced toward me as he spoke. Suddenly he paused. His jaw
+dropped; his hair seemed literally to stand on end; his white lips
+quivered; he shook, as with an ague; his whole form appeared to shrink.
+I stared in amazement at the awful change. A strange thrill shot through
+me, as I heard a quiet voice say:
+
+“Richard Bludyer, your grave is waiting for you. Go.”
+
+The figure of a man passed between me and him. The wretched man shrank
+back, and, with a wild cry, leaped from the window he had opened.
+
+All this time Mr. Maryon was standing like a lifeless statue.
+
+In helpless wonder I gazed at the figure before me. I saw clearly the
+features in profile, and, swift as lightning, my memory was carried back
+to the unforgotten scene in the churchyard upon the Lake of Lucerne, and
+I recognized the white face of the young man with whom I there had
+spoken.
+
+“John Maryon,” said the voice, “this is the night upon which, a quarter
+of a century ago, you killed me. It is your last night on earth. You
+must go through the tragedy again.”
+
+Mr. Maryon, still statue-like, beckoned to the figure, and opened a
+half-concealed door which led into his study. The strange but opportune
+visitant seemed to motion to me with a gesture of his hand, which I felt
+I must obey, and I followed in this weird procession. From the study we
+mounted by a private staircase to a large, well-furnished bed-chamber.
+Here we paused. Mr. Maryon looked tremblingly at the stranger, and said,
+in a low, stammering voice:
+
+“This is my room. In this room, on this night, twenty-five years ago,
+you told me that you were certain Sir Henry Benet’s will was in
+existence, and that you had made up your mind to dispute my possession
+to this property. You had discovered letters from Sir Henry to your
+father which gave you a clue to the spot where that will might be found.
+You, Geoffrey Ringwood, of generous and extravagant nature, offered to
+find the will in my presence. It was late at night, as now; all the
+household slept. I accepted your invitation, and followed you.”
+
+Mr. Maryon ceased; he seemed physically unable to continue. The terrible
+stranger, in his low, echoing voice, replied:
+
+“Go on; confess all.”
+
+“You and I, Geoffrey, had been what the world calls friends. We had been
+much in London together; we were both passionately fond of cards. We had
+a common acquaintance, Richard Bludyer. He was present on the 2d of
+February, when I lost a large sum of money to you at _écarté_. He hinted
+to me that you might possibly use these sums in instituting a lawsuit
+against me for the recovery of this estate. Your intimation that you
+knew of the existence of the will alarmed me, as it had become necessary
+for me to remain owner of The Mere. As I have said, I accepted your
+invitation, and followed you to Sir Henry Benet’s room; and now I follow
+you again.”
+
+As he said these words, Geoffrey Ringwood, or his ghost, passed silently
+by Mr. Maryon, and led the way into the corridor. At the end of the
+corridor all three paused outside an oak door which I remembered well. A
+gesture from the leader made Mr. Maryon continue:
+
+“On this threshold you told me suddenly that Bludyer was a villain, and
+had betrayed your sister Aldina; that she had fled with him that night;
+that he could never marry her, as you had reason to know he had a wife
+alive. You made me swear to help you in your vengeance against him. We
+entered the room, as we enter it now.”
+
+Our leader had opened the door of the room, and we were in the same
+chamber I had wandered to when I had slept at The Mere. The figure of
+Geoffrey Ringwood paused at the round table, and looked again at Mr.
+Maryon, who proceeded:
+
+“You went straight to the fifth panel from the fireplace, and then
+touched a spring, and the panel opened. You said that the will giving
+this property to your father and his heirs was to be found there. I was
+convinced that you spoke the truth, but, suddenly remembering your love
+of gambling, I suggested that we should play for it. You accepted at
+once. We searched among the papers, and found the will. We placed the
+will upon the table, and began to play. We agreed that we would play up
+to ten thousand pounds. Your luck was marvellous. In two hours the limit
+was reached. I owed you ten thousand pounds, and had lost The Mere. You
+laughed, and said, ‘Well, John, you have had a fair chance. At ten
+o’clock this morning I shall expect you to pay me _your debt of honor_.’
+I rose; the devil of despair strong upon me. With one hand I swept the
+cards from the table into the fire, and with the other seized you by the
+throat, and dealt you a blow upon the temple. You fell dead upon the
+floor.”
+
+Need I say that as I heard this fearful narrative, I recognized the
+actions of the sleep-walker, and understood them all?
+
+“To the end!” said the hollow voice. “Confess to the end!”
+
+“The doctor who examined your body gave his opinion, at the inquest,
+that you had died of apoplexy, caused by strong cerebral excitement. My
+evidence was to the effect that I believed you had lost a very large sum
+of money to Captain Bludyer, and that you had told me you were utterly
+unable to pay it. The jury found their verdict accordingly, and I was
+left in undisturbed possession of The Mere. But the memory of my crime
+haunted me as only such memories can haunt a criminal, and I became a
+morose and miserable man. One thing bound me to life—my daughter. When
+Reginald Westcar appeared upon the scene I thought that the debt of
+honor would be satisfied if he married Agnes. Then Bludyer reappeared,
+and he told me that he knew that I had killed you. He threatened to
+revive the story, to exhume your body, and to say that Aldina Ringwood
+had told him all about the will. I could purchase his silence only by
+giving him my daughter, the heiress of The Mere. To this I consented.”
+
+As he said these last words, Mr. Maryon sunk heavily into the chair.
+
+The figure of Geoffrey Ringwood placed one ghostly hand upon his left
+temple, and then passed silently out of the room. I started up, and
+followed the phantom along the corridor—down the staircase—out at the
+front door, which still stood open—across the snow-covered lawn—into
+the plantation; and then it disappeared as strangely as I first had seen
+it; and, hardly knowing whether I was mad or dreaming, I found my way
+back to The Shallows.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For some weeks I was ill with brain-fever. When I recovered I was told
+that terrible things had happened at The Mere. Mr. Maryon had been
+found dead in Sir Henry Benet’s room—an effusion of blood upon the
+brain, the doctors said—and the body of Colonel Bludyer had been
+discovered in the snow in an old disused gravel-pit not far from the
+house.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A year afterward I married Agnes Maryon; and, if all that I had seen and
+heard upon that 3d of February was not merely the invention of a fevered
+brain, the debt of honor was at last discharged, for I, the nephew of
+the murdered Geoffrey Ringwood, became the owner of The Mere.
+
+
+
+
+DEVEREUX’S DREAM.
+
+
+I give you this story only at second-hand; but you have it in
+substance—and he wasted few words over it—as Paul Devereux told it me.
+
+It was not the only queer story he could have told about himself if he
+had chosen, by a good many, I should say. Paul’s life had been an
+eminently unconventional one: the man’s face certified to that—hard,
+bronzed, war-worn, seamed and scarred with strange battle-marks—the
+face of a man who had dared and done most things.
+
+It was not his custom to speak much of what he had done, however.
+Probably only because he and I were little likely to meet again that he
+told me this I am free to tell you now.
+
+We had come across one another for the first time for years that
+afternoon on the Italian Boulevart. Paul had landed a couple of weeks
+previously at Marseilles from a long yacht-cruise in southern waters,
+the monotony of which we heard had been agreeably diversified by a
+little pirate-hunting and slaver-chasing—the evil tongues called it
+piracy and slave-running; and certainly Devereux was quite equal to
+either _métier_; and he was about starting on a promising little
+filibustering expedition across the Atlantic, where the chances were he
+would be shot, and the certainty was that he would be starved. So
+perhaps he felt inclined to be a trifle more communicative than usual,
+as we sat late that night over a blazing pyre of logs and in a cloud of
+Cavendish. At all events he was, and after this fashion.
+
+I forget now exactly how the subject was led up to. Expression of some
+philosophic incredulity on my part regarding certain matters, followed
+by a ten-minutes’ silence on his side pregnant with unwonted words to
+come—that was it, perhaps. At last he said, more to himself, it seemed,
+than to me:
+
+“‘Such stuff as dreams are made of.’ Well, who knows? You’re a Sadducee,
+Bertie; you call this sort of thing, politely, indigestion. Perhaps
+you’re right. But yet I had a queer dream once.”
+
+“Not unlikely,” I assented.
+
+“You’re wrong; I never dream, as a rule. But, as I say, I had a queer
+dream once; and queer because it came literally true three years
+afterward.”
+
+“Queer indeed, Paul.”
+
+“Happens to be true. What’s queerer still, my dream was the means of my
+finding a man I owed a long score, and a heavy one, and of my paying him
+in full.”
+
+“Bad for the payee!” I thought.
+
+Paul’s face had grown terribly eloquent as he spoke those last words. On
+a sudden the expression of it changed—another memory was stirring in
+him. Wonderfully tender the fierce eyes grew; wonderfully tender the
+faint, sad smile, that was like sunshine on storm-scathed granite. That
+smile transfigured the man before me.
+
+“Ah, poor child—poor Lucille!” I heard him mutter.
+
+That was it, was it? So I let him be. Presently he lifted his head. If
+he had let himself get the least thing out of hand for a moment, he had
+got back his self-mastery the next.
+
+“I’ll tell you that queer story, Bertie, if you like,” he said.
+
+The proposition was flatteringly unusual, but the voice was quite his
+own.
+
+“Somehow I’d sooner talk than think about—_her_,” he went on after a
+pause.
+
+I nodded. He might talk about this, you see, but _I_ couldn’t. He began
+with a question—an odd one:
+
+“Did you ever hear I’d been married?”
+
+Paul Devereux and a wife had always seemed and been to me a most
+unheard-of conjunction. So I laconically said:
+
+“No.”
+
+“Well, I was once, years ago. She was my wife—that child—for a week.
+And then——”
+
+I easily filled up the pause; but, as it happened, I filled it up
+wrongly; for he added:
+
+“And then she was murdered.”
+
+I was not unused to our Paul’s stony style of talk; but this last
+sentence was sufficiently startling.
+
+“Eh?”
+
+“Murdered—in her sleep. They never found the man who did it either,
+though I had Durbec and all the Rue de Jérusalem at work. But I forgave
+them that, for I found the man myself, and killed him.”
+
+He was filling his pipe again as he told me this, and he perhaps rammed
+the Cavendish in a little tighter, but that was all. The thing was a
+matter of course; I knew my Paul, well enough to know that. Of course he
+killed him.
+
+“Mind you,” he continued, kindling the black _brûle-gueule_ the
+while—“mind you, I’d never seen this man before, never known of his
+existence, except in a way that—however, it was this way.”
+
+He let his grizzled head drop back on the cushions of his chair, and his
+eyes seemed to see the queer story he was telling enacted once more
+before him in the red hollows of the fire.
+
+“As I said, it was years ago. I was waiting here in Paris for some
+fellows who were to join me in a campaign we’d arranged against the
+African big game. I never was more fit for anything of that sort than I
+was then. I only tell you this to show you that the thing can’t be
+accounted for by my nerves having been out of order at all.
+
+“Well: I was dining alone that day, at the Café Anglais. It was late
+when I sat down to my dinner in the little salon as usual. Only two
+other men were still lingering over theirs. All the time they stayed
+they bored me so persistently with some confounded story of a murder
+they were discussing, that I was once or twice more than half-inclined
+to tell them so. At last, though, they went away.
+
+“But their talk kept buzzing abominably in my head. When the waiter
+brought me the evening paper, the first thing that caught my eye was a
+circumstantial account of the _probable_ way the fellow did his murder.
+I say probable, for they never caught him; and, as you will see
+directly, they could only suppose how it occurred.
+
+“It seemed that a well-known Paris banker, who was ascertained beyond
+doubt to have left one station alive and well, and with a couple of
+hundred thousand francs in a leathern _sac_ under his seat, arrived at
+the next station the train stopped at with his throat cut and _minus_
+all his money, except a few bank-notes to no great amount, which the
+assassin had been wise enough to leave behind him. The train was a night
+express on one of the southern lines; the banker travelled quite alone,
+in a first-class carriage; and the murder must have taken place between
+midnight and 1 A.M. next morning. The newspapers supposed—rightly
+enough, I think—that the murderer must have entered the carriage _from
+without_, stabbed his victim in his sleep—there were no signs of any
+struggle—opened the _sac_, taken what he wanted, and retreated, loot
+and all, by the way he came. I fully indorsed my particular writer’s
+opinion that the murderer was an uncommonly cool and clever individual,
+especially as I fancy he got clear off and was never afterward laid
+hands on.
+
+“When I had done that I thought I had done with the affair altogether.
+Not at all. I was regularly ridden with this confounded murder. You see
+the banker was rather a swell; everybody knew him: and that, of course,
+made it so shocking. So everybody kept talking about him: they were
+talking about him at the Opera, and over the _baccarat_ and _bouillotte_
+at La Topaze’s later. To escape him I went to bed and smoked myself to
+sleep. And then a queer thing came to pass: I had a dream—I who never
+dream; and this is what I dreamed:
+
+“I saw a wide, rich country that I knew. A starless night hung over it
+like a pall. I saw a narrow track running through it, straight, both
+ways, for leagues. Something sped along this track with a hurtling rush
+and roar. This something that at first had looked like a red-eyed devil,
+with dark sides full of dim fire, resolved itself, as I watched it,
+presently, into a more conventional night express-train. It flew along,
+though, as no express-train ever travelled yet; for all that, I was able
+to keep it quite easily in view. I could count the carriages as they
+whirled by. One—two—three—four—five—six; but I could only see
+distinctly into one. Into that one with perfect distinctness. Into that
+one I seemed forced to look.
+
+“It was the fourth carriage. Two people were in it. They sat in opposite
+corners; both were sleeping. The one who sat facing forward was a
+woman—a girl, rather. I could see that; but I couldn’t see her face.
+The blind was drawn across the lamp in the roof, and the light was very
+dim; moreover, this girl lay back in the shadow. Yet I seemed to know
+her, and I knew that her face was very fair. She wore a cloak that
+shrouded her form completely, yet her form was familiar to me.
+
+“The figure opposite to her was a man’s. Strangely familiar to me too
+this figure was. But, as he slept, his head had sunk upon his breast,
+and the shadow cast upon his face by the low-drawn travelling-cap he
+wore hid it from me. Yet if I had seemed to know the girl’s face, I was
+certain I knew the man’s. But as I could see, so I could remember,
+neither. And there was an absolute torture in this which I can’t explain
+to you,—in this inability, and in my inability to wake them from their
+sleep.
+
+“From the first I had been conscious of a desire to do that. This desire
+grew stronger every second. I tried to call to them, and my tongue
+wouldn’t move. I tried to spring toward them, to thrust out my arms and
+touch them, and my limbs were paralyzed. And then I tried to shut my
+eyes to what I _knew_ must happen, and my eyes were held open and
+dragged to look on in spite of me. And I saw this:
+
+“I saw the door of the carriage where these two sleepers, whose sleep
+was so horribly sound, were sitting—I saw this door open, and out of
+the thick darkness another face look in.
+
+“The light, as I have said, was very dim, but I could see his face as
+plainly as I can see yours. A large yellow face it was, like a wax mask.
+The lips were full, and lustful and cruel. The eyes were little eyes of
+an evil gray. Thin yellow streaks marked the absence of the eyebrows;
+thin yellow hair showed itself under a huge fur travelling-cap. The
+whole face seemed to grow slowly into absolute distinctness as I looked,
+by the sort of devilish light that it, as it were, radiated. I had
+chanced upon a good many damnable visages before then; but there was a
+cold fiendishness about this one such as I had seen on no man’s face,
+alive or dead, till then.
+
+“The next moment the man this face belonged to was standing in the
+carriage, that seemed to plunge and sway more furiously, as though to
+waken them that still slept on. He wore a long fur travelling-robe, girt
+about the waist with a fur girdle. Abnormally tall and broad as he was,
+he looked in this dress gigantic. Yet there was a marvellous cat-like
+lightness and agility about all his movements.
+
+“He bent over the girl lying there helpless in her sleep. I don’t make
+rash bargains as a rule, but I felt I would have given years of my life
+for five minutes of my lost freedom of limb just then. I tell you the
+torture was infernal.
+
+“The assassin—I knew he was an assassin—bent awhile, gloatingly, over
+the girl. His great yellow hands were both bare, and on the forefinger
+of the right hand I could see some great stone blazing like an evil eye.
+In that right hand there gleamed something else. I saw him draw it
+slowly from his sleeve, and, as he drew it, turn round and look at the
+other sleeper with an infernal triumphant malignity and hate the Devil
+himself might have envied. But the man he looked at slept heavily on.
+And then—God! I feel the agony I felt in my dream then now!—then I saw
+the great yellow hand, with the great evil eye upon it, lifted
+murderously, and the bright steel it held shimmer as the assassin turned
+again and bent his yellow face down closer to that other face hidden
+from me in the shadow—the girl’s face, that I knew was so fair.
+
+“How can I tell this?... The blade flashed and fell.... There was the
+sound of a heavy sigh stifled under a heavy hand....
+
+“Then the huge form of the assassin was reared erect, and the bloated
+yellow face seemed to laugh silently, while the hand that held the
+steel pointed at the sleeping man in diabolical menace.
+
+“And so the huge form and the bloated yellow face seemed to fade away
+while I watched.
+
+“The express rushed and roared through the blinding darkness without;
+the sleeping man slept on still; till suddenly a strong light fell full
+upon him, and he woke.
+
+“And then I saw why I had been so certain that I knew him. For as he
+lifted his head, I saw his face in the strong light.
+
+“_And the face was my own face; and the sleeper was myself!_”
+
+Paul Devereux made a pause in his queer story here. Except when he had
+spoken of the girl, he had spoken in his usual cool, hard way. The pipe
+he had been smoking all the time was smoked out. He took time to fill
+another before he went on. I said never a word, for I guessed who the
+sleeping girl was.
+
+“Well,” Paul remarked presently, “that was a devilish queer dream,
+wasn’t it? You’ll account for it by telling me I’d been so pestered with
+the story of the banker’s murder that I naturally had nightmare;
+perhaps, too, that my digestion was out of order. Call it a nightmare,
+call it dyspepsia, if you like. I _don’t_, because—— But you’ll see
+why I don’t directly.
+
+“At the same moment that my dream-self awoke in my dream, my actual self
+woke in reality, and with the same ghastly horror.
+
+“I say the _same_ horror, for neither then nor afterward could I
+separate my one self from my other self. They seemed identical; so that
+this queer dream made a more lasting impression upon me than you’d
+think. However, in the life I led that sort of thing couldn’t last very
+long. Before I came back from Africa I had utterly forgotten all about
+it. Before I left Paris, though, and while it was quite fresh in my
+memory, I sketched the big murderer just as I had seen him in my dream.
+The great yellow face, the great broad frame in the fur travelling-robe,
+the great hand with the great evil eye upon it—everything, carefully
+and minutely, as though I had been going to paint a portrait that I
+wanted to make lifelike. I think at the time I had some such intention.
+If I had, I never fulfilled it. But I made the sketch, as I say,
+carefully; and then I forgot all about it.
+
+“Time passed—three years nearly. I was wintering in the south of France
+that year. There it was that I met her—Lucille. Old D’Avray, her
+father, and I had met before in Algeria. He was dying now. He left the
+child on his death-bed to me. The end was I married her.
+
+“Poor little thing! I think I might have made her happy—who knows? She
+used to tell me often she was happy with me. Poor little thing!
+
+“Well, we were to come straight to London. That was Lucille’s notion.
+She wanted to go to my London first—nowhere else. Now I would rather
+have gone anywhere else; but, naturally, I let the child have her way.
+She seemed nervously eager about it, I remembered afterward; seemed to
+have a nervous objection to every other place I proposed. But I saw or
+suspected nothing to make me question her very closely, or the reasons
+for her preference for our grimy old Pandemonium. What could I suspect?
+Not the truth. If I only had! If I had only guessed what it was that
+made her, as she said, long to be safe there already. Safe? What had she
+to fear with me? Ah, what indeed!
+
+“So we started on our journey to England. It was a cold, dark night,
+early in March. We reached Lyons somewhere about seven. I should have
+stayed there that night but for Lucille. She entreated me so earnestly
+and with such strange vehemence to go on by the night-mail to Paris,
+that at last, to satisfy her, I consented; though it struck me
+unpleasantly at the time that I had let her travel too long already, and
+that this feverishness was the consequence of over-fatigue. But she
+became pacified at once when I told her it should be as she wanted; and
+declared she should sleep perfectly well in the carriage with me beside
+her. She should feel quite safe then, she said.
+
+“Safe! Where safer? you might ask. Nowhere, I believe. Alone with
+me—surely nowhere safer. The Paris express was a short train that
+night; but I managed to secure a compartment for ourselves. I left
+Lucille in her corner there while I went across to the _buffet_ to fill
+a flask. I was gone barely five minutes; but when I came back the change
+in the child’s face fairly startled me. I had seen it last with the
+smile it always wore for me on it, looking so childishly happy in the
+lamp-light. Now it was all gray-pale and distorted; and the great blue
+eyes told me directly with what.
+
+“Fear—sudden, terrible fear—I thought. But _fear_? Fear of what? I
+asked her. She clung close to me half-sobbing awhile before she could
+answer; and then she told me—nothing. There was nothing the matter;
+only she had felt a pain—a cruel pain—at her heart; and it had
+frightened her. Yes, that was it; it had frightened her, but it had
+passed; and she was well, quite well again now.
+
+“All this time her eyes seemed to be telling me another story; but I
+said nothing; she was obviously too excited already. I did my best to
+soothe her, and I succeeded. She told me she felt quite well once more
+before we started. No, she had rather, much rather go on to Paris, as I
+had promised her she should. She should sleep all the way, if no one
+came into the carriage to disturb her. No one could come in? Then
+nothing could be better.
+
+“And so it was that she and I started that night by the Paris mail.
+
+“I made her up a bed of rugs and wraps upon the cushions; but she had
+rather rest her head upon my shoulder, she said, and feel my arm about
+her; nothing could hurt her then. Ah, strange how she harped on that.
+
+“She lay there, then, as she loved best—with her head resting on my
+shoulder, not sleeping much or soundly; uneasily, with sudden waking
+starts, and with glances round her; till I would speak to her. And then
+she would look up into my face and smile; and so drop into that uneasy
+sleep again. And I would think she was over-tired, that was all; and
+reproach myself with having let her come on. And three or four hours
+passed like this; and then we had got as far as Dijon.
+
+“But the child was fairly worn out now; and she offered no opposition
+when I asked her to let me pillow her head on something softer than my
+shoulder. So I folded, a great thick shawl she was too well cloaked to
+need, and she made that her pillow.
+
+“We were rushing full swing through the wild, dark night, when she
+lifted up her face and bade me kiss her and bid her sleep well. And I
+put my arm round her, and kissed the child’s loving lips—for the last
+time while she lived. Then I flung myself on the seat opposite her; and,
+watching her till she slept soundly and peacefully, slept at last myself
+also. I had drawn the blind across the lamp in the roof, and the light
+in the carriage was very dim.
+
+“How long I slept I don’t know; it couldn’t have been more than an hour
+and a half, because the express was slackening speed for its first halt
+beyond Dijon. I had slept heavily I knew; but I woke with a sudden,
+sharp sense of danger that made me broad awake, and strung every nerve
+in a moment. The sort of feeling you have when you wake on a prairie,
+where you have come across ‘Indian sign;’ on outpost-duty, when your
+_feldwebel_ plucks gently at your cloak. You know what I mean.
+
+“I was on my feet at once. As I said, the light in the carriage was very
+dim, and the shadow was deepest where Lucille lay. I looked there
+instinctively. She must have moved in her sleep, for her face was turned
+away from me; and the cloak I had put so carefully about her had partly
+fallen off. But she slept on still. Only soundly, very soundly; she
+scarcely seemed to breathe. And—_did_ she breathe?
+
+“A ghastly fear ran through my blood, and froze it. I understood why I
+had wakened. In my nostrils was an awful odor that I knew well enough. I
+bent over her; I touched her. Her face was very cold; her eyes glared
+glassily at me; my hands were wet with something. My hands were wet with
+blood—her blood!
+
+“I tore away the blind from the lamp, and then I could see that my wife
+of a week lay there stabbed straight to the heart—dead—dead beyond
+doubting; murdered in her sleep.”
+
+Devereux’s stern, low voice shook ever so little as he spoke those last
+words; and we both sat very silent after them for a good while. Only
+when he could trust his utterance again he went on.
+
+“A curious piece of devilry, wasn’t it? That child—whom had she ever
+harmed? Who could hate her like this? I remember I thought that, in a
+dull, confused sort of way, when I found myself alone in that carriage
+with her lying dead on the cushions before me. _Alone_ with her—you
+understand? It was confusing.
+
+“I pass over what immediately followed. The express came duly to a halt;
+and then I called people to me, and—and the Paris express went on
+without that particular carriage.
+
+“The inquiry began before some local authority next day. Very little
+came of it. What could come of it, unless they had convicted _me_ of the
+murder of this child I would have given my own life to save?
+
+“They might have done that at home; but they knew better here, and
+didn’t. They couldn’t find me the actual assassin, however; though I
+believe they did their best. All they found was his weapon, which he
+most purposely have left behind. I asked for this, and got it. It gave
+their police no clue; and it gave me none. But I had a fancy for it.
+
+“It was a plain, double-edged, admirably-tempered dagger—a very
+workmanlike article indeed. On the cross hilt of it I swore one day that
+I would live thenceforth for one thing alone—the discovery of the
+murderer of old D’Avray’s child, whom I had promised him to care for
+before all. When I had found this man, whoever he was, I also swore that
+I would kill him. Kill him myself, you understand; without any of the
+law’s delay or uncertainty, without troubling _bourreau_ or hangman.
+Kill him as he had killed her—to do this was what I meant to live for.
+There was war to the knife between him and me.
+
+“I started, of course, under one heavy disadvantage. He knew me,
+probably, whereas I didn’t know him at all. When he found that his
+amiable intention of fixing the crime on me had been frustrated, it
+must, I imagined, have occurred to him that the said crime might
+eventually be fixed by me on him. And he had proved himself to be a
+person who didn’t stick at trifles. It behooved me, therefore, to go to
+work cautiously. But I hadn’t fought Indians for nothing; and I _was_
+very cautious. I waited quiet till I got a clue. It was a curious one;
+and I got it in this way. It struck me one day, suddenly, that I had
+heard of a murder precisely similar to this already. I could not at
+first call the thing to mind; but presently I remembered—my dream. And
+then I asked myself this: _Had not this murder been done before my eyes
+three years ago?_
+
+“I came to the conclusion that the circumstances of the murder in my
+dream were absolutely identical with the circumstances of the actual
+crime. Yes; the girl whose face in that dream I had never been able to
+see was Lucille. Yes; the assassin whose face I had seen so plainly in
+that dream was the real assassin. In short, I believe that the murder
+had been _rehearsed_ before me three years previous to its actual
+committal.
+
+“Now this sounds rather wild. Yet I came to this conviction quite coolly
+and deliberately. It _was_ a conviction. Assuming it to be true, the
+odds against me grew shorter directly; _for I had the portrait of the
+man I wanted drawn by myself the day after I had seen him in my dream_.
+And the original of that portrait was a man not to be easily mistaken,
+supposing him to exist at all. The day I came across that sketch of him
+in that old forgotten sketch-book of mine, I was as sure he did exist as
+that I was alive myself. What I had to do was to find this man, and then
+I never doubted I should find the man I wanted. You see how the odds had
+shortened. If he knew me I knew him now, and he had no notion that I did
+know him. It was a good deal fairer fight between us.
+
+“I fought it out alone. My story was hardly one the Rue de Jérusalem
+would have acted upon; and, besides, I wanted no interference. So, with
+the portrait before me, I sat down and began to consider who this man
+was, and why he had murdered that child. The big, burly frame, the heavy
+yellow face, the sandy-yellow hair, the physiognomy generally, was
+Teutonic. My man I put down as a North German. Now there were, and are
+probably, plenty of men who would have no objection whatever to put a
+knife into me, if they got the chance; but this man, whom I had never
+met, could have had no such quarrel as theirs with me. His quarrel with
+me must have been, then, Lucille. Yes, that was it—Lucille. I began to
+see clearly: a thwarted, devilish passion—a cool, infernal revenge. The
+child had feared something of this sort; had perhaps seen him that
+night. This explained her nervous terror, her nervous anxiety to stop
+nowhere, to travel on. In that carriage of that express-train, alone
+with me—where could she be safer? This accounted, too, for her anxiety
+to reach England. He would not dare follow her there, she had thought,
+or, at least, could not without my noticing him. And then she would have
+told me. She had not told me before evidently because she had feared for
+_me_ too, in a quarrel with this man. She must, innocent child as she
+was, have had some instinctive knowledge of what he was capable.... Ay,
+a cool, infernal revenge, indeed. To kill her; to fix the murder on me.
+That dagger he had left behind.... The apparent impossibility of any
+one’s entering the carriage as he must have entered it at all, to say
+nothing of the almost absolute impossibility of his doing so without
+disturbing either of us,—you see it might have gone hard with me if a
+British jury had had to decide on the case.
+
+“Well, to cut this as short as may be, I made up my mind that the man I
+wanted was a North German; that he had conceived a hideous passion for
+Lucille before I knew her; that she had shrunk from it and him so
+unmistakably, that he knew he had no chance; that my taking her away as
+my wife, to which he might have been a witness, drove him to as hideous
+a revenge; that, hearing we were going to England, and seeing that we
+were likely to stop nowhere on the way, and so give him a chance of
+doing what he had made up his mind to do, he had decided to do what he
+had done as he had done it,—counting on finding us asleep as he had
+found us, or on his strength if it came to a fight between him and me;
+but coolly reckless enough to brave everything in any case. And the
+devil aiding, he had in great part and only too well succeeded. He was
+now either so far satisfied that, if I made no move against him—and
+how, he might think, could I?—he, feeling himself all safe, would let
+me be; or, on the other hand, he did not feel safe, and was not
+satisfied, and was arranging for my being disposed of by and by. I
+considered the latter frame of mind as his most probable one; I went to
+work cautiously, as I say. I ascertained that Lucille had made no
+mention of any obnoxious _prétendant_ at any time; I didn’t expect to
+find she had, her terror of the man was too intense. But this man must
+have met her somewhere—where?
+
+“When old D’Avray came home to die, his daughter was just leaving her
+Paris _pensionnat_. All through his last illness he had seen no visitor
+but me, and Lucille had never quitted him. Besides, I had been there all
+the time. I presumed, then, that this man and she had met in Paris; and
+I believe they were only likely to have met at one of the half-dozen
+houses where the child would now and again be asked. I got a list of
+all these. One name only struck me; it happened to be a German
+name—Steinmetz. I wondered if Monsieur Steinmetz was my man. In the
+mean time, who was he? I had no trouble in finding that out: Monsieur
+Steinmetz was a German banker of good standing and repute, reasonably
+well off, and recently left a widower. Personally? _Dame_, personally
+Monsieur Steinmetz was a great man and a fat, with a big face and blond
+hair, and the appearance of what he really was—a _bon vivant_ and a
+_bon enfant_ yet _n’avait jamais fait de mal à personne—allez!_—All,
+yes; in effect, Madame had died about a year ago, and Monsieur had been
+inconsolable for a long time. He had changed his residence now, and
+inhabited a house in one of the new streets off the Champs Elysées.
+
+“From another source I discovered that in the lifetime of Madame
+Steinmetz Lucille was frequently at the house. She had ceased to come
+there about the date of the commencement of Madame’s sudden illness. I
+got this information by degrees, while I lay _perdu_ in an old haunt of
+mine in the Pays Latin yonder; for I had always had an idea that I
+should find the man I wanted in Paris. When I had got it, I thought I
+should like to see Monsieur Steinmetz, the agreeable banker. One night I
+strolled up as far as his new residence in the street off the Champs
+Elysées. Monsieur Steinmetz lived on the first-floor. There was a
+brilliant light there: Monsieur Steinmetz was entertaining friends, it
+seemed.
+
+“It was a fine night; I established myself out of sight under the
+doorway of an unfinished house opposite, and waited. I don’t know why;
+perhaps I fancied that when his friends were gone, the fineness of the
+night might induce Monsieur Steinmetz to take a stroll, and that then I
+should be able to gratify my curiosity. You see, I knew that if he were
+my man, I should know him directly. I waited a good while: shadows
+crossed the lighted blinds; once a big, broad shadow appeared there,
+that made me fancy I mightn’t have been waiting for nothing after all,
+somehow. Presently Monsieur Steinmetz’s guests departed, and in a little
+while after there appeared on the little balcony of Monsieur Steinmetz’s
+apartment _the man I wanted_. There was a moon that night, and the cold
+white light fell on the great yellow face, with the full lustful lips,
+and the full cruel chin, just as I had seen the light fall on it in my
+dream. It was the same face, Bertie; the same face, the same man. I
+couldn’t be mistaken. I had no doubt; I _knew_ that the assassin of my
+wife, of that tender, innocent, helpless child, stood there, twenty
+yards from me, on that balcony.
+
+“I had got myself pretty well in hand; and it was as well. I never
+moved. The face I knew turned presently toward the spot where I stood
+hidden,—the face I had seen in my dream, beyond all doubting. The evil
+gray eyes glanced carelessly into the shadow, and up and down the quiet
+street; and then Monsieur Steinmetz, humming an air, got inside the
+window again, and closed it after him. Once more the great burly shadow
+that had at first told me I should not wait in that dark doorway in vain
+crossed the blinds; and then it disappeared. I saw my man no more that
+night; but I had seen enough. I knew who he was now, and where to find
+him.
+
+“As I walked along home I thought what I would do. I quite meant to kill
+Monsieur Steinmetz; but I also meant to have no _démêlés_ with an
+Impérial Procureur and the Cour d’Assizes for doing so. I didn’t want to
+murder him, either. I thought I would wait a little for the chance of a
+suitable opportunity for settling my business satisfactorily. And I did
+wait. I turned this delay to account, and got together a case of
+circumstantial evidence against my man that, though perhaps it might
+have broken down in a law-court, would have been alone amply sufficient
+for me.
+
+“The reason why Lucille’s visits to the banker’s house ceased was, it
+appeared, because Madame Steinmetz had conceived all at once a jealous
+dislike to her. How far this was owing to Lucille herself I could well
+understand; but I could understand Madame’s jealousy equally well.
+Madame’s illness, strangely sudden, dated from the cessation of
+Lucille’s visits. Was it hard to find a _cause_ for that illness—a
+cause for the wife’s subsequent suspected death? I thought not. Then had
+followed Lucille’s departure from Paris. The child’s anxiety for her
+father hid her _other fear_ from his eyes and mine; but that fear must
+have been on her then. With us she forgot it in time; yet it or another
+reason had always prevented all mention of what had occasioned it. She
+became my wife. At that very time I easily ascertained that Steinmetz
+was absent from Paris; less easily, but indubitably, that he had, at all
+events, been as far south as Lyons. At Lyons it must have been that
+Lucille first discovered he was dogging us. Hence her alarm, which I had
+remembered, and her anxiety to proceed on our journey without stopping
+for the night, as I had previously arranged. The morning after the
+murder Steinmetz reappeared in Paris. From the hour at which he was seen
+at the _gare_, it was certain that he had travelled by the night express
+train in which Lucille and I had started from Lyons; and he wore that
+morning a travelling-coat of fur in all respects similar to the one I
+remembered so well.
+
+“If I had ever had any doubt of my man after actually seeing him, I
+should probably have convinced myself that he was my man by the general
+tendency of these facts, which I got at slowly and one by one. But I had
+no need of such evidence; and of course no case, even with such
+evidence, for a court of law. However, courts of law I had never
+intended to trouble in the matter.
+
+“The opportunity I was waiting was some time before it offered. Monsieur
+Steinmetz was a man of regular habits, I found—from his first-floor in
+the street off the Champs Elysées, every morning at eleven, to the
+Bourse; thence to his bureau hard by till four; from his bureau to his
+café, where he read papers and played dominoes till six; and then home
+slowly by the Boulevarts. He might consider himself tolerably safe from
+me while he led this sort of life, even supposing he was aware he was
+incurring any danger. I don’t think he troubled much about that; till
+one night, when, over the count of the beloved domino-points, his eyes
+met mine fixed right upon him. I had arranged this little surprise to
+see how it would affect him.
+
+“Perhaps my gaze may have expressed something more than the mere
+distraction I intended; but I noticed—though a more indifferent
+observer might easily have failed to notice—how the great yellow face,
+expanded in childish interest in the childish game, seemed suddenly to
+grow gray and harden; how the fat smile became a cruel baring of sharp
+white teeth; how the fat chin squared itself. The man knew me, and
+scented danger.
+
+“A moment’s reflection convinced Monsieur Steinmetz, though, that it
+could be by no means so certain that I knew him; five minutes’
+observation of me more than half satisfied him that I did not. Yet what
+did I want there? What was I doing in Paris? This might concern him
+nearly, he must have thought.
+
+“I kept my own face in order, and watched his. It wasn’t an easy one to
+read; but you see I had studied it closely, and in a way he couldn’t
+have dreamed of. Monsieur Steinmetz was outwardly his wonted self, but
+inwardly not quite comfortable when he rose; and I saw the evil eye
+gleam on his great yellow finger as he took out his purse to pay the
+_garçon_, just as I had seen it when that finger pointed at _myself_ in
+my dream. I felt curious sensations, Bertie, as I sat there and looked
+abstractedly at Monsieur Steinmetz. I wondered how long it would be
+before——But my time hadn’t come yet. He went out without another
+glance at me. I saw his huge form on the other side of the street when I
+left the café in my turn. This I had expected. Monsieur Steinmetz was
+naturally curious. It was hardly possible that I could know him; but it
+was quite certain that he ought to know all about me. So, when I moved
+on, he moved on; in short, Monsieur Steinmetz dogged me up one street
+and down another, till he finally dogged me home to my hiding-place in
+the Pays Latin. He did it very well, too—much better than you would
+have expected from so apparently unwieldy a _mouchard_. But I
+_remembered_ how lightly he could move.
+
+“Next day I had, of course, disappeared from my old quarters, and gone
+no one knew where. I suppose Monsieur Steinmetz didn’t like this fact
+when he heard of it. It might have seemed suspicious. Suppose I _had_
+recognized him? In that case I had evidently a little game of my own,
+and was as evidently desirous to keep it dark. He was a cool hand; but I
+fancy my man began to get a little uneasy. He took some trouble to find
+me again. After a while I permitted him to do that. Once found, he
+seemed determined that I should not be lost sight of again for want of
+watching. I permitted that, too; it helped play my game, and I wanted to
+bring it to an end. To which intent, Monsieur Steinmetz got to hear from
+sources best known to himself as much of my plans as should bring him to
+the state I wanted. That was a murderous state. I wanted to get him to
+think that I was dangerous enough to be worth putting out of the way. I
+presume he was aware there were, or would be, weak joints in his armor,
+impenetrable as it seemed; and he preferred not risking the ordeal of
+legal battle if he could help it. At all events, he elected at last to
+rid himself of a person who might be dangerous, and was troublesome, by
+the shortest and the simplest means.
+
+“I say so because when, believing my man was ripe for this, I left Paris
+about midday for a certain secluded little spot on the sea-coast, I saw
+one of Monsieur Steinmetz’s employees on the platform; and because,
+two days after my arrival in my secluded spot, I met Monsieur Steinmetz
+in person, newly arrived also. Now this was exactly what I had intended
+and anticipated. Monsieur Steinmetz had come down there to put me out of
+his way, if he could. He passed me, leisurely strolling in the opposite
+direction, humming his favorite _aria_, bigger and yellower than ever,
+the evil eye fiery on his finger. His own eyes shot me as evil fire; but
+he said nothing.... I saw he was ripe, though.... My time was close at
+hand.
+
+“It came. Monsieur Steinmetz and I met once more in the very place where
+I, knowing my ground, had intended we should meet. It was a dip in the
+cliffs like a hollowed palm, and just there the cliff jutted out a good
+bit, with a sheer fall on to the rocks below. It was a gray afternoon,
+at the end of summer. The wind was rising fast; there was a thunder of
+heavy waves already.
+
+“I think he had been dogging me; but I hadn’t chosen to let him get up
+to me till now. We were quite out of sight when he had reached the level
+bottom of the dip, where I had halted—quite out of sight, and quite
+alone. To do him justice, he came on steadily enough. His face was liker
+the sketch I had made of it, liker the face I had seen in my dream, than
+it had ever looked before. Evidently he had made up his mind.... At
+last, then!... Well, I had been waiting long!... He was close beside me.
+
+“‘_Ah! bon jour, cher Monsieur Steinmetz._’
+
+“‘So?’ he said, his little eyes contracting like a cobra’s. ‘Ah!
+Monsieur knows my name?’
+
+“‘Among other things about you—yes.’
+
+“‘So!’ The yellow face was turning grayer and harder every minute—liker
+and liker to my likeness of it. ‘And what other things? Has it never
+appeared to you that this you do, have been doing—this meddling, may be
+dangerous, _hein_?’
+
+“He had changed his tone, as he had changed the person in which he
+addressed me. Yes, he had certainly made up his mind. And his big right
+hand was hidden inside his waistcoat, so that I could not see the evil
+eye I knew was on his finger.
+
+“‘Dangerous?’ he repeated slowly.
+
+“‘Possibly.’
+
+“‘Ay, surely; I shall crush you!’
+
+“‘Try.’
+
+“‘In good time; wait. You plot against me. Take care; I am strong; I
+warn you. There must be an end of this, you understand, or——’
+
+“He nodded his big head significantly.
+
+“‘You are right,’ I told him; ‘there must be an end. It is coming.’
+
+“‘So?’
+
+“‘Yes; I know you. You know me now.’
+
+“‘I know you. What do you want?’
+
+“‘To kill you.’
+
+“‘So?’
+
+“‘Yes; as you killed her.’
+
+“‘As I killed her? That is it, then? You know that?’
+
+“‘I know that.’
+
+“‘Well, it is true. I killed her. Now you can guess what I am going to
+do to you—to you, curse you!—whom she loved.’
+
+[Illustration: “THE GREAT YELLOW FACE LOOKED SILENTLY UP AT ME; AND
+THEN—THEN IT DISAPPEARED.”]
+
+“The very face I had seen in my dream now, Bertie, the very face! There
+was something besides the evil eye that gleamed in his right hand when
+he drew it from his breast. Once more he spoke.
+
+“‘Yes, I killed her. I meant worse for you. You escaped that; but you
+will not escape me now. Fool! were you mad to do this? Did not I hate
+you enough? And I would have let you be. Ah, die, then, if you will have
+it so!’
+
+“His heavy right arm swung high as he spoke, and I saw the sharp steel
+gleam as it turned to fall. And I twisted from his grip, and caught the
+falling arm, and bent it till the dagger dropped to the ground. And
+then, for a fierce, desperate, devilish minute, I had him in my clutch,
+dragging him nearer the smooth, slippery edge. He was no match for me at
+this I knew, and he knew; but he held me with the hold of his despair,
+and I could not loose myself. Both of us together, he meant; but not I.
+Yet I only freed myself just as he rolled exhausted, but clutching at
+the tough, short bushes wildly, toward the brink, and partly over it....
+Only the hold of his hands between him and his death. And I knelt above
+him, with the knife in my hand that was stained with _her_ blood.
+
+“The great yellow face, ashen now in its mortal agony, looked silently
+up at me—for three or four awful seconds; and then—then it
+disappeared.
+
+“Bah!” Paul concluded, “that was the end of it.”
+
+
+
+
+CATHERINE’S QUEST.
+
+
+Imagine to yourself an old, rambling, red-brick house, with odd corners
+and gables here and there, all bound and clasped together with ivy, and
+you have Craymoor Grange. It was built long before Queen Elizabeth’s
+time, and that illustrious monarch is said to have slept in it in one of
+her royal progresses—as where has she not slept?
+
+There still remain some remnants of bygone ages, although it has been
+much modernized and added to in later days. Among these are the
+brewhouse and laundry—formerly, it is said, dining-hall and ball-room.
+The latter of these is chiefly remarkable for an immense arched window,
+such as you see in churches, with five lights.
+
+When we came to the Grange this window had been partially blocked up,
+and in front of it, up to one-third of its height, was a wooden daïs, or
+platform, on which stood a cumbrous mangle, left there, I suppose, by
+the last tenants of the house.
+
+Of these last tenants we knew very little, for it was so long since it
+had been inhabited that the oldest authority in the village could not
+remember it.
+
+There were, however, some half-defaced monuments in the village church
+of Craymoor, bearing the figures and escutcheons of knights and dames of
+“the old family,” as the villagers said; but the inscriptions were worn
+and almost illegible, and for some time we none of us took the pains to
+decipher them.
+
+We first came to Craymoor Grange in the summer of 1849, my husband
+having discovered the place in one of his rambles, and taken a fancy to
+it. At first I certainly thought we could never make it our home, it was
+so dilapidated and tumble-down; but by the time winter came on we had
+had several repairs done and alterations made, and the rooms really
+became quite presentable.
+
+As our family was small we confined ourselves chiefly to the newest part
+of the house, leaving the older rooms to the mice, dust, and darkness.
+We made use of two of the old rooms, however, one as a servants’ bedroom
+and the other as an extra spare chamber, in case of many visitors. For
+myself, though I hope I am neither nervous nor superstitious, I confess
+that I would rather sleep in “our wing,” as we called the part of the
+house we inhabited, than in any of the old rooms.
+
+When Catherine l’Estrange came to us, however, during our first
+Christmas at Craymoor, I found that she was troubled with no such
+fancies, but declared that she delighted in queer old rooms, with
+raftered ceilings and deep window-seats, such as ours, and begged to be
+allowed to occupy the spare chamber. This I readily acceded to, as we
+had several visitors, and needed all the available rooms.
+
+As my story has principally to do with Catherine l’Estrange, I suppose I
+ought to speak more fully about her. She was an old school-friend of my
+daughter Ella, and at the time of which I am speaking was just
+one-and-twenty, and the merriest girl I ever knew. She had stayed with
+us once or twice before we came to the Grange, but we then knew no other
+particulars concerning her family, than that her father had been an
+Indian officer, and that he and her mother had both died in India when
+she was about six years old, leaving her to the care of an aunt living
+in England.
+
+I now, after a long, and I fear a tedious, preamble, come to my story.
+
+On the eve of the new year of 1850, Catherine had a very bad sore
+throat, and was obliged, though sorely against her inclination, to stay
+in bed all day, and forego our small evening gayety.
+
+At about 6 o’clock P.M., Ella took her some tea, and fearing she would
+be dull, offered to stay with her during the evening. This, however,
+Catherine would not hear of. “You go and entertain your company,” said
+she laughingly, “and leave me to my own devices; I feel very lazy, and I
+dare say I shall go to sleep.” As she had not slept much on the
+preceding night, Ella thought it was the best thing she could do; so she
+went out by the door leading on to the corridor, first placing the
+night-lamp on a table behind the door opening on to the laundry, so that
+it might not shine in her face.
+
+She did not again visit Catherine’s room until reminded to do so by my
+son George, at about half-past ten. She then rapped at the door, and
+receiving no answer, opened it softly, and approached the bed. Catherine
+lay quite still, and Ella imagined her to be asleep. She therefore
+returned to the drawing-room without disturbing her.
+
+As it was New Year’s eve, we stayed up “to see the old year out and the
+new year in,” and at a few minutes to twelve we all gathered round the
+open window on the stairs to hear the chimes ring out from the village
+church.
+
+We were all listening breathlessly as the hall-clock struck twelve, when
+a piercing cry suddenly echoed through the house, causing us all to
+start in alarm. I knew that it could only proceed from Catherine’s room,
+for the servants were all assembled at the window beneath us, listening,
+like ourselves, for the chimes. Thither therefore I flew, followed by
+Ella, and we found poor Catherine in a truly pitiable state.
+
+She was deadly pale, in an agony of terror, and the perspiration stood
+in large drops upon her forehead. It was some time before we could
+succeed at all in composing her, and her first words were to implore us
+to take her into another room.
+
+She was too weak to stand, so we wrapped her in blankets, and carried
+her into Ella’s bedroom. I noticed that as she was taken through the
+laundry she shuddered, and put her hands before her eyes. When she was
+laid on Ella’s bed she grew calmer, and apologized for the trouble she
+had caused, saying that she had had a dreadful dream.
+
+With this explanation we were fain to be content, though I thought it
+hardly accounted for her excessive terror. I had observed, however, that
+any allusion to what had passed caused her to tremble and turn pale
+again, and I thought it best to refrain from exciting her further.
+
+When morning came I found Catherine almost her usual self again; but I
+persuaded her to remain in bed until the evening, as her cold was not
+much better. Ella’s curiosity to hear the dream which had so much
+excited her friend could now no longer be restrained; but whenever she
+asked to hear it, Catherine said, “Not now; another time, perhaps, I may
+tell you.”
+
+When she came down to dinner in the evening, we noticed that she was
+peculiarly silent, and we endeavored to rally her into her usual
+spirits, but in vain. She tried to laugh and to appear merry, poor
+child; but there was evidently something on her mind.
+
+At last, as we all sat round the fire after dinner, she spoke. She
+addressed herself to my husband, but the tone of her voice caused us all
+to listen.
+
+“Mr. Fanshawe, I have something to ask of you,” said she, and then
+paused.
+
+“Ask on,” said Mr. Fanshawe.
+
+“I know that you will think the request I am going to make a peculiar
+one; but I have a particular reason for making it,” continued she. “It
+is that you will have the wooden daïs in front of the laundry window
+removed.”
+
+Mr. Fanshawe certainly was taken aback, as were we all. When he had
+mastered his bewilderment, and assured himself that he had heard
+aright—
+
+“It is, indeed, a strange request, my dear Catherine,” said he; “what
+can be your reason for asking such a thing?”
+
+“If you will only have it done, and not question me, you will understand
+my reason,” answered Catherine.
+
+Mr. Fanshawe demurred, however, thinking it some foolish whim, and at
+last Catherine said:
+
+“I must tell you why I wish it done, then: I am sure we shall discover
+something underneath.”
+
+At this we all looked at one another in extreme bewilderment.
+
+“Discover something underneath? No doubt we should—cobwebs, probably,
+and dust and spiders,” answered Mr. Fanshawe, much amused.
+
+But Catherine was not to be laughed down.
+
+“Only do as I wish,” said she beseechingly, “and you will see. If you
+find nothing underneath the daïs but cobwebs and dust, then you may
+laugh at me as much as you like.” And I saw that she was serious, for
+tears were actually gathering in her eyes. Of course we were all very
+anxious to know what Catherine expected to find, and how she came to
+suspect that there was anything to be found; but she would not say, and
+begged us all not to question her.
+
+And now George took upon himself to interfere.
+
+“Let us do as Catherine wishes, father,” said he; “the daïs spoils the
+laundry, and would be much better away.”
+
+“Well, well,” said Mr. Fanshawe, “do as you like, only I shall expect my
+share of the treasure that is found.—And now,” added he, “you must have
+a glass of wine to warm you, Catherine, for you look sadly pale, child.”
+
+Here the conversation changed, though we often alluded to the subject
+again during the evening.
+
+The next morning the first thing in all our thoughts was Catherine’s
+singular request.
+
+I think Mr. Fanshawe had hoped she would have forgotten it, but such
+was not the case; on the contrary, she enlisted George’s services the
+first thing after breakfast to carry out her design, and they left the
+room together, accompanied by Ella.
+
+It was a snowy morning, and Mr. Fanshawe was obliged to be away from
+home all day on business, so I was quite at a loss how to entertain my
+numerous guests successfully. Happily for me, however, the mystery
+attendant on the removal of the daïs in the laundry charmed them all;
+and I have to thank Catherine for contributing to their amusement much
+better than I could possibly have done.
+
+Not long after the disappearance of Catherine, Ella, and George, a
+message was sent to us in the drawing-room requesting our presence in
+the laundry; and on all flocking there with more or less eagerness, we
+found a fire burning on the old-fashioned hearth and chairs arranged
+round it.
+
+It appeared that with the help of Sam, our factotum, who was a kind of
+Jack-of-all-trades, George had succeeded in loosening the planks of the
+daïs, which, although strongly put together, were rotten and worm-eaten,
+and that we were now summoned to be witnesses of its removal. We found
+Catherine trembling with a strange eagerness, and her face quite pale
+with excitement. This was shared by Ella and George; and, judging by the
+important expression on their faces, I fancied they were let further
+into the secret than any one else.
+
+We all sat down in the chairs placed for our accommodation, and the wild
+whistling of the wind in the huge chimney, together with the sheets of
+snow which darkened the window-panes, enhanced the mystery of the whole
+affair, while George and his coadjutor worked lustily on.
+
+At length, after a great deal of panting and puffing, George was heard
+to exclaim, “Now for the tug of war!” and there followed a minute’s
+pause, and then a crash as the loosened planks were torn asunder, and a
+cloud of dust enveloped both workmen and spectators.
+
+Involuntarily we all started forward, and a moment of the direst
+confusion ensued, during which the boys of our party greatly endangered
+their limbs among the broken boards.
+
+“By George!” exclaimed my son at last—in his eagerness invoking his
+patron saint—as he stumbled upon something, “there is something here
+and no mistake;” and, hastily clearing away the rubbish and clinging
+cobwebs, he disclosed to view what proved on examination to be an
+immense oaken chest, about four feet in height, heavily carved, and
+ornamented with brass mouldings corroded with age and damp.
+
+Here was a piece of excitement indeed; never in my most imaginative
+moments had I thought of anything so mysterious as this. The most
+sceptical among us grew interested.
+
+“Oh, do open it!” cried Ella, when the first exclamations of surprise
+were over.
+
+“Easier to say than to do, miss,” replied Sam, exerting his Herculean
+strength in vain. With the aid of a hammer and the kitchen-poker,
+however, he at last succeeded in forcing it open. We all pressed forward
+eagerly to peer inside. There was something in it certainly, but we none
+of us could determine what, until Sam, who was the boldest of us all,
+thrust in his hand and brought forth—something which caused the bravest
+to start with horror, while poor Catherine sank down, white and
+trembling, upon the littered floor. It was a bone, to which adhered
+fragments of decaying silk.
+
+The consternation and conjectures which followed can be better imagined
+than described. Seeing the effects of the discovery upon Catherine, and
+indeed upon all, I bade Sam replace it in the chest, which George closed
+again, to be left until Mr. Fanshawe came home and could investigate the
+matter.
+
+The rest of the day I passed in attending to Catherine, who seemed much
+shocked and overcome by what she had seen, and in trying to divert my
+guests’ thoughts from the subject, and dispel the gloom which had
+gathered over all. In this I succeeded only partially, and never did I
+welcome my husband’s return more gladly than on that evening.
+
+On his arrival I would not let him be disturbed by the relation of what
+had happened until he had finished his dinner, and it was not till we
+were gathered as usual round the fire that George related the whole
+story to him.
+
+When he ended the two gentlemen left the room together, in order that
+Mr. Fanshawe might verify by his own eyes what he would hardly believe.
+
+They were some time gone, and on their return I noticed that my husband
+held in his hand an old piece of soiled parchment, with mouldy seals
+affixed to it.
+
+“We certainly have discovered much more than I thought for, Catherine,”
+said he, “and possibly more than you thought for either.” Here he paused
+for her to reply, but she did not.
+
+“The bones are most probably those of some animal,” added he—I fancied
+I could detect a certain anxiety in his tone that belied what he said;
+“but in order to quell the active imaginations which I can see are
+running away with some of you”—here he looked round with a smile—“I
+will send for Dr. Driscoll to come and examine them to-morrow. I have
+also found a piece of parchment in the chest,” he added; “but I have not
+yet looked at its contents.”
+
+“Before you do that, Mr. Fanshawe, and before you send for the surgeon,”
+interrupted Catherine suddenly in a clear voice, “I think I can tell you
+all about the bones found in the chest, and how I guessed them to be
+there.”
+
+“I should certainly be very glad to be told,” my husband admitted, much
+surprised; “though how you can possibly know, I cannot surmise.”
+
+“Listen, and I will tell you,” answered Catherine; and feeling very glad
+that our curiosity was at last to be gratified, we all “pricked up our
+ears,” as George would say, to listen.
+
+I here transcribe Catherine’s story word for word, as my son George
+subsequently wrote it down from her dictation.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+“You all remember,” she began, “my alarming you on New Year’s eve at
+midnight, and that I told you I was disturbed by a dreadful dream.
+
+“I said so because I thought you would make fun of me if I called it a
+vision; and yet it was much more like a vision, for I seemed to see it
+waking, and it was more vivid and consecutive than any dream I ever had.
+
+“Before I try to describe it, I want you all to understand that I seemed
+intuitively to comprehend what I saw, and to recognize all the figures
+which appeared before me, and their relation to one another, though I am
+sure I never beheld them before in my life.
+
+“When Ella left me that night, I lay propped up with pillows, staring
+idly at the strange shadows thrown by the hidden lamp across the laundry
+ceiling and over the floor. As I looked it seemed to me that a change
+came over the room—a most unaccountable change.
+
+“Instead of the blocked-up window, the rusty mangle, and the daïs at the
+farther end, I saw the window clear and distinct from top to bottom, and
+in front of a deep window-seat at its base stood an oaken chest, exactly
+corresponding to the one discovered this morning. The room seemed
+brilliantly lighted, and everything was clearly and distinctly visible;
+and not only was it changed, but also peopled.
+
+“Many figures passed up and down; brocaded silks swept the floor, and
+old-world forms of men in strange costumes bowed in courtly style to the
+dames by their side. Among all these figures I noticed only one couple
+particularly, and I knew them to be bride and bridegroom. The man was
+tall and broad, with dark hair and eyes, and a sensual and cruel face.
+He seemed, however, to be quite enslaved by the woman by his side, whom
+I hardly even now like to think of, there was something to me so
+repellent in her presence.
+
+“She was tall and of middle age, and would have been handsome were it
+not for a sinister expression in her dark flashing eyes, which was
+enhanced by the black eyebrows which met over them.
+
+“She reminded me irresistibly of the effigy on the stone monument in
+Craymoor church, which Ella and I named “the wicked woman.”
+
+“As I gazed on the strange scene before me I presently became aware of
+three other figures which I had not noticed before. They were standing
+in a small arched doorway in one corner of the room (where the servants’
+bedroom now is) furtively watching the gay company. One was a pale,
+careworn woman, apparently of about five-and-thirty, still beautiful,
+though haggard and mournful-looking, with blue eyes and a fair
+complexion.
+
+“Her hands rested on the shoulders of two children, one a boy and the
+other a girl, of about ten and eleven years of age respectively. They
+much resembled their mother, and, like her, they were meanly dressed,
+though no poverty of attire could hide the nobility of their aspect. I
+noticed that the mother’s eyes rested chiefly on the face of the tall
+stately man before mentioned, who seemed unaware or careless of her
+presence; and instinctively I knew him to be the father of her children
+and the blighter of her life.
+
+“As I looked and beheld all this, the lights vanished, the company
+disappeared, and the room became dark and deserted. No, not quite
+deserted, for I presently distinguished, seated on the window-seat by
+the old oaken chest, the fair woman and her children again.
+
+“The moonlight now streamed through the window upon the woman’s face,
+making it appear more ghastly and haggard than before. In her long thin
+fingers she was holding up to the light a necklace of large pearls,
+curiously interwoven in a diamond pattern, and on this the children’s
+eyes were fixed.
+
+“She then hung it on the girl’s fair neck, who hid it in her bosom. Both
+children then twined their arms round their mother and kissed her
+repeatedly, while her head sank lower and lower, and the paleness of
+death overspread her features.
+
+“This scene faded away as the other had done, and I saw the fair woman
+no more.
+
+“Then it seemed to me that many figures passed and repassed before the
+window—the wicked woman (as I shall call her to distinguish her),
+accompanied by a boy the image of herself, whom I knew to be her son. He
+was apparently older than the fair-haired children, who also passed to
+and fro, attired as servants, and generally employed in some menial
+work.
+
+“At last the wicked woman’s son, with haughty gestures, ordered the
+other boy to pick up something that lay on the ground, and when he
+refused, he raised his cane as though to strike him. Before he could do
+so, however, the boy flew at him, and they engaged in a fierce struggle.
+
+“In the midst of this the wicked woman, whom I had learned to dread,
+came forward and separated them; after which she pointed imperiously to
+the door, and signed to the younger boy to go out.
+
+“He obeyed her mandate, but first threw his arms round his sister in a
+last embrace, and she detached the pearl necklace from off her neck and
+gave it to him. He then went out, waving a last adieu to her, and I saw
+him no more.
+
+“Confused images seemed to crowd before me after this, and I remember
+nothing clearly until I beheld an infirm and tottering figure led away
+through the arched doorway, in whom I recognized the tall and stately
+man I had first seen in company with the wicked woman, but who was now
+an old man, apparently being supported to his bed to die. As he passed
+out he laid one trembling hand upon the head of the fair girl, now a
+blooming woman, and a softer shade came over his face. This the wicked
+woman noted, and she marked her disapproval by a vindictive frown.
+
+“She also was older-looking, but age had in no degree softened her
+features; on the contrary, they appeared to me to wear a harsher
+expression than before.
+
+“In the next scene which came before me, the wicked woman’s son was
+evidently making love to the girl. Both were standing by the old
+window-seat, but her face was resolutely turned away from him, and when
+she at last looked at him it was with an expression of uncontrollable
+horror and dislike.
+
+“Again this scene changed as those before it had done; the young man was
+gone, and only the light of a grated lantern illumined the room, or
+rather made darkness visible. The wicked woman was the only occupant of
+the laundry; she was kneeling by the oaken chest, trying to raise the
+heavy lid. In her left hand she held a piece of parchment, with large
+red seals pendent from it. I knew it to be the old man’s will which she
+was hiding, thus defrauding the just claimants of their rights.
+
+“Her hands trembled, and her whole appearance denoted guilty
+trepidation. At length, however, the lid was raised, but just as she was
+about to replace the parchment in the chest, a figure glided silently
+from a dark corner of the window-seat and confronted her. It was the
+fair girl, pale, resolute, and extending her hand to claim the will.
+
+“After the first guilty start, which caused her to drop the parchment
+into the chest, the wicked woman hurriedly tried to close the lid. Her
+efforts were frustrated, however, by the girl, who leaned with all her
+force upon it, keeping it back, and still held out her hand as before.
+
+“There followed a pause, which seemed to me very long, but which could
+in reality have only lasted a minute.
+
+“It was broken by the wicked woman, who, hastily casting a glance behind
+her into the gloom of the darkened chamber, then seized the girl by the
+arm and dragged her with all her force into the chest. It was but the
+work of a moment, for the woman was much the more powerful of the two,
+and the poor victim was too much taken by surprise to make much
+resistance. I saw one despairing look in her face as her murderess
+flashed the lantern before it with a hideous gleam of triumph.
+
+“Then the lid was pressed down upon her, and I saw no more, only I felt
+an unutterable terror, and tried in vain to scream.
+
+“This was not all the vision, however, for before I had mastered my
+terror the scene was superseded by another.
+
+“This time it was twilight, and the wicked woman and her son were
+together. The son seemed to be talking eagerly, and grew more and more
+excited, while the mother stood still and erect, with a malicious smile
+upon her lips. Presently she moved toward the chest with a fell purpose
+in her eyes, unlocked it with a key which hung from her girdle, raised
+the lid and disclosed the contents.
+
+“I understood it all now: the son was asking for the girl whom he had
+loved, and whom on his return home he missed, and the wicked woman,
+enraged at hearing for the first time that he had loved her, was
+determined to have her revenge.
+
+“He should see her again.
+
+“On beholding the dread contents of the chest, the man staggered back
+horrified; then, doubtless comprehending the case, he turned suddenly
+upon the murderess, and threw his arm around her, and there ensued a
+struggle terrible to witness.
+
+“Her proud triumphant glance of malice was now succeeded by one of
+abject fear, and, as his strength began to gain the mastery, of despair.
+
+“His iron frame heaved for a moment with the violence of his efforts,
+the next he had forced her down into the chest upon the mouldering body
+of her victim. I saw her eyes light up with the terror of death for one
+second, and then her screams were stifled forever beneath the massive
+lid.
+
+“The horror of this scene was too much for me; I found voice to scream
+at last, and I suppose it was my cry which alarmed you all.”
+
+When Catherine ceased speaking there was a profound silence for a
+minute, which Mr. Fanshawe was the first to break as he said with a
+peculiar intonation in his voice, “It is very strange, very
+unaccountable,” reëchoing all our thoughts.
+
+Now it happened that Mr. Fleet, our family lawyer, was among our guests
+that Christmas-time, and since the discovery of the chest and bones had
+taken a great interest in the whole affair. He now questioned and
+cross-questioned Catherine, and seemed quite satisfied with the result.
+
+“This would have made a fine case,” said he, “if only it had been a
+question of the right of succession, for any lawyer to make out; but
+unfortunately the events are too long past to have any bearing upon the
+present.” (There Mr. Fleet was wrong, though we none of us knew it at
+the time.)
+
+We now all launched forth into conjectures and opinions, during which
+Catherine lay still and weary upon the sofa. I saw this, and thought it
+quite time to put an end to the day’s adventures by suggesting a
+retirement for the night, and we were soon all dispersed to dream of the
+mysterious vision and discovery.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I think we were none of us sorry when morning dawned without any further
+tragedy (by _us_, I mean the female part of the establishment).
+
+When I came down to breakfast I found Mr. Fleet very active on the
+subject of the night before.
+
+“A surgeon ought to be immediately sent for to pronounce an opinion on
+the contents of the chest,” he said; and Dr. Driscoll presently came,
+and after examining the bones minutely, decided that they were, as we
+thought, those of two females, who might have been from one to two
+hundred years dead.
+
+Mr. Fleet next offered to decipher the will, for such he imagined the
+parchment to be, and he and Mr. Fanshawe were closeted together for some
+time.
+
+When they at last appeared again, they looked much interested and
+excited, and led me away to inform me of the result of their
+examination.
+
+They told me that the document had proved to be a will, but that there
+was a circumstance connected with it which greatly added to the mystery
+of the whole business. This was the mention of the name of L’Estrange. I
+was, of course, as much surprised as they, and heard the will read with
+great interest.
+
+I cannot remember the technical terms in which it was expressed. Mr.
+Fleet read me the translation he had made, for the original was in old
+English; but it was to this effect:
+
+It purported to be the will of Reginald, Viscount St. Aubyn, in which he
+bequeathed all his inheritance to his lawful son Francis St.
+Aubyn—commonly known by the name of Francis l’Estrange—and to his
+heirs forever. It was signed Reginald, Viscount St. Aubyn, and the
+witnesses were John Murray and Phœbe Brett, who in the old copy had
+each affixed their mark.
+
+Mr. Fleet affirmed that it was a perfectly legal document, but this was
+not all it contained.
+
+There was an appendix which our lawyer translated as follows:
+
+“In order to avoid all disputes and doubts which might otherwise arise,
+I do hereby declare that my lawful wife was Editha, youngest daughter of
+Francis l’Estrange, Baronet, and that the register of our marriage may
+be seen in the church of St. Andrew, Haslet. By this marriage we had two
+children, a son Francis, and a daughter Catherine, commonly called
+Francis and Catherine l’Estrange. And I hereby declare that Agatha
+Thornhaugh was not legally married to me as she imagined, my lawful wife
+being alive at the time; neither do I leave to her son by her first
+husband, Ralph Thornhaugh, any part or share in my inheritance.”
+
+Both the will and the writing at the foot of it were dated the 14th of
+May, 1668.
+
+This accumulation of mysteries caused me for a time to feel quite
+bewildered and unable to think, but Mr. Fleet was in his element.
+
+“Here is a case worth entering into,” said he, and he further went on to
+state that he had no doubt that the L’Estranges mentioned in the will
+were our Catherine’s ancestors, the Christian names being similar
+rendering it more than probable. She was most likely a direct descendant
+of Francis l’Estrange, the heir mentioned in the will, who was no doubt
+also the fair-haired boy Catherine had seen in her vision.
+
+The bones were those of his sister, the murdered Catherine l’Estrange,
+and of her murderess Agatha Thornhaugh, herself immured by her own son;
+but the matter ought not to rest on mere surmise, and the first place to
+go to for corroborating evidence was Craymoor church.
+
+The rapidity with which Mr. Fleet came to his conclusions increased my
+bewilderment, and I was at a loss to know what evidence he expected to
+gain from Craymoor church. He reminded me, however, of Catherine’s
+statement that “the wicked woman” of her vision resembled the effigy on
+the monument there.
+
+Thither, then, the lawyer repaired, accompanied by Mr. Fanshawe and
+George. It was thought best to keep the sequel of the story from
+Catherine and the others until it was explained more fully, as Mr. Fleet
+boldly affirmed it should be. I awaited anxiously the result of their
+researches, and they exceeded I think even our good investigator’s
+hopes.
+
+Not only had they deciphered the inscription round the old monument, but
+with leave from the clergyman and the assistance of the sexton they had
+disinterred the coffin and found it to be filled with stones.
+
+I am aware that this was rather an illegal proceeding, but as Mr. Fleet
+was only acting _en amateur_ and not professionally, he did not stick at
+trifles.
+
+The inscription was in Latin, and stated that the tomb was erected in
+memory of Agatha, wife of Reginald, Viscount St. Aubyn, who was buried
+beneath, and who died on the 31st day of December, 1649—exactly two
+hundred years before the day on which Catherine had seen the vision.
+
+I could not help thinking it shocking that the villagers had for two
+centuries been worshipping in the presence of a perpetual lie, but Mr.
+Fleet thought only of the grand corroboration of his “case.” He applied
+to Mr. Fanshawe to take the next step, namely, to write to Catherine’s
+aunt and only living relative, to tell her the whole story, and beg
+her to assist in elucidating matters by giving all the information she
+could respecting the L’Estrange family.
+
+This was done, and we anxiously awaited the answer. Meantime, all my
+guests were clamorous to hear the contents of the will, and I had to
+appease them as best I could, by promising that they should know all
+soon.
+
+In a few days, old Miss l’Estrange’s answer came. She said her brother,
+father, and grandfather had all served in India, and that she believed
+her great-grandfather, who was a Francis l’Estrange, to have passed most
+of his life abroad, there having been a cloud over his early youth. What
+this was, however, she could not say. She affirmed that the L’Estranges
+had in old times resided in ——shire; and she further stated that her
+father’s family had consisted of herself and her brother, whose only
+child Catherine was.
+
+This was certainly not much information, but it was enough for our
+purpose. We no longer remained in doubt as to the truth of Mr. Fleet’s
+version of the story, and when he himself told it to all our
+family-party one evening, every one agreed that he had certainly
+succeeded in making out a very clever case.
+
+As for Catherine, on being told that the figures she had beheld in the
+vision were thought to be those of her ancestors, she was not so much
+surprised as I expected, but said that she had had a presentiment all
+along that the tragedies she had witnessed were in some way connected
+with her own family.
+
+I must not forget to say that on ascertaining that the parish church of
+Haslet was still standing, we searched the register, and another link of
+evidence was made clear by the finding of the looked-for entry.
+
+There remains little more to be told. The charge of the old will was
+committed to Mr. Fleet, and Catherine’s story has been carefully laid up
+among the archives of our family. I say advisedly of _our_ family, for
+the line of the L’Estranges, alias St. Aubyns, has been united to ours
+by the marriage of Catherine to my son George, which took place in 1850.
+
+I who write this am an old woman now, but I still live with my son and
+daughter-in-law.
+
+George has bought Craymoor Grange, thus rendering justice after the
+lapse of two centuries, and restoring the inheritance of her fathers to
+the rightful owner.
+
+I have but one more incident to relate, and I have done. A short time
+ago, old Miss l’Estrange died, bequeathing all her worldly possessions
+to Catherine. Among these were some old family relics. Catherine was
+looking over them as George unpacked them, and she presently came to a
+miniature of a young and beautiful girl with fair hair and blue eyes,
+and a wistful expression, and with it a necklace of pearls strung in a
+diamond pattern. On seeing these she became suddenly grave, and handing
+them to me, said: “They are the same; the young girl, and the pearl
+necklace I told you of.” No more was said at the time, for the children
+were present, and we had always avoided alluding to the horrible family
+tragedy before them; but if we had still retained any doubt about its
+truth—which we had not—this would have set it at rest.
+
+If you were to visit Craymoor Grange now, you would find no old laundry.
+The part of the house containing it has been pulled down, and children
+play and chickens peckett on the ground where it once stood.
+
+The oaken chest has also long since been destroyed.
+
+
+
+
+HAUNTED.
+
+
+Some few years ago one of those great national conventions which draw
+together all ages and conditions of the sovereign people of America was
+held in Charleston, South Carolina.
+
+Colonel Demarion, one of the State Representatives, had attended that
+great national convention; and, after an exciting week, was returning
+home, having a long and difficult journey before him.
+
+A pair of magnificent horses, attached to a light buggy, flew merrily
+enough over a rough-country for a while; but toward evening stormy
+weather reduced the roads to a dangerous condition, and compelled the
+Colonel to relinquish his purpose of reaching home that night, and to
+stop at a small wayside tavern, whose interior, illuminated by blazing
+wood-fires, spread a glowing halo among the dripping trees as he
+approached it, and gave promise of warmth and shelter at least.
+
+Drawing up to this modest dwelling, Colonel Demarion saw through its
+uncurtained windows that there was no lack of company within. Beneath
+the trees, too, an entanglement of rustic vehicles, giving forth red
+gleams from every dripping angle, told him that beasts as well as men
+were cared for. At the open door appeared the form of a man, who, at the
+sound of wheels, but not seeing in the outside darkness whom he
+addressed, called out, “’Tain’t no earthly use a-stoppin’ here.”
+
+Caring more for his chattels than for himself, the Colonel paid no
+further regard to this address than to call loudly for the landlord.
+
+At the tone of authority, the man in outline more civilly announced
+himself to be the host; yet so far from inviting the traveller to
+alight, insisted that the house was “as full as it could pack;” but that
+there was a place a little farther down the road where the gentleman
+would be certain to find excellent accommodation.
+
+“What stables have you here?” demanded the traveller, giving no more
+heed to this than to the former announcement; but bidding his servant to
+alight, and preparing to do so himself.
+
+“Stables!” repeated the baffled host, shading his eyes so as to
+scrutinize the newcomer, “_stables_, Cap’n?”
+
+“Yes, _stables_. I want you to take care of my horses; _I_ can take care
+of myself. Some shelter for cattle you must have by the look of these
+traps,” pointing to the wagons. “I don’t want my horses to be kept
+standing out in this storm, you know.”
+
+“No, Major. Why no, cert’n’y; Marion’s ain’t over a mile, and——”
+
+“Conf—!” muttered the Colonel; “but it’s over the _river_, which I
+don’t intend to ford to-night under any consideration.”
+
+So saying, the Colonel leaped to the ground, directing his servant to
+cover the horses and then get out his valise; while the host, thus
+defeated, assumed the best grace he could to say that he would see what
+could be done “for the _horses_.”
+
+“I am a soldier, my man,” added the Colonel in a milder tone, as he
+stamped his cold feet on the porch and shook off the rain from his
+travelling-gear; “I am used to rough fare and a hard couch: all we want
+is shelter. A corner of the floor will suffice for me and my rug; a
+private room I can dispense with at such times as these.”
+
+The landlord seemed no less relieved at this assurance than mollified by
+the explanation of a traveller whom he now saw was of a very different
+stamp from those who usually frequented the tavern. “For the matter of
+_stables_, his were newly put up, and first-rate,” he said; and
+“cert’n’y the Gen’ral was welcome to a seat by the fire while ’twas
+a-storming so fierce.”
+
+Colonel Demarion gave orders to his servant regarding the horses, while
+the landlord, kicking at what seemed to be a bundle of sacking down
+behind the door, shouted—“Jo! Ho, Jo! Wake up, you sleepy-headed
+nigger! Be alive, boy, and show this gentleman’s horses to the stables.”
+Upon a repetition of which charges a tall, gaunt, dusky figure lifted
+itself from out of the dark corner, and grew taller and more gaunt as it
+stretched itself into waking with a grin which was the most visible part
+of it, by reason of two long rows of ivory gleaming in the red glare.
+The hard words had fallen as harmless on Jo’s ear-drum as the kicks upon
+his impassive frame. To do Jo’s master justice, the kicks were not
+vicious kicks, and the rough language was but an intimation that
+dispatch was needed. Very much of the spaniel’s nature had Jo; and as he
+rolled along the passage to fetch a lantern, his mouth expanded into a
+still broader grin at the honor of attending so stately a gentleman.
+Quick, like his master, too, was Jo to discriminate between “real
+gentlefolks” and the “white trash” whose rough-coated, rope-harnessed
+mules were the general occupants of his stables.
+
+“Splendid pair, sir,” said the now conciliating landlord. “Shove some o’
+them mules out into the shed, Jo (which your horses ’ll feel more to hum
+in my new stalls, Gen’ral).”
+
+Again cautioning his man Plato not to leave them one moment, Colonel
+Demarion turned to enter the house.
+
+“You’ll find a rough crowd in here, sir,” said the host, as he paused on
+the threshold; “but a good fire, anyhow. ’Tain’t many of these loafers
+as understand this convention business—I _pre_sume, Gen’ral, you’ve
+attended the convention—they all on ’em _thinks_ they does, tho’. Fact
+most on ’em thinks they’d orter be on the committee theirselves. Good
+many on ’em is from Char’ston to-day, but is in the same fix as yerself,
+Gen’ral—can’t get across the river to-night.”
+
+“I see, I see,” cried the statesman, with a gesture toward the
+sitting-room. “Now what have you got in your larder, Mr. Landlord? and
+send some supper out to my servant; he must make a bed of the
+carriage-mats to-night.”
+
+The landlord introduced his guest into a room filled chiefly with that
+shiftless and noxious element of Southern society known as “mean
+whites.” Pipes and drinks, and excited arguments, engaged these people
+as they stood or sat in groups. The host addressed those who were
+gathered round the log-fire, and they opened a way for the new-comer,
+some few, with republican freedom, inviting him to be seated, the rest
+giving one furtive glance, and then, in antipathy born of envy, skulking
+away.
+
+The furniture of this comfortless apartment consisted of sloppy,
+much-jagged deal tables, dirty whittled benches, and a few uncouth
+chairs. The walls were dirty with accumulated tobacco stains, and so
+moist and filthy was the floor, that the sound only of scraping seats
+and heavy footsteps told that it was of boards and not bare earth.
+
+Seated with his back toward the majority of the crowd, and shielded by
+his newspaper, Colonel Demarion sat awhile unobserved; but was presently
+recognized by a man from his own immediate neighborhood, when the
+information was quickly whispered about that no less a person than their
+distinguished Congressman was among them.
+
+This piece of news speedily found its way to the ears of the landlord,
+to whom Colonel Demarion was known by name only, and forthwith he
+reappeared to overwhelm the representative of his State with apologies
+for the uncourteous reception which had been given him, and to express
+his now very sincere regrets that the house offered no suitable
+accommodation for the gentleman. Satisfied as to the safety of his
+chattels, the Colonel generously dismissed the idea of having anything
+either to resent or to forgive; and assured the worthy host that he
+would accept of no exclusive indulgences.
+
+In spite of which the landlord bustled about to bring in a separate
+table, on which he spread a clean coarse cloth, and a savory supper of
+broiled ham, hot corncakes, and coffee; every few minutes stopping to
+renew his apologies, and even appearing to grow confidentially
+communicative regarding his domestic economies; until the hungry
+traveller cut him short with “Don’t say another word about it, my
+friend; you have not a spare sleeping-room, and that is enough. Find me
+a corner—a clean corner”—looking round upon the most unclean corners
+of that room—“perhaps up-stairs somewhere, and——”
+
+“Ah! _upsta’rs_, Gen’ral. Now, that’s jest what I had in my mind to ax
+you. Fact is ther’ _is_ a spar’ room upsta’rs, as comfortable a room as
+the best of folks can wish; but——”
+
+“But it’s crammed with sleeping folks, so there’s an end of it,” cried
+the senator, thoroughly bored.
+
+“No, sir, ain’t no person in it; and ther’ ain’t no person likely to be
+in it ’cept ’tis _yerself_, Colonel Demarion. Leastways——”
+
+After a good deal of hesitation and embarrassment, the host, in
+mysterious whispers, imparted the startling fact that this most
+desirable sleeping room was _haunted_; that the injury he had sustained
+in consequence had compelled him to fasten it up altogether; that he had
+come to be very suspicious of admitting strangers, and had limited his
+custom of late to what the bar could supply, keeping the matter hushed
+up in the hope that it might be the sooner forgotten by the neighbors;
+but that in the case of Colonel Demarion he had now made bold to mention
+it; “as I can’t but think, sir,” he urged, “you’d find it prefer’ble to
+sleepin’ on the floor or sittin’ up all night along ov these loafers.
+Fer if ’tis any deceivin’ trick got up in the house, maybe they won’t
+try it on, sir, to a gentleman of your reputation.”
+
+Colonel Demarion became interested in the landlord’s confidences, but
+could only gather in further explanation that for some time past all
+travellers who had occupied that room had “made off in the middle of the
+night, never showin’ their faces at the inn again;” that on endeavoring
+to arrest one or more in their nocturnal flight, they—all more or less
+terrified—had insisted on escaping without a moment’s delay, assigning
+no other reason than that they had seen a ghost. “Not that folks seem to
+get much harm by it, Colonel—not by the way they makes off without
+paying a cent of money!”
+
+Great indeed was the satisfaction evinced by the victim of unpaid bills
+on the Colonel’s declaring that the haunted chamber was the very room
+for him. “If to be turned out of my bed at midnight is all I have to
+fear, we will see who comes off master in my case. So, Mr. Landlord, let
+the chamber be got ready directly, and have a good fire built there at
+once.”
+
+The exultant host hurried away to confide the great news to Jo, and with
+him to make the necessary preparations. “Come what will, Jo, Colonel
+Demarion ain’t the man to make off without paying down good money for
+his accommodations.”
+
+In reasonable time, Colonel Demarion was beckoned out of the public
+room, and conducted up-stairs by the landlord, who, after receiving a
+cheerful “good-night,” paused on the landing to hear his guest bolt and
+bar the door within, and then push a piece of furniture against it.
+“Ah,” murmured the host, as a sort of misgiving came over him, “if a
+apparishum has a mind to come thar, ’tain’t all the bolts and bars in
+South Carolina as ’ll kip’en away.”
+
+But the Colonel’s precaution of securing his door, as also that of
+placing his revolvers in readiness, had not the slightest reference to
+the reputed ghost. Spiritual disturbances of such kind he feared not.
+Spirits _tangible_ were already producing ominous demonstrations in the
+rooms below, nor was it possible to conjecture what troubles these might
+evolve. Glad enough to escape from the noisy company, he took a survey
+of his evil-reputed chamber. The only light was that of the roaring,
+crackling, blazing wood-fire, and no other was needed. And what
+storm-benighted traveller, when fierce winds and rains are lashing
+around his lodging, can withstand the cheering influences of a glorious
+log-fire? especially if, as in that wooden tenement, that fire be of
+abundant pine-knots. It rivals the glare of gas and the glow of a
+furnace; it charms away the mustiness and fustiness of years, and causes
+all that is dull and dead around to laugh and dance in its bright light.
+
+By the illumination of just such a fire, Colonel Demarion observed that
+the apartment offered nothing worthier of remark than that the furniture
+was superior to anything that might be expected in a small wayside
+tavern. In truth, the landlord had expended a considerable sum in
+fitting up this, his finest chamber, and had therefore sufficient reason
+to bemoan its unprofitableness.
+
+Having satisfied himself as to his apparent security, the senator
+thought no more of spirits palpable or impalpable; but to the far graver
+issues of the convention his thoughts reverted. It was yet early; he
+lighted a cigar, and in full appreciation of his retirement, took out
+his note-book and plunged into the affairs of state. Now and then he was
+recalled to the circumstances of his situation by the swaggering tread
+of unsteady feet about the house, or when the boisterous shouts below
+raged above the outside storm; but even then he only glanced up from his
+papers to congratulate himself upon his agreeable seclusion.
+
+Thus he sat for above an hour, then he heaped fresh logs upon the
+hearth, looked again to his revolvers, and retired to rest.
+
+The house-clock was striking twelve as the Colonel awoke. He awoke
+suddenly from a sound sleep, flashing, as it were, into full
+consciousness, his mind and memory clear, all his faculties invigorated,
+his ideas undisturbed, but with a perfect conviction that he was not
+alone.
+
+He lifted his head. A man was standing a few feet from the bed, and
+between it and the fire, which was still burning, and burning brightly
+enough to display every object in the room, and to define the outline of
+the intruder clearly. His dress also and his features were plainly
+distinguishable: the dress was a travelling-costume, in fashion somewhat
+out of date; the features wore a mournful and distressed expression—the
+eyes were fixed upon the Colonel. The right arm hung down, and the hand,
+partially concealed, might, for aught the Colonel knew, be grasping one
+of his own revolvers; the left arm was folded against the waist. The man
+seemed about to advance still closer to the bed, and returned the
+occupant’s gaze with a fixed stare.
+
+“Stand, or I’ll fire!” cried the Colonel, taking in all this at a
+glance, and starting up in his bed, revolver in hand.
+
+The man remained still.
+
+“What is your business here?” demanded the statesman, thinking he was
+addressing one of the roughs from below.
+
+The man was silent.
+
+“Leave this room, if you value your life,” shouted the indignant
+soldier, pointing his revolver.
+
+The man was motionless.
+
+“RETIRE! or by heaven I’ll send a bullet through you!”
+
+But the man moved not an inch.
+
+The Colonel fired. The bullet lodged in the breast of the stranger, but
+he started not. The soldier leaped to the floor and fired again. The
+shot entered the heart, pierced the body, and lodged in the wall beyond;
+and the Colonel beheld the hole where the bullet had entered, and the
+firelight glimmering through it. And yet the intruder stirred not.
+Astounded, the Colonel dropped his revolver, and stood face to face
+before the unmoved man.
+
+“Colonel Demarion,” spake the deep solemn voice of the perforated
+stranger, “in vain you shoot me—I am dead already.”
+
+The soldier, with all his bravery, gasped, spellbound. The firelight
+gleamed through the hole in the body, and the eyes of the shooter were
+riveted there.
+
+“Fear nothing,” spake the mournful presence; “I seek but to divulge my
+wrongs. Until my death shall be avenged my unquiet spirit lingers here.
+Listen.”
+
+Speechless, motionless was the statesman; and the mournful apparition
+thus slowly and distinctly continued:
+
+“Four years ago I travelled with one I trusted. We lodged here. That
+night my comrade murdered me. He plunged a dagger into my heart while I
+slept. He covered the wound with a plaster. He feigned to mourn my
+death. He told the people here I had died of heart complaint; that I had
+long been ailing. I had gold and treasures. With my treasure secreted
+beneath his garments he paraded mock grief at my grave. Then he
+departed. In distant parts he sought to forget his crime; but his stolen
+gold brought him only the curse of an evil conscience. Rest and peace
+are not for him. He now prepares to leave his native land forever. Under
+an assumed name that man is this night in Charleston. In a few hours he
+will sail for Europe. Colonel Demarion, you must prevent it. Justice and
+humanity demand that a murderer roam not at large, nor squander more of
+the wealth that is by right my children’s.”
+
+The spirit paused. To the extraordinary revelation the Colonel had
+listened in rapt astonishment. He gazed at the presence, at the
+firelight glimmering through it—through the very place where a human
+heart would be—and he felt that he was indeed in the presence of a
+supernatural being. He thought of the landlord’s story; but while
+earnestly desiring to sift the truth of the mystery, words refused to
+come to his aid.
+
+“Do you hesitate?” said the mournful spirit. “Will _you_ also flee, when
+my orphan children cry for retribution?” Seeming to anticipate the will
+of the Colonel, “I await your promise, senator,” he said. “There is no
+time to lose.”
+
+With a mighty effort, the South Carolinian said, “I promise. What would
+you have me do?”
+
+In the same terse, solemn manner, the ghostly visitor gave the real and
+assumed names of the murderer, described his person and dress at the
+present time, described a certain curious ring he was then wearing,
+together with other distinguishing characteristics: all being carefully
+noted down by Colonel Demarion, who, by degrees, recovered his
+self-possession, and pledged himself to use every endeavor to bring the
+murderer to justice.
+
+Then, with a portentous wave of the hand, “It is well,” said the
+apparition. “Not until the spirit of my murderer shall be separated from
+the mortal clay can _my_ spirit rest in peace.” And vanished.
+
+Half-past six in the morning was the appointed time for the steamer to
+leave Charleston; and the Colonel lost not a moment in preparing to
+depart. As he hurried down the stairs he encountered the landlord,
+who—his eyes rolling in terror—made an attempt to speak. Unheeding,
+except to demand his carriage, the Colonel pushed past him, and effected
+a quick escape toward the back premises, shouting lustily for “Jo” and
+“Plato,” and for his carriage to be got ready immediately. A few minutes
+more, and the bewildered host was recalled to the terrible truth by the
+noise of the carriage dashing through the yard and away down the road;
+and it was some miles nearer Charleston before the unfortunate man
+ceased to peer after it in the darkness—as if by so doing he could
+recover damages—and bemoan to Jo the utter ruin of his house and
+hopes.
+
+Thirty miles of hard driving had to be accomplished in little more than
+five hours. No great achievement under favorable circumstances; but the
+horses were only half refreshed from their yesterday’s journey, and
+though the storm was over, the roads were in a worse condition than
+ever.
+
+Colonel Demarion resolved to be true to his promise; and fired by a
+curiosity to investigate the extraordinary communication which had been
+revealed to him, urged on his horses, and reached the wharf at
+Charleston just as the steamer was being loosed from her moorings.
+
+He hailed her. “Stop her! Business with the captain! STOP HER!”
+
+Her machinery was already in motion; her iron lungs were puffing forth
+dense clouds of smoke and steam; and as the Colonel shouted—the crowd
+around, from sheer delight in shouting, echoing his “Stop her! stop
+her!”—the voices on land were confounded with the voices of the
+sailors, the rattling of chains, and the haulings of ropes.
+
+Among the passengers standing to wave farewells to their friends on the
+wharf were some who recognised Colonel Demarion, and drew the captain’s
+attention toward him; and as he continued vehemently to gesticulate,
+that officer, from his post of observation, demanded the nature of the
+business which should require the ship’s detention. Already the steamer
+was clear of the wharf. In another minute she might be beyond reach of
+the voice; therefore, failing by gestures and entreaties to convince the
+captain of the importance of his errand, Colonel Demarion, in
+desperation, cried at the top of his voice, “A murderer on board! For
+God’s sake, STOP!” He wished to have made this startling declaration in
+private, but not a moment was to be lost; and the excitement around him
+was intense.
+
+In the midst of the confusion another cry of “Man overboard!” might have
+been heard in a distant part of the ship, had not the attention of the
+crowd been fastened on the Colonel. Such a cry was, however, uttered,
+offering a still more urgent motive for stopping; and the steamer being
+again made fast, Colonel Demarion was received on board.
+
+“Let not a soul leave the vessel!” was his first and prompt suggestion;
+and the order being issued he drew the captain aside, and concisely
+explained his grave commission. The captain thereupon conducted him to
+his private room, and summoned the steward, before whom the details were
+given, and the description of the murderer was read over. The steward,
+after considering attentively, seemed inclined to associate the
+description with that of a passenger whose remarkably dejected
+appearance had already attracted his observation. In such a grave
+business it was, however, necessary to proceed with the utmost caution,
+and the “passenger-book” was produced. Upon reference to its pages, the
+three gentlemen were totally dismayed by the discovery that the name of
+this same dejected individual was that under which, according to the
+apparition, the murderer had engaged his passage.
+
+“I am here to charge that man with murder,” said Colonel Demarion. “He
+must be arrested.”
+
+Horrified as the captain was at this astounding declaration, yet, on
+account of the singular and unusual mode by which the Colonel had become
+possessed of the facts, and the impossibility of proving the charge, he
+hesitated in consenting to the arrest of a passenger. The steward
+proposed that they should repair to the saloons and deck, and while
+conversing with one or another of the passengers, mention—as it were
+casually—in the hearing of the suspected party his own proper name, and
+observe the effect produced on him. To this they agreed, and without
+loss of time joined the passengers, assigning some feasible cause for a
+short delay of the ship.
+
+The saloon was nearly empty, and while the steward went below, the other
+two repaired to the deck, where they observed a crowd gathered seaward,
+apparently watching something over the ship’s side.
+
+During the few minutes which had detained the captain in this
+necessarily hurried business, a boat had been lowered, and some sailors
+had put off in her to rescue the person who was supposed to have fallen
+overboard; and it was only now, on joining the crowd, that the captain
+learned the particulars of the accident. “Who was it?” “What was he
+like?” they exclaimed simultaneously. That a man had fallen overboard
+was all that could be ascertained. Some one had seen him run across the
+deck, looking wildly about him. A splash in the water had soon afterward
+attracted attention to the spot, and a body had since been seen
+struggling on the surface. The waves were rough after the storm, and
+thick with seaweed, and the sailors had as yet missed the body. The two
+gentlemen took their post among the watchers, and kept their eyes
+intently upon the waves, and upon the sailors battling against them. Ere
+long they see the body rise again to the surface. Floated on a powerful
+wave, they can for the few moments breathlessly scrutinize it. The color
+of the dress is observed. A face of agony upturned displays a peculiar
+contour of forehead; the hair, the beard; and now he struggles—an arm
+is thrown up, and a remarkable ring catches the Colonel’s eye. “Great
+heavens! The whole description tallies!” The sailors pull hard for the
+spot, the next stroke and they will rescue——
+
+A monster shark is quicker than they. The sea is tinged with blood. The
+man is no more!
+
+Shocked and silent, Colonel Demarion and the captain quitted the deck
+and resummoned the steward, who had, but without success, visited the
+berths and various parts of the ship for the individual in question.
+Every hole and corner was now, by the captain’s order carefully
+searched, but in vain; and as no further information concerning the
+missing party could be obtained, and the steward persisted in his
+statement regarding his general appearance, they proceeded to examine
+his effects. In these he was identified beyond a doubt. Papers and
+relics proved not only his guilt but his remorse; remorse which, as the
+apparition had said, permitted him no peace in his wanderings.
+
+Those startling words, “A murderer on board!” had doubtless struck fresh
+terror to his heart and, unable to face the accusation, he had thus
+terminated his wretched existence.
+
+Colonel Demarion revisited the little tavern, and on several occasions
+occupied the haunted chamber; but never again had he the honor of
+receiving a midnight commission from a ghostly visitor, and never again
+had the landlord to bemoan the flight of a non-paying customer.
+
+
+
+
+PICHON & SONS, OF THE CROIX ROUSSE.
+
+
+Giraudier, _pharmacien, première classe_, is the legend, recorded in
+huge, ill-proportioned letters, which directs the attention of the
+stranger to the most prosperous-looking shop in the grand _place_ of La
+Croix Rousse, a well-known suburb of the beautiful city of Lyons, which
+has its share of the shabby gentility and poor pretence common to the
+suburban commerce of great towns.
+
+Giraudier is not only _pharmacien_ but _propriétaire_, though not by
+inheritance; his possession of one of the prettiest and most prolific of
+the small vineyards in the beautiful suburb, and a charming inconvenient
+house, with low ceilings, liliputian bedrooms, and a profusion of
+_persiennes_, _jalousies_, and _contrevents_, comes by purchase. This
+enviable little _terre_ was sold by the Nation, when that terrible
+abstraction transacted the public business of France; and it was bought
+very cheaply by the strong-minded father of the Giraudier of the
+present, who was not disturbed by the evil reputation which the place
+had gained, at a time the peasants of France, having been bullied into a
+renunciation of religion, eagerly cherished superstition. The Giraudier
+of the present cherishes the particular superstition in question
+affectionately; it reminds him of an uncommonly good bargain made in his
+favor, which is always a pleasant association of ideas, especially to a
+Frenchman, still more especially to a Lyonnais; and it attracts
+strangers to his _pharmacie_, and leads to transactions in _Grand
+Chartreuse_ and _Créme de Roses_, ensuing naturally on the narration of
+the history of Pichon & Sons. Giraudier is not of aristocratic
+principles and sympathies; on the contrary, he has decided republican
+leanings, and considers _Le Progrès_ a masterpiece of journalistic
+literature; but, as he says simply and strongly, “it is not because a
+man is a marquis that one is not to keep faith with him; a bad action is
+not good because it harms a good-for-nothing of a noble; the more when
+that good-for-nothing is no longer a noble, but _pour rire_.” At the
+easy price of acquiescence in these sentiments, the stranger hears one
+of the most authentic, best-remembered, most popular of the many
+traditions of the bad old times “before General Bonaparte,” as
+Giraudier, who has no sympathy with any later designation of _le grand
+homme_, calls the Emperor, whose statue one can perceive—a speck in the
+distance—from the threshold of the _pharmacie_.
+
+The Marquis de Sénanges, in the days of the triumph of the great
+Revolution, was fortunate enough to be out of France, and wise enough to
+remain away from that country, though he persisted, long after the old
+_régime_ was as dead as the Ptolemies, in believing it merely suspended,
+and the Revolution a lamentable accident of vulgar complexion, but
+happily temporary duration. The Marquis de Sénanges, who affected the
+_style régence_, and was the politest of infidels and the most refined
+of voluptuaries, got on indifferently in inappreciative foreign parts;
+but the members of his family—his brother and sisters, two of whom were
+guillotined, while the third escaped to Savoy and found refuge there in
+a convent of her order—got on exceedingly ill in France. If the
+_ci-devant_ Marquis had had plenty of money to expend in such feeble
+imitations of his accustomed pleasures as were to be had out of Paris,
+he would not have been much affected by the fate of his relatives. But
+money became exceedingly scarce; the Marquis had actually beheld many of
+his peers reduced to the necessity of earning the despicable but
+indispensable article after many ludicrous fashions. And the duration of
+this absurd upsetting of law, order, privilege, and property began to
+assume unexpected and very unpleasant proportions.
+
+The Château de Sénanges, with its surrounding lands, was confiscated to
+the Nation, during the third year of the “emigration” of the Marquis de
+Sénanges; and the greater part of the estate was purchased by a thrifty,
+industrious, and rich _avocat_, named Prosper Alix, a widower with an
+only daughter. Prosper Alix enjoyed the esteem of the entire
+neighborhood. First, he was rich; secondly, he was of a taciturn
+disposition, and of a neutral tint in politics. He had done well under
+the old _régime_ and, he was doing well under the new—thank God, or the
+Supreme Being, or the First Cause, or the goddess Reason herself, for
+all;—he would have invoked Dagon, Moloch, or Kali, quite as readily as
+the Saints and the Madonna, who has gone so utterly out of fashion of
+late. Nobody was afraid to speak out before Prosper Alix; he was not a
+spy; and though a cold-hearted man, except in the instance of his only
+daughter, he never harmed anybody.
+
+Very likely it was because he was the last person in the vicinity whom
+anybody would have suspected of being applied to by the dispossessed
+family, that the son of the Marquis’ brother, a young man of promise, of
+courage, of intellect, and of morals of decidedly a higher calibre than
+those actually and traditionally imputed to the family, sought the aid
+of the new possessor of the Château de Sénanges, which had changed its
+old title for that of the Maison Alix. The father of M. Paul de Sénanges
+had perished in the September massacres; his mother had been guillotined
+at Lyons; and he—who had been saved by the interposition of a young
+comrade, whose father had, in the wonderful rotations of the wheel of
+Fate, acquired authority in the place where he had once esteemed the
+notice of the nephew of the Marquis a crowning honor for his son—had
+passed through the common vicissitudes of that dreadful time, which
+would take a volume for their recital in each individual instance.
+
+Paul de Sénanges was a handsome young fellow, frank, high-spirited, and
+of a brisk and happy temperament; which, however, modified by the many
+misfortunes he had undergone, was not permanently changed. He had plenty
+of capacity for enjoyment in him still; and as his position was very
+isolated, and his mind had become enlightened on social and political
+matters to an extent in which the men of his family would have
+discovered utter degradation and the women diabolical possession, he
+would not have been very unhappy if, under the new condition of things,
+he could have lived in his native country and gained an honest
+livelihood. But he could not do that, he was too thoroughly “suspect;”
+the antecedents of his family were too powerful against him: his only
+chance would have been to have gone into the popular camp as an extreme,
+violent partisan, to have out-Heroded the revolutionary Herods; and that
+Paul de Sénanges was too honest to do. So he was reduced to being
+thankful that he had escaped with his life, and to watching for an
+opportunity of leaving France and gaining some country where the reign
+of liberty, fraternity, and equality was not quite so oppressive.
+
+The long-looked-for opportunity at length offered itself, and Paul de
+Sénanges was instructed by his uncle the Marquis that he must contrive
+to reach Marseilles, whence he should be transported to Spain—in which
+country the illustrious emigrant was then residing—by a certain named
+date. His uncle’s communication arrived safely, and the plan proposed
+seemed a secure and eligible one. Only in two respects was it calculated
+to make Paul de Sénanges thoughtful. The first was, that his uncle
+should take any interest in the matter of his safety; the second, what
+could be the nature of a certain deposit which the Marquis’s letter
+directed him to procure, if possible, from the Château de Sénanges. The
+fact of this injunction explained, in some measure, the first of the two
+difficulties. It was plain that whatever were the contents of this
+packet which he was to seek for, according to the indications marked on
+a ground-plan drawn by his uncle and enclosed in the letter, the Marquis
+wanted them, and could not procure them except by the agency of his
+nephew. That the Marquis should venture to direct Paul de Sénanges to
+put himself in communication with Prosper Alix, would have been
+surprising to any one acquainted only with the external and generally
+understood features of the character of the new proprietor of the
+Château de Sénanges. But a few people knew Prosper Alix thoroughly, and
+the Marquis was one of the number; he was keen enough to know in theory
+that, in the case of a man with only one weakness, that is likely to be
+a very weak weakness indeed, and to apply the theory to the _avocat_.
+The beautiful, pious, and aristocratic mother of Paul de Sénanges—a
+lady to whose superiority the Marquis had rendered the distinguished
+testimony of his dislike, not hesitating to avow that she was “much too
+good for _his_ taste”—had been very fond of, and very kind to, the
+motherless daughter of Prosper Alix, and he held her memory in reverence
+which he accorded to nothing beside, human or divine, and taught his
+daughter the matchless worth of the friend she had lost. The Marquis
+knew this, and though he had little sympathy with the sentiment, he
+believed he might use it in the present instance to his own profit, with
+safety. The event proved that he was right. Private negotiations, with
+the manner of whose transaction we are not concerned, passed between the
+_avocat_ and the _ci-devant_ Marquis; and the young man, then leading a
+life in which skulking had a large share, in the vicinity of Dijon, was
+instructed to present himself at the Maison Alix, under the designation
+of Henri Glaire, and in the character of an artist in house-decoration.
+The circumstances of his life in childhood and boyhood had led to his
+being almost safe from recognition as a man at Lyons; and, indeed, all
+the people on the _ci-devant_ visiting-list of the château had been
+pretty nearly killed off, in the noble and patriotic ardor of the
+revolutionary times.
+
+The ancient Château de Sénanges was proudly placed near the summit of
+the “Holy Hill,” and had suffered terrible depredations when the church
+at Fourvières was sacked, and the shrine desecrated with that ingenious
+impiety which is characteristic of the French; but it still retained
+somewhat of its former heavy grandeur. The château was much too large
+for the needs, tastes, or ambition of its present owner, who was too
+wise, if even he had been of an ostentatious disposition, not to have
+sedulously resisted its promptings. The jealousy of the nation of
+brothers was easily excited, and departure from simplicity and frugality
+was apt to be commented upon by domiciliary visits, and the eager
+imposition of fanciful fines. That portion of the vast building occupied
+by Prosper Alix and the _citoyenne_ Berthe, his daughter, presented an
+appearance of well-to-do comfort and modest ease, which contrasted with
+the grandiose proportions and the elaborate decorations of the wide
+corridors, huge flat staircases, and lofty panelled apartments. The
+_avocat_ and his daughter lived quietly in the old place, hoping, after
+a general fashion, for better times, but not finding the present very
+bad; the father becoming day by day more pleasant with his bargain, the
+daughter growing fonder of the great house, and the noble _bocages_, of
+the scrappy little vineyards, struggling for existence on the sunny
+hill-side, and the place where the famous shrine had been. They had
+done it much damage; they had parted its riches among them; the once
+ever-open doors were shut, and the worn flags were untrodden; but
+nothing could degrade it, nothing could destroy what had been, in the
+mind of Berthe Alix, who was as devout as her father was unconcernedly
+unbelieving. Berthe was wonderfully well educated for a Frenchwoman of
+that period, and surprisingly handsome for a Frenchwoman of any. Not too
+tall to offend the taste of her compatriots, and not too short to be
+dignified and graceful, she had a symmetrical figure, and a small,
+well-poised head, whose profuse, shining, silken dark-brown hair she
+wore as nature intended, in a shower of curls, never touched by the hand
+of the coiffeur,—curls which clustered over her brow, and fell far down
+on her shapely neck. Her features were fine; the eyes very dark, and the
+mouth very red; the complexion clear and rather pale, and the style of
+the face and its expression lofty. When Berthe Alix was a child, people
+were accustomed to say she was pretty and refined enough to belong to
+the aristocracy; nobody would have dared to say so now, prettiness and
+refinement, together with all the other virtues admitted to a place on
+the patriotic roll, having become national property.
+
+Berthe loved her father dearly. She was deeply impressed with the sense
+of her supreme importance to him, and fully comprehended that he would
+be influenced by and through her when all other persuasion or argument
+would be unavailing. When Prosper Alix wished and intended to do
+anything rather mean or selfish, he did it without letting Berthe know;
+and when he wished to leave undone something which he knew his daughter
+would decide ought to be done, he carefully concealed from her the
+existence of the dilemma. Nevertheless, this system did not prevent the
+father and daughter being very good and even confidential friends.
+Prosper Alix loved his daughter immeasurably, and respected her more
+than he respected any one in the world. With regard to her persevering
+religiousness, when such things were not only out of fashion and date,
+but illegal as well, he was very tolerant. Of course it was weak, and an
+absurdity; but every woman, even his beautiful, incomparable Berthe, was
+weak and absurd on some point or other; and, after all, he had come to
+the conclusion that the safest weakness with which a woman can be
+afflicted is that romantic and ridiculous _faiblesse_ called piety. So
+these two lived a happy life together, Berthe’s share of it being very
+secluded, and were wonderfully little troubled by the turbulence with
+which society was making its tumultuous way to the virtuous serenity of
+republican perfection.
+
+The communication announcing the project of the _ci-devant_ Marquis for
+the secure exportation of his nephew, and containing the skilful appeal
+before mentioned, grievously disturbed the tranquillity of Prosper, and
+was precisely one of those incidents which he would especially have
+liked to conceal from his daughter. But he could not do so; the appeal
+was too cleverly made; and utter indifference to it, utter neglect of
+the letter, which naturally suggested itself as the easiest means of
+getting rid of a difficulty, would have involved an act of direct and
+uncompromising dishonesty to which Prosper, though of sufficiently
+elastic conscience within the limit of professional gains, could not
+contemplate. The Château de Sénanges was indeed his own lawful property;
+his without prejudice to the former owners, dispossessed by no act of
+his. But the _ci-devant_ Marquis—confiding in him to an extent which
+was quite astonishing, except on the _pis-aller_ theory, which is so
+unflattering as to be seldom accepted—announced to him the existence of
+a certain packet, hidden in the château, acknowledging its value, and
+urging the need of its safe transmission. This was not his property. He
+heartily wished he had never learned its existence, but wishing that was
+clearly of no use; then he wished the nephew of the _ci-devant_ might
+come soon, and take himself and the hidden wealth away with all possible
+speed. This latter was a more realizable desire, and Prosper settled his
+mind with it, communicated the interesting but decidedly dangerous
+secret to Berthe, received her warm sanction, and transmitted to the
+Marquis, by the appointed means, an assurance that his wishes should be
+punctually carried out. The absence of an interdiction of his visit
+before a certain date was to be the signal to M. Paul de Sénanges that
+he was to proceed to act upon his uncle’s instructions; he waited the
+proper time, the reassuring silence was maintained unbroken, and he
+ultimately set forth on his journey, and accomplished it in safety.
+
+Preparations had been made at the Maison Alix for the reception of M.
+Glaire, and his supposed occupation had been announced. The apartments
+were decorated in a heavy, gloomy style, and those of the _citoyenne_ in
+particular (they had been occupied by a lady who had once been
+designated as _feue Madame la Marquise_, but who was referred to now as
+_la mère du ci-devant_) were much in need of renovation. The alcove, for
+instance, was all that was least gay and most far from simple. The
+_citoyenne_ would have all that changed. On the morning of the day of
+the expected arrival, Berthe said to her father:
+
+“It would seem as if the Marquis did not know the exact spot in which
+the packet is deposited. M. Paul’s assumed character implies the
+necessity for a search.”
+
+M. Henri Glaire arrived at the Maison Alix, was fraternally received,
+and made acquainted with the sphere of his operations. The young man had
+a good deal of both ability and taste in the line he had assumed, and
+the part was not difficult to play. Some days were judiciously allowed
+to pass before the real object of the masquerade was pursued, and during
+that time cordial relations established themselves between the _avocat_
+and his guest. The young man was handsome, elegant, engaging, with all
+the external advantages, and devoid of the vices, errors, and hopeless
+infatuated unscrupulousness, of his class; he had naturally quick
+intelligence, and some real knowledge and comprehension of life had been
+knocked into him by the hard-hitting blows of Fate. His face was like
+his mother’s, Prosper Alix thought, and his mind and tastes were of the
+very pattern which, in theory, Berthe approved. Berthe, a very
+unconventional French girl—who thought the new era of purity, love,
+virtue, and disinterestedness ought to do away with marriage by barter
+as one of its most notable reforms, and had been disenchanted by
+discovering that the abolition of marriage altogether suited the taste
+of the incorruptible Republic better—might like, might even love, this
+young man. She saw so few men, and had no fancy for patriots; she would
+certainly be obstinate about it if she did chance to love him. This
+would be a nice state of affairs. This would be a pleasant consequence
+of the confiding request of the _ci-devant_. Prosper wished with all his
+heart for the arrival of the concerted signal, which should tell Henri
+Glaire that he might fulfil the purpose of his sojourn at the Maison
+Alix, and set forth for Marseilles.
+
+But the signal did not come, and the days—long, beautiful, sunny,
+soothing summer-days—went on. The painting of the panels of the
+_citoyenne’s_ apartment, which she vacated for that purpose, progressed
+slowly; and M. Paul de Sénanges, guided by the ground-plan, and aided by
+Berthe, had discovered the spot in which the jewels of price, almost the
+last remnants of the princely wealth of the Sénanges, had been hidden by
+the _femme-de-chambre_ who had perished with her mistress, having
+confided a general statement of the fact to a priest, for transmission
+to the Marquis. This spot had been ingeniously chosen. The
+sleeping-apartment of the late Marquis was extensive, lofty, and
+provided with an alcove of sufficiently large dimensions to have formed
+in itself a handsome room. This space, containing a splendid but gloomy
+bed, on an estrade, and hung with rich faded brocade, was divided from
+the general extent of the apartment by a low railing of black oak,
+elaborately carved, opening in the centre, and with a flat wide bar
+along the top, covered with crimson velvet. The curtains were contrived
+to hang from the ceiling, and, when let down inside the screen of
+railing, they matched the draperies which closed before the great stone
+balcony at the opposite end of the room. Since the _avocat’s_ daughter
+had occupied this palatial chamber, the curtains of the alcove had never
+been drawn, and she had substituted for them a high folding screen of
+black-and-gold Japanese pattern, also a relic of the grand old times,
+which stood about six feet on the outside of the rails that shut in her
+bed. The floor was of shining oak, testifying to the conscientious and
+successful labors of successive generations of _frotteurs_; and on the
+spot where the railing of the alcove opened by a pretty quaint device
+sundering the intertwined arms of a pair of very chubby cherubs, a
+square space in the floor was also richly carved.
+
+The seekers soon reached the end of their search. A little effort
+removed the square of carved oak, and underneath they found a casket,
+evidently of old workmanship, richly wrought in silver, much tarnished
+but quite intact. It was agreed that this precious deposit should be
+replaced, and the carved square laid down over it, until the signal for
+his departure should reach Paul. The little baggage which under any
+circumstances he could have ventured to allow himself in the dangerous
+journey he was to undertake, must be reduced, so as to admit of his
+carrying the casket without exciting suspicion.
+
+The finding of the hidden treasure was not the first joint discovery
+made by the daughter of the _avocat_ and the son of the _ci-devant_. The
+cogitations of Prosper Alix were very wise, very reasonable; but they
+were a little tardy. Before he had admitted the possibility of mischief,
+the mischief was done. Each had found out that the love of the other was
+indispensable to the happiness of life; and they had exchanged
+confidences, assurances, protestations, and promises, as freely, as
+fervently, and as hopefully, as if no such thing as a Republic, one and
+indivisible, with a keen scent and an unappeasable thirst for the blood
+of aristocrats, existed. They forgot all about “Liberty, Fraternity, and
+Equality”—these egotistical, narrow-minded young people;—they also
+forgot the characteristic alternative to those unparalleled
+blessings—“Death.” But Prosper Alix did not forget any of these things;
+and his consternation, his provision of suffering for his beloved
+daughter, were terrible, when she told him, with a simple noble
+frankness which the _grandes dames_ of the dead-and-gone time of great
+ladies had rarely had a chance of exhibiting, that she loved M. Paul de
+Sénanges, and intended to marry him when the better times should come.
+Perhaps she meant when that alternative of _death_ should be struck off
+the sacred formula;—of course she meant to marry him with the sanction
+of her father, which she made no doubt she should receive.
+
+Prosper Alix was in pitiable perplexity. He could not bear to terrify
+his daughter by a full explanation of the danger she was incurring; he
+could not bear to delude her with false hope. If this young man could be
+got away at once safely, there was not much likelihood that he would
+ever be able to return to France. Would Berthe pine for him, or would
+she forget him, and make a rational, sensible, rich, republican
+marriage, which would not imperil either her reputation for pure
+patriotism or her father’s? The latter would be the very best thing that
+could possibly happen, and therefore it was decidedly unwise to
+calculate upon it; but, after all, it was possible; and Prosper had not
+the courage, in such a strait, to resist the hopeful promptings of a
+possibility. How ardently he regretted that he had complied with the
+prayer of the _ci-devant_! When would the signal for Mr. Paul’s
+departure come?
+
+Prosper Alix had made many sacrifices, had exercised much self-control
+for his daughter’s sake; but he had never sustained a more severe trial
+than this, never suffered more than he did now, under the strong
+necessity for hiding from her his absolute conviction of the
+impossibility of a happy result for this attachment, in that future to
+which the lovers looked so fearlessly. He could not even make his
+anxiety and apprehension known to Paul de Sénanges; for he did not
+believe the young man had sufficient strength of will to conceal
+anything so important from the keen and determined observation of
+Berthe.
+
+The expected signal was not given, and the lovers were incautious. The
+seclusion of the Maison Alix had all the danger, as well as all the
+delight, of solitude, and Paul dropped his disguise too much and too
+often. The servants, few in number, were of the truest patriotic
+principles, and to some of them the denunciation of the _citoyen_, whom
+they condescended to serve because the sacred Revolution had not yet
+made them as rich as he, would have been a delightful duty, a
+sweet-smelling sacrifice to be laid on the altar of the country. They
+heard certain names and places mentioned; they perceived many things
+which led them to believe that Henri Glaire was not an industrial artist
+and pure patriot, worthy of respect, but a wretched _ci-devant_,
+resorting to the dignity of labor to make up for the righteous
+destruction of every other kind of dignity. One day a gardener, of less
+stoical virtue than his fellows, gave Prosper Alix a warning that the
+presence of a _ci-devant_ upon his premises was suspected, and that he
+might be certain a domiciliary visit, attended with dangerous results to
+himself, would soon take place. Of course the _avocat_ did not commit
+himself by any avowal to this lukewarm patriot; but he casually
+mentioned that Henri Glaire was about to take his leave. What was to be
+done? He must not leave the neighborhood without receiving the
+instructions he was awaiting; but he must leave the house, and be
+supposed to have gone quite away. Without any delay or hesitation,
+Prosper explained the facts to Berthe and her lover, and insisted on the
+necessity for an instant parting. Then the courage and the readiness of
+the girl told. There was no crying, and very little trembling; she was
+strong and helpful.
+
+“He must go to Pichon’s, father,” she said, “and remain there until the
+signal is given.—Pichon is a master-mason, Paul,” she continued,
+turning to her lover, “and his wife was my nurse. They are avaricious
+people; but they are fond of me in their way, and they will shelter you
+faithfully enough, when they know that my father will pay them
+handsomely. You must go at once, unseen by the servants; they are at
+supper. Fetch your valise, and bring it to my room. We will put the
+casket in it, and such of your things as you must take out to make room
+for it, we can hide under the plank. My father will go with you to
+Pichon’s, and we will communicate with you there as soon as it is safe.”
+
+Paul followed her to the large gloomy room where the treasure lay, and
+they took the casket from its hiding-place. It was heavy, though not
+large, and an awkward thing to pack away among linen in a small valise.
+They managed it, however, and, the brief preparation completed, the
+moment of parting arrived. Firmly and eloquently, though in haste,
+Berthe assured Paul of her changeless love and faith, and promised him
+to wait for him for any length of time in France, if better days should
+be slow of coming, or to join him in some foreign land, if they were
+never to come. Her father was present, full of compassion and misgiving.
+At length he said:
+
+“Come, Paul, you must leave her; every moment is of importance.”
+
+The young man and his betrothed were standing on the spot whence they
+had taken the casket; the carved rail with the heavy curtains might have
+been the outer sanctuary of an altar, and they bride and bridegroom
+before it, with earnest, loving faces, and clasped hands.
+
+“Farewell, Paul,” said Berthe; “promise me once more, in this the moment
+of our parting, that you will come to me again, if you are alive, when
+the danger is past.”
+
+“Whether I am living or dead, Berthe,” said Paul de Sénanges, strongly
+moved by some sudden inexplicable instinct, “I will come to you again.”
+
+In a few more minutes, Prosper Alix and his guest, who carried, not
+without difficulty, the small but heavy leather valise, had disappeared
+in the distance, and Berthe was on her knees before the _prie-dieu_ of
+the _ci-devant_ Marquise, her face turned toward the “Holy Hill” of
+Fourvières.
+
+Pichon, _mâitre_, and his sons, _garçons-maçons_, were well-to-do
+people, rather morose, exceedingly avaricious, and of taciturn
+dispositions; but they were not ill spoken of by their neighbors. They
+had amassed a good deal of money in their time, and were just then
+engaged on a very lucrative job. This was the construction of several of
+the steep descents, by means of stairs, straight and winding, cut in the
+face of the _côteaux_, by which pedestrians are enabled to descend into
+the town. Pichon _père_ was a _propriétaire_ as well; his property was
+that which is now in the possession of Giraudier, _pharmacien, première
+classe_, and which was destined to attain a sinister celebrity during
+his proprietorship. One of the straightest and steepest of the stairways
+had been cut close to the _terre_ which the mason owned, and a massive
+wall, destined to bound the high-road at the foot of the declivity, was
+in course of construction.
+
+When Prosper Alix and Paul de Sénanges reached the abode of Pichon, the
+master-mason, with his sons and workmen, had just completed their day’s
+work, and were preparing to eat the supper served by the wife and
+mother, a tall, gaunt woman, who looked as if a more liberal scale of
+housekeeping would have done her good, but on whose features the stamp
+of that devouring and degrading avarice which is the commonest vice of
+the French peasantry, was set as plainly as on the hard faces of her
+husband and her sons. The _avocat_ explained his business and introduced
+his companion briefly, and awaited the reply of Pichon _père_ without
+any appearance of inquietude.
+
+“You don’t run any risk,” he said; “at least, you don’t run any risk
+which I cannot make it worth your while to incur. It is not the first
+time you have received a temporary guest on my recommendation. You know
+nothing about the citizen Glaire, except that he is recommended to you
+by me. I am responsible; you can, on occasion, make me so. The citizen
+may remain with you a short time; can hardly remain long. Say, citizen,
+is it agreed? I have no time to spare.”
+
+It was agreed, and Prosper Alix departed, leaving M. Paul de Sénanges,
+convinced that the right, indeed the only, thing had been done, and yet
+much troubled and depressed.
+
+Pichon _père_ was a short, squat, powerfully built man, verging on
+sixty, whose thick, dark grizzled hair, sturdy limbs, and hard hands, on
+which the muscles showed like cords, spoke of endurance and strength; he
+was, indeed, noted in the neighborhood for those qualities. His sons
+resembled him slightly, and each other closely, as was natural, for they
+were twins. They were heavy, lumpish fellows, and they made but an
+ungracious return to the attempted civilities of the stranger, to whom
+the offer of their mother to show him his room was a decided relief. As
+he rose to follow the woman, Paul de Sénanges lifted his small valise
+with difficulty from the floor, on which he had placed it on entering
+the house, and carried it out of the room in both his arms. The
+brothers followed these movements with curiosity, and, when the door
+closed behind their mother and the stranger, their eyes met.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Twenty-four hours had passed away, and nothing new had occurred at the
+Maison Alix. The servants had not expressed any curiosity respecting the
+departure of the citizen Glaire, no domiciliary visit had taken place,
+and Berthe and her father were discussing the propriety of Prosper’s
+venturing, on the pretext of an excursion in another direction, a visit
+to the isolated and quiet dwelling of the master-mason. No signal had
+yet arrived. It was agreed that after the lapse of another day, if their
+tranquillity remained undisturbed, Prosper Alix should visit Paul de
+Sénanges. Berthe, who was silent and preoccupied, retired to her own
+room early, and her father, who was uneasy and apprehensive, desperately
+anxious for the promised communication from the Marquis, was relieved by
+her absence.
+
+The moon was high in the dark sky, and her beams were flung across the
+polished oak floor of Berthe’s bedroom, through the great window with
+the stone balcony, when the girl, who had gone to sleep with her lover’s
+name upon her lips in prayer, awoke with a sudden start, and sat up in
+her bed. An unbearable dread was upon her; and yet she was unable to
+utter a cry, she was unable to make another movement. Had she heard a
+voice? No, no one had spoken, nor did she fancy that she heard any
+sound. But within her, somewhere inside her heaving bosom, something
+said, “Berthe!”
+
+And she listened, and knew what it was. And it spoke, and said:
+
+“I promised you that, living or dead, I would come to you again. And I
+have come to you; but not living.”
+
+She was quite awake. Even in the agony of her fear she looked around,
+and tried to move her hands, to feel her dress and the bedclothes, and
+to fix her eyes on some familiar object, that she might satisfy herself,
+before this racing and beating, this whirling and yet icy chilliness of
+her blood should kill her outright, that she was really awake.
+
+“I have come to you; but not living.”
+
+What an awful thing that voice speaking within her was! She tried to
+raise her head and to look toward the place where the moonbeams marked
+bright lines upon the polished floor, which lost themselves at the foot
+of the Japanese screen. She forced herself to this effort, and lifted
+her eyes, wild and haggard with fear, and there, the moonbeams at his
+feet, the tall black screen behind him, she saw Paul de Sénanges. She
+saw him; she looked at him quite steadily; she rose, slowly, with a
+mechanical movement, and stood upright beside her bed, clasping her
+forehead with her hands, and gazing at him. He stood motionless, in the
+dress he had worn when he took leave of her, the light-colored
+riding-coat of the period, with a short cape, and a large white cravat
+tucked into the double breast. The white muslin was flecked, and the
+front of the riding-coat was deeply stained, with blood. He looked at
+her, and she took a step forward—another—then, with a desperate
+effort, she dashed open the railing and flung herself on her knees
+before him, with her arms stretched out as if to clasp him. But he was
+no longer there; the moonbeams fell clear and cold upon the polished
+floor, and lost themselves where Berthe lay, at the foot of the screen,
+her head upon the ground, and every sign of life gone from her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+“Where is the citizen Glaire?” asked Prosper Alix of the _citoyenne_
+Pichon, entering the house of the master-mason abruptly, and with a
+stern and threatening countenance. “I have a message for him; I must see
+him.”
+
+“I know nothing about him,” replied the _citoyenne_, without turning in
+his direction, or relaxing her culinary labors. “He went away from here
+the next morning, and I did not trouble myself to ask where; that is his
+affair.”
+
+“He went away? Without letting me know! Be careful, _citoyenne_; this is
+a serious matter.”
+
+“So they tell me,” said the woman with a grin, which was not altogether
+free from pain and fear; “for you! A serious thing to have a _suspect_
+in your house, and palm him off on honest people. However, he went away
+peaceably enough when he knew we had found him out, and that we had no
+desire to go to prison, or worse, on his account, or yours.”
+
+She was strangely insolent, this woman, and the listener felt his
+helplessness; he had brought the young man there with such secrecy, he
+had so carefully provided for the success of concealment.
+
+“Who carried his valise?” Prosper Alix asked her suddenly.
+
+“How should I know?” she replied; but her hands lost their steadiness,
+and she upset a stew-pan; “he carried it here, didn’t he? and I suppose
+he carried it away again.”
+
+Prosper Alix looked at her steadily—she shunned his gaze, but she
+showed no other sign of confusion; then horror and disgust of the woman
+came over him.
+
+“I must see Pichon,” he said; “where is he?”
+
+“Where should he be but at the wall? he and the boys are working there,
+as always. The citizen can see them; but he will remember not to detain
+them; in a little quarter of an hour the soup will be ready.”
+
+The citizen did see the master-mason and his sons, and after an
+interview of some duration he left the place in a state of violent
+agitation and complete discomfiture. The master-mason had addressed to
+him these words at parting:
+
+“I assert that the man went away at his own free will; but if you do not
+keep very quiet, I shall deny that he came here at all—you cannot prove
+he did—and I will denounce you for harboring a _suspect_ and
+_ci-devant_ under a false name. I know a De Sénanges when I see him as
+well as you, citizen Alix; and, wishing M. Paul a good journey, I hope
+you will consider about this matter, for truly, my friend, I think you
+will sneeze in the sack before I shall.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+“We must bear it, Berthe, my child,” said Prosper Alix to his daughter
+many weeks later, when the fever had left her, and she was able to talk
+with her father of the mysterious and frightful events which had
+occurred. “We are utterly helpless. There is no proof, only the word of
+these wretches against mine, and certain destruction to me if I speak.
+We will go to Spain, and tell the Marquis all the truth, and never
+return, if you would rather not. But, for the rest, we must bear it.”
+
+“Yes, my father,” said Berthe submissively, “I know we must; but God
+need not, and I don’t believe He will.”
+
+The father and the daughter left France unmolested, and Berthe “bore it”
+as well as she could. When better times come they returned, Prosper Alix
+an old man, and Berthe a stern, silent, handsome woman, with whom no one
+associated any notions of love or marriage. But long before their return
+the traditions of the Croix Rousse were enriched by circumstances which
+led to that before-mentioned capital bargain made by the father of the
+Giraudier of the present. These circumstances were the violent death of
+Pichon and his two sons, who were killed by the fall of a portion of the
+great boundary-wall on the very day of its completion, and the
+discovery, close to its foundation, at the extremity of Pichon’s
+_terre_, of the corpse of a young man attired in a light-colored
+riding-coat, who had been stabbed through the heart.
+
+Berthe Alix lived alone in the Château de Sénanges, under its restored
+name, until she was a very old woman. She lived long enough to see the
+golden figure on the summit of the “Holy Hill,” long enough to forget
+the bad old times, but not long enough to forget or cease to mourn the
+lover who had kept his promise, and come back to her; the lover who
+rested in the earth which once covered the bones of the martyrs, and who
+kept a place for her by his side. She has filled that place for many
+years. You may see it, when you look down from the second gallery of the
+bell-tower at Fourvières, following the bend of the outstretched golden
+arm of Notre Dame.
+
+The château was pulled down some years ago, and there is no trace of its
+former existence among the vines.
+
+Good times, and bad times, and again good times have come for the Croix
+Rousse, for Lyons, and for France, since then; but the remembrance of
+the treachery of Pichon & Sons, and of the retribution which at once
+exposed and punished their crime, outlives all changes. And once, every
+year, on a certain summer night, three ghostly figures are seen, by any
+who have courage and patience to watch for them, gliding along by the
+foot of the boundary-wall, two of them carrying a dangling corpse, and
+the other, implements for mason’s work and a small leather valise.
+Giraudier, _pharmacien_, has never seen these ghostly figures, but he
+describes them with much minuteness; and only the _esprits forts_ of the
+Croix Rousse deny that the ghosts of Pichon & Sons are not yet laid.
+
+
+
+
+THE PHANTOM FOURTH.
+
+
+They were three.
+
+It was in the cheap night-service train from Paris to Calais that I
+first met them.
+
+Railways, as a rule, are among the many things which they do _not_ order
+better in France, and the French Northern line is one of the worst
+managed in the world, barring none, not even the Italian _vie ferrate_.
+I make it a rule, therefore, to punish the directors of, and the
+shareholders in, that undertaking to the utmost within my limited
+ability, by spending as little money on their line as I can help.
+
+It was, then, in a third-class compartment of the train that I met the
+three.
+
+Three as hearty, jolly-looking Saxon faces, with stalwart frames to
+match, as one would be likely to meet in an hour’s walk from the
+Regent’s Park to the Mansion House.
+
+One of the three was dark, the other two were fair. The dark one was the
+senior of the party. He wore an incipient full beard, evidently in
+process of training, with a considerable amount of grizzle in it.
+
+The face of one of his companions was graced with a magnificent flowing
+beard. The third of the party, a fair-haired youth of some twenty-three
+or four summers, showed a scrupulously smooth-shaven face.
+
+They looked all three much flushed and slightly excited, and, I must
+say, they turned out the most boisterous set of fellows I ever met.
+
+They were clearly gentlemen, however, and men of education, with
+considerable linguistic acquirements; for they chatted and sang, and
+declaimed and “did orations” all the way from Paris to Calais, in a
+slightly bewildering variety of tongues.
+
+Their jollity had, perhaps, just a little over-tinge of the slap-bang
+jolly-dog style in it; but there was so much heartiness and good-nature
+in all they said and in all they did, that it was quite impossible for
+any of the other occupants of the carriage to vote them a nuisance; and
+even the sourest of the officials, whom they chaffed most unmercifully
+and unremittingly at every station on the line, took their punishment
+with a shrug and a grin. The only person, indeed, who rose against them
+in indignant protestation was the head-waiter at the Calais station
+refreshment-room, to whom they would persist in propounding puzzling
+problems, such as, for instance, “If you charge two shillings for
+one-and-a-half-ounce slice of breast of veal, how many fools will it
+take to buy the joint off you?”—and what _he_ got by the attempt to
+stop their chaff was a caution to any other sinner who might have felt
+similarly inclined.
+
+As for me, I could only give half my sense of hearing to their
+utterings, the other half being put under strict sequester at the time
+by my friend O’Kweene, the great Irish philosopher, who was delivering
+to me, for my own special behoof and benefit, a brilliant, albeit
+somewhat abstruse, dissertation on the “visible and palpable outward
+manifestations of the inner consciousness of the soul in a trance;”
+which occupied all the time from Paris to Calais, full eight hours, and
+which, to judge from my feelings at the time, would certainly afford
+matter for three heavy volumes of reading in bed, in cases of inveterate
+sleeplessness—a hint to enterprising publishers.
+
+My friend O’Kweene, who intended to stay a few days at Calais, took
+leave of me on the pier, and I went on board the steamer that was to
+carry us and the mail over to Dover.
+
+Here I found our trio of the railway-car, snugly ensconced under an
+extemporized awning, artfully constructed with railway-rugs and
+greatcoats, supported partly against the luggage, and partly upon
+several oars, purloined from the boats, and turned into tent-poles for
+the nonce—which made the skipper swear wofully when he found it out
+some time after.
+
+The three were even more cheery and boisterous on board than they had
+been on shore. From what I could make out in the dark, they were
+discussing the contents of divers bottles of liquor; I counted four dead
+men dropped quietly overboard by them in the course of the hour and a
+half we had to wait for the arrival of the mail-train, which was late,
+as usual on this line.
+
+At last we were off, about half-past two o’clock in the morning. It was
+a beautiful, clear, moonlit night, so clear, indeed, that we could see
+the Dover lights almost from Calais harbor. But we had considerably more
+than a capful of wind, and there was a turgent ground-swell on, which
+made our boat—double-engined, and as trim and tidy a craft as ever sped
+across the span from shore to shore—behave rather lively, with sportive
+indulgence in a brisk game of pitch-and-toss that proved anything but
+comfortable to most of the passengers.
+
+When we were steaming out of Calais harbor, our three friends, emerging
+from beneath their tent, struck up in chorus Campbell’s noble song, “Ye
+Mariners of England,” finishing up with a stave from “Rule, Britannia!”
+
+But, alas for them! however loudly their throats were shouting forth the
+sway proverbially held by Albion and her sons over the waves, on this
+occasion at least the said waves seemed determined upon ruling these
+particular three Britons with a rod of antimony; for barely a few
+seconds after the last vibrating echoes of the “Britons never, never,
+never shall be slaves!” had died away upon the wind, I beheld the three
+leaning lovingly together, in fast friendship linked, over the rail,
+conversing in deep ventriguttural accents with the denizens of Neptune’s
+watery realm.
+
+We had one of the quickest passages on record—ninety-three minutes’
+steaming carried us across from shore to shore. When we were just on the
+point of landing, I heard the dark senior of the party mutter to his
+companions, in a hollow whisper and mysterious manner, “He is gone
+again;” to which the others, the bearded and the smooth-shaven,
+responded in the same way, with deep sighs of evident relief, “Ay,
+marry! so he is at last.”
+
+This mysterious communication roused my curiosity. Who was the party
+that was said to be gone at last? Where had he come from? where had he
+been hiding, that _I_ had not seen him? and where was he gone to now? I
+determined to know; if but the opportunity would offer, to screw, by
+cunning questioning, the secret out of either of the three.
+
+Fate favored my design.
+
+For some inscrutable reason, known only to the company’s officials, we
+cheap-trainers were not permitted to proceed on our journey to London
+along with the mail, but were left to kick our heels for some two hours
+at the Dover station.
+
+I went into the refreshment-room to look for my party; I had a notion I
+should find them where the Briton’s unswerving and unerring instinct
+would be most likely to lead them. It turned out that I was right in my
+conjecture. There they were, seated round a table with huge bowls of
+steaming tea and monster piles of buttered toast and muffins spread on
+the festive board before them. Ay, indeed, there they were; but _quantum
+mutati ab illis_! how strangely changed from the noisy, rollicking set I
+had known them in the railway-car and on board the steamer, ere yet the
+demon of sea-sickness had claimed them for his own! How ghastly sober
+they looked now, to be sure! And how sternly and silently bent upon
+devoting themselves to the swilling of the Chinese shrub infusion and to
+the gorging of indigestible muffins. It was quite clear to me that it
+would have been worse than folly to venture upon addressing them while
+thus absorbed in absorbing. So I resolved to await a more favorable
+opening, and went out meanwhile to walk on the platform.
+
+A short time I was left in solitary possession of the promenade; then I
+became suddenly aware that another traveller was treading the same
+ground with me—it was the dark elderly leader of the three. I glanced
+at him as he passed me under one of the lamps. He looked pale and sad.
+The furrowed lines on his brow bespoke deliberation deep and pondering
+profound. All the infinite mirth of the preceding few hours had departed
+from him, leaving him but a wretched wreck of his former reckless self.
+
+“A fine night, sir,” I said to break the ice—“for the season of the
+year,” I added by way of a saving clause, to tone down the absoluteness
+of the assertion.
+
+He looked at me abstractedly, merely reëchoing my own words, “A fine
+night, sir, for the season of the year.”
+
+“Why look ye so sad now, who were erst so jolly?” I bluntly asked,
+determined to force him into conversation.
+
+“Ay, indeed, why so sad now?” he replied, looking me full in the face;
+then, suddenly clasping my arm with a spasmodic grip, he continued
+hurriedly, “I think I had best confide our secret to you. You seem a man
+of thought. I witnessed and admired the patient attention with which you
+listened to your friend’s abstruse talk in the railway-car. Maybe you
+can find the solution of a mystery which defies the ponderings of our
+poor brains—mine and my two friends.”
+
+Then he proceeded to pour into my attentive ear this gruesome tale of
+mystery:
+
+“We three—that is, myself, yon tall bearded Briton,” pointing to the
+glass door of the refreshment-room, “whose name is Jack Hobson, and
+young Emmanuel Topp, junior partner in a great beer firm, whom you may
+behold now at his fifth bowl of tea and his seventh muffin—are
+teetotallers——”
+
+“Teetotallers!” I could not help exclaiming. “Lord bless me! that is
+certainly about the last thing I should have taken you for, either of
+you.”
+
+“Well,” he replied with some slight confusion, “at least, we _were
+total_ teetotallers, though I admit we can now only claim the character
+of partial abstainers. The fact is, when, about a fortnight ago, we were
+discussing the plan of our projected visit to the great Paris
+Exhibition, Topp suggested that while in France we should do as the
+French do, to which Jack Hobson assented, remarking that the French knew
+nothing about tea, and that a Frenchman’s tea would be sure to prove an
+Englishman’s poison. So we resolved to suspend the pledge during our
+visit to France.
+
+“It was on the second day after our arrival in Paris. We were dining in
+a private cabinet at Désiré Beaurain’s, one of the leading restaurants
+on the fashionable side of the Montmartre—Italiens Boulevard. Our
+dinner was what an Irishman might call a most ‘illigant’ affair. We had
+sipped several bottles of Sauterne, and tasted a few of Tavel, and we
+were just topping the entertainment with a solitary bottle of champagne,
+when I became suddenly aware of the presence of another party in the
+room—a _fourth man_—who sat him down at our table, and helped himself
+liberally to our liquor. From what I ascertained afterward from Jack
+Hobson and Emmanuel Topp, the intruder’s presence became revealed to
+them also, either about the same time or a little later. What was he
+like? I cannot tell. His figure and face remained indistinct
+throughout—phantom-like. His features seemed endowed with a stronge
+weird mobility that would defyingly elude the fixing grasp of our eager
+eyes. Now, and to my two companions, he would look marvellously like me;
+then, to me, he would stalk and rave about in the likeness of Jack
+Hobson; again, he would seem the counterfeit of Emmanuel Topp; then he
+would look like all the three of us put together; then like neither of
+us, nor like anybody else. Oh, sir, it was a woful thing to be haunted
+by this phantom apparition. Yet the strangest part of the affair was
+that neither of us seemed to feel a whit surprised at the dread
+presence; that we quietly and uncomplainingly let him drink our wine,
+and actually give orders for more; that we never objected, in fact, to
+any of his sayings and doings. What seemed also strange was that the
+waiter, while yet receiving and executing his orders, was evidently
+pretending to ignore his presence. But then, as I dare say you know as
+well as I do, French waiters are _such_ actors!
+
+“Well, to resume, there he was, this fourth man, seated at our table and
+feasting at our expense. And the pranks that he would play us—they were
+truly stupendous. He began his little game by ordering in half-a-dozen
+of champagne. And when the waiter seemed slightly doubtful and
+hesitating about executing the order, Topp, forsooth, must put in his
+oar, and indorse the command, actually pretending that _I_, who am now
+speaking to you, and who am the very last man in the world likely to
+dream of such a preposterous thing, had given the order, and that I was
+a jolly old brick, and the best of boon companions. Surprise at this
+barefaced assertion kept me mute, and so, of course, the champagne was
+brought in, and I thought the best thing to do under the circumstances
+was to have my share of it at least; and so I had—my fair share; but,
+bless you, it was nothing to what that fourth man drank of it. In fact,
+the amount of liquor _he_ would swill on this and on the many subsequent
+occasions he intruded his presence upon us, was a caution.
+
+“We paid our little bill without grumbling, though the presence of the
+fourth man at our table had added rather heavily to the _addition_, as
+they call bills at French restaurants.
+
+“We sallied forth into the street to get a whiff of fresh air. _He_, the
+demon, pertinaciously stuck to us; he familiarly linked his arm through
+mine, and, suggesting coffee as rather a good thing to take after
+dinner, took us over to the Café du Cardinal, where he, however, took
+none of the Arabian beverage himself (there being only three cups placed
+for us, as I distinctly saw), but drank an interminable succession of
+_chasse-café_, utterly regardless of the divisional lines of the cognac
+_carafon_. Part of these he would take neat, another portion he would
+burn over sugar, gloating glaringly over the bluish flame, while gleams
+of demoniac delight would flit across his ever-changing features. Jack
+Hobson and Topp, I am sorry to say, joined him with a will in this
+double-distilled debauch; and when I attempted to remonstrate with them,
+they brazenly asserted that _I_, who am now speaking to you, who have
+always, publicly and privately, declared brandy to be the worst of evil
+spirits, had taken more of it, to my own cheek, as they slangily
+expressed it, than the two of them together; and the waiter, who had
+evidently been bribed by them, boldly maintained that _le vieux
+monsieur_, as he had the impudence to call me, had swallowed _plus de
+trois carafons de fine_; whereupon the fourth man, stepping up to him,
+punched his head, which served him right. Now you will hardly believe me
+when I tell you that at that very instant Topp forced me back into my
+chair, while Jack Hobson pinioned my arms from behind, and the waiter
+had the unblushing effrontery to stamp and rave at me like a maniac,
+demanding satisfaction or compensation at my hands for the unprovoked
+assault committed upon him by _me, coram populo_!—by _me_, who, I beg
+to assure you, am the most peaceable man living, and am actually famed
+for the mildness of my disposition and the sweetness and suavity of my
+temper. And, would you believe it? everybody present, waiters and
+guests, and my own two bosom-friends, joined in the conspiracy against
+me, and I actually had to give the wretch of a waiter ten francs as a
+plaster for his broken pate, and a salve for his wounded honor! Where
+was the real culprit all this time, you ask me—the fourth man? Why, he
+quietly stood by grinning, and they all and every one of them pretended
+not to see him, though Topp and Jack Hobson next morning confessed to me
+that they certainly had an indistinct consciousness of the presence
+throughout of this miserable intruder.
+
+“How we finished that night I remember not; nor could Jack Hobson or
+Emmanuel Topp. All we could conscientiously stand by, if we were
+questioned, is that we awoke next morning—the three of us—with some
+slight swimming in our heads, and a hazy recollection of a gorgeous
+dream of brilliant lights and sounds of music and revelry, and bright
+visions of groves and grottoes, and dancing houris (or hussies, as moral
+Jack Hobson calls the poor things), and a hot supper at a certain place
+in the Passage des Princes, of which I think the name is Peter’s.
+
+“I will not tire your courteous patience by a detailed narrative of our
+experiences day after day, during our fortnight’s stay in Paris. Suffice
+it to tell you that from that time forward to yesterday, when we left,
+the _fourth man_, as we, by mutual consent, agreed to call the phantom
+apparition, came in regularly to our dinner; with the dessert or a
+little after; that he would constantly suggest a fresh supply of Côte
+St. Jacques, Moulin-à-Vent, Beaune, Chambertin, Roederer Carte Blanche,
+and a variety of other, generally rather more than less expensive,
+wines—and that he somehow would manage to make us have them, too.
+
+“Then he would sally forth with us to the café, where he would indulge
+in irritating chaff of the waiters, and in slighting comments upon the
+great French nation in general, and the Parisians in particular, and
+upon their institutions and manners and customs.
+
+“He would insist upon singing the Marseillaise; he would speak
+disparagingly of the Emperor, whom he would irreverently call Lambert;
+he would pass cutting and unsavory remarks upon the glorious system of
+the night-carts; he would call down the judgment of Heaven upon the
+devoted head of poor Mr. Haussmann; he would go up to some unhappy
+sergent-de-ville, who might, however unwittingly, excite his ire, and
+tell him a bit of his mind in English, with sarcastic allusions to his
+cocket-hat and his toasting-fork, and polite inquiries after the health
+of _ce cher_ Monsieur Lambert, or the whereabouts of _cet excellent_
+Monsieur Godinot. The worst of the matter was that I suppose for the
+reason that man is an imitative animal, a sort of _πιθηκος μυωρος_, or
+Monboddian monkey minus the tail—my two companions were, somehow,
+always sure to join the wretch in his evil behavior, and to go on
+just as bad as he did. No wonder, then, that we got into no end of
+rows, and it is a marvel to me now, how ever we have managed to get
+off with a whole skin to our bodies.
+
+“He would insist upon taking us to Mabille, the Closerie des Lilas, and
+the Châteaurouge, where he would indulge in the maddest pranks and
+antics, and somehow lead us to join in the wildest dances, and make us
+lift our legs as high as the highest lifter among the _habitués_, male
+or female.
+
+“One night, at about half-past two in the morning (_Hibernicè_), he had
+the cool assurance to drag us along with him to the then closed entrance
+to the Passage des Princes, where he frantically shook the gate, and
+insisted to the frightened concierge, who came running up in his
+night-shirt, that Peter’s must and ought to be open still, as _we_ had
+not had our supper yet; and Topp and Jack Hobson, forsooth, must join in
+the row. I have no distinct recollection of whether it was our phantom
+guest or either of my companions that madly strove to detain the hastily
+retreating form of the concierge by a desperate clutch at the tail of
+his shirt; I only remember that the garment gave way in the struggle,
+and that the unhappy functionary was reduced nearly altogether to the
+primitive buff costume of the father of man in Paradise ere he had put
+his teeth into that unlucky apple of which, the pips keep so
+inconveniently sticking in poor humanity’s gizzard to the present day.
+And what I remember also to my cost is, that the sergent-de-ville, whom
+the bereaved man’s shouts of distress brought to the scene, fastened
+upon _me_, the most inoffensive of mortals, for a compensation fine of
+twenty francs, as if _I_ had been the culprit. And deuced glad we were,
+I assure you, to get off without more serious damage to our pocket and
+reputation than this, and a copious volley of _sacrés ivrognes Anglais_,
+fired at us by the wretched concierge and his friend of the police, who,
+I am quite sure, went halves with him in the compensation. Ah! they are
+a lawless set, these French.
+
+“On another occasion we three went to the Exhibition, where we visited
+one of our colonial departments, in company with several English
+friends, and some French gentlemen appointed on the wine jury. We went
+to taste a few samples of colonial wines. _He_ was not with us _then_.
+Barely, however, had we uncorked a poor dozen bottles, which turned out
+rather good for colonial, though a little raw and slightly uneducated,
+when _who_ should stalk in but our fourth man, as jaunty and
+unconcerned as ever. Well, _he_ fell to tasting, and he soon grew
+eloquent in praise of the colonial juice, which he declared would, in
+another twenty years’ time, be fit to compete successfully with the best
+French vintages. Of course, the French gentlemen with us could not stand
+_this_; they spoke slightingly of the British colonial, and one of them
+even went so far as to call it rotgut. I cannot say whether it was the
+spirit of the uncompromising opinion thus pronounced, or the coarsely
+indelicate way in which the judgment of our French friend was expressed,
+that riled our phantom guest—enough, it brought him down in full force
+upon the offender and his countrymen, with most fluent French
+vituperation and an unconscionable amount of bad jokes and worse puns,
+finishing up with a general address to them as members of the
+_disgusting_ jury, instead of jury of _dégustation_. Now, this I should
+not have minded so much; for, I must confess, I felt rather nettled at
+the national conceit and prejudice of these French. But the wretch, in
+the impetuous utterance of his invective, must somehow—though I was not
+aware of it at the time—have mimicked my gestures and imitated the very
+tones and accent of my voice so closely as to deceive even some of my
+English companions: or how else to account for the fact of their calling
+me a noisy brawler and a pestilent nuisance? _me_, the gentlest and
+mildest-spoken of mortals!
+
+“Before our departure from London we had calculated our probable
+expenses on a most liberal scale, and we had made comfortable provision
+accordingly for a few weeks’ stay in Paris. But with the additional
+heavy burden of the franking of so copious an imbiber as our fourth man
+thus unexpectedly thrown on our shoulders, it was no great wonder that
+we should find our resources go much faster than we had anticipated; so
+we had already been forcedly led to bethink ourselves of shortening our
+intended stay in the French capital when a fresh exploit of the phantom
+fourth, climaxing all his past misdeeds, brought matters to a crisis.
+
+“It was the day before yesterday, the 4th of September. We had been
+dining at Marigny, and dancing at Mabille. Our eccentric guest had come
+in, as usual, with the champagne, and had of course, after dinner, taken
+us over to the enchanted gardens. We were all very jolly. _He_ suggested
+supper at the Cascades, in the Bois de Boulogne. We chartered a _fiacre_
+to take us there and back. We supped rather copiously. _He_ somehow made
+our coachman drunk, and took upon himself to drive us home. Need I tell
+you that he upset us in the Avenue de l’Impératrice, and that we had to
+walk it, and pretty fast too? It was a mercy there were no bones broken.
+
+“Well, as we were walking along, just barely recovering from the shock
+of the accident, he suddenly took some new whim into his confounded
+noddle. Nothing would do for him but he must drag us along with him to
+the great entrance of the Elysée Napoléon (which erst was, and maybe is
+soon likely to be once more, the Elysée Bourbon), where he had the
+brazen impudence to claim admittance, as the Emperor, he pretended, had
+been graciously pleased to offer us the splendid hospitality of that
+renowned mansion. What further happened here, neither I nor either of
+my friends can tell. Our recollections from this period till next
+morning are doubtful and indistinct. All we can state for certain is,
+that yesterday morning we awoke, the three of us, in a most wretched
+state, in a strange, nasty place. We learn soon after from a gentleman
+in a cocked hat, who came to visit us on business, that the imperial
+hospitality which we had claimed last night had indeed been extended to
+us—only in the _violon_, instead of the Elysée. Our phantom guest was
+gone: he would alway, somehow sneak away in the morning, when there was
+nothing left for him to drink—the guzzling villain!
+
+“The gentleman in the cocked-hat pressingly invited us to pay a visit to
+the Commissaire du Quartier. That formidable functionary received us
+with the customary French-polished veneer of urbanity which, as a rule,
+constitutes the _suaviter in modo_ of the higher class of Gallic
+officials. He read us a severe lecture, however, upon the alleged
+impropriety of our conduct; and when I ventured to protest that it was
+not to us the blame ought to be imputed, but to the _quatrième_, he
+mistook my meaning, and, ere I could explain myself, he cut me short
+with a polite remark that the French used the cardinal instead of the
+ordinal numbers in stating the days of the month, with the exception of
+the first, and that he had had too much trouble with our countrymen (he
+took us for Yankees!) on the 4th of July, to be disposed to look with an
+over-lenient eye upon the vagaries we had chosen to commit on the 4th of
+September, which he supposed was another great national day with us. He
+would, however, let us off this time with a simple reprimand, upon
+payment of one hundred francs, compensation for damage done to the
+coach—drunken cabby having turned up, of course, to testify against us.
+Well, we paid the money, and handed the worthy magistrate twenty francs
+besides, for the benefit of the poor, by way of acknowledgment for the
+imperial hospitality we had enjoyed. We were then allowed to depart in
+peace.
+
+“Now, you’ll hardly believe it, I dare say, but it is the truth
+notwithstanding, that we three, who have been fast friends for years,
+actually began to quarrel among ourselves now, mutually imputing to one
+another the blame of all our misadventures and misfortunes since our
+arrival in Paris, while yet we clearly knew and felt, each and every of
+us, that it was all the doings of that phantom fourth.
+
+“One thing, however, we all agreed to do—to leave Paris by the first
+train.
+
+“To fortify ourselves for the coming journey, we went to indulge in the
+luxury of a farewell breakfast at Désiré Beaurain’s. Of course we
+emptied a few bottles to our reconciliation. I do not exactly remember
+how many, but this I _do_ remember, that our irrepressible incubus
+walked in again, and took his place in the midst of us rather sooner
+even than he had been wont to do; and he never left us from that time to
+the moment of our landing at Dover harbor, when he took his, I hope and
+trust final, departure with a ghastly grin.
+
+“I dare say you must have thought us a most noisy and obstreperous lot:
+well, with my hand on my heart, I can assure you, on my conscience,
+that a quieter and milder set of fellows than us three you are not
+likely to find on this or the other side the Channel. But for that
+mysterious phantom fourth——”
+
+Here the whistle sounded, and the guard came up to us with a hurried,
+“Now then, gents, take your seats, please; train is off in half a
+minnit!”
+
+“What can have become of Topp and Jack Hobson?” muttered my new friend,
+looking around him with eager scrutiny. “I should not wonder if they
+were still refreshing.” And he started off in the direction of the
+refreshment-room.
+
+I took my seat. Immediately after the train whirled off. I cannot say
+whether the three were left behind; all I know is that I did not see
+them get out at London Bridge.
+
+Remembering, however, that the appalling secret of the supernatural
+visitation which had thus harassed my three fellow-travellers had been
+confided to me under the impression that I might be likely to find a
+solution of the mystery, I have ever since deeply pondered thereon.
+
+Shallow thinkers, and sneerers uncharitably given, may, from a
+consideration of the times, places, and circumstances at and under which
+the abnormal phenomena here recited were stated to have been observed,
+be led to attribute them simply to the promptings and imaginings of
+brains overheated by excessive indulgence in spirituous liquors. But I,
+striving to be mindful always of the great scriptural injunction to
+judge not, lest we be judged, and opportunely remembering my friend
+O’Kweene’s learned dissertation above alluded to, feel disposed to
+pronounce the apparition of the phantom of the fourth man, and all the
+sayings, doings, and demeanings of the same, to have been simply so many
+visible and palpable outward manifestations of the inner consciousness
+of the souls of the three, and more notably of that of the elderly
+senior of the party, in a succession of vino-alcoholic trances.
+
+My friend O’Kweene is, of course, welcome to such credit as may attach
+to this attempted solution of mine.
+
+
+
+
+THE SPIRIT’S WHISPER.
+
+
+Yes, I have been haunted!—haunted so fearfully that for some little
+time I thought myself insane. I was no raving maniac; I mixed in society
+as heretofore, although perhaps a trifle more grave and taciturn than
+usual; I pursued my daily avocations; I employed myself even on literary
+work. To all appearance I was one of the sanest of the sane; and yet all
+the while I considered myself the victim of such strange delusions that,
+in my own mind, I fancied my senses—and one sense in particular—so far
+erratic and beyond my own control that I was, in real truth, a madman.
+How far I was then insane it must be for others, who hear my story, to
+decide. My hallucinations have long since left me, and, at all events, I
+am now as sane as I suppose most men are.
+
+My first attack came on one afternoon when, being in a listless and an
+idle mood, I had risen from my work and was amusing myself with
+speculating at my window on the different personages who were passing
+before me. At that time I occupied apartments in the Brompton Road.
+Perhaps, there is no thoroughfare in London where the ordinary
+passengers are of so varied a description or high life and low life
+mingle in so perpetual a medley. South-Kensington carriages there jostle
+costermongers’ carts; the clerk in the public office, returning to his
+suburban dwelling, brushes the laborer coming from his work on the
+never-ending modern constructions in the new district; and the ladies of
+some of the surrounding squares flaunt the most gigantic of _chignons_,
+and the most exuberant of motley dresses, before the envying eyes of the
+ragged girls with their vegetable-baskets.
+
+There was, as usual, plenty of material for observation and conjecture
+in the passengers, and their characters or destinations, from my window
+on that day. Yet I was not in the right cue for the thorough enjoyment
+of my favorite amusement. I was in a rather melancholy mood. Somehow or
+other, I don’t know why, my memory had reverted to a pretty woman whom I
+had not seen for many years. She had been my first love, and I had loved
+her with a boyish passion as genuine as it was intense. I thought my
+heart would have broken, and I certainly talked seriously of dying, when
+she formed an attachment to an ill-conditioned, handsome young
+adventurer, and, on her family objecting to such an alliance, eloped
+with him. I had never seen the fellow, against whom, however, I
+cherished a hatred almost as intense as my passion for the infatuated
+girl who had flown from her home for his sake. We had heard of her being
+on the Continent with her husband, and learned that the man’s shifty
+life had eventually taken him to the East. For some years nothing more
+had been heard of the poor girl. It was a melancholy history, and its
+memory ill-disposed me for amusement.
+
+A sigh was probably just escaping my lips with the half-articulated
+words, “Poor Julia!” when my eyes fell on a man passing before my
+window. There was nothing particularly striking about him. He was tall,
+with fine features, and a long, fair beard, contrasting somewhat with
+his bronzed complexion. I had seen many of our officers on their return
+from the Crimea look much the same. Still, the man’s aspect gave me a
+shuddering feeling, I didn’t know why. At the same moment, a whispering,
+low voice uttered aloud in my ear the words, “It is he!” I turned,
+startled; there was no one near me, no one in the room. There was no
+fancy in the sound; I had heard the words with painful distinctness. I
+ran to the door, opened it—not a sound on the staircase, not a sound in
+the whole house—nothing but the hum from the street. I came back and
+sat down. It was no use reasoning with myself; I had the ineffaceable
+conviction that I had heard the voice. Then first the idea crossed my
+mind that I might be the victim of hallucinations. Yes, it must have
+been so, for now I recalled to mind that the voice had been that of my
+poor lost Julia; and at the moment I heard it I had been dreaming of
+her. I questioned my own state of health. I was well; at least I had
+been so, I felt fully assured, up to that moment. Now a feeling of
+chilliness and numbness and faintness had crept over me, a cold sweat
+was on my forehead. I tried to shake off this feeling by bringing back
+my thoughts to some other subject. But, involuntarily as it were, I
+again uttered the words, “Poor Julia!” aloud. At the same time a deep
+and heavy sigh, almost a groan, was distinctly audible close by me. I
+sprang up; I was alone—quite alone. It was, once more, an
+hallucination.
+
+By degrees the first painful impression wore away. Some days had passed,
+and I had begun to forget my singular delusion. When my thoughts aid
+revert to it, the recollection was dismissed as that of a ridiculous
+fancy. One afternoon I was in the Strand, coming from Charing Cross,
+when I was once more overcome by that peculiar feeling of cold and
+numbness which I had before experienced. The day was warm and bright and
+genial, and yet I positively shivered. I had scarce time to interrogate
+my own strange sensations when a man went by me rapidly. How was it that
+I recognized him at once as the individual who had only passed my window
+so casually on that morning of the hallucination? I don’t know, and yet
+I was aware that this man was the tall, fair passer-by of the Brompton
+Road. At the same moment the voice I had previously heard whispered
+distinctly in my ear the words, “Follow him!” I stood stupefied. The
+usual throngs of indifferent persons were hurrying past me in that
+crowded thoroughfare, but I felt convinced that not one of these had
+spoken to me. I remained transfixed for a moment. I was bent on a matter
+of business in the contrary direction to the individual I had remarked,
+and so, although with unsteady step, I endeavored to proceed on my way.
+Again that voice said, still more emphatically, in my ear, “Follow him!”
+I stopped involuntarily. And a third time, “Follow him!” I told myself
+that the sound was a delusion, a cheat of my senses, and yet I could not
+resist the spell. I turned to follow. Quickening my pace, I soon came up
+with the tall, fair man, and, unremarked by him, I followed him. Whither
+was this foolish pursuit to lead me? It was useless to ask myself the
+question—I was impelled to follow.
+
+I was not destined to go very far, however. Before long the object of my
+absurd chase entered a well-known insurance-office. I stopped at the
+door of the establishment. I had no business within, why should I
+continue to follow? Had I not already been making a sad fool of myself
+by my ridiculous conduct? These were my thoughts as I stood heated by my
+quick walk. Yes, heated; and yet, once more, came the sudden chill. Once
+more that same low but now awful voice spoke in my ear: “Go in!” it
+said. I endeavored to resist the spell, and yet I felt that resistance
+was in vain. Fortunately, as it seemed to me, the thought crossed my
+mind that an old acquaintance was a clerk in that same insurance-office.
+I had not seen the fellow for a great length of time, and I never had
+been very intimate with him. But here was a pretext; and so I went in
+and inquired for Clement Stanley. My acquaintance came forward. He was
+very busy, he said. I invented, on the spur of the moment, some excuse
+of the most frivolous and absurd nature, as far as I can recollect, for
+my intrusion.
+
+“By the way,” I said, as I turned to take my leave, although my question
+was “by the way” of nothing at all, “who was that tall, fair man who
+just now entered the office?”
+
+“Oh, that fellow?” was the indifferent reply; “a Captain Campbell, or
+Canton, or some such name; I forget what. He is gone in before the
+board—insured his wife’s life—and she is dead; comes for a settlement,
+I suppose.”
+
+There was nothing more to be gained, and so I left the office. As soon
+as I came without into the scorching sunlight, again the same feeling of
+cold, again the same voice—“Wait!” Was I going mad? More and more the
+conviction forced itself upon me that I was decidedly a monomaniac
+already. I felt my pulse. It was agitated and yet not feverish. I was
+determined not to give way to this absurd hallucination; and yet, so far
+was I out of my senses, that my will was no longer my own. Resolved as I
+was to go, I listened to the dictates of that voice and waited. What was
+it to me that this Campbell or Canton had insured his wife’s life, that
+she was dead, and that he wanted a settlement of his claim? Obviously
+nothing; and I yet waited.
+
+So strong was the spell on me that I had no longer any count of time. I
+had no consciousness whether the period was long or short that I stood
+there near the door, heedless of all the throng that passed, gazing on
+vacancy. The fiercest of policemen might have told me to “move on,” and
+I should not have stirred, spite of all the terrors of the “station.”
+The individual came forth. He paid no heed to me. Why should he? What
+was I to him? This time I needed no warning voice to bid me follow. I
+was a madman, and I could not resist the impulses of my madness. It was
+thus, at least I reasoned with myself. I followed into Regent Street.
+The object of my insensate observation lingered, and looked around as if
+in expectation. Presently a fine-looking woman, somewhat extravagantly
+dressed, and obviously not a lady, advanced toward him on the pavement.
+At the sight of her he quickened his step, and joined her rapidly. I
+shuddered again, but this time a sort of dread was mingled with that
+strange shivering. I knew what was coming, and it came. Again that voice
+in my ear. “Look and remember!” it said. I passed the man and woman as
+they stopped at their first meeting!
+
+“Is all right, George?” said the female.
+
+“All right, my girl,” was the reply.
+
+I looked. An evil smile, as if of wicked triumph, was on the man’s face,
+I thought. And on the woman’s? I looked at her, and I remembered. I
+could not be mistaken. Spite of her change in manner, dress, and
+appearance, it was Mary Simms. This woman some years before, when she
+was still very young, had been a sort of humble companion to my mother.
+A simple-minded, honest girl, we thought her. Sometimes I had fancied
+that she had paid me, in a sly way, a marked attention. I had been
+foolish enough to be flattered by her stealthy glances and her sighs.
+But I had treated these little demonstrations of partiality as due only
+to a silly girlish fancy. Mary Simms, however, had come to grief in our
+household. She had been detected in the abstraction of sundry jewels and
+petty ornaments. The morning after discovery she had left the house, and
+we had heard of her no more. As these recollections passed rapidly
+through my mind I looked behind me. The couple had turned back. I turned
+to follow again; and spite of carriages and cabs, and shouts and oaths
+of drivers, I took the middle of the street in order to pass the man and
+woman at a little distance unobserved. No; I was not mistaken. The woman
+was Mary Simms, though without any trace of all her former
+simple-minded airs; Mary Simms, no longer in her humble attire, but
+flaunting in all the finery of overdone fashion. She wore an air of
+reckless joyousness in her face; and yet, spite of that, I pitied her.
+It was clear she had fallen on the evil ways of bettered
+fortune—bettered, alas! for the worse.
+
+I had an excuse now, in my own mind, for my continued pursuit, without
+deeming myself an utter madman—the excuse of curiosity to know the
+destiny of one with whom I had been formerly familiar, and in whom I had
+taken an interest. Presently the game I was hunting down stopped at the
+door of the Grand Café. After a little discussion they entered. It was a
+public place of entertainment; there was no reason why I should not
+enter also. I found my way to the first floor. They were already seated
+at a table, Mary holding the _carte_ in her hand. They were about to
+dine. Why should not I dine there too? There was but one little
+objection,—I had an engagement to dinner. But the strange impulse which
+overpowered me, and seemed leading me on step by step, spite of myself,
+quickly overruled all the dictates of propriety toward my intended
+hosts. Could I not send a prettily devised apology? I glided past the
+couple, with my head averted, seeking a table, and I was unobserved by
+my old acquaintance. I was too agitated to eat, but I made a semblance,
+and little heeded the air of surprise and almost disgust on the
+bewildered face of the waiter as he bore away the barely touched dishes.
+I was in a very fever of impatience and doubt what next to do. They
+still sat on, in evident enjoyment of their meal and their constant
+draughts of sparkling wine. My impatience was becoming almost unbearable
+when the man at last rose. The woman seemed to have uttered some
+expostulation, for he turned at the door and said somewhat harshly
+aloud, “Nonsense; only one game and I shall be back. The waiter will
+give you a paper—a magazine—something to while away the time.” And he
+left the room for the billiard-table, as I surmised.
+
+Now was my opportunity. After a little hesitation, I rose, and planted
+myself abruptly on the vacant seat before the woman.
+
+“Mary,” I said.
+
+She started, with a little exclamation of alarm, and dropped the paper
+she had held. She knew me at once.
+
+“Master John!” she exclaimed, using the familiar term still given me
+when I was long past boyhood; and then, after a lengthened gaze, she
+turned away her head. I was embarrassed at first how to address her.
+
+“Mary,” I said at last, “I am grieved to see you thus.”
+
+“Why should you be grieved for me?” she retorted, looking at me sharply,
+and speaking in a tone of impatient anger. “I am happy as I am.”
+
+“I don’t believe you,” I replied.
+
+She again turned away her head.
+
+“Mary,” I pursued, “can you doubt, that, spite of all, I have still a
+strong interest in the companion of my youth?”
+
+She looked at me almost mournfully, but did not speak. At that moment I
+probably grew pale; for suddenly that chilly fit seized me again, and
+my forehead became clammy. That voice sounded again in my ear: “Speak
+of him!” were the words it uttered. Mary gazed on me with surprise, and
+yet I was assured that _she_ had not heard that voice, so plain to me.
+She evidently mistook the nature of my visible emotion.
+
+“O Master John!” she stammered, with tears gathering in her eyes,
+reverting again to that name of bygone times, “if you had loved me
+then—if you had consoled my true affection with one word of hope, one
+look of loving-kindness—if you had not spurned and crushed me, I should
+not have been what I am now.”
+
+I was about to make some answer to this burst of unforgotten passion,
+when the voice came again: “Speak of him!”
+
+“You have loved others since,” I remarked, with a coldness which seemed
+cruel to myself. “You love _him_ now.” And I nodded my head toward the
+door by which the man had disappeared.
+
+“Do I?” she said, with a bitter smile. “Perhaps; who knows?”
+
+“And yet no good can come to you from a connection with that man,” I
+pursued.
+
+“Why not? He adores me, and he is free,” was her answer, given with a
+little triumphant air.
+
+“Yes,” I said, “I know he is free: he has lately lost his wife. He has
+made good his claim to the sum for which he insured her life.”
+
+Mary grew deadly pale. “How did you learn this? what do you know of
+him?” she stammered.
+
+I had no reply to give. She scanned my face anxiously for some time;
+then in a low voice she added, “What do you suspect?”
+
+I was still silent, and only looked at her fixedly.
+
+“You do not speak,” she pursued nervously. “Why do you not speak? Ah,
+you know more than you would say! Master John, Master John, you might
+set my tortured mind at rest, and clear or confirm those doubts which
+_will_ come into my poor head, spite of myself. Speak out—O, do speak
+out!”
+
+“Not here; it is impossible,” I replied, looking around. The room as the
+hour advanced, was becoming more thronged with guests, and the full
+tables gave a pretext for my reticence, when in truth I had nothing to
+say.
+
+“Will you come and see me—will you?” she asked with earnest entreaty.
+
+I nodded my head.
+
+“Have you a pocketbook? I will write you my address; and you will
+come—yes, I am sure you will come!” she said in an agitated way.
+
+I handed her my pocketbook and pencil; she wrote rapidly.
+
+“Between the hours of three and five,” she whispered, looking uneasily
+at the door; “_he_ is sure not to be at home.”
+
+I rose; Mary held out her hand to me, then withdrew it hastily with an
+air of shame, and the tears sprang into her eyes again. I left the room
+hurriedly, and met her companion on the stairs.
+
+That same evening, in the solitude of my own room, I pondered over the
+little event of the day. I had calmed down from my state of excitement.
+The living apparition of Mary Simms occupied my mind almost to the
+exclusion of the terrors of the ghostly voice which had haunted me, and
+my own fears of coming insanity. In truth, what was that man to me?
+Nothing. What did his doings matter to such a perfect stranger as
+myself? Nothing. His connection with Mary Simms was our only link; and
+in what should that affect me? Nothing again. I debated with myself
+whether it were not foolish of me to comply with my youthful companion’s
+request to visit her; whether it were not imprudent in me to take any
+further interest in the lost woman; whether there were not even danger
+in seeking to penetrate mysteries which were no concern of mine. The
+resolution to which I came pleased me, and I said aloud, “No, I will not
+go!”
+
+At the same moment came again the voice like an awful echo to my
+words—“Go!” It came so suddenly and so imperatively, almost without any
+previous warning of the usual shudder, that the shock was more than I
+could bear. I believe I fainted; I know I found myself, when I came to
+consciousness, in my arm-chair, cold and numb, and my candles had almost
+burned down into their sockets.
+
+The next morning I was really ill. A sort of low fever seemed to have
+prostrated me, and I would have willingly seized so valid a reason for
+disobeying, at least for that day—for some days, perhaps—the
+injunction of that ghostly voice. But all that morning it never left me.
+My fearful chilly fit was of constant recurrence, and the words “Go! go!
+go!” were murmured so perpetually in my ears—the sound was one of such
+urgent entreaty—that all force of will gave way completely. Had I
+remained in that lone room, I should have gone wholly mad. As yet, to my
+own feelings, I was but partially out of my senses.
+
+I dressed hastily; and, I scarce know how—by no effort of my own will,
+it seemed to me—I was in the open air. The address of Mary Simms was in
+a street not far from my own suburb. Without any power of reasoning, I
+found myself before the door of the house. I knocked, and asked a
+slipshod girl who opened the door to me for “Miss Simms.” She knew no
+such person, held a brief shrill colloquy with some female in the
+back-parlor, and, on coming back, was about to shut the door in my face,
+when a voice from above—the voice of her I sought—called down the
+stairs, “Let the gentleman come up!”
+
+I was allowed to pass. In the front drawing-room I found Mary Simms.
+
+“They do not know me under that name,” she said with a mournful smile,
+and again extended, then withdrew, her hand.
+
+“Sit down,” she went on to say, after a nervous pause. “I am alone now;
+told I adjure you, if you have still one latent feeling of old kindness
+for me, explain your words of yesterday to me.”
+
+I muttered something to the effect that I had no explanation to give. No
+words could be truer; I had not the slightest conception what to say.
+
+“Yes, I am sure you have; you must, you will,” pursued Mary excitedly;
+“you have some knowledge of that matter.”
+
+“What matter?” I asked.
+
+“Why, the insurance,” she replied impatiently. “You know well what I
+mean. My mind has been distracted about it. Spite of myself, terrible
+suspicions have forced themselves on me. No; I don’t mean that,” she
+cried, suddenly checking herself and changing her tone; “don’t heed
+what I said; it was madness in me to say what I did. But do, do, do tell
+me all you know.”
+
+The request was a difficult one to comply with, for I knew nothing. It
+is impossible to say what might have been the end of this strange
+interview, in which I began to feel myself an unwilling impostor; but
+suddenly Mary started.
+
+“The noise of the latchkey in the lock!” she cried, alarmed; “He has
+returned; he must not see you; you must come another time. Here, here,
+be quick! I’ll manage him.”
+
+And before I could utter another word she had pushed me into the back
+drawing-room and closed the door. A man’s step on the stairs; then
+voices. The man was begging Mary to come out with him, as the day was so
+fine. She excused herself; he would hear no refusal. At last she
+appeared to consent, on condition that the man would assist at her
+toilet. There was a little laughter, almost hysterical on the part of
+Mary, whose voice evidently quivered with trepidation.
+
+Presently both mounted the upper stairs. Then the thought stuck me that
+I had left my hat in the front room—a sufficient cause for the woman’s
+alarm. I opened the door cautiously, seized my hat, and was about to
+steal down the stairs, when I was again spellbound by that numb cold.
+
+“Stay!” said the voice. I staggered back to the other room with my hat,
+and closed the door.
+
+Presently the couple came down. Mary was probably relieved by
+discovering that my hat was no longer there, and surmised that I had
+departed; for I heard her laughing as they went down the lower flight.
+Then I heard them leave the house.
+
+I was alone in that back drawing-room. Why? what did I want there? I was
+soon to learn. I felt the chill invisible presence near me; and the
+voice said, “Search!”
+
+The room belonged to the common representative class of back
+drawing-rooms in “apartments” of the better kind. The only one
+unfamiliar piece of furniture was an old Indian cabinet; and my eye
+naturally fell on that. As I stood and looked at it with a strange
+unaccountable feeling of fascination, again came the voice—“Search!”
+
+I shuddered and obeyed. The cabinet was firmly locked; there was no
+power of opening it except by burglarious infraction; but still the
+voice said, “Search!”
+
+A thought suddenly struck me, and I turned the cabinet from its position
+against the wall. Behind, the woodwork had rotted, and in many portions
+fallen away, so that the inner drawers were visible. What could my
+ghostly monitor mean—that I should open those drawers? I would not do
+such a deed of petty treachery. I turned defiantly, and addressing
+myself to the invisible as if it were a living creature by my side, I
+cried, “I must not, will not, do such an act of baseness.”
+
+The voice replied, “Search!”
+
+I might have known that, in my state of what I deemed insanity,
+resistance was in vain. I grasped the most accessible drawer from
+behind, and pulled it toward me. Uppermost within it lay letters: they
+were addressed to “Captain Cameron,”—“Captain George Cameron.” That
+name!—the name of Julia’s husband, the man with whom she had eloped;
+for it was he who was the object of my pursuit.
+
+My shuddering fit became so strong that I could scarce hold the papers;
+and “Search!” was repeated in my ear.
+
+Below the letters lay a small book in a limp black cover. I opened this
+book with trembling hand; it was filled with manuscript—Julia’s
+well-known handwriting.
+
+“Read!” muttered the voice. I read. There were long entries by poor
+Julia of her daily life; complaints of her husband’s unkindness,
+neglect, then cruelty. I turned to the last pages: her hand had grown
+very feeble now, and she was very ill. “George seems kinder now,” she
+wrote; “he brings me all my medicines with his own hand.” Later on: “I
+am dying; I know I am dying: he has poisoned me. I saw him last night
+through the curtains pour something in my cup; I saw it in his evil eye.
+I would not drink; I will drink no more; but I feel that I must die.”
+
+These were the last words. Below were written, in a man’s bold hand, the
+words “Poor fool!”
+
+This sudden revelation of poor Julia’s death and dying thoughts unnerved
+me quite. I grew colder in my whole frame than ever.
+
+“Take it!” said her voice. I took the book, pushed back the cabinet into
+its place against the wall, and, leaving that fearful room, stole down
+the stairs with trembling limbs, and left the house with all the
+feelings of a guilty thief.
+
+For some days I perused my poor lost Julia’s diary again and again. The
+whole revelation of her sad life and sudden death led but to one
+conclusion,—she had died of poison by the hands of her unworthy
+husband. He had insured her life, and then——
+
+It seemed evident to me that Mary Simms had vaguely shared suspicions of
+the same foul deed. On my own mind came conviction. But what could I do
+next? how bring this evil man to justice? what proof would be deemed to
+exist in those writings? I was bewildered, weak, irresolute. Like
+Hamlet, I shrank back and temporized. But I was not feigning madness; my
+madness seemed but all too real for me. During all this period the
+wailing of that wretched voice in my ear was almost incessant. O, I must
+have been mad!
+
+I wandered about restlessly, like the haunted thing I had become. One
+day I had come unconsciously and without purpose into Oxford Street. My
+troubled thoughts were suddenly broken in upon by the solicitations of a
+beggar. With a heart hardened against begging impostors, and under the
+influence of the shock rudely given to my absorbing dreams, I answered
+more hardly than was my wont. The man heaved a heavy sigh, and sobbed
+forth, “Then Heaven help me!” I caught sight of him before he turned
+away. He was a ghastly object, with fever in his hollow eyes and sunken
+cheeks, and fever on his dry, chapped lips. But I knew, or fancied I
+knew, the tricks of the trade, and I was obdurate. Why, I asked myself,
+should the cold shudder come over me at such a moment? But it was so
+strong on me as to make me shake all over. It came—that maddening
+voice. “Succor!” it said now. I had become so accustomed already to
+address the ghostly voice that I cried aloud, “Why, Julia, why?” I saw
+people laughing in my face at this strange cry, and I turned in the
+direction in which the beggar had gone. I just caught sight of him as he
+was tottering down a street toward Soho. I determined to have pity for
+this once, and followed the poor man. He led me on through I know not
+what streets. His steps was hurried now. In one street I lost sight of
+him; but I felt convinced he must have turned into a dingy court. I made
+inquiries, but for a time received only rude jeering answers from the
+rough men and women whom I questioned. At last a little girl informed me
+that I must mean the strange man who lodged in the garret of a house she
+pointed out to me. It was an old dilapidated building, and I had much
+repugnance on entering it. But again I was no master of my will. I
+mounted some creaking stairs to the top of the house, until I could go
+no further. A shattered door was open; I entered a wretched garret; the
+object of my search lay now on a bundle of rags on the bare floor. He
+opened his wild eyes as I approached.
+
+“I have come to succor,” I said, using unconsciously the word of the
+voice; “what ails you?”
+
+“Ails me?” gasped the man; “hunger, starvation, fever.”
+
+I was horrified. Hurrying to the top of the stairs, I shouted till I had
+roused the attention of an old woman. I gave her money to bring me food
+and brandy, promising her a recompense for her trouble.
+
+“Have you no friends?” I asked the wretched man as I returned.
+
+“None,” he said feebly. Then as the fever rose in his eyes and even
+flushed his pallid face, he said excitedly, “I had a master once—one I
+perilled my soul for. He knows I am dying; but, spite of all my letters,
+he will not come. He wants me dead, he wants me dead—and his wish is
+coming to pass now.”
+
+“Cannot I find him—bring him here?” I asked.
+
+The man stared at me, shook his head, and at last, as if collecting his
+faculties with much exertion, muttered, “Yes; it is a last hope; perhaps
+you may, and I can be revenged on him at least. Yes revenged. I have
+threatened him already.” And the fellow laughed a wild laugh.
+
+“Control yourself,” I urged, kneeling by his side; “give me his
+name—his address.”
+
+“Captain George Cameron,” he gasped, and then fell back.
+
+“Captain George Cameron!” I cried. “Speak! what of him?”
+
+But the man’s senses seemed gone; he only muttered incoherently. The old
+woman returned with the food and spirits. I had found one honest
+creature in that foul region. I gave her money—provide her more if she
+would bring a doctor. She departed on her new errand. I raised the man’s
+head, moistened his lips with the brandy, and then poured some of the
+spirit down his throat. He gulped at it eagerly, and opened his eyes;
+but he still raved incoherently, “I did not do it, it was he. He made me
+buy the poison; he dared not risk the danger himself, the coward! I knew
+what he meant to do with it, and yet I did not speak; I was her murderer
+too. Poor Mrs. Cameron! poor Mrs. Cameron! do you forgive?—can you
+forgive?” And the man screamed aloud and stretched out his arms as if to
+fright away a phantom.
+
+I had drunk in every word, and knew the meaning of those broken accents
+well. Could I have found at last the means of bringing justice on the
+murderer’s head? But the man was raving in a delirium, and I was obliged
+to hold him with all my strength. A step on the stairs. Could it be the
+medical man I had sent for? That would be indeed a blessing. A man
+entered—it was Cameron!
+
+He came in jauntily, with the words, “How now, Saunders, you rascal!
+What more do you want to get out of me?”
+
+He started at the sight of a stranger.
+
+I rose from my kneeling posture like an accusing spirit. I struggled for
+calm; but passion beyond my control mastered me, and was I not a madman?
+I seized him by the throat, with the words, “Murderer! poisoner! where
+is Julia?” He shook me off violently.
+
+“And who the devil are you, sir?” he cried.
+
+“That murdered woman’s cousin!” I rushed at him again.
+
+“Lying hound!” he shouted, and grappled me. His strength was far beyond
+mine. He had his hand on my throat; a crimson darkness was in my eyes; I
+could not see, I could not hear; there was a torrent of sound pouring in
+my ears. Suddenly his grasp relaxed. When I recovered my sight, I saw
+the murderer struggling with the fever-stricken man, who had risen from
+the floor, and seized him from behind. This unexpected diversion saved
+my life; but the ex-groom was soon thrown back on the ground.
+
+“Captain George Cameron,” I cried, “kill me, but you will only heap
+another murder on your head!”
+
+He advanced on me with something glittering in his hand. Without a word
+he came and stabbed at me; but at the same moment I darted at him a
+heavy blow. What followed was too confused for clear remembrance. I
+saw—no, I will say I fancied that I saw—the dim form of Julia Staunton
+standing between me and her vile husband. Did he see the vision too? I
+cannot say. He reeled back, and fell heavily to the floor. Maybe it was
+only my blow that felled him. Then came confusion—a dream of a crowd of
+people—policemen—muttered accusations. I had fainted from the wound in
+my arm.
+
+Captain George Cameron was arrested. Saunders recovered, and lived long
+enough to be the principal witness on his trial. The murderer was found
+guilty. Poor Julia’s diary, too, which I had abstracted, told fearfully
+against him. But he contrived to escape the gallows; he had managed to
+conceal poison on his person, and he was found dead in his cell. Mary
+Simms I never saw again. I once received a little scrawl, “I am at peace
+now, Master John. God bless you!”
+
+I have had no more hallucinations since that time; the voice has never
+come again. I found out poor Julia’s grave, and, as I stood and wept by
+its side, the cold shudder came over me for the last time. Who shall
+tell me whether I was once really mad, or whether I was not?
+
+
+
+
+DOCTOR FEVERSHAM’S STORY.
+
+
+“I have made a point all my life,” said the doctor, “of believing
+nothing of the kind.”
+
+Much ghost-talk by firelight had been going on in the library at
+Fordwick Chase, when Doctor Feversham made this remark.
+
+“As much as to say,” observed Amy Fordwick, “that you are afraid to
+tackle the subject, because you pique yourself on being strong-minded,
+and are afraid of being convinced against your will.”
+
+“Not precisely, young lady. A man convinced against his will is in a
+different state of mind from mine in matters like these. But it is true
+that cases in which the supernatural element appears at first sight to
+enter are so numerous in my profession, that I prefer accepting only the
+solutions of science, so far as they go, to entering on any wild
+speculations which it would require more time than I should care to
+devote to them to trace to their origin.”
+
+“But without entering fully into the why and wherefore, how can you be
+sure that the proper treatment is observed in the numerous cases of
+mental hallucination which must come under your notice?” inquired
+Latimer Fordwick, who was studying for the Bar.
+
+“I content myself, my young friend, with following the rules laid down
+for such cases, and I generally find them successful,” answered the old
+Doctor.
+
+“Then you admit that cases have occurred within your knowledge of which
+the easiest apparent solution could be one which involved a belief in
+supernatural agencies?” persisted Latimer, who was rather prolix and
+pedantic in his talk.
+
+“I did not say so,” said the Doctor.
+
+“But of course he meant us to infer it,” said Amy. “Now, my dear old
+Doctor, do lay aside professional dignity, and give us one good
+ghost-story out of your personal experience. I believe you have been
+dying to tell one for the last hour, if you would only confess it.”
+
+“I would rather not help to fill that pretty little head with idle
+fancies, dear child,” answered the old man, looking fondly at Amy, who
+was his especial pet and darling.
+
+“Nonsense! You know I am even painfully unimaginative and
+matter-of-fact; and as for idle fancies, is it an idle fancy to think
+you like to please me?” said Amy coaxingly.
+
+“Well, after all, you have been frightening each other with so many
+thrilling tales for the last hour or two, that I don’t suppose I should
+do much harm by telling you a circumstance which happened to me when I
+was a young man, and has always rather puzzled me.”
+
+A murmur of approval ran round the party. All disposed themselves to
+listen; and Doctor Feversham, after a prefatory pinch of snuff, began.
+
+“In my youth I resided for some time with a family in the north of
+England, in the double capacity of secretary and physician. While I was
+going through the hospitals of Paris I became acquainted with my
+employer, whom I will call Sir James Collingham, under rather peculiar
+circumstances, which have nothing to do with my story. He had an only
+daughter, who was about sixteen when I first entered the family, and it
+was on her account that Sir James wished to have some person with a
+competent knowledge of medicine and physiology as one of his household.
+Miss Collingham was subject to fits of a very peculiar kind, which threw
+her into a sort of trance, lasting from half an hour to three or even
+four days, according to the severity of the visitation. During these
+attacks she occasionally displayed that extraordinary phenomenon which
+goes by the name of clairvoyance. She saw scenes and persons who were
+far distant, and described them with wonderful accuracy. Though quite
+unconscious of all outward things, and apparently in a state of the
+deepest insensibility, she would address remarks to those present which
+bore reference to the thoughts then occupying their minds, though they
+had given them no outward expression; and her remarks showed an insight
+into matters which had perhaps been carefully kept secret, which might
+truly be termed preternatural. Under these circumstances, Sir James was
+very unwilling to bring her into contact with strangers when it could
+possibly be avoided; and the events which first brought us together,
+having also led to my treating Miss Collingham rather successfully in a
+severe attack of her malady, induced her father to offer me a position
+in his household which, as a young, friendless man, I was very willing
+to accept.
+
+“Collingham-Westmore was a very ancient house of great extent, and but
+indifferently kept in repair. The country surrounding it is of great
+natural beauty, thinly inhabited, and, especially at the time I speak
+of, before railways had penetrated so far north, somewhat lonely and
+inaccessible. A group of small houses clustered round the village church
+of Westmorton, distant about three miles from the mansion of the
+Collingham family; and a solitary posting-house, on what was then the
+great north road, could be reached by a horseman in about an hour,
+though the only practicable road for carriages was at least fifteen
+miles from the highway to Collingham-Westmore. Wild and lovely in the
+eyes of an admirer of nature were the hills and ‘cloughs’ among which I
+pursued my botanical studies for many a long, silent summer day. My
+occupations at the mansion—everybody called it the mansion, and I must
+do so from force of habit, though it sounds rather like a house-agent’s
+advertisement—were few and light; the society was not particularly to
+my taste, and the fine old library only attracted me on rainy days, of
+which, truth to say, we had our full share.
+
+“The Collingham family circle comprised a maiden aunt of Sir James, Miss
+Patricia, a stern and awful specimen of the female sex in its fossil
+state; her ward, Miss Henderson, who, having long passed her pupilage,
+remained at Collingham-Westmore in the capacity of gouvernante and
+companion to the young heiress; the heiress aforesaid, and myself. A
+priest—did I say that the Collinghams still professed the old
+religion?—came on Sundays and holydays to celebrate mass in the gloomy
+old chapel; but neighbors there were none, and only about half-a-dozen
+times during the four years I was an inmate of the mansion were
+strangers introduced into the family party.”
+
+“How dreadfully dull it must have been!” exclaimed Amy sympathetically.
+
+“It _was_ dull,” answered the Doctor. “Even with my naturally cheerful
+disposition, and the course of study with which I methodically filled up
+all my leisure hours except those devoted to out-of-door exercise, the
+gloom of the old mansion weighed upon me till I sometimes felt that I
+must give up my situation at all risks, and return to the world, though
+it were to struggle with poverty and friendlessness.
+
+“There was no lack of dismal legends and superstitions connected with
+the mansion, and every trifling circumstance that occurred was twisted
+into an omen or presage, whether of good or evil, by the highly wrought
+fancy of Miss Patricia. These absurdities, together with the past
+grandeur of their house, and the former glories of their religion,
+formed the staple subjects of conversation when the family was
+assembled; and as I became more intimately acquainted with the state of
+my patient, I felt convinced that the atmosphere of gloomy superstition
+in which she had been reared had fostered, even if it had not altogether
+been the cause of, her morbid mental and bodily condition.
+
+“Among the many legends connected with the mansion, one seemed to have a
+peculiar fascination for Miss Collingham, perhaps because it was the
+most ghastly and repulsive. One wing of the house was held to be haunted
+by the spirit of an ancestress of the family, who appeared in the shape
+of a tall woman, with one hand folded in her white robe and the other
+pointing upward. It was said, that in a room at the end of the haunted
+wing this lady had been foully murdered by her jealous husband. The
+window of the apartment overhung the wild wooded side of one of the
+‘cloughs’ common in the country; and tradition averred that the victim
+was thrown from this window by her murderer. As she caught hold of the
+sill in a last frantic struggle for life, he severed her hand at the
+wrist, and the mutilated body fell, with one fearful shriek, into the
+depth below. Since then, a white shadowy form has forever been sitting
+at the fatal window, or wandering along the deserted passages of the
+haunted wing with the bleeding stump folded in her robe; and in moments
+of danger or approaching death to any member of the Collingham family,
+the same long, wild shriek rises slowly from the wooded cliff and peals
+through the mansion; while to different individuals of the house, a pale
+hand has now and then been visible, laid on themselves or some other of
+the family, a never-failing omen of danger or death.
+
+“I need not tell you how false and foolish all this dreary superstition
+appeared to me; and I exerted all my powers of persuasion to induce Miss
+Patricia to dwell less on these and similar themes in the presence of
+Miss Collingham. But there seemed to be something in the very air of the
+gloomy old mansion which fostered such delusions; for when I spoke to
+Father O’Connor the priest, and urged on him the pernicious effect which
+was thus produced on my patient’s mind, I found him as fully imbued with
+the spirit of credulity as the most hysterical housemaid of them all. He
+solemnly declared to me that he had himself repeatedly seen the pale
+lady sitting at the fatal window, when on his way to and from his home
+beyond the hills; and moreover, that on the death of Lady Collingham,
+which occurred at her daughter’s birth, he had heard the long, shrill
+death-scream echo through the mansion while engaged in the last offices
+of the Church by the bedside of the dying lady.
+
+“So I found it impossible to fight single-handed against these adverse
+influences, and could only endeavor to divert the mind of my patient
+into more healthy channels of thought. In this I succeeded perfectly.
+She became an enthusiastic botanist, and our rambles in search of the
+rare and lovely specimens which were to be found among the woods and
+moors surrounding her dwelling did more for her health, both of body and
+mind, than all the medical skill I could bring to bear on her melancholy
+case.
+
+“Four years had elapsed since I first took up my abode at
+Collingham-Westmore. Miss Collingham had grown from a sickly child into
+a singularly graceful young woman, full of bright intelligence, eager
+for information, and with scarcely an outward trace remaining of her
+former fragile health. Still those mysterious swoons occasionally
+visited her, forming an insurmountable obstacle to her mingling in
+general society, which she was in all other respects so well fitted to
+adorn. They occurred without any warning or apparent cause; one moment
+she would be engaged in animated conversation, and the next, white and
+rigid as a statue, she would fall back in her chair insensible to all
+outward objects, but rapt and carried away into a world of her own,
+whose visions she would sometimes describe in glowing language, although
+she retained no recollection whatever of them when she returned, as
+suddenly and at as uncertain a period, to her normal condition. On one
+of these occasions we were sitting, after dinner, in a large apartment
+called the summer dining-room. Fruit and wine were on the table, and the
+last red beams of the setting sun lighted up the distant woods, which
+were in the first flush of their autumn glory. I turned to remark on the
+beautiful effect of light to Miss Collingham, and at the very moment I
+did so she fell back in one of her strange swoons. But instead of the
+death-like air which her features usually assumed, a lovely smile
+lighted them up, and an expression of ecstasy made her beauty appear for
+the moment almost superhuman. Slowly she raised her right hand, and
+pointed in the direction of the setting sun. ‘He is coming,’ she said in
+soft, clear tones; ‘life and light are coming with him,—life and light
+and liberty!’
+
+“Her hand fell gently by her side; the rapt expression faded from her
+countenance, and the usual death-like blank overspread it. This trance
+passed away like others, and by midnight the house was profoundly still.
+Soon after that hour a vociferous peal at the great hall-bell roused
+most of the inmates from sleep. My rooms were in a distant quarter of
+the house, and a door opposite to that of my bedroom led to the haunted
+wing, but was always kept locked. I started up on hearing a second ring,
+and looked out, in hopes of seeing a servant pass, and ascertaining the
+cause of this unusual disturbance. I saw no one, and after listening for
+a while to the opening of the hall-door, and the sound of distant
+voices, I made up my mind that I should be sent for if wanted, and
+re-entered my room. As I was closing the door, I was rather startled to
+see a tall object, of grayish-white color and indistinct form, issue
+from the gallery whose door, as I said before, had always been locked in
+my recollection. For a moment I felt as though rooted to the spot, and a
+strange sensation crept over me. The next, all trace of the appearance
+had vanished, and I persuaded myself that what I had seen must have been
+some effect of light from the open door of my room.
+
+“The cause of the nightly disturbance appeared at breakfast on the
+following morning in the shape of a remarkably handsome young man, who
+was introduced by Sir James as his nephew, Don Luis de Cabral, the son
+of an only sister long dead, who had married a Spaniard of high rank.
+Don Luis showed but little trace of his southern parentage. If I may so
+express it, all the depth and warmth of coloring in that portion of his
+blood which he inherited from his Spanish ancestors came out in the
+raven-black hair and large lustrous dark eyes, which impressed you at
+once with their uncommon beauty. For the rest, he was a fine well-grown
+young man, no darker in complexion than an Englishman might well be, and
+with a careless, happy boyishness of manner, which won immediately on
+the regard of strangers, and rendered his presence in the house like
+that of a perpetual sunbeam. We all wondered, after a little while, what
+we had done before Luis came among us. He was as a son to Sir James;
+Miss Patricia softened to this new and pleasing interest in her
+colorless existence as I could not have believed it was in her
+fossilized nature to do; Miss Henderson became animated, almost young,
+under the reviving influence of the youth and joyousness of our new
+inmate; and I own that I speedily attached myself with a warm and
+affectionate regard to the happy, unselfish nature that seemed to
+brighten all who came near it.
+
+“But the most remarkable effect of the presence of Don Luis de Cabral
+among us was visible in Miss Collingham. ‘Love at first sight,’ often
+considered as a mere phrase, was, in the case of these two young
+creatures, an unmistakable reality. From the moment of their first
+meeting, the cousins were mutually drawn toward each other; and seeing
+the bright and wonderful change wrought by the presence of Don Luis in
+Blanche Collingham, I could not but remember, with the interest that
+attaches to a curious psychological phenomenon, the words she uttered in
+her trance on the eve of his arrival. ‘Life, light, and liberty,’
+indeed, appeared given to all that was best and brightest in her nature.
+Her health improved visibly, and her beauty, always touching, became
+radiant in its full development. My duties toward her were now merely
+nominal; and when, about two months later, Sir James announced to me her
+approaching marriage, and confessed that it was with this object he had
+invited Don Luis to come and make the acquaintance of his English
+relations, the strong opinions I entertained against the marriage of
+first cousins, and also on the especial inadvisability of any project of
+marriage in the case of Miss Collingham, could not prevent my hearty
+rejoicing in the fair prospect of happiness in which two persons who
+deeply interested me were indulging.
+
+“Winter set in early and severely that year among our northern hills,
+and with a view to Blanche’s removal from its withering influence, which
+I always considered prejudicial to her, the preparations for the
+marriage were hurried on, and the ceremony was fixed to take place about
+the middle of December. The travelling-carriage which was to convey the
+young couple on their way southward was to arrive at the nearest
+railway-station—then more than thirty miles distant—a week before the
+marriage; and as some important portions of the trousseau, together with
+a valuable package of jewels intended by Don Luis as presents for his
+bride, were expected at the same time, the young man announced his
+intention of riding across the hills to ——, in order to superintend
+the conveyance of the carriage and its contents along the rough mountain
+roads that it must traverse.
+
+“We were all sitting around the great fireplace in the winter parlor on
+the evening before his departure. Miss Collingham had been languid and
+depressed throughout the day, and often adverted to the long wintry ride
+he was to undertake in a strain of apprehension at which Don Luis
+laughed gayly. To divert her mind, he recounted various adventures
+which had befallen him in foreign lands, with a vigorous simplicity of
+description which enchained her attention and interested us all.
+
+“Suddenly, so sitting, Miss Collingham leaned forward, and in a changed,
+eager voice exclaimed, ‘Luis, take away your hand from your throat!’
+
+“We looked. Luis’ hands were lying one over the other on his knee in a
+careless attitude that was habitual to him.
+
+“‘Take it away, I say! Oh, take it away!’
+
+“Miss Collingham started to her feet as she uttered these words almost
+in a shriek, and then fell back rigid and senseless, her outstretched
+hand still pointing to her betrothed.
+
+“The fit was a severe one, but by morning it had yielded to remedies,
+and Luis set off early on his ride, to make the most of the short
+daylight, and intending to return with the carriage on the morrow. All
+that day Miss Collingham remained in a half-conscious state. It was a
+dreary day of gloom, with a piercing north wind, and toward evening the
+snow began to fall in those close, compact flakes which forebode a heavy
+storm. We were glad to think that Luis must have reached his destination
+before it began; but when the next morning dawned on a wide expanse of
+snow, and the air was still thick with fast-falling flakes, it was
+feared that the state of the roads would preclude all hope of the
+arrival of the carriage on that day.
+
+“My patient took no heed of the untoward state of the weather. She was
+still in a drowsy condition, very unlike that which usually succeeded
+her attacks, and Miss Henderson, who had watched by her through the
+night, told me she spoke more than once in a strange, excited manner, as
+though carrying on a conversation with some one whom she appeared to see
+by her bedside. As the good lady, however, could give but a very
+imperfect and incoherent account of what had passed, I was left in some
+doubt as to whether Miss Collingham had seen more or Miss Henderson less
+than there really was to be seen, as I had before had reason to believe
+that she was not a very vigilant nurse.
+
+“So the hours went on, and night closed in. Sir James began to feel some
+uneasiness at the non-appearance, not only of Don Luis, but also of the
+priest, who was to have arrived at Collingham-Westmore on that day.
+
+“On questioning some of the servants who had been out of the house, the
+absence of Father O’Connor at least was satisfactorily accounted for:
+they all declared that it would be quite impossible for those best
+acquainted with the hills to find their way across them in the blinding
+drifts which had never ceased throughout the day. We concluded that
+Father O’Connor and Don Luis were alike storm-stayed, and had no remedy
+but patience.
+
+“Late in the evening—it must have been near midnight—I was in Miss
+Collingham’s dressing-room with Miss Patricia, who intended to watch by
+her through the night. We were talking by the fire, of the snow-storm
+which still continued, and of the hindrance it might prove to the
+marriage—the day fixed for which was now less than a week
+distant—when we heard a voice in the adjoining room, where we imagined
+the object of our care to be sleeping. We went in. Miss Collingham was
+sitting up in bed, her eyes wide open, in one of her rigid fits. She was
+speaking rapidly in a low tone, unlike her usual voice.
+
+“‘You cannot get through all that snow,’ she said. ‘Get help; there are
+men not far off with spades. Oh, be careful! You are off the road! Stop,
+stop! that is the way to Armstrong’s Clough. Does not the postboy know
+the road? He is bewildered. I tell you it is madness to go on. See, one
+of the horses has fallen; he kicks—he will hit you! Oh, how dark it is!
+And the snow covers your lantern, and you cannot see the edge. Now the
+horse is up again, but he cannot go on. Do not beat him, Luis; it is not
+his fault, poor beast; the snow is too thick, and you are on rough
+ground. Now he rears—he backs—the other one backs also—the wheel of
+the carriage is over the edge—ah!’
+
+“The scream with which these wild, hurried words ended seemed to be
+taken up and echoed from a distance. Miss Patricia stared at me with a
+ghastly white face of horror, and I felt my blood curdle as that long,
+shrill, unearthly shriek pealed through the silent passages. It grew
+louder and nearer, and seemed to sweep through the room, dying away in
+the opposite direction. Miss Patricia fell forward without a word in a
+dead faint.
+
+“I looked at Miss Collingham; she had not moved, or shown any sign of
+hearing or heeding that awful sound. In a few seconds the room was
+filled with terrified women, roused from their sleep by the weird cry
+which rang through the house. Miss Patricia was conveyed by some of them
+to her own room, where, after much difficulty, we restored her to
+consciousness. Her first act was to grasp me by the arm.
+
+“‘Mr. Feversham, for the love of the Holy Virgin do not leave me! I have
+seen that which I cannot look upon and live.’
+
+“I soothed her as best I might, and at last persuaded her to allow me to
+leave her with her own maid in order to visit my other patient,
+promising to return shortly.
+
+“I found no change whatever in Miss Collingham. Sir James was in the
+room trying to establish some degree of calmness and order among the
+terrified women. We succeeded in persuading most of them to take a
+restorative and return to bed, and leaving two of the most
+self-possessed to watch beside Miss Collingham, who was still completely
+insensible, we went together to Miss Patricia’s room.
+
+“‘Brother, I have seen her!’ she exclaimed on Sir James’ entrance.
+
+“‘Seen who, my dear Patricia?’
+
+“‘The pale lady—the spectre of our house,’ she replied, shuddering from
+head to foot. ‘She passed through the room, her hand upraised, and the
+blood-spots on her garment. Oh, James! my time is come, and Father
+O’Connor is not here.’
+
+“Sir James did not attempt to combat his sister’s superstitious terrors,
+but appeared, on the contrary, almost as deeply impressed as herself,
+and questioned her closely about the apparition. Her answers led to some
+mention of the strange vision which Miss Collingham was describing in
+her trance just before the scream was heard. At Sir James’ request I put
+down in writing, as nearly as I could remember, all she had said, and so
+great was the impression it made on my mind that I believe I recalled
+her very words. Knowing all we did of her abnormal condition while in a
+state of trance, it was impossible not to fear that she might have been
+describing a scene that was actually occurring at the time; and Sir
+James determined to send out a party, as soon as daylight came, on the
+road by which Don Luis must arrive.
+
+“The morning dawned brightly, with a keen frost, and several men were
+sent off along the road to —— with the first rays of light.
+
+“Some hours afterward Father O’Connor arrived, having made his way with
+considerable difficulty across the hill. Miss Patricia claimed his first
+attention, for my unhappy charge remained senseless and motionless as
+ever.
+
+“After a long conference, he came to me with grave looks.
+
+“‘She is at the window this day,’ he said, shaking his head sorrowfully,
+when I had told him my share of the last night’s singular experiences.
+‘The pale lady is there; I saw her as I came by the bridge as plainly as
+now I see you. We shall have evil tidings of that poor lad before
+nightfall, or I am strangely mistaken.’
+
+“Evil tidings indeed they were that reached us on the return of some of
+the exploring-party. They were first attracted from following as nearly
+as they could the line of road, blocked as it was with drifts of snow by
+hearing the howling of a dog at some little distance, in the direction
+of the precipitous ravine which went by the name of ‘Armstrong’s
+Clough.’ Following the sound, they came upon traces of wheels in the
+hill-side, where no carriage could have gone had it not been for the
+deep snow which concealed and smoothed away the inequalities of the
+ground. These marks were traced here and there till they led to the
+verge of the precipice, where a struggle had evidently taken place, and
+masses of snow had been dislodged and fallen into the ravine.
+
+“Looking below, the only thing they could see in the waste of snow was a
+little dog, who was known to be in the habit of running with the
+post-horses from ——, which was scraping wildly in the snow and filling
+the air with its dismal howlings. A considerable circuit had to be made
+before the bottom of the clough could be reached, and then the whole
+tragedy was revealed. There lay the broken carriage, the dead horses,
+and two stiffened corpses under the snow, that had drifted over and
+around them.
+
+“I need not pursue the melancholy story; I was an old fool for telling
+it to you,” said the Doctor.
+
+“But Miss Collingham—what became of her?” asked an eager listener.
+
+“Well, she did not recover,” answered the Doctor with a slight trembling
+in his voice. “It was a sad matter altogether; and within a short time
+she lay beside her betrothed in the family vault below the chapel. Sir
+James broke up his establishment and went abroad, and I never saw any of
+the family again.”
+
+“And what did you do, Doctor?”
+
+“I went to London, to seek my fortune as best I might; and I hope you
+may all prosper as well, my young friends.”
+
+“And is it all really true?” asked Amy, who had listened with breathless
+attention.
+
+“That is the worst of it; it really is,” said the Doctor.
+
+
+
+
+THE SECRET OF THE TWO PLASTER CASTS.
+
+
+Years before the accession of her Majesty Queen Victoria, and yet at not
+so remote a date as to be utterly beyond the period to which the
+reminiscences of our middle-aged readers extend, it happened that two
+English gentlemen sat at table on a summer’s evening, after dinner,
+quietly sipping their wine and engaged in desultory conversation. They
+were both men known to fame. One of them was a sculptor whose statues
+adorned the palaces of princes, and whose chiselled busts were the pride
+of half the nobility of his nation; the other was no less renowned as an
+anatomist and surgeon. The age of the anatomist might have been guessed
+at fifty, but the guess would have erred on the side of youth by at
+least ten years. That of the sculptor could scarcely be more than
+five-and-thirty. A bust of the anatomist, so admirably executed as to
+present, although in stone, the perfect similitude of life and flesh,
+stood upon a pedestal opposite to the table at which sat the pair, and
+at once explained at least one connecting-link of companionship between
+them. The anatomist was exhibiting for the criticism of his friend a
+rare gem which he had just drawn from his cabinet: it was a crucifix
+magnificently carved in ivory, and incased in a setting of pure gold.
+
+“The carving, my dear sir,” observed Mr. Fiddyes, the sculptor, “is
+indeed, as you say, exquisite. The muscles are admirably made out, the
+flesh well modelled, wonderfully so for the size and material; and
+yet—by the bye, on this point you must know more than I—the more I
+think upon the matter, the more I regard the artistic conception as
+utterly false and wrong.”
+
+“You speak in a riddle,” replied Dr. Carnell; “but pray go on, and
+explain.”
+
+“It is a fancy I first had in my student-days,” replied Fiddyes.
+“Conventionality, not to say a most proper and becoming reverence,
+prevents people by no means ignorant from considering the point. But
+once think upon it, and you at least, of all men, must at once perceive
+how utterly impossible it would be for a victim nailed upon a cross by
+hands and feet to preserve the position invariably displayed in figures
+of the Crucifixion. Those who so portray it fail in what should be their
+most awful and agonizing effect. Think for one moment, and imagine, if
+you can, what would be the attitude of a man, living or dead, under this
+frightful torture.”
+
+“You startle me,” returned the great surgeon, “not only by the truth of
+your remarks, but by their obviousness. It is strange indeed that such a
+matter should have so long been overlooked. The more I think upon it the
+more the bare idea of actual crucifixion seems to horrify me, though
+heaven knows I am accustomed enough to scenes of suffering. How would
+you represent such a terrible agony?”
+
+“Indeed I cannot tell,” replied the sculptor; “to guess would be almost
+vain. The fearful strain upon the muscles, their utter helplessness and
+inactivity, the frightful swellings, the effect of weight upon the
+racked and tortured sinews, appal me too much even for speculation.”
+
+“But this,” replied the surgeon, “one might think a matter of
+importance, not only to art, but, higher still, to religion itself.”
+
+“Maybe so,” returned the sculptor. “But perhaps the appeal to the senses
+through a true representation might be too horrible for either the one
+or the other.”
+
+“Still,” persisted the surgeon, “I should like—say for
+curiosity—though I am weak enough to believe even in my own motive as a
+higher one—to ascertain the effect from actual observation.”
+
+“So should I, could it be done, and of course without pain to the
+object, which, as a condition, seems to present at the outset an
+impossibility.”
+
+“Perhaps not,” mused the anatomist; “I think I have a notion. Stay—we
+may contrive this matter. I will tell you my plan, and it will be
+strange indeed if we two cannot manage to carry it out.”
+
+The discourse here, owing to the rapt attention of both speakers,
+assumed a low and earnest tone, but had perhaps better be narrated by a
+relation of the events to which it gave rise. Suffice it to say that the
+Sovereign was more than once mentioned during its progress, and in a
+manner which plainly told that the two speakers each possessed
+sufficient influence to obtain the assistance of royalty, and that such
+assistance would be required in their scheme.
+
+The shades of evening deepened while the two were still conversing. And
+leaving this scene, let us cast one hurried glimpse at another taking
+place contemporaneously.
+
+Between Pimlico and Chelsea, and across a canal of which the bed has
+since been used for the railway terminating at Victoria Station, there
+was at the time of which we speak a rude timber footway, long since
+replaced by a more substantial and convenient erection, but then known
+as the Wooden Bridge. It was named shortly afterward Cutthroat Bridge,
+and for this reason.
+
+While Mr. Fiddyes and Dr. Carnell were discoursing over their wine, as
+we have already seen, one Peter Starke, a drunken Chelsea pensioner, was
+murdering his wife upon the spot we have last indicated. The coincidence
+was curious.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In those days the punishment of criminals followed closely upon their
+conviction. The Chelsea pensioner whom we have mentioned was found
+guilty one Friday and sentenced to die on the following Monday. He was a
+sad scoundrel, impenitent to the last, glorying in the deeds of
+slaughter which he had witnessed and acted during the series of
+campaigns which had ended just previously at Waterloo. He was a tall,
+well-built fellow enough, of middle age, for his class was not then, as
+now, composed chiefly of veterans, but comprised many young men, just
+sufficiently disabled to be unfit for service. Peter Starke, although
+but slightly wounded, had nearly completed his term of service, and had
+obtained his pension and presentment to Chelsea Hospital. With his life
+we have but little to do, save as regards its close, which we shall
+shortly endeavor to describe far more veraciously, and at some greater
+length than set forth in the brief account which satisfied the public of
+his own day, and which, as embodied in the columns of the few journals
+then appearing, ran thus:
+
+    “On Monday last Peter Starke was executed at Newgate for the
+    murder at the Wooden Bridge, Chelsea, with four others for
+    various offences. After he had been hanging only for a few
+    minutes a respite arrived, but although he was promptly cut
+    down, life was pronounced to be extinct. His body was buried
+    within the prison walls.”
+
+Thus far history. But the conciseness of history far more frequently
+embodies falsehood than truth. Perhaps the following narration may
+approach more nearly to the facts.
+
+A room within the prison had been, upon that special occasion and by
+high authority, allotted to the use of Dr. Carnell and Mr. Fiddyes, the
+famous sculptor, for the purpose of certain investigations connected
+with art and science. In that room Mr. Fiddyes, while wretched Peter
+Starke was yet swinging between heaven and earth, was busily engaged in
+arranging a variety of implements and materials, consisting of a large
+quantity of plaster-of-Paris, two large pails of water, some tubs, and
+other necessaries of the moulder’s art. The room contained a large deal
+table, and a wooden cross, not neatly planed and squared at the angles,
+but of thick, narrow, rudely-sawn oaken plank, fixed by strong, heavy
+nails. And while Mr. Fiddyes was thus occupied, the executioner
+entered, bearing upon his shoulders the body of the wretched Peter,
+which he flung heavily upon the table.
+
+“You are sure he is dead?” asked Mr. Fiddyes.
+
+“Dead as a herring,” replied the other. “And yet just as warm and limp
+as if he had only fainted.”
+
+“Then go to work at once,” replied the sculptor, as turning his back
+upon the hangman, he resumed his occupation.
+
+The “work” was soon done. Peter was stripped and nailed upon the timber,
+which was instantly propped against the wall.
+
+“As fine a one as ever I see,” exclaimed the executioner, as he regarded
+the defunct murderer with an expression of admiration, as if at his own
+handiwork, in having abruptly demolished such a magnificent animal.
+“Drops a good bit for’ard, though. Shall I tie him up round the waist,
+sir?”
+
+“Certainly not,” returned the sculptor. “Just rub him well over with
+this oil, especially his head, and then you can go. Dr. Carnell will
+settle with you.”
+
+“All right, sir.”
+
+The fellow did as ordered, and retired without another word; leaving
+this strange couple, the living and the dead, in that dismal chamber.
+
+Mr. Fiddyes was a man of strong nerve in such matters. He had been too
+much accustomed to taking posthumous casts to trouble himself with any
+sentiment of repugnance at his approaching task of taking what is called
+a “piece-mould” from a body. He emptied a number of bags of the white
+powdery plaster-of-Paris into one of the larger vessels, poured into it
+a pail of water, and was carefully stirring up the mass, when a sound of
+dropping arrested his ear.
+
+_Drip, drip._
+
+“There’s something leaking,” he muttered, as he took a second pail, and
+emptying it, again stirred the composition.
+
+_Drip, drip, drip._
+
+“It’s strange,” he soliloquized, half aloud. “There is no more water,
+and yet——”
+
+The sound was heard again.
+
+He gazed at the ceiling; there was no sign of damp. He turned his eyes
+to the body, and something suddenly caused him a violent start. The
+murderer was bleeding.
+
+The sculptor, spite of his command over himself, turned pale. At that
+moment the head of Starke moved—clearly moved. It raised itself
+convulsively for a single moment; its eyes rolled, and it gave vent to a
+subdued moan of intense agony. Mr. Fiddyes fell fainting on the floor as
+Dr. Carnell entered. It needed but a glance to tell the doctor what had
+happened, even had not Peter just then given vent to another low cry.
+The surgeon’s measures were soon taken. Locking the door, he bore a
+chair to the wall which supported the body of the malefactor. He drew
+from his pocket a case of glittering instruments, and with one of these,
+so small and delicate that it scarcely seemed larger than a needle, he
+rapidly, but dexterously and firmly, touched Peter just at the back of
+the neck. There was no wound larger than the head of a small pin, and
+yet the head fell instantly as though the heart had been pierced. The
+doctor had divided the spinal cord, and Peter Starke was dead indeed.
+
+A few minutes sufficed to recall the sculptor to his senses. He at first
+gazed wildly upon the still suspended body, so painfully recalled to
+life by the rough venesection of the hangman and the subsequent friction
+of anointing his body to prevent the adhesion of the plaster.
+
+“You need not fear now,” said Dr. Carnell; “I assure you he is dead.”
+
+“But he _was_ alive, surely!”
+
+“Only for a moment, and even that scarcely to be called life—mere
+muscular contraction, my dear sir, mere muscular contraction.”
+
+The sculptor resumed his labor. The body was girt at various
+circumferences with fine twine, to be afterward withdrawn through a
+thick coating of plaster, so as to separate the various pieces of the
+mould, which was at last completed; and after this Dr. Carnell skilfully
+flayed the body, to enable a second mould to be taken of the entire
+figure, showing every muscle of the outer layer.
+
+The two moulds were thus taken. It is difficult to conceive more ghastly
+appearances than they presented. For sculptor’s work they were utterly
+useless; for no artist except the most daring of realists would have
+ventured to indicate the horrors which they presented. Fiddyes refused
+to receive them. Dr. Carnell, hard and cruel as he was, for kindness’
+sake, in his profession, was a gentle, genial father of a family of
+daughters. He received the casts, and at once consigned them to a
+garret, to which he forbade access. His youngest daughter, one
+unfortunate day, during her father’s absence, was impelled by feminine
+curiosity—perhaps a little increased by the prohibition—to enter the
+mysterious chamber.
+
+Whether she imagined in the pallid figure upon the cross a celestial
+rebuke for her disobedience, or whether she was overcome by the mere
+mortal horror of one or both of those dreadful casts, can now never be
+known. But this is true: she became a maniac.
+
+The writer of this has more than once seen (as, no doubt, have many
+others) the plaster effigies of Peter Starke, after their removal from
+Dr. Carnell’s to a famous studio near the Regent’s Park. It was there
+that he heard whispered the strange story of their origin. Sculptor and
+surgeon are now both long since dead, and it is no longer necessary to
+keep _the secret of the two plaster casts_.
+
+
+
+
+WHAT WAS IT?
+
+
+It is, I confess, with considerable diffidence that I approached the
+strange narrative which I am about to relate. The events which I purpose
+detailing are of so extraordinary a character that I am quite prepared
+to meet with an unusual amount of incredulity and scorn. I accept all
+such beforehand. I have, I trust, the literary courage to face unbelief.
+I have, after mature consideration, resolved to narrate, in as simple
+and straightforward a manner as I can compass, some facts that passed
+under my observation, in the month of July last, and which, in the
+annals of the mysteries of physical science, are wholly unparalleled.
+
+I live at No. — Twenty-sixth Street, in New York. The house is in some
+respects a curious one. It has enjoyed for the last two years the
+reputation of being haunted. The house is very spacious. A hall of noble
+size leads to a large spiral staircase winding through its centre, while
+the various apartments are of imposing dimensions. It was built some
+fifteen or twenty years since by Mr. A——, the well-known New York
+merchant, who five years ago threw the commercial world into convulsions
+by a stupendous bank fraud. Mr. A——, as every one knows, escaped to
+Europe, and died not long after, of a broken heart. Almost immediately
+after the news of his decease reached this country and was verified,
+the report spread in Twenty-sixth Street that No. — was haunted. Legal
+measures had dispossessed the widow of its former owner, and it was
+inhabited merely by a care-taker and his wife, placed there by the
+house-agent into whose hands it had passed for purposes of renting or
+sale. These people declared that they were troubled with unnatural
+noises. Doors were opened without any visible agency. The remnants of
+furniture scattered through the various rooms were, during the night,
+piled one upon the other by unknown hands. Invisible feet passed up and
+down the stairs in broad daylight, accompanied by the rustle of unseen
+silk dresses, and the gliding of viewless hands along the massive
+balusters. The care-taker and his wife declared they would live there no
+longer. The house-agent laughed, dismissed them, and put others in their
+place. The noises and supernatural manifestations continued. The
+neighborhood caught up the story, and the house remained untenanted for
+three years. Several persons negotiated for it; but, somehow, always
+before the bargain was closed they heard the unpleasant rumors and
+declined to treat any further.
+
+It was in this state of things that my landlady, who at that time kept a
+boarding-house in Bleecker Street, and who wished to move farther up
+town, conceived the bold idea of renting No. — Twenty-sixth Street.
+Happening to have in her house rather a plucky and philosophical set of
+boarders, she laid her scheme before us, stating candidly everything she
+had heard respecting the ghostly qualities of the establishment to which
+she wished to remove us. With the exception of two timid persons—a
+sea-captain and a returned Californian, who immediately gave notice that
+they would leave—all of Mrs. Moffat’s guests declared that they would
+accompany her in her incursion into the abode of spirits.
+
+Our removal was effected in the month of May, and we were charmed with
+our new residence.
+
+Of course we had no sooner established ourselves at No. — than we began
+to expect the ghosts. We absolutely awaited their advent with eagerness.
+Our dinner conversation was supernatural. I found myself a person of
+immense importance, it having leaked out that I was tolerably well
+versed in the history of supernaturalism, and had once written a story
+the foundation of which was a ghost. If a table or wainscot panel
+happened to warp when we were assembled in the large drawing-room, there
+was an instant silence, and every one was prepared for an immediate
+clanking of chains and a spectral form.
+
+After a month of psychological excitement, it was with the utmost
+dissatisfaction that we were forced to acknowledge that nothing in the
+remotest degree approaching the supernatural had manifested itself.
+
+Things were in this state when an incident took place so awful and
+inexplicable in its character that my reason fairly reels at the bare
+memory of the occurrence. It was the tenth of July. After dinner was
+over I repaired, with my friend Dr. Hammond, to the garden to smoke my
+evening pipe. Independent of certain mental sympathies which existed
+between the doctor and myself, we were linked together by a vice. We
+both smoked opium. We knew each other’s secret and respected it. We
+enjoyed together that wonderful expansion of thought, that marvellous
+intensifying of the perceptive faculties, that boundless feeling of
+existence when we seem to have points of contact with the whole
+universe—in short, that unimaginable spiritual bliss, which I would not
+surrender for a throne, and which I hope you, reader, will never—never
+taste.
+
+On the evening in question, the tenth of July, the doctor and myself
+drifted into an unusually metaphysical mood. We lit our large
+meerschaums, filled with fine Turkish tobacco, in the core of which
+burned a little black nut of opium, that, like the nut in the fairy
+tale, held within its narrow limits wonders beyond the reach of kings;
+we paced to and fro, conversing. A strange perversity dominated the
+currents of our thoughts. They would not flow through the sun-lit
+channels into which we strove to divert them. For some unaccountable
+reason, they constantly diverged into dark and lonesome beds, where a
+continual gloom brooded. It was in vain that, after our old fashion, we
+flung ourselves on the shores of the East, and talked of its gay
+bazaars, of the splendors of the time of Haroun, of harems and golden
+palaces. Black afreets continually arose from the depths of our talk,
+and expanded, like the one the fisherman released from the copper
+vessel, until they blotted everything bright from our vision.
+Insensibly, we yielded to the occult force that swayed us, and indulged
+in gloomy speculation. We had talked some time upon the proneness of the
+human mind to mysticism, and the almost universal love of the terrible,
+when Hammond suddenly said to me, “What do you consider to be the
+greatest element of terror?”
+
+The question puzzled me. That many things were terrible, I knew. But it
+now struck me, for the first time, that there must be one great and
+ruling embodiment of fear—a King of Terrors, to which all others must
+succumb. What might it be? To what train of circumstances would it owe
+its existence?
+
+“I confess, Hammond,” I replied to my friend, “I never considered the
+subject before. That there must be one Something more terrible than any
+other thing, I feel. I cannot attempt, however, even the most vague
+definition.”
+
+“I am somewhat like you, Harry,” he answered. “I feel my capacity to
+experience a terror greater than anything yet conceived by the human
+mind—something combining in fearful and unnatural amalgamation hitherto
+supposed incompatible elements. The calling of the voices in Brockden
+Brown’s novel of ‘Wieland’ is awful; so is the picture of the Dweller on
+the Threshold, in Bulwer’s ‘Zanoni;’ but,” he added, shaking his head
+gloomily, “there is something more horrible still than these.”
+
+“Look here, Hammond,” I rejoined, “let us drop this kind of talk, for
+Heaven’s sake! We shall suffer for it, depend on it.”
+
+“I don’t know what’s the matter with me to-night,” he replied, “but my
+brain is running upon all sorts of weird and awful thoughts. I feel as
+if I could write a story like Hoffman, to-night, if I were only master
+of a literary style.”
+
+“Well, if we are going to be Hoffmanesque in our talk, I’m off to bed.
+Opium and nightmares should never be brought together. How sultry it
+is! Good-night, Hammond.”
+
+“Good-night, Harry. Pleasant dreams to you.”
+
+“To you, gloomy wretch, afreets, ghouls, and enchanters.”
+
+We parted, and each sought his respective chamber. I undressed quickly
+and got into bed, taking with me, according to my usual custom, a book
+over which I generally read myself to sleep. I opened the volume as soon
+as I had laid my head upon the pillow, and instantly flung it to the
+other side of the room. It was Goudon’s “History of Monsters,”—a
+curious French work, which I had lately imported from Paris, but which,
+in the state of mind I had then reached, was anything but an agreeable
+companion. I resolved to go to sleep at once; so, turning down my gas
+until nothing but a little blue point of light glimmered on the top of
+the tube, I composed myself to rest.
+
+The room was in total darkness. The atom of gas that still remained
+alight did not illuminate a distance of three inches round the burner. I
+desperately drew my arm across my eyes, as if to shut out even the
+darkness and tried to think of nothing. It was in vain. The confounded
+themes touched on by Hammond in the garden kept obtruding themselves on
+my brain. I battled against them. I erected ramparts of would-be
+blankness of intellect to keep them out. They still crowded upon me.
+While I was lying still as a corpse, hoping that by a perfect physical
+inaction I should hasten mental repose, an awful incident occurred. A
+Something dropped, as it seemed, from the ceiling, plumb upon my chest,
+and the next instant I felt two bony hands encircling my throat,
+endeavoring to choke me.
+
+I am no coward, and am possessed of considerable physical strength. The
+suddenness of the attack, instead of stunning me, strung every nerve to
+its highest tension. My body acted from instinct, before my brain had
+time to realize the terrors of my position. In an instant I wound two
+muscular arms around the creature, and squeezed it, with all the
+strength of despair, against my chest. In a few seconds the bony hands
+that had fastened on my throat loosened their hold, and I was free to
+breathe once more. Then commenced a struggle of awful intensity.
+Immersed in the most profound darkness, totally ignorant of the nature
+of the Thing by which I was so suddenly attacked, finding my grasp
+slipping every moment, by reason, it seemed to me, of the entire
+nakedness of my assailant, bitten with sharp teeth in the shoulder,
+neck, and chest, having every moment to protect my throat against a pair
+of sinewy, agile hands, which my utmost efforts could not confine—these
+were a combination of circumstances to combat which required all the
+strength, skill, and courage that I possessed.
+
+At last, after a silent, deadly, exhausting struggle, I got my assailant
+under by a series of incredible efforts of strength. Once pinned, with
+my knee on what I made out to be its chest, I knew that I was victor. I
+rested for a moment to breathe. I heard the creature beneath me panting
+in the darkness, and felt the violent throbbing of a heart. It was
+apparently as exhausted as I was; that was one comfort. At this moment I
+remembered that I usually placed under my pillow, before going to bed,
+a large yellow silk pocket-handkerchief. I felt for it instantly; it was
+there. In a few seconds more I had, after a fashion, pinioned the
+creature’s arms.
+
+I now felt tolerably secure. There was nothing more to be done but to
+turn on the gas, and, having first seen what my midnight assailant was
+like, arouse the household. I will confess to being actuated by a
+certain pride in not giving the alarm before; I wished to make the
+capture alone and unaided.
+
+Never losing my hold for an instant, I slipped from the bed to the
+floor, dragging my captive with me. I had but a few steps to make to
+reach the gas-burner; these I made with the greatest caution, holding
+the creature in a grip like a vice. At last I got within arm’s length of
+the tiny speck of blue light which told me where the gas-burner lay.
+Quick as lightning I released my grasp with one hand and let on the full
+flood of light. Then I turned to look at my captive.
+
+I cannot even attempt to give any definition of my sensations the
+instant after I turned on the gas. I suppose I must have shrieked with
+terror, for in less than a minute afterward my room was crowded with the
+inmates of the house. I shudder now as I think of that awful moment. _I
+saw nothing!_ Yes; I had one arm firmly clasped round a breathing,
+panting, corporeal shape, my other hand gripped with all its strength a
+throat as warm, and apparently fleshly, as my own; and yet, with this
+living substance in my grasp, with its body pressed against my own, and
+all in the bright glare of a large jet of gas, I absolutely beheld
+nothing! Not even an outline—a vapor!
+
+I do not, even at this hour, realize the situation in which I found
+myself. I cannot recall the astounding incident thoroughly. Imagination
+in vain tries to compass the awful paradox.
+
+It breathed. I felt its warm breath upon my cheek. It struggled
+fiercely. It had hands. They clutched me. Its skin was smooth, like my
+own. There it lay, pressed close up against me, solid as stone—and yet
+utterly invisible!
+
+I wonder that I did not faint or go mad on the instant. Some wonderful
+instinct must have sustained me; for absolutely, in place of loosening
+my hold on the terrible Enigma, I seemed to gain an additional strength
+in my moment of horror, and tightened my grasp with such wonderful force
+that I felt the creature shivering with agony.
+
+Just then Hammond entered my room at the head of the household. As soon
+as he beheld my face—which, I suppose, must have been an awful sight to
+look at—he hastened forward, crying, “Great Heaven, what has happened?”
+
+“Hammond! Hammond!” I cried, “come here. Oh, this is awful! I have been
+attacked in bed by something or other, which I have hold of; but I can’t
+see it—I can’t see it!”
+
+Hammond, doubtless struck by the unfeigned horror expressed in my
+countenance, made one or two steps forward with an anxious yet puzzled
+expression. A very audible titter burst from the remainder of my
+visitors. This suppressed laughter made me furious. To laugh at a human
+being in my position! It was the worst species of cruelty. _Now_, I can
+understand why the appearance of a man struggling violently, as it would
+seem, with an airy nothing, and calling for assistance against a vision,
+should have appeared ludicrous. _Then_, so great was my rage against the
+mocking crowd that had I the power I would have stricken them dead where
+they stood.
+
+“Hammond! Hammond!” I cried again, despairingly, “for God’s sake come to
+me. I can hold the—the thing but a short while longer. It is
+overpowering me. Help me! Help me!”
+
+“Harry,” whispered Hammond, approaching me, “you have been smoking too
+much opium.”
+
+“I swear to you, Hammond, that this is no vision,” I answered, in the
+same low tone. “Don’t you see how it shakes my whole frame with its
+struggles? If you don’t believe me convince yourself. Feel it—touch
+it.”
+
+Hammond advanced and laid his hand in the spot I indicated. A wild cry
+of horror burst from him. He had felt it!
+
+In a moment he had discovered somewhere in my room a long piece of cord,
+and was the next instant winding it and knotting it about the body of
+the unseen being that I clasped in my arms.
+
+“Harry,” he said, in a hoarse, agitated voice, for, though he preserved
+his presence of mind, he was deeply moved, “Harry, it’s all safe now.
+You may let go, old fellow, if you’re tired. The Thing can’t move.”
+
+I was utterly exhausted, and I gladly loosed my hold.
+
+[Illustration: “BOTH OF US—CONQUERING OUR FEARFUL REPUGNANCE TO TOUCH
+THE INVISIBLE CREATURE—LIFTED IT FROM THE GROUND, MANACLED AS IT WAS,
+AND TOOK IT TO MY BED.”]
+
+Hammond stood holding the ends of the cord, that bound the Invisible,
+twisted round his hand, while before him, self-supporting as it were, he
+beheld a rope laced and interlaced, and stretching tightly around a
+vacant space. I never saw a man look so thoroughly stricken with awe.
+Nevertheless his face expressed all the courage and determination which
+I knew him to possess. His lips, although white, were set firmly, and
+one could perceive at a glance that, although stricken with fear, he was
+not daunted.
+
+The confusion that ensued among the guests of the house who were
+witnesses of this extraordinary scene between Hammond and myself—who
+beheld the pantomime of binding this struggling Something—who beheld me
+almost sinking from physical exhaustion when my task of jailer was
+over—the confusion and terror that took possession of the bystanders,
+when they saw all this, was beyond description. The weaker ones fled
+from the apartment. The few who remained clustered near the door and
+could not be induced to approach Hammond and his Charge. Still
+incredulity broke out through their terror. They had not the courage to
+satisfy themselves, and yet they doubted. It was in vain that I begged
+of some of the men to come near and convince themselves by touch of the
+existence in that room of a living being which was invisible. They were
+incredulous, but did not dare to undeceive themselves. How could a
+solid, living, breathing body be invisible, they asked. My reply was
+this. I gave a sign to Hammond, and both of us—conquering our fearful
+repugnance to touch the invisible creature—lifted it from the ground,
+manacled as it was, and took it to my bed. Its weight was about that of
+a boy of fourteen.
+
+“Now, my friends,” I said, as Hammond and myself held the creature
+suspended over the bed, “I can give you self-evident proof that here is
+a solid, ponderable body, which, nevertheless, you cannot see. Be good
+enough to watch the surface of the bed attentively.”
+
+I was astonished at my own courage in treating this strange event so
+calmly; but I had recovered from my first terror, and felt a sort of
+scientific pride in the affair, which dominated every other feeling.
+
+The eyes of the bystanders were immediately fixed on my bed. At a given
+signal Hammond and I let the creature fall. There was the dull sound of
+a heavy body alighting on a soft mass. The timbers of the bed creaked. A
+deep impression marked itself distinctly on the pillow, and on the bed
+itself. The crowd who witnessed this gave a low cry, and rushed from the
+room. Hammond and I were left alone with our Mystery.
+
+We remained silent for some time, listening to the low irregular
+breathing of the creature on the bed and watching the rustle of the
+bed-clothes as it impotently struggled to free itself from confinement.
+Then Hammond spoke.
+
+“Harry, this is awful.”
+
+“Ay, awful.”
+
+“But not unaccountable.”
+
+“Not unaccountable! What do you mean? Such a thing has never occurred
+since the birth of the world. I know not what to think, Hammond. God
+grant that I am not mad and that this is not an insane fantasy!”
+
+“Let us reason a little, Harry. Here is a solid body which we touch but
+which we cannot see. The fact is so unusual that it strikes us with
+terror. Is there no parallel, though, for such a phenomenon? Take a
+piece of pure glass. It is tangible and transparent. A certain chemical
+coarseness is all that prevents its being so entirely transparent as to
+be totally invisible. It is not _theoretically impossible_, mind you, to
+make a glass which shall not reflect a single ray of light—a glass so
+pure and homogeneous in its atoms that the rays from the sun will pass
+through it as they do through the air, refracted but not reflected. We
+do not see the air, and yet we feel it.”
+
+“That’s all very well, Hammond, but these are inanimate substances.
+Glass does not breathe, air does not breathe. This thing has a heart
+that palpitates—a will that moves it—lungs that play, and inspire and
+respire.”
+
+“You forget the phenomena of which we have so often heard of late,”
+answered the doctor gravely. “At the meetings called ‘spirit circles,’
+invisible hands have been thrust into the hands of those persons round
+the table—warm, fleshly hands that seemed to pulsate with mortal life.”
+
+“What? Do you think, then, that this thing is——”
+
+“I don’t know what it is,” was the solemn reply; “but please the gods I
+will, with your assistance, thoroughly investigate it.”
+
+We watched together, smoking many pipes, all night long, by the bedside
+of the unearthly being that tossed and panted until it was apparently
+wearied out. Then we learned by the low, regular breathing that it
+slept.
+
+The next morning the house was all astir. The boarders congregated on
+the landing outside my room, and Hammond and myself were lions. We had
+to answer a thousand questions as to the state of our extraordinary
+prisoner, for as yet not one person in the house except ourselves could
+be induced to set foot in the apartment.
+
+The creature was awake. This was evidenced by the convulsive manner in
+which the bed-clothes were moved in its efforts to escape. There was
+something truly terrible in beholding, as it were, those second-hand
+indications of the terrible writhings and agonized struggles for liberty
+which themselves were invisible.
+
+Hammond and myself had racked our brains during the long night to
+discover some means by which we might realize the shape and general
+appearance of the Enigma. As well as we could make out by passing our
+hands over the creature’s form, its outlines and lineaments were human.
+There was a mouth; a round, smooth head without hair; a nose, which,
+however, was little elevated above the cheeks; and its hands and feet
+felt like those of a boy. At first we thought of placing the being on a
+smooth surface and tracing its outlines with chalk, as shoemakers trace
+the outline of the foot. This plan was given up as being of no value.
+Such an outline would give not the slightest idea of its conformation.
+
+A happy thought struck me. We would take a cast of it in
+plaster-of-Paris. This would give us the solid figure, and satisfy all
+our wishes. But how to do it. The movements of the creature would
+disturb the setting of the plastic covering, and distort the mould.
+Another thought. Why not give it chloroform? It had respiratory
+organs—that was evident by its breathing. Once reduced to a state of
+insensibility, we could do with it what we would. Doctor X—— was sent
+for; and after the worthy physician had recovered from the first shock
+of amazement, he proceeded to administer the chloroform. In three
+minutes afterward we were enabled to remove the fetters from the
+creature’s body, and a modeller was busily engaged in covering the
+invisible form with the moist clay. In five minutes more we had a mould,
+and before evening a rough fac-simile of the Mystery. It was shaped like
+a man--distorted, uncouth, and horrible, but still a man. It was small,
+not over four feet and some inches in height, and its limbs revealed a
+muscular development that was unparalleled. Its face surpassed in
+hideousness anything I had ever seen. Gustave Doré, or Callot, or Tony
+Johannot, never conceived anything so horrible. There is a face in one
+of the latter’s illustrations to _Un Voyage où il vous plaira_, which
+somewhat approaches the countenance of this creature, but does not equal
+it. It was the physiognomy of what I should fancy a ghoul might be. It
+looked as if it was capable of feeding on human flesh.
+
+Having satisfied our curiosity, and bound every one in the house to
+secrecy, it became a question what was to be done with our Enigma? It
+was impossible that we should keep such a horror in our house; it was
+equally impossible that such an awful being should be let loose upon the
+world. I confess that I would have gladly voted for the creature’s
+destruction. But who would shoulder the responsibility? Who would
+undertake the execution of this horrible semblance to a human being? Day
+after day this question was deliberated gravely. The boarders all left
+the house. Mrs. Moffat was in despair, and threatened Hammond and myself
+with all sorts of legal penalties if we did not remove the Horror. Our
+answer was, “We will go if you like, but we decline taking this creature
+with us. Remove it yourself if you please. It appeared in your house. On
+you the responsibility rests.” To this there was, of course, no answer.
+Mrs. Moffat could not obtain for love or money a person who would even
+approach the Mystery.
+
+At last it died. Hammond and I found it cold and stiff one morning in
+the bed. The heart had ceased to beat, the lungs to inspire. We hastened
+to bury it in the garden. It was a strange funeral, the dropping of that
+viewless corpse into the damp hole. The cast of its form I gave to
+Doctor X——, who keeps it in his museum in Tenth Street.
+
+As I am on the eve of a long journey from which I may not return, I have
+drawn up this narrative of an event the most singular that has ever come
+to my knowledge.
+
+
+    +------------------------------------------------------------------+
+    |Transcriber’s Note:                                               |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |The words peckett (page 11), stronge (page 170) and Boulevart(s)  |
+    |(pages 59 and 80), the use of both L’Estrange and l’Estrange, and |
+    |variations in hyphenated words have been retained as in the       |
+    |original book.                                                    |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  21 “Derybshire” changed to “Derbyshire”                     |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  22 “felt their hair” changed to “felt the hair”             |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  46 “Come baack to” changed to “Come back to”                |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  48 Added “ before Dear Mr. Westcar                          |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  61 “sufficiently start ling” changed to                     |
+    |         “sufficiently startling”                                 |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  84 Changed “ to ‘ before And what other                     |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  95 Removed “ before together with                           |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 115 “dangerous conditon” changed to “dangerous condition”    |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 120 “keeeping the matter” changed to “keeping the matter”    |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 123 Added “ after new stalls, Gen’ral).                      |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 127 “beyond each” changed to “beyond reach”                  |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 138 “tradionally imputed” changed to “traditionally imputed” |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 152 “by which pedestrains” changed to “by which pedestrians” |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 164 “buy the joint of you” changed to “buy the joint off you”|
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 191 “was on the the man’s” changed to “was on the man’s”     |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 219 “Miss Collingwood had been languid” changed to           |
+    |         “Miss Collingham had been languid”                       |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 220 Added “ before Miss Collingham started                   |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 232 Removed “ before The shades of evening                   |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 233 “Ferhaps the following” changed to                       |
+    |         “Perhaps the following”                                  |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 235 “it gavevent to” changed to “it gave vent to”            |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 250 “my rage are against” changed to “my rage against”       |
+    +------------------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+
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+J. Sheridan Le Fanu and Charles Young and and Others
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Stable for Nightmares, by 
+J. Sheridan Le Fanu and Charles Young and and Others
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Stable for Nightmares
+       or Weird Tales
+
+Author: J. Sheridan Le Fanu
+        Charles Young
+        and Others
+
+Release Date: August 28, 2008 [EBook #26451]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STABLE FOR NIGHTMARES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Jacqueline Jeremy and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    A STABLE FOR NIGHTMARES
+
+    [Illustration: A STABLE FOR NIGHTMARES]
+
+    A STABLE FOR NIGHTMARES
+
+    OR
+
+    WEIRD TALES
+
+    BY
+
+    J. SHERIDAN LE FANU
+    AUTHOR OF "UNCLE SILAS," "HOUSE BY THE CHURCHYARD,"
+
+    SIR CHARLES YOUNG, BART.
+
+    AND OTHERS
+
+    Illustrated
+
+    NEW YORK NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY
+    156 FIFTH AVENUE
+    1896
+
+
+    Copyright, 1896,
+    by
+    NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+    TABLE OF CONTENTS
+
+                                                    PAGE
+
+    DICKON THE DEVIL,                                  9
+
+    A DEBT OF HONOR,                                  27
+
+    DEVEREUX'S DREAM,                                 59
+
+    CATHERINE'S QUEST,                                89
+
+    HAUNTED,                                         115
+
+    PICHON AND SONS, OF THE CROIX ROUSSE,            135
+
+    THE PHANTOM FOURTH,                              163
+
+    THE SPIRIT'S WHISPER,                            185
+
+    DR. FEVERSHAM'S STORY,                           209
+
+    THE SECRET OF THE TWO PLASTER CASTS,             229
+
+    WHAT WAS IT?                                     241
+
+
+
+
+DICKON THE DEVIL.
+
+
+About thirty years ago I was selected by two rich old maids to visit a
+property in that part of Lancashire which lies near the famous forest of
+Pendle, with which Mr. Ainsworth's "Lancashire Witches" has made us so
+pleasantly familiar. My business was to make partition of a small
+property, including a house and demesne to which they had, a long time
+before, succeeded as coheiresses.
+
+The last forty miles of my journey I was obliged to post, chiefly by
+cross-roads, little known, and less frequented, and presenting scenery
+often extremely interesting and pretty. The picturesqueness of the
+landscape was enhanced by the season, the beginning of September, at
+which I was travelling.
+
+I had never been in this part of the world before; I am told it is now a
+great deal less wild, and, consequently, less beautiful.
+
+At the inn where I had stopped for a relay of horses and some
+dinner--for it was then past five o'clock--I found the host, a hale old
+fellow of five-and-sixty, as he told me, a man of easy and garrulous
+benevolence, willing to accommodate his guests with any amount of talk,
+which the slightest tap sufficed to set flowing, on any subject you
+pleased.
+
+I was curious to learn something about Barwyke, which was the name of
+the demesne and house I was going to. As there was no inn within some
+miles of it, I had written to the steward to put me up there, the best
+way he could, for a night.
+
+The host of the "Three Nuns," which was the sign under which he
+entertained wayfarers, had not a great deal to tell. It was twenty
+years, or more, since old Squire Bowes died, and no one had lived in the
+Hall ever since, except the gardener and his wife.
+
+"Tom Wyndsour will be as old a man as myself; but he's a bit taller, and
+not so much in flesh, quite," said the fat innkeeper.
+
+"But there were stories about the house," I repeated, "that, they said,
+prevented tenants from coming into it?"
+
+"Old wives' tales; many years ago, that will be, sir; I forget 'em; I
+forget 'em all. Oh yes, there always will be, when a house is left so;
+foolish folk will always be talkin'; but I han't heard a word about it
+this twenty year."
+
+It was vain trying to pump him; the old landlord of the "Three Nuns,"
+for some reason, did not choose to tell tales of Barwyke Hall, if he
+really did, as I suspected, remember them.
+
+I paid my reckoning, and resumed my journey, well pleased with the good
+cheer of that old-world inn, but a little disappointed.
+
+We had been driving for more than an hour, when we began to cross a wild
+common; and I knew that, this passed, a quarter of an hour would bring
+me to the door of Barwyke Hall.
+
+The peat and furze were pretty soon left behind; we were again in the
+wooded scenery that I enjoyed so much, so entirely natural and pretty,
+and so little disturbed by traffic of any kind. I was looking from the
+chaise-window, and soon detected the object of which, for some time, my
+eye had been in search. Barwyke Hall was a large, quaint house, of that
+cage-work fashion known as "black-and-white," in which the bars and
+angles of an oak framework contrast, black as ebony, with the white
+plaster that overspreads the masonry built into its interstices. This
+steep-roofed Elizabethan house stood in the midst of park-like grounds
+of no great extent, but rendered imposing by the noble stature of the
+old trees that now cast their lengthening shadows eastward over the
+sward, from the declining sun.
+
+The park-wall was gray with age, and in many places laden with ivy. In
+deep gray shadow, that contrasted with the dim fires of evening
+reflected on the foliage above it, in a gentle hollow, stretched a lake
+that looked cold and black, and seemed, as it were, to skulk from
+observation with a guilty knowledge.
+
+I had forgot that there was a lake at Barwyke; but the moment this
+caught my eye, like the cold polish of a snake in the shadow, my
+instinct seemed to recognize something dangerous, and I knew that the
+lake was connected, I could not remember how, with the story I had heard
+of this place in my boyhood.
+
+I drove up a grass-grown avenue, under the boughs of these noble trees,
+whose foliage, dyed in autumnal red and yellow, returned the beams of
+the western sun gorgeously.
+
+We drew up at the door. I got out, and had a good look at the front of
+the house; it was a large and melancholy mansion, with signs of long
+neglect upon it; great wooden shutters, in the old fashion, were barred,
+outside, across the windows; grass, and even nettles, were growing thick
+on the courtyard, and a thin moss streaked the timber beams; the plaster
+was discolored by time and weather, and bore great russet and yellow
+stains. The gloom was increased by several grand old trees that crowded
+close about the house.
+
+I mounted the steps, and looked round; the dark lake lay near me now, a
+little to the left. It was not large; it may have covered some ten or
+twelve acres; but it added to the melancholy of the scene. Near the
+centre of it was a small island, with two old ash-trees, leaning toward
+each other, their pensive images reflected in the stirless water. The
+only cheery influence of this scene of antiquity, solitude, and neglect
+was that the house and landscape were warmed with the ruddy western
+beams. I knocked, and my summons resounded hollow and ungenial in my
+ear; and the bell, from far away, returned a deep-mouthed and surly
+ring, as if it resented being roused from a score years' slumber.
+
+A light-limbed, jolly-looking old fellow, in a barracan jacket and
+gaiters, with a smirk of welcome, and a very sharp, red nose, that
+seemed to promise good cheer, opened the door with a promptitude that
+indicated a hospitable expectation of my arrival.
+
+There was but little light in the hall, and that little lost itself in
+darkness in the background. It was very spacious and lofty, with a
+gallery running round it, which, when the door was open, was visible at
+two or three points. Almost in the dark my new acquaintance led me
+across this wide hall into the room destined for my reception. It was
+spacious, and wainscoted up to the ceiling. The furniture of this
+capacious chamber was old-fashioned and clumsy. There were curtains
+still to the windows, and a piece of Turkey carpet lay upon the floor;
+those windows were two in number, looking out, through the trunks of the
+trees close to the house, upon the lake. It needed all the fire, and all
+the pleasant associations of my entertainer's red nose, to light up this
+melancholy chamber. A door at its farther end admitted to the room that
+was prepared for my sleeping apartment. It was wainscoted, like the
+other. It had a four-post bed, with heavy tapestry curtains, and in
+other respects was furnished in the same old-world and ponderous style
+as the other room. Its window, like those of that apartment, looked out
+upon the lake.
+
+Sombre and sad as these rooms were, they were yet scrupulously clean. I
+had nothing to complain of; but the effect was rather dispiriting.
+Having given some directions about supper--a pleasant incident to look
+forward to--and made a rapid toilet, I called on my friend with the
+gaiters and red nose (Tom Wyndsour), whose occupation was that of a
+"bailiff," or under-steward, of the property, to accompany me, as we had
+still an hour or so of sun and twilight, in a walk over the grounds.
+
+It was a sweet autumn evening, and my guide, a hardy old fellow, strode
+at a pace that tasked me to keep up with.
+
+Among clumps of trees at the northern boundary of the demesne we lighted
+upon the little antique parish church. I was looking down upon it, from
+an eminence, and the park-wall interposed; but a little way down was a
+stile affording access to the road, and by this we approached the iron
+gate of the churchyard. I saw the church door open; the sexton was
+replacing his pick, shovel, and spade, with which he had just been
+digging a grave in the churchyard, in their little repository under the
+stone stair of the tower. He was a polite, shrewd little hunchback, who
+was very happy to show me over the church. Among the monuments was one
+that interested me; it was erected to commemorate the very Squire Bowes
+from whom my two old maids had inherited the house and estate of
+Barwyke. It spoke of him in terms of grandiloquent eulogy, and informed
+the Christian reader that he had died, in the bosom of the Church of
+England, at the age of seventy-one.
+
+I read this inscription by the parting beams of the setting sun, which
+disappeared behind the horizon just as we passed out from under the
+porch.
+
+"Twenty years since the Squire died," said I, reflecting, as I loitered
+still in the churchyard.
+
+"Ay, sir; 'twill be twenty year the ninth o' last month."
+
+"And a very good old gentleman?"
+
+"Good-natured enough, and an easy gentleman he was, sir; I don't think
+while he lived he ever hurt a fly," acquiesced Tom Wyndsour. "It ain't
+always easy sayin' what's in 'em, though, and what they may take or turn
+to afterward; and some o' them sort, I think, goes mad."
+
+"You don't think he was out of his mind?" I asked.
+
+"He? La! no; not he, sir; a bit lazy, mayhap, like other old fellows;
+but a knew devilish well what he was about."
+
+Tom Wyndsour's account was a little enigmatical; but, like old Squire
+Bowes, I was "a bit lazy" that evening, and asked no more questions
+about him.
+
+We got over the stile upon the narrow road that skirts the churchyard.
+It is overhung by elms more than a hundred years old, and in the
+twilight, which now prevailed, was growing very dark. As side-by-side we
+walked along this road, hemmed in by two loose stone-like walls,
+something running toward us in a zig-zag line passed us at a wild pace,
+with a sound like a frightened laugh or a shudder, and I saw, as it
+passed, that it was a human figure. I may confess, now, that I was a
+little startled. The dress of this figure was, in part, white: I know I
+mistook it at first for a white horse coming down the road at a gallop.
+Tom Wyndsour turned about and looked after the retreating figure.
+
+"He'll be on his travels to-night," he said, in a low tone. "Easy served
+with a bed, _that_ lad be; six foot o' dry peat or heath, or a nook in a
+dry ditch. That lad hasn't slept once in a house this twenty year, and
+never will while grass grows."
+
+"Is he mad?" I asked.
+
+"Something that way, sir; he's an idiot, an awpy; we call him 'Dickon
+the devil,' because the devil's almost the only word that's ever in his
+mouth."
+
+It struck me that this idiot was in some way connected with the story of
+old Squire Bowes.
+
+"Queer things are told of him, I dare say?" I suggested.
+
+"More or less, sir; more or less. Queer stories, some."
+
+"Twenty years since he slept in a house? That's about the time the
+Squire died," I continued.
+
+"So it will be, sir; not very long after."
+
+"You must tell me all about that, Tom, to-night, when I can hear it
+comfortably, after supper."
+
+Tom did not seem to like my invitation; and looking straight before him
+as we trudged on, he said:
+
+"You see, sir, the house has been quiet, and nout's been troubling folk
+inside the walls or out, all round the woods of Barwyke, this ten year,
+or more; and my old woman, down there, is clear against talking about
+such matters, and thinks it best--and so do I--to let sleepin' dogs be."
+
+He dropped his voice toward the close of the sentence, and nodded
+significantly.
+
+We soon reached a point where he unlocked a wicket in the park wall, by
+which we entered the grounds of Barwyke once more.
+
+The twilight deepening over the landscape, the huge and solemn trees,
+and the distant outline of the haunted house, exercised a sombre
+influence on me, which, together with the fatigue of a day of travel,
+and the brisk walk we had had, disinclined me to interrupt the silence
+in which my companion now indulged.
+
+A certain air of comparative comfort, on our arrival, in great measure
+dissipated the gloom that was stealing over me. Although it was by no
+means a cold night, I was very glad to see some wood blazing in the
+grate; and a pair of candles aiding the light of the fire, made the room
+look cheerful. A small table, with a very white cloth, and preparations
+for supper, was also a very agreeable object.
+
+I should have liked very well, under these influences, to have listened
+to Tom Wyndsour's story; but after supper I grew too sleepy to attempt
+to lead him to the subject; and after yawning for a time, I found there
+was no use in contending against my drowsiness, so I betook myself to my
+bedroom, and by ten o'clock was fast asleep.
+
+What interruption I experienced that night I shall tell you presently.
+It was not much, but it was very odd.
+
+By next night I had completed my work at Barwyke. From early morning
+till then I was so incessantly occupied and hard-worked, that I had no
+time to think over the singular occurrence to which I have just
+referred. Behold me, however, at length once more seated at my little
+supper-table, having ended a comfortable meal. It had been a sultry day,
+and I had thrown one of the large windows up as high as it would go. I
+was sitting near it, with my brandy and water at my elbow, looking out
+into the dark. There was no moon, and the trees that are grouped about
+the house make the darkness round it supernaturally profound on such
+nights.
+
+"Tom," said I, so soon as the jug of hot punch I had supplied him with
+began to exercise its genial and communicative influence; "you must tell
+me who beside your wife and you and myself slept in the house last
+night."
+
+Tom, sitting near the door, set down his tumbler, and looked at me
+askance, while you might count seven, without speaking a word.
+
+"Who else slept in the house?" he repeated, very deliberately. "Not a
+living soul, sir;" and he looked hard at me, still evidently expecting
+something more.
+
+"That _is_ very odd," I said, returning his stare, and feeling really a
+little odd. "You are sure _you_ were not in my room last night?"
+
+"Not till I came to call you, sir, this morning; I can make oath of
+that."
+
+"Well," said I, "there was some one there, _I_ can make oath of that. I
+was so tired I could not make up my mind to get up; but I was waked by a
+sound that I thought was some one flinging down the two tin boxes in
+which my papers were locked up violently on the floor. I heard a slow
+step on the ground, and there was light in the room, although I
+remembered having put out my candle. I thought it must have been you,
+who had come in for my clothes, and upset the boxes by accident. Whoever
+it was, he went out, and the light with him. I was about to settle
+again, when, the curtain being a little open at the foot of the bed, I
+saw a light on the wall opposite; such as a candle from outside would
+cast if the door were very cautiously opening. I started up in the bed,
+drew the side curtain, and saw that the door _was_ opening, and
+admitting light from outside. It is close, you know, to the head of the
+bed. A hand was holding on the edge of the door and pushing it open; not
+a bit like yours; a very singular hand. Let me look at yours."
+
+He extended it for my inspection.
+
+"Oh no; there's nothing wrong with your hand. This was differently
+shaped; fatter; and the middle finger was stunted, and shorter than the
+rest, looking as if it had once been broken, and the nail was crooked
+like a claw. I called out, "Who's there?" and the light and the hand
+were withdrawn, and I saw and heard no more of my visitor."
+
+"So sure as you're a living man, that was him!" exclaimed Tom Wyndsour,
+his very nose growing pale, and his eyes almost starting out of his
+head.
+
+"Who?" I asked.
+
+"Old Squire Bowes; 'twas _his_ hand you saw; the Lord a' mercy on us!"
+answered Tom. "The broken finger, and the nail bent like a hoop. Well
+for you, sir, he didn't come back when you called, that time. You came
+here about them Miss Dymock's business, and he never meant they should
+have a foot o' ground in Barwyke; and he was making a will to give it
+away quite different, when death took him short. He never was uncivil to
+no one; but he couldn't abide them ladies. My mind misgave me when I
+heard 'twas about their business you were coming; and now you see how it
+is; he'll be at his old tricks again!"
+
+With some pressure, and a little more punch, I induced Tom Wyndsour to
+explain his mysterious allusions by recounting the occurrences which
+followed the old Squire's death.
+
+"Squire Bowes, of Barwyke, died without making a will, as you know,"
+said Tom. "And all the folk round were sorry; that is to say, sir, as
+sorry as folk will be for an old man that has seen a long tale of years,
+and has no right to grumble that death has knocked an hour too soon at
+his door. The Squire was well liked; he was never in a passion, or said
+a hard word; and he would not hurt a fly; and that made what happened
+after his decease the more surprising.
+
+"The first thing these ladies did, when they got the property, was to
+buy stock for the park.
+
+"It was not wise, in any case, to graze the land on their own account.
+But they little knew all they had to contend with.
+
+"Before long something went wrong with the cattle; first one, and then
+another, took sick and died, and so on, till the loss began to grow
+heavy. Then, queer stories, little by little, began to be told. It was
+said, first by one, then by another, that Squire Bowes was seen, about
+evening time, walking, just as he used to do when he was alive, among
+the old trees, leaning on his stick; and, sometimes, when he came up
+with the cattle, he would stop and lay his hand kindly like on the back
+of one of them; and that one was sure to fall sick next day, and die
+soon after.
+
+"No one ever met him in the park, or in the woods, or ever saw him,
+except a good distance off. But they knew his gait and his figure well,
+and the clothes he used to wear; and they could tell the beast he laid
+his hand on by its color--white, dun, or black; and that beast was sure
+to sicken and die. The neighbors grew shy of taking the path over the
+park; and no one liked to walk in the woods, or come inside the bounds
+of Barwyke; and the cattle went on sickening and dying, as before.
+
+"At that time there was one Thomas Pyke; he had been a groom to the old
+Squire; and he was in care of the place, and was the only one that used
+to sleep in the house.
+
+"Tom was vexed, hearing these stories; which he did not believe the half
+on 'em; and more especial as he could not get man or boy to herd the
+cattle; all being afeared. So he wrote to Matlock, in Derbyshire, for
+his brother, Richard Pyke, a clever lad, and one that knew nout o' the
+story of the old Squire walking.
+
+"Dick came; and the cattle was better; folk said they could still see
+the old Squire, sometimes, walking, as before, in openings of the wood,
+with his stick in his hand; but he was shy of coming nigh the cattle,
+whatever his reason might be, since Dickon Pyke came; and he used to
+stand a long bit off, looking at them, with no more stir in him than a
+trunk o' one of the old trees, for an hour at a time, till the shape
+melted away, little by little, like the smoke of a fire that burns out.
+
+"Tom Pyke and his brother Dickon, being the only living souls in the
+house, lay in the big bed in the servants' room, the house being fast
+barred and locked, one night in November.
+
+"Tom was lying next the wall, and, he told me, as wide awake as ever he
+was at noonday. His brother Dickon lay outside, and was sound asleep.
+
+"Well, as Tom lay thinking, with his eyes turned toward the door, it
+opens slowly, and who should come in but old Squire Bowes, his face
+lookin' as dead as he was in his coffin.
+
+"Tom's very breath left his body; he could not take his eyes off him;
+and he felt the hair rising up on his head.
+
+"The Squire came to the side of the bed, and put his arms under Dickon,
+and lifted the boy--in a dead sleep all the time--and carried him out
+so, at the door.
+
+"Such was the appearance, to Tom Pyke's eyes, and he was ready to swear
+to it, anywhere.
+
+"When this happened, the light, wherever it came from, all on a sudden
+went out, and Tom could not see his own hand before him.
+
+"More dead than alive, he lay till daylight.
+
+"Sure enough his brother Dickon was gone. No sign of him could he
+discover about the house; and with some trouble he got a couple of the
+neighbors to help him to search the woods and grounds. Not a sign of him
+anywhere.
+
+"At last one of them thought of the island in the lake; the little boat
+was moored to the old post at the water's edge. In they got, though with
+small hope of finding him there. Find him, nevertheless, they did,
+sitting under the big ash-tree, quite out of his wits; and to all their
+questions he answered nothing but one cry--'Bowes, the devil! See him;
+see him; Bowes, the devil!' An idiot they found him; and so he will be
+till God sets all things right. No one could ever get him to sleep under
+roof-tree more. He wanders from house to house while daylight lasts; and
+no one cares to lock the harmless creature in the workhouse. And folk
+would rather not meet him after nightfall, for they think where he is
+there may be worse things near."
+
+A silence followed Tom's story. He and I were alone in that large room;
+I was sitting near the open window, looking into the dark night air. I
+fancied I saw something white move across it; and I heard a sound like
+low talking, that swelled into a discordant shriek--"Hoo-oo-oo! Bowes,
+the devil! Over your shoulder. Hoo-oo-oo! ha! ha! ha!" I started up, and
+saw, by the light of the candle with which Tom strode to the window, the
+wild eyes and blighted face of the idiot, as, with a sudden change of
+mood, he drew off, whispering and tittering to himself, and holding up
+his long fingers, and looking at them as if they were lighted at the
+tips like a "hand of glory."
+
+Tom pulled down the window. The story and its epilogue were over. I
+confessed I was rather glad when I heard the sound of the horses' hoofs
+on the courtyard, a few minutes later; and still gladder when, having
+bidden Tom a kind farewell, I had left the neglected house of Barwyke a
+mile behind me.
+
+
+
+
+A DEBT OF HONOR.
+
+A GHOST STORY.
+
+
+Hush! what was that cry, so low but yet so piercing, so strange but yet
+so sorrowful? It was not the marmot upon the side of the Righi--it was
+not the heron down by the lake; no, it was distinctively human. Hush!
+there it is again--from the churchyard which I have just left!
+
+Not ten minutes have elapsed since I was sitting on the low wall of the
+churchyard of Weggis, watching the calm glories of the moonlight
+illuminating with silver splendor the lake of Lucerne; and I am certain
+there was no one within the inclosure but myself.
+
+I am mistaken, surely. What a silence there is upon the night! Not a
+breath of air now to break up into a thousand brilliant ripples the long
+reflection of the August moon, or to stir the foliage of the chestnuts;
+not a voice in the village; no splash of oar upon the lake. All life
+seems at perfect rest, and the solemn stillness that reigns about the
+topmost glaciers of S. Gothard has spread its mantle over the warmer
+world below.
+
+I must not linger; as it is, I shall have to wake up the porter to let
+me into the hotel. I hurry on.
+
+Not ten paces, though. Again I hear the cry. This time it sounds to me
+like the long, sad sob of a wearied and broken heart. Without staying to
+reason with myself, I quickly retrace my steps.
+
+I stumble about among the iron crosses and the graves, and displace in
+my confusion wreaths of immortelles and fresher flowers. A huge
+mausoleum stands between me and the wall upon which I had been sitting
+not a quarter of an hour ago. The mausoleum casts a deep shadow upon the
+side nearest to me. Ah! something is stirring there. I strain my
+eyes--the figure of a man passes slowly out of the shade, and silently
+occupies my place upon the wall. It must have been his lips that gave
+out that miserable sound.
+
+What shall I do? Compassion and curiosity are strong. The man whose
+heart can be rent so sorely ought not to be allowed to linger here with
+his despair. He is gazing, as I did, upon the lake. I mark his
+profile--clear-cut and symmetrical; I catch the lustre of large eyes.
+The face, as I can see it, seems very still and placid. I may be
+mistaken; he may merely be a wanderer like myself; perhaps he heard the
+three strange cries, and has also come to seek the cause. I feel
+impelled to speak to him.
+
+I pass from the path by the church to the east side of the mausoleum,
+and so come toward him, the moon full upon his features. Great heaven!
+how pale his face is!
+
+"Good-evening, sir. I thought myself alone here, and wondered that no
+other travellers had found their way to this lovely spot. Charming, is
+it not?"
+
+For a moment he says nothing, but his eyes are full upon me. At last he
+replies:
+
+"It is charming, as you say, Mr. Reginald Westcar."
+
+"You know me?" I exclaim, in astonishment.
+
+"Pardon me, I can scarcely claim a personal acquaintance. But yours is
+the only English name entered to-day in the Livre des �trangers."
+
+"You are staying at the H�tel de la Concorde, then?"
+
+An inclination of the head is all the answer vouchsafed.
+
+"May I ask," I continue, "whether you heard just now a very strange cry
+repeated three times?"
+
+A pause. The lustrous eyes seem to search me through and through--I can
+hardly bear their gaze. Then he replies.
+
+"I fancy I heard the echoes of some such sounds as you describe."
+
+The _echoes_! Is this, then, the man who gave utterance to those cries
+of woe! is it possible? The face seems so passionless; but the pallor of
+those features bears witness to some terrible agony within.
+
+"I thought some one must be in distress," I rejoin, hastily; "and I
+hurried back to see if I could be of any service."
+
+"Very good of you," he answers, coldly; "but surely such a place as this
+is not unaccustomed to the voice of sorrow."
+
+"No doubt. My impulse was a mistaken one."
+
+"But kindly meant. You will not sleep less soundly for acting on that
+impulse, Reginald Westcar."
+
+He rises as he speaks. He throws his cloak round him, and stands
+motionless. I take the hint. My mysterious countryman wishes to be
+alone. Some one that he has loved and lost lies buried here.
+
+"Good-night, sir," I say, as I move in the direction of the little
+chapel at the gate. "Neither of us will sleep the less soundly for
+thinking of the perfect repose that reigns around this place."
+
+"What do you mean?" he asks.
+
+"The dead," I reply, as I stretch my hand toward the graves. "Do you not
+remember the lines in 'King Lear'?
+
+    "'After life's fitful fever he sleeps well.'"
+
+"But _you_ have never died, Reginald Westcar. You know nothing of the
+sleep of death."
+
+For the third time he speaks my name almost familiarly, and--I know not
+why--a shudder passes through me. I have no time, in my turn, to ask him
+what he means; for he strides silently away into the shadow of the
+church, and I, with a strange sense of oppression upon me, returned to
+my hotel.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The events which I have just related passed in vivid recollection
+through my mind as I travelled northward one cold November day in the
+year 185--. About six months previously I had taken my degree at Oxford,
+and had since been enjoying a trip upon the continent; and on my return
+to London I found a letter awaiting me from my lawyers, informing me
+somewhat to my astonishment, that I had succeeded to a small estate in
+Cumberland. I must tell you exactly how this came about. My mother was a
+Miss Ringwood, and she was the youngest of three children: the eldest
+was Aldina, the second was Geoffrey, and the third (my mother) Alice.
+Their mother (who had been a widow since my mother's birth) lived at
+this little place in Cumberland, and which was known as The Shallows;
+she died shortly after my mother's marriage with my father, Captain
+Westcar. My aunt Aldina and my uncle Geoffrey--the one at that time aged
+twenty-eight, and the other twenty-six--continued to reside at The
+Shallows. My father and mother had to go to India, where I was born, and
+where, when quite a child, I was left an orphan. A few months after my
+mother's marriage my aunt disappeared; a few weeks after that event, and
+my uncle Geoffrey dropped down dead, as he was playing at cards with Mr.
+Maryon, the proprietor of a neighboring mansion known as The Mere. A
+fortnight after my uncle's death, my aunt Aldina returned to The
+Shallows, and never left it again till she was carried out in her coffin
+to her grave in the churchyard. Ever since her return from her
+mysterious disappearance she maintained an impenetrable reserve. As a
+schoolboy I visited her twice or thrice, but these visits depressed my
+youthful spirits to such an extent, that as I grew older I excused
+myself from accepting my aunt's not very pressing invitations; and at
+the time I am now speaking of I had not seen her for eight or ten years.
+I was rather surprised, therefore, when she bequeathed me The Shallows,
+which, as the surviving child, she inherited under her mother's
+marriage settlement.
+
+But The Shallows had always exercised a grim influence over me, and the
+knowledge that I was now going to it as my home oppressed me. The road
+seemed unusually dark, cold, and lonely. At last I passed the lodge, and
+two hundred yards more brought me to the porch. Very soon the door was
+opened by an elderly female, whom I well remembered as having been my
+aunt's housekeeper and cook. I had pleasant recollections of her, and
+was glad to see her. To tell the truth, I had not anticipated my visit
+to my newly acquired property with any great degree of enthusiasm; but a
+very tolerable dinner had an inspiriting effect, and I was pleased to
+learn that there was a bin of old Madeira in the cellar. Naturally I
+soon grew cheerful, and consequently talkative; and summoned Mrs. Balk
+for a little gossip. The substance of what I gathered from her rather
+diffusive conversation was as follows:
+
+My aunt had resided at The Shallows ever since the death of my uncle
+Geoffrey, but she had maintained a silent and reserved habit; and Mrs.
+Balk was of opinion that she had had some great misfortune. She had
+persistently refused all intercourse with the people at The Mere. Squire
+Maryon, himself a cold and taciturn man, had once or twice showed a
+disposition to be friendly, but she had sternly repulsed all such
+overtures. Mrs. Balk was of opinion that Miss Ringwood was not "quite
+right," as she expressed it, on some topics; especially did she seem
+impressed with the idea that The Mere ought to belong to her. It
+appeared that the Ringwoods and Maryons were distant connections; that
+The Mere belonged in former times to a certain Sir Henry Benet; that he
+was a bachelor, and that Squire Maryon's father and old Mr. Ringwood
+were cousins of his, and that there was some doubt as to which was the
+real heir; that Sir Henry, who disliked old Maryon, had frequently said
+he had set any chance of dispute at rest, by bequeathing the Mere
+property by will to Mr. Ringwood, my mother's father; that, on his
+death, no such will could be found; and the family lawyers agreed that
+Mr. Maryon was the legal inheritor, and my uncle Geoffrey and his
+sisters must be content to take the Shallows, or nothing at all. Mr.
+Maryon was comparatively rich, and the Ringwoods poor, consequently they
+were advised not to enter upon a costly lawsuit. My aunt Aldina
+maintained to the last that Sir Henry had made a will, and that Mr.
+Maryon knew it, but had destroyed or suppressed the document. I did not
+gather from Mrs. Balk's narrative that Miss Ringwood had any foundation
+for her belief, and I dismissed the notion at once as baseless.
+
+"And my uncle Geoffrey died of apoplexy, you say, Mrs. Balk?"
+
+"_I_ don't say so, sir, no more did Miss Ringwood; but _they_ said so."
+
+"Whom do you mean by _they_?"
+
+"The people at The Mere--the young doctor, a friend of Squire Maryon's,
+who was brought over from York, and the rest; he fell heavily from his
+chair, and his head struck against the fender."
+
+"Playing at cards with Mr. Maryon, I think you said."
+
+"Yes, sir; he was too fond of cards, I believe, was Mr. Geoffrey."
+
+"Is Mr. Maryon seen much in the county--is he hospitable?"
+
+"Well, sir, he goes up to London a good deal, and has some friends down
+from town occasionally; but he does not seem to care much about the
+people in the neighborhood."
+
+"He has some children, Mrs. Balk?"
+
+"Only one daughter, sir; a sweet pretty thing she is. Her mother died
+when Miss Agnes was born."
+
+"You have no idea, Mrs. Balk, what my aunt Aldina's great misfortune
+was?"
+
+"Well, sir, I can't help thinking it must have been a love affair. She
+always hated men so much."
+
+"Then why did she leave The Shallows to me, Mrs. Balk?"
+
+"Ah, you are laughing, sir. No doubt she considered that The Mere ought
+to belong to you, as the heir of the Ringwoods, and she placed you here,
+as near as might be to the place."
+
+"In hopes that I might marry Miss Maryon, eh, Mrs. Balk?"
+
+"You are laughing again, sir. I don't imagine she thought so much of
+that, as of the possibility of your discovering something about the
+missing will."
+
+I bade the communicative Mrs. Balk good night and retired to my
+bedroom--a low, wide, sombre, oak-panelled chamber. I must confess that
+family stories had no great interest for me, living apart from them at
+school and college as I had done; and as I undressed I thought more of
+the probabilities of sport the eight hundred acres of wild shooting
+belonging to The Shallows would afford me, than of the supposed will my
+poor aunt had evidently worried herself about so much. Thoroughly tired
+after my long journey, I soon fell fast asleep amid the deep shadows of
+the huge four-poster I mentally resolved to chop up into firewood at an
+early date, and substitute for it a more modern iron bedstead.
+
+How long I had been asleep I do not know, but I suddenly started up, the
+echo of a long, sad cry ringing in my ears.
+
+I listened eagerly--sensitive to the slightest sound--painfully
+sensitive as one is only in the deep silence of the night.
+
+I heard the old-fashioned clock I had noticed on the stairs strike
+three. The reverberation seemed to last a long time, then all was silent
+again. "A dream," I muttered to myself, as I lay down upon the pillow;
+"Madeira is a heating wine. But what can I have been dreaming of?"
+
+Sleep seemed to have gone altogether, and the busy mind wandered among
+the continental scenes I had lately visited. By and by I found myself in
+memory once more within the Weggis churchyard. I was satisfied; I had
+traced my dream to the cries that I had heard there. I turned round to
+sleep again. Perhaps I fell into a doze--I cannot say; but again I
+started up at the repetition, as it seemed outside my window, of that
+cry of sadness and despair. I hastily drew aside the heavy curtains of
+my bed--at that moment the room seemed to be illuminated with a dim,
+unearthly light--and I saw, gradually growing into human shape, the
+figure of a woman. I recognized in it my aunt, Miss Ringwood.
+Horror-struck, I gazed at the apparition; it advanced a little--the lips
+moved--I heard it distinctly say:
+
+"_Reginald Westcar, The Mere belongs to you. Compel John Maryon to pay
+the debt of honor!_"
+
+I fell back senseless.
+
+When next I returned to consciousness, it was when I was called in the
+morning; the shutters were opened, and I saw the red light of the
+dawning winter sun.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There is a strange sympathy between the night and the mind. All one's
+troubles represent themselves as increased a hundredfold if one wakes in
+the night, and begins to think about them. A muscular pain becomes the
+certainty of an incurable internal disease; and a headache suggests
+incipient softening of the brain. But all these horrors are dissipated
+with the morning light, and the after-glow of a cold bath turns them
+into jokes. So it was with me on the morning after my arrival at The
+Shallows. I accounted most satisfactorily for all that had occurred, or
+seemed to have occurred, during the night; and resolved that, though the
+old Madeira was uncommonly good, I must be careful in future not to
+drink more than a couple of glasses after dinner. I need scarcely say
+that I said nothing to Mrs. Balk of my bad dreams, and shortly after
+breakfast I took my gun, and went out in search of such game as I might
+chance to meet with. At three o'clock I sent the keeper home, as his
+capacious pockets were pretty well filled, telling him that I thought I
+knew the country, and should stroll back leisurely. The gray gloom of
+the November evening was spreading over the sky as I came upon a small
+plantation which I believed belonged to me. I struck straight across it;
+emerging from its shadows, I found myself by a small stream and some
+marshy land; on the other side another small plantation. A snipe got up,
+I fired, and tailored it. I marked the bird into this other plantation,
+and followed. Up got a covey of partridges--bang, bang--one down by the
+side of an oak. I was about to enter this covert, when a lady and
+gentleman emerged, and, struck with the unpleasant thought that I was
+possibly trespassing, I at once went forward to apologize.
+
+Before I could say a word, the gentleman addressed me.
+
+"May I ask, sir, if I have given you permission to shoot over my
+preserves?"
+
+"I beg to express my great regret, sir," I replied, as I lifted my hat
+in acknowledgment of the lady's presence, "that I should have trespassed
+upon your land. I can only plead, as my excuse, that I fully believed I
+was still upon the manor belonging to The Shallows."
+
+"Gentlemen who go out shooting ought to know the limits of their
+estates," he answered harshly; "the boundaries of The Shallows are well
+defined, nor is the area they contain so very extensive. You have no
+right upon this side the stream, sir; oblige me by returning."
+
+I merely bowed, for I was nettled by his tone, and as I turned away I
+noticed that the young lady whispered to him.
+
+"One moment, sir," he said, "my daughter suggests the possibility of
+your being the new owner of The Shallows. May I ask if this is so?"
+
+It had not occurred to me before, but I understood in a moment to whom I
+had been speaking, and I replied:
+
+"Yes, Mr. Maryon--my name is Westcar."
+
+Such was my introduction to Mr. and Miss Maryon. The proprietor of The
+Mere appeared to be a gentleman, but his manners were cold and reserved,
+and a careful observer might have remarked a perpetual restlessness in
+the eyes, as if they were physically incapable of regarding the same
+object for more than a moment. He was about sixty years of age,
+apparently; and though he now and again made an effort to carry himself
+upright, the head and shoulders soon drooped again, as if the weight of
+years, and, it might be, the memory of the past, were a heavy load to
+carry. Of Miss Maryon it is sufficient to say that she was nineteen or
+twenty, and it did not need a second glance to satisfy me that her
+beauty was of no ordinary kind.
+
+I must hurry over the records of the next few weeks. I became a frequent
+visitor at The Mere. Mr. Maryon's manner never became cordial, but he
+did not seem displeased to see me; and as to Agnes,--well, she certainly
+was not displeased either.
+
+I think it was on Christmas Day that I suddenly discovered that I was
+desperately in love. Miss Maryon had been for two or three days confined
+to her room by a bad cold, and I found myself in a great state of
+anxiety to see her again. I am sorry to say that my thoughts wandered a
+good deal when I was at church upon that festival, and I could not help
+thinking what ample room there was for a bridal procession up the
+spacious aisle. Suddenly my eyes rested upon a mural tablet, inscribed,
+"To the memory of Aldina Ringwood." Then with a cold thrill there came
+back upon me what I had almost forgotten, the dream, or whatever it was,
+that had occurred on that first night at The Shallows; and those strange
+words--"The Mere belongs to you. Compel John Maryon to pay the debt of
+honor!" Nothing but the remembrance of Agnes' sweet face availed for the
+time to banish the vision, the statement, and the bidding.
+
+Miss Maryon was soon down-stairs again. Did I flatter myself too much in
+thinking that she was as glad to see me as I was to see her? No--I felt
+sure that I did not. Then I began to reflect seriously upon my position.
+My fortune was small, quite enough for me, but not enough for two; and
+as she was heiress of The Mere and a comfortable rent-roll of some six
+or eight thousand a year, was it not natural that Mr. Maryon expected
+her to make what is called a "good match"? Still, I could not conceal
+from myself the fact, that he evinced no objection whatever to my
+frequent visits at his house, nor to my taking walks with his daughter
+when he was unable to accompany us.
+
+One bright, frosty day I had been down to the lake with Miss Maryon, and
+had enjoyed the privilege of teaching her to skate; and on returning to
+the house, we met Mr. Maryon upon the terrace, He walked with us to the
+conservatory; we went in to examine the plants, and he remained outside,
+pacing up and down the terrace. Both Agnes and myself were strangely
+silent; perhaps my tongue had found an eloquence upon the ice which was
+well met by a shy thoughtfulness upon her part. But there was a lovely
+color upon her cheeks, and I experienced a very considerable and unusual
+fluttering about my heart. It happened as we were standing at the door
+of the conservatory, both of us silently looking away from the flowers
+upon the frosty view, that our eyes lighted at the same time upon Mr.
+Maryon. He, too, was apparently regarding the prospect, when suddenly he
+paused and staggered back, as if something unexpected met his gaze.
+
+"Oh, poor papa! I hope he is not going to have one of his fits!"
+exclaimed Agnes.
+
+"Fits! Is he subject to such attacks?" I inquired.
+
+"Not ordinary fits," she answered hurriedly; "I hardly know how to
+explain them. They come upon him occasionally, and generally at this
+period of the year."
+
+"Shall we go to him?" I suggested.
+
+"No; you cannot help him; and he cannot bear that they should be
+noticed."
+
+We both watched him. His arms were stretched up above his head, and
+again he recoiled a step or two. I sought for an explanation in Agnes'
+face.
+
+"A stranger!" she exclaimed. "Who can it be?"
+
+I looked toward Mr. Maryon. A tall figure of a man had come from the
+farther side of the house; he wore a large, loose coat and a kind of
+military cap upon his head.
+
+"Doubtless you are surprised to see me, John," we heard the new-comer
+say, in a confident voice, "but I am not the devil, man, that you should
+greet me with such a peculiar attitude." He held out his hand, and
+continued, "Come, don't let the warmth of old fellowship be all on one
+side, this wintry day."
+
+We could see that Mr. Maryon took the proffered right hand with his left
+for an instant, then seemed to shrink away, but exchanged no word of
+this greeting.
+
+"I don't understand this," said Agnes, and we both hurried forward. The
+stranger, seeing Agnes approach, lifted his cap.
+
+"Ah, your daughter, John, no doubt. I see the likeness to her lamented
+mother. Pray introduce me."
+
+Mr. Maryon's usually pallid features had assumed a still paler hue, and
+he said in a low voice:
+
+"Colonel Bludyer--my daughter." Agnes barely bowed.
+
+"Charmed to renew your acquaintance, Miss Maryon. When last I saw you,
+you were quite a baby; but your father and I are very old friends--are
+we not, John?"
+
+Mr. Maryon vaguely nodded his head.
+
+"Well, John, you have often pressed your hospitality upon me, but till
+now I have never had an opportunity of availing myself of your kind
+offers; so I have brought my bag, and intend at last to give you the
+pleasure of my company for a few days."
+
+I certainly should have thought that a man of Mr. Maryon's disposition
+would have resented such conduct as this, or, at all events, have given
+this self-invited guest a chilling welcome. Mr. Maryon, however, in a
+confused and somewhat stammering tone, said that he was glad Colonel
+Bludyer had come at last, and bade his daughter go and make the
+necessary arrangements. Agnes, in silent astonishment, entered the
+house, and then Mr. Maryon turned to me hastily and bade me good-by. In
+a by no means comfortable frame of mind I returned to The Shallows.
+
+The sudden advent of this miscellaneous colonel was naturally somewhat
+irritating to me. Not only did I regard the man as an intolerable bore,
+but I could not help fancying that he was something more than an old
+friend of Mr. Maryon's; in fact, I was led to judge, by Mr. Maryon's
+strange conduct, that this Bludyer had some power over him which might
+be exercised to the detriment of the Maryon family, and I was convinced
+there was some mystery it was my business to penetrate.
+
+The following day I went up to The Mere to see if Miss Maryon was
+desirous of renewing her skating lesson. I found the party in the
+billiard-room, Agnes marking for her father and the Colonel. Mr. Maryon,
+whom I knew to be an exceptionally good player, seemed incapable of
+making a decent stroke; the Colonel, on the other hand, could evidently
+give a professional fifteen, and beat him easily. We all went down to
+the lake together. I had no chance of any quiet conversation with Agnes;
+the Colonel was perpetually beside us.
+
+I returned home disgusted. For two whole days I did not go near The
+Mere. On the third day I went up, hoping that the horrid Colonel would
+be gone. It was beginning to snow when I left The Shallows at about two
+o'clock in the afternoon, and Mrs. Balk foretold a heavy storm, and bade
+me not be late returning.
+
+The black winter darkness in the sky deepened as I approached The Mere.
+I was ushered again into the billiard-room. Agnes was marking, as upon
+the previous occasion, but two days had worked a sad difference in her
+face. Mr. Maryon hardly noticed my entrance; he was flushed, and playing
+eagerly; the Colonel was boisterous, declaring that John had never
+played better twenty years ago. I relieved Agnes of the duty of marking.
+The snow fell in a thick layer upon the skylight, and the Colonel became
+seriously anxious about my return home. As I did not think he was the
+proper person to give me hints, I resolutely remained where I was,
+encouraged in my behavior by the few words I gained from Agnes, and by
+the looks of entreaty she gave me. I had always considered Mr. Maryon to
+be an abstemious man, but he drank a good deal of brandy and soda during
+the long game of seven hundred up, and when he succeeded in beating the
+Colonel by forty-three, he was in roaring spirits, and insisted upon my
+staying to dinner. Need I say that I accepted the invitation?
+
+I made such toilet as I could in a most unattainable chamber that was
+allotted to me, and hurried back to the drawing-room in the hope that I
+might get a few private words with Agnes. I was not disappointed. She,
+too, had hurried down, and in a few words I learned that this
+abominable Bludyer was paying her his coarse attentions, and with,
+apparently, the full consent of Mr. Maryon. My indignation was
+unbounded. Was it possible that Mr. Maryon intended to sacrifice this
+fair creature to that repulsive man?
+
+Mr. Maryon had appeared in excellent spirits when dinner began, and the
+first glass or two of champagne made him merrier than I thought it
+possible for him to be. But by the time the dessert was on the table he
+had grown silent and thoughtful; nor did he respond to the warm
+eulogiums the Colonel passed upon the magnum of claret which was set
+before us.
+
+After dinner we sat in the library. The Colonel left the room to fetch
+some cigars he had been loudly extolling. Then Agnes had an opportunity
+of whispering to me.
+
+"Look at papa--see how strangely he sits--his hands clenching the arms
+of the chair, his eyes fixed upon the blazing coals! How old he seems to
+be to-night! His terrible fits are coming on--he is always like this
+toward the end of January!" The Colonel's return put an end to any
+further confidential talk.
+
+When we separated for the night, I felt that my going to bed would be
+purposeless. I felt most painfully wide awake. I threw myself down upon
+my bed, and worried myself by trying to imagine what secret there could
+be between Maryon and Bludyer--for that a secret of some kind existed, I
+felt certain. I tossed about till I heard the stroke of one. A dreadful
+restlessness had come upon me. It seemed as if the solemn night-side of
+life was busy waking now, but the silence and solitude of my antique
+chamber became too much for me. I rose from my bed, and paced up and
+down the room. I raked up the dying embers of the fire, and drew an
+arm-chair to the hearth. I fell into a doze. By and by I woke up
+suddenly, and I was conscious of stealthy footsteps in the passage. My
+sense of hearing became painfully acute. I heard the footsteps
+retreating down the corridor, until they were lost in the distance. I
+cautiously opened the door, and, shading the candle with my hand, looked
+out--there was nothing to be seen; but I felt that I could not remain
+quietly in my room, and, closing the door behind me, I went out in
+search of I knew not what.
+
+The sitting-rooms and bedrooms in ordinary use at The Mere were in the
+modern part of the house; but there was an old Elizabethan wing which I
+had often longed to explore, and in this strange ramble of mine I soon
+had reason to be satisfied that I was well within it. At the end of an
+oak-panelled narrow passage a door stood open, and I entered a low,
+sombre apartment fitted with furniture in the style of two hundred years
+ago. There was something awfully ghostly about the look of this room. A
+great four-post bedstead, with heavy hangings, stood in a deep recess; a
+round oak table and two high-backed chairs were in the centre of the
+room. Suddenly, as I gazed on these things, I heard stealthy footsteps
+in the passage, and saw a dim light advancing. Acting on a sudden
+impulse, I extinguished my candle and withdrew into the shadow of the
+recess, watching eagerly. The footsteps came nearer. My heart seemed to
+stand still with expectation. They paused outside the door, for a
+moment really--for an age it seemed to me. Then, to my astonishment, I
+saw Mr. Maryon enter. He carried a small night-lamp in his hand. Another
+glance satisfied me that he was walking in his sleep. He came straight
+to the round table, and set down the lamp. He seated himself in one of
+the high-backed chairs, his vacant eyes staring at the chair opposite;
+then his lips began to move quickly, as if he were addressing some one.
+Then he rose, went to the bureau, and seemed to take something from it;
+then he sat down again. What a strange action of his hands! At first I
+could not understand it; then it flashed upon me that in this dream of
+his he must be shuffling cards. Yes, he began to deal; then he was
+playing with his adversary--his lips moving anxiously at times.
+
+A look of terrible eagerness came over the sleepwalker's countenance.
+With nimble fingers he dealt the cards, and played. Suddenly with a
+sweep of his hand he seemed to fling the pack into the fireplace,
+started from his seat, grappled with his unseen adversary, raised his
+powerful right hand, and struck a tremendous blow. Hush! more footsteps
+along the passage! Am I deceived? From my concealment I watch for what
+is to follow. Colonel Bludyer comes in, half dressed, but wide awake.
+
+"You maniac!" I hear him mutter: "I expected you were given to such
+tricks as these. Lucky for you no eyes but mine have seen your abject
+folly. Come back to your room."
+
+Mr. Maryon is still gazing, his arms lifted wildly above his head, upon
+the imagined foe whom he had felled to the ground. The Colonel touches
+him on the shoulder, and leads him away, leaving the lamp. My reasoning
+faculties had fully returned to me. I held a clue to the secret, and for
+Agnes' sake it must be followed up. I took the lamp away, and placed it
+on a table where the chamber candlesticks stood, relit my own candle,
+and found my way back to my bedroom.
+
+The next morning, when I came down to breakfast, I found Colonel Bludyer
+warming himself satisfactorily at the blazing fire. I learned from him
+that our host was far from well, and that Miss Maryon was in attendance
+upon her father; that the Colonel was charged with all kinds of
+apologies to me, and good wishes for my safe return home across the
+snow. I thanked him for the delivery of the message, while I felt
+perfectly convinced that he had never been charged with it. However that
+might be, I never saw Mr. Maryon that morning; and I started back to The
+Shallows through the snow.
+
+For the next two or three days the weather was very wild, but I
+contrived to get up to The Mere, and ask after Mr. Maryon. Better, I was
+told, but unable to see any one. Miss Maryon, too, was fatigued with
+nursing her father. So there was nothing to do but to trudge home again.
+
+"_Reginald Westcar, The Mere is yours. Compel John Maryon to pay the
+debt of honor!_"
+
+Again and again these words forced themselves upon me, as I listlessly
+gazed out upon the white landscape. The strange scene that I had
+witnessed on that memorable night I passed beneath Mr. Maryon's roof had
+brought them back to my memory with redoubled force, and I began to
+think that the apparition I had seen--or dreamed of--on my first night
+at The Shallows had more of truth in it than I had been willing to
+believe.
+
+Three more days passed away, and a carter-boy from The Mere brought me a
+note. It was Agnes' handwriting. It said:
+
+"DEAR MR. WESTCAR: Pray come up here, if you possibly can. I cannot
+understand what is the matter with papa; and he wishes me to do a
+dreadful thing. Do come. I feel that I have no friend but you. I am
+obliged to send this note privately."
+
+I need scarcely say that five minutes afterward I was plunging through
+the snow toward The Mere. It was already late on that dark February
+evening as I gained the shrubbery; and as I was pondering upon the best
+method of securing admittance, I became aware that the figure of a man
+was hurrying on some yards in front of me. At first I thought it must be
+one of the gardeners, but all of a sudden I stood still, and my blood
+seemed to freeze with horror, as I remarked that the figure in front of
+me _left no trace of footmarks on the snow_! My brain reeled for a
+moment, and I thought I should have fallen; but I recovered my nerves,
+and when I looked before me again, it had disappeared. I pressed on
+eagerly. I arrived at the front door--it was wide open; and I passed
+through the hall to the library. I heard Agnes' voice.
+
+"No, no, papa. You must not force me to this! I cannot--will not--marry
+Colonel Bludyer!"
+
+"You _must_," answered Mr. Maryon, in a hoarse voice; "you _must_ marry
+him, and save your father from something worse than disgrace!"
+
+Not feeling disposed to play the eavesdropper, I entered the room. Mr.
+Maryon was standing at the fireplace. Agnes was crouching on the ground
+at his feet. I saw at once that it was no use for me to dissemble the
+reason of my visit, and, without a word of greeting, I said:
+
+"Miss Maryon, I have come, in obedience to your summons. If I can
+prevent any misfortune from falling upon you I am ready to help you,
+with my life. You have guessed that I love you. If my love is returned I
+am prepared to dispute my claim with any man."
+
+Agnes, with a cry of joy, rose from her knees, and rushed toward me. Ah!
+how strong I felt as I held her in my arms!
+
+"I have my answer," I continued. "Mr. Maryon, I have reason to believe
+that your daughter is in fear of the future you have forecast for her. I
+ask you to regard those fears, and to give her to me, to love and
+cherish as my wife."
+
+Mr. Maryon covered his face with his hands; and I could hear him murmur,
+"Too late--too late!"
+
+"No, not too late," I echoed. "What is this Bludyer to you, that you
+should sacrifice your daughter to a man whose very look proclaims him a
+villain? Nothing can compel you to such a deed--not even a _debt of
+honor_!"
+
+What it was impelled me to say these last words I know not, but they had
+an extraordinary effect upon Mr. Maryon. He started toward me, then
+checked himself; his face was livid, his eyeballs glaring, and he threw
+up his arms in the strange manner I had already witnessed.
+
+"What is all this?" exclaimed a harsh voice behind me. "Mr. Westcar
+insulting Miss Maryon and her father! it is time for me to interfere."
+And Colonel Bludyer approached me menacingly. All his jovial manner and
+fulsome courtesy was gone; and in his flushed face and insolent look the
+savage rascal was revealed.
+
+"You will interfere at your peril," I replied. "I am a younger man than
+you are, and my strength has not been weakened by drink and dissipation.
+Take care."
+
+The villain drew himself up to his full height; and, though he must have
+been at least some sixty years of age, I felt assured that I should meet
+no ordinary adversary if a personal struggle should ensue. Agnes
+fainted, and I laid her on a sofa.
+
+"Miss Maryon wants air," said the Colonel, in a calmer voice. "Excuse
+me, Mr. Maryon, if I open a window." He tore open the shutters, and
+threw up the sash. "And now, Mr. Westcar, unless you are prepared to be
+sensible, and make your exit by the door, I shall be under the
+unpleasant necessity of throwing you out of the window."
+
+The ruffian advanced toward me as he spoke. Suddenly he paused. His jaw
+dropped; his hair seemed literally to stand on end; his white lips
+quivered; he shook, as with an ague; his whole form appeared to shrink.
+I stared in amazement at the awful change. A strange thrill shot through
+me, as I heard a quiet voice say:
+
+"Richard Bludyer, your grave is waiting for you. Go."
+
+The figure of a man passed between me and him. The wretched man shrank
+back, and, with a wild cry, leaped from the window he had opened.
+
+All this time Mr. Maryon was standing like a lifeless statue.
+
+In helpless wonder I gazed at the figure before me. I saw clearly the
+features in profile, and, swift as lightning, my memory was carried back
+to the unforgotten scene in the churchyard upon the Lake of Lucerne, and
+I recognized the white face of the young man with whom I there had
+spoken.
+
+"John Maryon," said the voice, "this is the night upon which, a quarter
+of a century ago, you killed me. It is your last night on earth. You
+must go through the tragedy again."
+
+Mr. Maryon, still statue-like, beckoned to the figure, and opened a
+half-concealed door which led into his study. The strange but opportune
+visitant seemed to motion to me with a gesture of his hand, which I felt
+I must obey, and I followed in this weird procession. From the study we
+mounted by a private staircase to a large, well-furnished bed-chamber.
+Here we paused. Mr. Maryon looked tremblingly at the stranger, and said,
+in a low, stammering voice:
+
+"This is my room. In this room, on this night, twenty-five years ago,
+you told me that you were certain Sir Henry Benet's will was in
+existence, and that you had made up your mind to dispute my possession
+to this property. You had discovered letters from Sir Henry to your
+father which gave you a clue to the spot where that will might be found.
+You, Geoffrey Ringwood, of generous and extravagant nature, offered to
+find the will in my presence. It was late at night, as now; all the
+household slept. I accepted your invitation, and followed you."
+
+Mr. Maryon ceased; he seemed physically unable to continue. The terrible
+stranger, in his low, echoing voice, replied:
+
+"Go on; confess all."
+
+"You and I, Geoffrey, had been what the world calls friends. We had been
+much in London together; we were both passionately fond of cards. We had
+a common acquaintance, Richard Bludyer. He was present on the 2d of
+February, when I lost a large sum of money to you at _�cart�_. He hinted
+to me that you might possibly use these sums in instituting a lawsuit
+against me for the recovery of this estate. Your intimation that you
+knew of the existence of the will alarmed me, as it had become necessary
+for me to remain owner of The Mere. As I have said, I accepted your
+invitation, and followed you to Sir Henry Benet's room; and now I follow
+you again."
+
+As he said these words, Geoffrey Ringwood, or his ghost, passed silently
+by Mr. Maryon, and led the way into the corridor. At the end of the
+corridor all three paused outside an oak door which I remembered well. A
+gesture from the leader made Mr. Maryon continue:
+
+"On this threshold you told me suddenly that Bludyer was a villain, and
+had betrayed your sister Aldina; that she had fled with him that night;
+that he could never marry her, as you had reason to know he had a wife
+alive. You made me swear to help you in your vengeance against him. We
+entered the room, as we enter it now."
+
+Our leader had opened the door of the room, and we were in the same
+chamber I had wandered to when I had slept at The Mere. The figure of
+Geoffrey Ringwood paused at the round table, and looked again at Mr.
+Maryon, who proceeded:
+
+"You went straight to the fifth panel from the fireplace, and then
+touched a spring, and the panel opened. You said that the will giving
+this property to your father and his heirs was to be found there. I was
+convinced that you spoke the truth, but, suddenly remembering your love
+of gambling, I suggested that we should play for it. You accepted at
+once. We searched among the papers, and found the will. We placed the
+will upon the table, and began to play. We agreed that we would play up
+to ten thousand pounds. Your luck was marvellous. In two hours the limit
+was reached. I owed you ten thousand pounds, and had lost The Mere. You
+laughed, and said, 'Well, John, you have had a fair chance. At ten
+o'clock this morning I shall expect you to pay me _your debt of honor_.'
+I rose; the devil of despair strong upon me. With one hand I swept the
+cards from the table into the fire, and with the other seized you by the
+throat, and dealt you a blow upon the temple. You fell dead upon the
+floor."
+
+Need I say that as I heard this fearful narrative, I recognized the
+actions of the sleep-walker, and understood them all?
+
+"To the end!" said the hollow voice. "Confess to the end!"
+
+"The doctor who examined your body gave his opinion, at the inquest,
+that you had died of apoplexy, caused by strong cerebral excitement. My
+evidence was to the effect that I believed you had lost a very large sum
+of money to Captain Bludyer, and that you had told me you were utterly
+unable to pay it. The jury found their verdict accordingly, and I was
+left in undisturbed possession of The Mere. But the memory of my crime
+haunted me as only such memories can haunt a criminal, and I became a
+morose and miserable man. One thing bound me to life--my daughter. When
+Reginald Westcar appeared upon the scene I thought that the debt of
+honor would be satisfied if he married Agnes. Then Bludyer reappeared,
+and he told me that he knew that I had killed you. He threatened to
+revive the story, to exhume your body, and to say that Aldina Ringwood
+had told him all about the will. I could purchase his silence only by
+giving him my daughter, the heiress of The Mere. To this I consented."
+
+As he said these last words, Mr. Maryon sunk heavily into the chair.
+
+The figure of Geoffrey Ringwood placed one ghostly hand upon his left
+temple, and then passed silently out of the room. I started up, and
+followed the phantom along the corridor--down the staircase--out at the
+front door, which still stood open--across the snow-covered lawn--into
+the plantation; and then it disappeared as strangely as I first had seen
+it; and, hardly knowing whether I was mad or dreaming, I found my way
+back to The Shallows.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For some weeks I was ill with brain-fever. When I recovered I was told
+that terrible things had happened at The Mere. Mr. Maryon had been
+found dead in Sir Henry Benet's room--an effusion of blood upon the
+brain, the doctors said--and the body of Colonel Bludyer had been
+discovered in the snow in an old disused gravel-pit not far from the
+house.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A year afterward I married Agnes Maryon; and, if all that I had seen and
+heard upon that 3d of February was not merely the invention of a fevered
+brain, the debt of honor was at last discharged, for I, the nephew of
+the murdered Geoffrey Ringwood, became the owner of The Mere.
+
+
+
+
+DEVEREUX'S DREAM.
+
+
+I give you this story only at second-hand; but you have it in
+substance--and he wasted few words over it--as Paul Devereux told it me.
+
+It was not the only queer story he could have told about himself if he
+had chosen, by a good many, I should say. Paul's life had been an
+eminently unconventional one: the man's face certified to that--hard,
+bronzed, war-worn, seamed and scarred with strange battle-marks--the
+face of a man who had dared and done most things.
+
+It was not his custom to speak much of what he had done, however.
+Probably only because he and I were little likely to meet again that he
+told me this I am free to tell you now.
+
+We had come across one another for the first time for years that
+afternoon on the Italian Boulevart. Paul had landed a couple of weeks
+previously at Marseilles from a long yacht-cruise in southern waters,
+the monotony of which we heard had been agreeably diversified by a
+little pirate-hunting and slaver-chasing--the evil tongues called it
+piracy and slave-running; and certainly Devereux was quite equal to
+either _m�tier_; and he was about starting on a promising little
+filibustering expedition across the Atlantic, where the chances were he
+would be shot, and the certainty was that he would be starved. So
+perhaps he felt inclined to be a trifle more communicative than usual,
+as we sat late that night over a blazing pyre of logs and in a cloud of
+Cavendish. At all events he was, and after this fashion.
+
+I forget now exactly how the subject was led up to. Expression of some
+philosophic incredulity on my part regarding certain matters, followed
+by a ten-minutes' silence on his side pregnant with unwonted words to
+come--that was it, perhaps. At last he said, more to himself, it seemed,
+than to me:
+
+"'Such stuff as dreams are made of.' Well, who knows? You're a Sadducee,
+Bertie; you call this sort of thing, politely, indigestion. Perhaps
+you're right. But yet I had a queer dream once."
+
+"Not unlikely," I assented.
+
+"You're wrong; I never dream, as a rule. But, as I say, I had a queer
+dream once; and queer because it came literally true three years
+afterward."
+
+"Queer indeed, Paul."
+
+"Happens to be true. What's queerer still, my dream was the means of my
+finding a man I owed a long score, and a heavy one, and of my paying him
+in full."
+
+"Bad for the payee!" I thought.
+
+Paul's face had grown terribly eloquent as he spoke those last words. On
+a sudden the expression of it changed--another memory was stirring in
+him. Wonderfully tender the fierce eyes grew; wonderfully tender the
+faint, sad smile, that was like sunshine on storm-scathed granite. That
+smile transfigured the man before me.
+
+"Ah, poor child--poor Lucille!" I heard him mutter.
+
+That was it, was it? So I let him be. Presently he lifted his head. If
+he had let himself get the least thing out of hand for a moment, he had
+got back his self-mastery the next.
+
+"I'll tell you that queer story, Bertie, if you like," he said.
+
+The proposition was flatteringly unusual, but the voice was quite his
+own.
+
+"Somehow I'd sooner talk than think about--_her_," he went on after a
+pause.
+
+I nodded. He might talk about this, you see, but _I_ couldn't. He began
+with a question--an odd one:
+
+"Did you ever hear I'd been married?"
+
+Paul Devereux and a wife had always seemed and been to me a most
+unheard-of conjunction. So I laconically said:
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, I was once, years ago. She was my wife--that child--for a week.
+And then----"
+
+I easily filled up the pause; but, as it happened, I filled it up
+wrongly; for he added:
+
+"And then she was murdered."
+
+I was not unused to our Paul's stony style of talk; but this last
+sentence was sufficiently startling.
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"Murdered--in her sleep. They never found the man who did it either,
+though I had Durbec and all the Rue de J�rusalem at work. But I forgave
+them that, for I found the man myself, and killed him."
+
+He was filling his pipe again as he told me this, and he perhaps rammed
+the Cavendish in a little tighter, but that was all. The thing was a
+matter of course; I knew my Paul, well enough to know that. Of course he
+killed him.
+
+"Mind you," he continued, kindling the black _br�le-gueule_ the
+while--"mind you, I'd never seen this man before, never known of his
+existence, except in a way that--however, it was this way."
+
+He let his grizzled head drop back on the cushions of his chair, and his
+eyes seemed to see the queer story he was telling enacted once more
+before him in the red hollows of the fire.
+
+"As I said, it was years ago. I was waiting here in Paris for some
+fellows who were to join me in a campaign we'd arranged against the
+African big game. I never was more fit for anything of that sort than I
+was then. I only tell you this to show you that the thing can't be
+accounted for by my nerves having been out of order at all.
+
+"Well: I was dining alone that day, at the Caf� Anglais. It was late
+when I sat down to my dinner in the little salon as usual. Only two
+other men were still lingering over theirs. All the time they stayed
+they bored me so persistently with some confounded story of a murder
+they were discussing, that I was once or twice more than half-inclined
+to tell them so. At last, though, they went away.
+
+"But their talk kept buzzing abominably in my head. When the waiter
+brought me the evening paper, the first thing that caught my eye was a
+circumstantial account of the _probable_ way the fellow did his murder.
+I say probable, for they never caught him; and, as you will see
+directly, they could only suppose how it occurred.
+
+"It seemed that a well-known Paris banker, who was ascertained beyond
+doubt to have left one station alive and well, and with a couple of
+hundred thousand francs in a leathern _sac_ under his seat, arrived at
+the next station the train stopped at with his throat cut and _minus_
+all his money, except a few bank-notes to no great amount, which the
+assassin had been wise enough to leave behind him. The train was a night
+express on one of the southern lines; the banker travelled quite alone,
+in a first-class carriage; and the murder must have taken place between
+midnight and 1 A.M. next morning. The newspapers supposed--rightly
+enough, I think--that the murderer must have entered the carriage _from
+without_, stabbed his victim in his sleep--there were no signs of any
+struggle--opened the _sac_, taken what he wanted, and retreated, loot
+and all, by the way he came. I fully indorsed my particular writer's
+opinion that the murderer was an uncommonly cool and clever individual,
+especially as I fancy he got clear off and was never afterward laid
+hands on.
+
+"When I had done that I thought I had done with the affair altogether.
+Not at all. I was regularly ridden with this confounded murder. You see
+the banker was rather a swell; everybody knew him: and that, of course,
+made it so shocking. So everybody kept talking about him: they were
+talking about him at the Opera, and over the _baccarat_ and _bouillotte_
+at La Topaze's later. To escape him I went to bed and smoked myself to
+sleep. And then a queer thing came to pass: I had a dream--I who never
+dream; and this is what I dreamed:
+
+"I saw a wide, rich country that I knew. A starless night hung over it
+like a pall. I saw a narrow track running through it, straight, both
+ways, for leagues. Something sped along this track with a hurtling rush
+and roar. This something that at first had looked like a red-eyed devil,
+with dark sides full of dim fire, resolved itself, as I watched it,
+presently, into a more conventional night express-train. It flew along,
+though, as no express-train ever travelled yet; for all that, I was able
+to keep it quite easily in view. I could count the carriages as they
+whirled by. One--two--three--four--five--six; but I could only see
+distinctly into one. Into that one with perfect distinctness. Into that
+one I seemed forced to look.
+
+"It was the fourth carriage. Two people were in it. They sat in opposite
+corners; both were sleeping. The one who sat facing forward was a
+woman--a girl, rather. I could see that; but I couldn't see her face.
+The blind was drawn across the lamp in the roof, and the light was very
+dim; moreover, this girl lay back in the shadow. Yet I seemed to know
+her, and I knew that her face was very fair. She wore a cloak that
+shrouded her form completely, yet her form was familiar to me.
+
+"The figure opposite to her was a man's. Strangely familiar to me too
+this figure was. But, as he slept, his head had sunk upon his breast,
+and the shadow cast upon his face by the low-drawn travelling-cap he
+wore hid it from me. Yet if I had seemed to know the girl's face, I was
+certain I knew the man's. But as I could see, so I could remember,
+neither. And there was an absolute torture in this which I can't explain
+to you,--in this inability, and in my inability to wake them from their
+sleep.
+
+"From the first I had been conscious of a desire to do that. This desire
+grew stronger every second. I tried to call to them, and my tongue
+wouldn't move. I tried to spring toward them, to thrust out my arms and
+touch them, and my limbs were paralyzed. And then I tried to shut my
+eyes to what I _knew_ must happen, and my eyes were held open and
+dragged to look on in spite of me. And I saw this:
+
+"I saw the door of the carriage where these two sleepers, whose sleep
+was so horribly sound, were sitting--I saw this door open, and out of
+the thick darkness another face look in.
+
+"The light, as I have said, was very dim, but I could see his face as
+plainly as I can see yours. A large yellow face it was, like a wax mask.
+The lips were full, and lustful and cruel. The eyes were little eyes of
+an evil gray. Thin yellow streaks marked the absence of the eyebrows;
+thin yellow hair showed itself under a huge fur travelling-cap. The
+whole face seemed to grow slowly into absolute distinctness as I looked,
+by the sort of devilish light that it, as it were, radiated. I had
+chanced upon a good many damnable visages before then; but there was a
+cold fiendishness about this one such as I had seen on no man's face,
+alive or dead, till then.
+
+"The next moment the man this face belonged to was standing in the
+carriage, that seemed to plunge and sway more furiously, as though to
+waken them that still slept on. He wore a long fur travelling-robe, girt
+about the waist with a fur girdle. Abnormally tall and broad as he was,
+he looked in this dress gigantic. Yet there was a marvellous cat-like
+lightness and agility about all his movements.
+
+"He bent over the girl lying there helpless in her sleep. I don't make
+rash bargains as a rule, but I felt I would have given years of my life
+for five minutes of my lost freedom of limb just then. I tell you the
+torture was infernal.
+
+"The assassin--I knew he was an assassin--bent awhile, gloatingly, over
+the girl. His great yellow hands were both bare, and on the forefinger
+of the right hand I could see some great stone blazing like an evil eye.
+In that right hand there gleamed something else. I saw him draw it
+slowly from his sleeve, and, as he drew it, turn round and look at the
+other sleeper with an infernal triumphant malignity and hate the Devil
+himself might have envied. But the man he looked at slept heavily on.
+And then--God! I feel the agony I felt in my dream then now!--then I saw
+the great yellow hand, with the great evil eye upon it, lifted
+murderously, and the bright steel it held shimmer as the assassin turned
+again and bent his yellow face down closer to that other face hidden
+from me in the shadow--the girl's face, that I knew was so fair.
+
+"How can I tell this?... The blade flashed and fell.... There was the
+sound of a heavy sigh stifled under a heavy hand....
+
+"Then the huge form of the assassin was reared erect, and the bloated
+yellow face seemed to laugh silently, while the hand that held the
+steel pointed at the sleeping man in diabolical menace.
+
+"And so the huge form and the bloated yellow face seemed to fade away
+while I watched.
+
+"The express rushed and roared through the blinding darkness without;
+the sleeping man slept on still; till suddenly a strong light fell full
+upon him, and he woke.
+
+"And then I saw why I had been so certain that I knew him. For as he
+lifted his head, I saw his face in the strong light.
+
+"_And the face was my own face; and the sleeper was myself!_"
+
+Paul Devereux made a pause in his queer story here. Except when he had
+spoken of the girl, he had spoken in his usual cool, hard way. The pipe
+he had been smoking all the time was smoked out. He took time to fill
+another before he went on. I said never a word, for I guessed who the
+sleeping girl was.
+
+"Well," Paul remarked presently, "that was a devilish queer dream,
+wasn't it? You'll account for it by telling me I'd been so pestered with
+the story of the banker's murder that I naturally had nightmare;
+perhaps, too, that my digestion was out of order. Call it a nightmare,
+call it dyspepsia, if you like. I _don't_, because---- But you'll see
+why I don't directly.
+
+"At the same moment that my dream-self awoke in my dream, my actual self
+woke in reality, and with the same ghastly horror.
+
+"I say the _same_ horror, for neither then nor afterward could I
+separate my one self from my other self. They seemed identical; so that
+this queer dream made a more lasting impression upon me than you'd
+think. However, in the life I led that sort of thing couldn't last very
+long. Before I came back from Africa I had utterly forgotten all about
+it. Before I left Paris, though, and while it was quite fresh in my
+memory, I sketched the big murderer just as I had seen him in my dream.
+The great yellow face, the great broad frame in the fur travelling-robe,
+the great hand with the great evil eye upon it--everything, carefully
+and minutely, as though I had been going to paint a portrait that I
+wanted to make lifelike. I think at the time I had some such intention.
+If I had, I never fulfilled it. But I made the sketch, as I say,
+carefully; and then I forgot all about it.
+
+"Time passed--three years nearly. I was wintering in the south of France
+that year. There it was that I met her--Lucille. Old D'Avray, her
+father, and I had met before in Algeria. He was dying now. He left the
+child on his death-bed to me. The end was I married her.
+
+"Poor little thing! I think I might have made her happy--who knows? She
+used to tell me often she was happy with me. Poor little thing!
+
+"Well, we were to come straight to London. That was Lucille's notion.
+She wanted to go to my London first--nowhere else. Now I would rather
+have gone anywhere else; but, naturally, I let the child have her way.
+She seemed nervously eager about it, I remembered afterward; seemed to
+have a nervous objection to every other place I proposed. But I saw or
+suspected nothing to make me question her very closely, or the reasons
+for her preference for our grimy old Pandemonium. What could I suspect?
+Not the truth. If I only had! If I had only guessed what it was that
+made her, as she said, long to be safe there already. Safe? What had she
+to fear with me? Ah, what indeed!
+
+"So we started on our journey to England. It was a cold, dark night,
+early in March. We reached Lyons somewhere about seven. I should have
+stayed there that night but for Lucille. She entreated me so earnestly
+and with such strange vehemence to go on by the night-mail to Paris,
+that at last, to satisfy her, I consented; though it struck me
+unpleasantly at the time that I had let her travel too long already, and
+that this feverishness was the consequence of over-fatigue. But she
+became pacified at once when I told her it should be as she wanted; and
+declared she should sleep perfectly well in the carriage with me beside
+her. She should feel quite safe then, she said.
+
+"Safe! Where safer? you might ask. Nowhere, I believe. Alone with
+me--surely nowhere safer. The Paris express was a short train that
+night; but I managed to secure a compartment for ourselves. I left
+Lucille in her corner there while I went across to the _buffet_ to fill
+a flask. I was gone barely five minutes; but when I came back the change
+in the child's face fairly startled me. I had seen it last with the
+smile it always wore for me on it, looking so childishly happy in the
+lamp-light. Now it was all gray-pale and distorted; and the great blue
+eyes told me directly with what.
+
+"Fear--sudden, terrible fear--I thought. But _fear_? Fear of what? I
+asked her. She clung close to me half-sobbing awhile before she could
+answer; and then she told me--nothing. There was nothing the matter;
+only she had felt a pain--a cruel pain--at her heart; and it had
+frightened her. Yes, that was it; it had frightened her, but it had
+passed; and she was well, quite well again now.
+
+"All this time her eyes seemed to be telling me another story; but I
+said nothing; she was obviously too excited already. I did my best to
+soothe her, and I succeeded. She told me she felt quite well once more
+before we started. No, she had rather, much rather go on to Paris, as I
+had promised her she should. She should sleep all the way, if no one
+came into the carriage to disturb her. No one could come in? Then
+nothing could be better.
+
+"And so it was that she and I started that night by the Paris mail.
+
+"I made her up a bed of rugs and wraps upon the cushions; but she had
+rather rest her head upon my shoulder, she said, and feel my arm about
+her; nothing could hurt her then. Ah, strange how she harped on that.
+
+"She lay there, then, as she loved best--with her head resting on my
+shoulder, not sleeping much or soundly; uneasily, with sudden waking
+starts, and with glances round her; till I would speak to her. And then
+she would look up into my face and smile; and so drop into that uneasy
+sleep again. And I would think she was over-tired, that was all; and
+reproach myself with having let her come on. And three or four hours
+passed like this; and then we had got as far as Dijon.
+
+"But the child was fairly worn out now; and she offered no opposition
+when I asked her to let me pillow her head on something softer than my
+shoulder. So I folded, a great thick shawl she was too well cloaked to
+need, and she made that her pillow.
+
+"We were rushing full swing through the wild, dark night, when she
+lifted up her face and bade me kiss her and bid her sleep well. And I
+put my arm round her, and kissed the child's loving lips--for the last
+time while she lived. Then I flung myself on the seat opposite her; and,
+watching her till she slept soundly and peacefully, slept at last myself
+also. I had drawn the blind across the lamp in the roof, and the light
+in the carriage was very dim.
+
+"How long I slept I don't know; it couldn't have been more than an hour
+and a half, because the express was slackening speed for its first halt
+beyond Dijon. I had slept heavily I knew; but I woke with a sudden,
+sharp sense of danger that made me broad awake, and strung every nerve
+in a moment. The sort of feeling you have when you wake on a prairie,
+where you have come across 'Indian sign;' on outpost-duty, when your
+_feldwebel_ plucks gently at your cloak. You know what I mean.
+
+"I was on my feet at once. As I said, the light in the carriage was very
+dim, and the shadow was deepest where Lucille lay. I looked there
+instinctively. She must have moved in her sleep, for her face was turned
+away from me; and the cloak I had put so carefully about her had partly
+fallen off. But she slept on still. Only soundly, very soundly; she
+scarcely seemed to breathe. And--_did_ she breathe?
+
+"A ghastly fear ran through my blood, and froze it. I understood why I
+had wakened. In my nostrils was an awful odor that I knew well enough. I
+bent over her; I touched her. Her face was very cold; her eyes glared
+glassily at me; my hands were wet with something. My hands were wet with
+blood--her blood!
+
+"I tore away the blind from the lamp, and then I could see that my wife
+of a week lay there stabbed straight to the heart--dead--dead beyond
+doubting; murdered in her sleep."
+
+Devereux's stern, low voice shook ever so little as he spoke those last
+words; and we both sat very silent after them for a good while. Only
+when he could trust his utterance again he went on.
+
+"A curious piece of devilry, wasn't it? That child--whom had she ever
+harmed? Who could hate her like this? I remember I thought that, in a
+dull, confused sort of way, when I found myself alone in that carriage
+with her lying dead on the cushions before me. _Alone_ with her--you
+understand? It was confusing.
+
+"I pass over what immediately followed. The express came duly to a halt;
+and then I called people to me, and--and the Paris express went on
+without that particular carriage.
+
+"The inquiry began before some local authority next day. Very little
+came of it. What could come of it, unless they had convicted _me_ of the
+murder of this child I would have given my own life to save?
+
+"They might have done that at home; but they knew better here, and
+didn't. They couldn't find me the actual assassin, however; though I
+believe they did their best. All they found was his weapon, which he
+most purposely have left behind. I asked for this, and got it. It gave
+their police no clue; and it gave me none. But I had a fancy for it.
+
+"It was a plain, double-edged, admirably-tempered dagger--a very
+workmanlike article indeed. On the cross hilt of it I swore one day that
+I would live thenceforth for one thing alone--the discovery of the
+murderer of old D'Avray's child, whom I had promised him to care for
+before all. When I had found this man, whoever he was, I also swore that
+I would kill him. Kill him myself, you understand; without any of the
+law's delay or uncertainty, without troubling _bourreau_ or hangman.
+Kill him as he had killed her--to do this was what I meant to live for.
+There was war to the knife between him and me.
+
+"I started, of course, under one heavy disadvantage. He knew me,
+probably, whereas I didn't know him at all. When he found that his
+amiable intention of fixing the crime on me had been frustrated, it
+must, I imagined, have occurred to him that the said crime might
+eventually be fixed by me on him. And he had proved himself to be a
+person who didn't stick at trifles. It behooved me, therefore, to go to
+work cautiously. But I hadn't fought Indians for nothing; and I _was_
+very cautious. I waited quiet till I got a clue. It was a curious one;
+and I got it in this way. It struck me one day, suddenly, that I had
+heard of a murder precisely similar to this already. I could not at
+first call the thing to mind; but presently I remembered--my dream. And
+then I asked myself this: _Had not this murder been done before my eyes
+three years ago?_
+
+"I came to the conclusion that the circumstances of the murder in my
+dream were absolutely identical with the circumstances of the actual
+crime. Yes; the girl whose face in that dream I had never been able to
+see was Lucille. Yes; the assassin whose face I had seen so plainly in
+that dream was the real assassin. In short, I believe that the murder
+had been _rehearsed_ before me three years previous to its actual
+committal.
+
+"Now this sounds rather wild. Yet I came to this conviction quite coolly
+and deliberately. It _was_ a conviction. Assuming it to be true, the
+odds against me grew shorter directly; _for I had the portrait of the
+man I wanted drawn by myself the day after I had seen him in my dream_.
+And the original of that portrait was a man not to be easily mistaken,
+supposing him to exist at all. The day I came across that sketch of him
+in that old forgotten sketch-book of mine, I was as sure he did exist as
+that I was alive myself. What I had to do was to find this man, and then
+I never doubted I should find the man I wanted. You see how the odds had
+shortened. If he knew me I knew him now, and he had no notion that I did
+know him. It was a good deal fairer fight between us.
+
+"I fought it out alone. My story was hardly one the Rue de J�rusalem
+would have acted upon; and, besides, I wanted no interference. So, with
+the portrait before me, I sat down and began to consider who this man
+was, and why he had murdered that child. The big, burly frame, the heavy
+yellow face, the sandy-yellow hair, the physiognomy generally, was
+Teutonic. My man I put down as a North German. Now there were, and are
+probably, plenty of men who would have no objection whatever to put a
+knife into me, if they got the chance; but this man, whom I had never
+met, could have had no such quarrel as theirs with me. His quarrel with
+me must have been, then, Lucille. Yes, that was it--Lucille. I began to
+see clearly: a thwarted, devilish passion--a cool, infernal revenge. The
+child had feared something of this sort; had perhaps seen him that
+night. This explained her nervous terror, her nervous anxiety to stop
+nowhere, to travel on. In that carriage of that express-train, alone
+with me--where could she be safer? This accounted, too, for her anxiety
+to reach England. He would not dare follow her there, she had thought,
+or, at least, could not without my noticing him. And then she would have
+told me. She had not told me before evidently because she had feared for
+_me_ too, in a quarrel with this man. She must, innocent child as she
+was, have had some instinctive knowledge of what he was capable.... Ay,
+a cool, infernal revenge, indeed. To kill her; to fix the murder on me.
+That dagger he had left behind.... The apparent impossibility of any
+one's entering the carriage as he must have entered it at all, to say
+nothing of the almost absolute impossibility of his doing so without
+disturbing either of us,--you see it might have gone hard with me if a
+British jury had had to decide on the case.
+
+"Well, to cut this as short as may be, I made up my mind that the man I
+wanted was a North German; that he had conceived a hideous passion for
+Lucille before I knew her; that she had shrunk from it and him so
+unmistakably, that he knew he had no chance; that my taking her away as
+my wife, to which he might have been a witness, drove him to as hideous
+a revenge; that, hearing we were going to England, and seeing that we
+were likely to stop nowhere on the way, and so give him a chance of
+doing what he had made up his mind to do, he had decided to do what he
+had done as he had done it,--counting on finding us asleep as he had
+found us, or on his strength if it came to a fight between him and me;
+but coolly reckless enough to brave everything in any case. And the
+devil aiding, he had in great part and only too well succeeded. He was
+now either so far satisfied that, if I made no move against him--and
+how, he might think, could I?--he, feeling himself all safe, would let
+me be; or, on the other hand, he did not feel safe, and was not
+satisfied, and was arranging for my being disposed of by and by. I
+considered the latter frame of mind as his most probable one; I went to
+work cautiously, as I say. I ascertained that Lucille had made no
+mention of any obnoxious _pr�tendant_ at any time; I didn't expect to
+find she had, her terror of the man was too intense. But this man must
+have met her somewhere--where?
+
+"When old D'Avray came home to die, his daughter was just leaving her
+Paris _pensionnat_. All through his last illness he had seen no visitor
+but me, and Lucille had never quitted him. Besides, I had been there all
+the time. I presumed, then, that this man and she had met in Paris; and
+I believe they were only likely to have met at one of the half-dozen
+houses where the child would now and again be asked. I got a list of
+all these. One name only struck me; it happened to be a German
+name--Steinmetz. I wondered if Monsieur Steinmetz was my man. In the
+mean time, who was he? I had no trouble in finding that out: Monsieur
+Steinmetz was a German banker of good standing and repute, reasonably
+well off, and recently left a widower. Personally? _Dame_, personally
+Monsieur Steinmetz was a great man and a fat, with a big face and blond
+hair, and the appearance of what he really was--a _bon vivant_ and a
+_bon enfant_ yet _n'avait jamais fait de mal � personne--allez!_--All,
+yes; in effect, Madame had died about a year ago, and Monsieur had been
+inconsolable for a long time. He had changed his residence now, and
+inhabited a house in one of the new streets off the Champs Elys�es.
+
+"From another source I discovered that in the lifetime of Madame
+Steinmetz Lucille was frequently at the house. She had ceased to come
+there about the date of the commencement of Madame's sudden illness. I
+got this information by degrees, while I lay _perdu_ in an old haunt of
+mine in the Pays Latin yonder; for I had always had an idea that I
+should find the man I wanted in Paris. When I had got it, I thought I
+should like to see Monsieur Steinmetz, the agreeable banker. One night I
+strolled up as far as his new residence in the street off the Champs
+Elys�es. Monsieur Steinmetz lived on the first-floor. There was a
+brilliant light there: Monsieur Steinmetz was entertaining friends, it
+seemed.
+
+"It was a fine night; I established myself out of sight under the
+doorway of an unfinished house opposite, and waited. I don't know why;
+perhaps I fancied that when his friends were gone, the fineness of the
+night might induce Monsieur Steinmetz to take a stroll, and that then I
+should be able to gratify my curiosity. You see, I knew that if he were
+my man, I should know him directly. I waited a good while: shadows
+crossed the lighted blinds; once a big, broad shadow appeared there,
+that made me fancy I mightn't have been waiting for nothing after all,
+somehow. Presently Monsieur Steinmetz's guests departed, and in a little
+while after there appeared on the little balcony of Monsieur Steinmetz's
+apartment _the man I wanted_. There was a moon that night, and the cold
+white light fell on the great yellow face, with the full lustful lips,
+and the full cruel chin, just as I had seen the light fall on it in my
+dream. It was the same face, Bertie; the same face, the same man. I
+couldn't be mistaken. I had no doubt; I _knew_ that the assassin of my
+wife, of that tender, innocent, helpless child, stood there, twenty
+yards from me, on that balcony.
+
+"I had got myself pretty well in hand; and it was as well. I never
+moved. The face I knew turned presently toward the spot where I stood
+hidden,--the face I had seen in my dream, beyond all doubting. The evil
+gray eyes glanced carelessly into the shadow, and up and down the quiet
+street; and then Monsieur Steinmetz, humming an air, got inside the
+window again, and closed it after him. Once more the great burly shadow
+that had at first told me I should not wait in that dark doorway in vain
+crossed the blinds; and then it disappeared. I saw my man no more that
+night; but I had seen enough. I knew who he was now, and where to find
+him.
+
+"As I walked along home I thought what I would do. I quite meant to kill
+Monsieur Steinmetz; but I also meant to have no _d�m�l�s_ with an
+Imp�rial Procureur and the Cour d'Assizes for doing so. I didn't want to
+murder him, either. I thought I would wait a little for the chance of a
+suitable opportunity for settling my business satisfactorily. And I did
+wait. I turned this delay to account, and got together a case of
+circumstantial evidence against my man that, though perhaps it might
+have broken down in a law-court, would have been alone amply sufficient
+for me.
+
+"The reason why Lucille's visits to the banker's house ceased was, it
+appeared, because Madame Steinmetz had conceived all at once a jealous
+dislike to her. How far this was owing to Lucille herself I could well
+understand; but I could understand Madame's jealousy equally well.
+Madame's illness, strangely sudden, dated from the cessation of
+Lucille's visits. Was it hard to find a _cause_ for that illness--a
+cause for the wife's subsequent suspected death? I thought not. Then had
+followed Lucille's departure from Paris. The child's anxiety for her
+father hid her _other fear_ from his eyes and mine; but that fear must
+have been on her then. With us she forgot it in time; yet it or another
+reason had always prevented all mention of what had occasioned it. She
+became my wife. At that very time I easily ascertained that Steinmetz
+was absent from Paris; less easily, but indubitably, that he had, at all
+events, been as far south as Lyons. At Lyons it must have been that
+Lucille first discovered he was dogging us. Hence her alarm, which I had
+remembered, and her anxiety to proceed on our journey without stopping
+for the night, as I had previously arranged. The morning after the
+murder Steinmetz reappeared in Paris. From the hour at which he was seen
+at the _gare_, it was certain that he had travelled by the night express
+train in which Lucille and I had started from Lyons; and he wore that
+morning a travelling-coat of fur in all respects similar to the one I
+remembered so well.
+
+"If I had ever had any doubt of my man after actually seeing him, I
+should probably have convinced myself that he was my man by the general
+tendency of these facts, which I got at slowly and one by one. But I had
+no need of such evidence; and of course no case, even with such
+evidence, for a court of law. However, courts of law I had never
+intended to trouble in the matter.
+
+"The opportunity I was waiting was some time before it offered. Monsieur
+Steinmetz was a man of regular habits, I found--from his first-floor in
+the street off the Champs Elys�es, every morning at eleven, to the
+Bourse; thence to his bureau hard by till four; from his bureau to his
+caf�, where he read papers and played dominoes till six; and then home
+slowly by the Boulevarts. He might consider himself tolerably safe from
+me while he led this sort of life, even supposing he was aware he was
+incurring any danger. I don't think he troubled much about that; till
+one night, when, over the count of the beloved domino-points, his eyes
+met mine fixed right upon him. I had arranged this little surprise to
+see how it would affect him.
+
+"Perhaps my gaze may have expressed something more than the mere
+distraction I intended; but I noticed--though a more indifferent
+observer might easily have failed to notice--how the great yellow face,
+expanded in childish interest in the childish game, seemed suddenly to
+grow gray and harden; how the fat smile became a cruel baring of sharp
+white teeth; how the fat chin squared itself. The man knew me, and
+scented danger.
+
+"A moment's reflection convinced Monsieur Steinmetz, though, that it
+could be by no means so certain that I knew him; five minutes'
+observation of me more than half satisfied him that I did not. Yet what
+did I want there? What was I doing in Paris? This might concern him
+nearly, he must have thought.
+
+"I kept my own face in order, and watched his. It wasn't an easy one to
+read; but you see I had studied it closely, and in a way he couldn't
+have dreamed of. Monsieur Steinmetz was outwardly his wonted self, but
+inwardly not quite comfortable when he rose; and I saw the evil eye
+gleam on his great yellow finger as he took out his purse to pay the
+_gar�on_, just as I had seen it when that finger pointed at _myself_ in
+my dream. I felt curious sensations, Bertie, as I sat there and looked
+abstractedly at Monsieur Steinmetz. I wondered how long it would be
+before----But my time hadn't come yet. He went out without another
+glance at me. I saw his huge form on the other side of the street when I
+left the caf� in my turn. This I had expected. Monsieur Steinmetz was
+naturally curious. It was hardly possible that I could know him; but it
+was quite certain that he ought to know all about me. So, when I moved
+on, he moved on; in short, Monsieur Steinmetz dogged me up one street
+and down another, till he finally dogged me home to my hiding-place in
+the Pays Latin. He did it very well, too--much better than you would
+have expected from so apparently unwieldy a _mouchard_. But I
+_remembered_ how lightly he could move.
+
+"Next day I had, of course, disappeared from my old quarters, and gone
+no one knew where. I suppose Monsieur Steinmetz didn't like this fact
+when he heard of it. It might have seemed suspicious. Suppose I _had_
+recognized him? In that case I had evidently a little game of my own,
+and was as evidently desirous to keep it dark. He was a cool hand; but I
+fancy my man began to get a little uneasy. He took some trouble to find
+me again. After a while I permitted him to do that. Once found, he
+seemed determined that I should not be lost sight of again for want of
+watching. I permitted that, too; it helped play my game, and I wanted to
+bring it to an end. To which intent, Monsieur Steinmetz got to hear from
+sources best known to himself as much of my plans as should bring him to
+the state I wanted. That was a murderous state. I wanted to get him to
+think that I was dangerous enough to be worth putting out of the way. I
+presume he was aware there were, or would be, weak joints in his armor,
+impenetrable as it seemed; and he preferred not risking the ordeal of
+legal battle if he could help it. At all events, he elected at last to
+rid himself of a person who might be dangerous, and was troublesome, by
+the shortest and the simplest means.
+
+"I say so because when, believing my man was ripe for this, I left Paris
+about midday for a certain secluded little spot on the sea-coast, I saw
+one of Monsieur Steinmetz's employees on the platform; and because,
+two days after my arrival in my secluded spot, I met Monsieur Steinmetz
+in person, newly arrived also. Now this was exactly what I had intended
+and anticipated. Monsieur Steinmetz had come down there to put me out of
+his way, if he could. He passed me, leisurely strolling in the opposite
+direction, humming his favorite _aria_, bigger and yellower than ever,
+the evil eye fiery on his finger. His own eyes shot me as evil fire; but
+he said nothing.... I saw he was ripe, though.... My time was close at
+hand.
+
+"It came. Monsieur Steinmetz and I met once more in the very place where
+I, knowing my ground, had intended we should meet. It was a dip in the
+cliffs like a hollowed palm, and just there the cliff jutted out a good
+bit, with a sheer fall on to the rocks below. It was a gray afternoon,
+at the end of summer. The wind was rising fast; there was a thunder of
+heavy waves already.
+
+"I think he had been dogging me; but I hadn't chosen to let him get up
+to me till now. We were quite out of sight when he had reached the level
+bottom of the dip, where I had halted--quite out of sight, and quite
+alone. To do him justice, he came on steadily enough. His face was liker
+the sketch I had made of it, liker the face I had seen in my dream, than
+it had ever looked before. Evidently he had made up his mind.... At
+last, then!... Well, I had been waiting long!... He was close beside me.
+
+"'_Ah! bon jour, cher Monsieur Steinmetz._'
+
+"'So?' he said, his little eyes contracting like a cobra's. 'Ah!
+Monsieur knows my name?'
+
+"'Among other things about you--yes.'
+
+"'So!' The yellow face was turning grayer and harder every minute--liker
+and liker to my likeness of it. 'And what other things? Has it never
+appeared to you that this you do, have been doing--this meddling, may be
+dangerous, _hein_?'
+
+"He had changed his tone, as he had changed the person in which he
+addressed me. Yes, he had certainly made up his mind. And his big right
+hand was hidden inside his waistcoat, so that I could not see the evil
+eye I knew was on his finger.
+
+"'Dangerous?' he repeated slowly.
+
+"'Possibly.'
+
+"'Ay, surely; I shall crush you!'
+
+"'Try.'
+
+"'In good time; wait. You plot against me. Take care; I am strong; I
+warn you. There must be an end of this, you understand, or----'
+
+"He nodded his big head significantly.
+
+"'You are right,' I told him; 'there must be an end. It is coming.'
+
+"'So?'
+
+"'Yes; I know you. You know me now.'
+
+"'I know you. What do you want?'
+
+"'To kill you.'
+
+"'So?'
+
+"'Yes; as you killed her.'
+
+"'As I killed her? That is it, then? You know that?'
+
+"'I know that.'
+
+"'Well, it is true. I killed her. Now you can guess what I am going to
+do to you--to you, curse you!--whom she loved.'
+
+[Illustration: "THE GREAT YELLOW FACE LOOKED SILENTLY UP AT ME; AND
+THEN--THEN IT DISAPPEARED."]
+
+"The very face I had seen in my dream now, Bertie, the very face! There
+was something besides the evil eye that gleamed in his right hand when
+he drew it from his breast. Once more he spoke.
+
+"'Yes, I killed her. I meant worse for you. You escaped that; but you
+will not escape me now. Fool! were you mad to do this? Did not I hate
+you enough? And I would have let you be. Ah, die, then, if you will have
+it so!'
+
+"His heavy right arm swung high as he spoke, and I saw the sharp steel
+gleam as it turned to fall. And I twisted from his grip, and caught the
+falling arm, and bent it till the dagger dropped to the ground. And
+then, for a fierce, desperate, devilish minute, I had him in my clutch,
+dragging him nearer the smooth, slippery edge. He was no match for me at
+this I knew, and he knew; but he held me with the hold of his despair,
+and I could not loose myself. Both of us together, he meant; but not I.
+Yet I only freed myself just as he rolled exhausted, but clutching at
+the tough, short bushes wildly, toward the brink, and partly over it....
+Only the hold of his hands between him and his death. And I knelt above
+him, with the knife in my hand that was stained with _her_ blood.
+
+"The great yellow face, ashen now in its mortal agony, looked silently
+up at me--for three or four awful seconds; and then--then it
+disappeared.
+
+"Bah!" Paul concluded, "that was the end of it."
+
+
+
+
+CATHERINE'S QUEST.
+
+
+Imagine to yourself an old, rambling, red-brick house, with odd corners
+and gables here and there, all bound and clasped together with ivy, and
+you have Craymoor Grange. It was built long before Queen Elizabeth's
+time, and that illustrious monarch is said to have slept in it in one of
+her royal progresses--as where has she not slept?
+
+There still remain some remnants of bygone ages, although it has been
+much modernized and added to in later days. Among these are the
+brewhouse and laundry--formerly, it is said, dining-hall and ball-room.
+The latter of these is chiefly remarkable for an immense arched window,
+such as you see in churches, with five lights.
+
+When we came to the Grange this window had been partially blocked up,
+and in front of it, up to one-third of its height, was a wooden da�s, or
+platform, on which stood a cumbrous mangle, left there, I suppose, by
+the last tenants of the house.
+
+Of these last tenants we knew very little, for it was so long since it
+had been inhabited that the oldest authority in the village could not
+remember it.
+
+There were, however, some half-defaced monuments in the village church
+of Craymoor, bearing the figures and escutcheons of knights and dames of
+"the old family," as the villagers said; but the inscriptions were worn
+and almost illegible, and for some time we none of us took the pains to
+decipher them.
+
+We first came to Craymoor Grange in the summer of 1849, my husband
+having discovered the place in one of his rambles, and taken a fancy to
+it. At first I certainly thought we could never make it our home, it was
+so dilapidated and tumble-down; but by the time winter came on we had
+had several repairs done and alterations made, and the rooms really
+became quite presentable.
+
+As our family was small we confined ourselves chiefly to the newest part
+of the house, leaving the older rooms to the mice, dust, and darkness.
+We made use of two of the old rooms, however, one as a servants' bedroom
+and the other as an extra spare chamber, in case of many visitors. For
+myself, though I hope I am neither nervous nor superstitious, I confess
+that I would rather sleep in "our wing," as we called the part of the
+house we inhabited, than in any of the old rooms.
+
+When Catherine l'Estrange came to us, however, during our first
+Christmas at Craymoor, I found that she was troubled with no such
+fancies, but declared that she delighted in queer old rooms, with
+raftered ceilings and deep window-seats, such as ours, and begged to be
+allowed to occupy the spare chamber. This I readily acceded to, as we
+had several visitors, and needed all the available rooms.
+
+As my story has principally to do with Catherine l'Estrange, I suppose I
+ought to speak more fully about her. She was an old school-friend of my
+daughter Ella, and at the time of which I am speaking was just
+one-and-twenty, and the merriest girl I ever knew. She had stayed with
+us once or twice before we came to the Grange, but we then knew no other
+particulars concerning her family, than that her father had been an
+Indian officer, and that he and her mother had both died in India when
+she was about six years old, leaving her to the care of an aunt living
+in England.
+
+I now, after a long, and I fear a tedious, preamble, come to my story.
+
+On the eve of the new year of 1850, Catherine had a very bad sore
+throat, and was obliged, though sorely against her inclination, to stay
+in bed all day, and forego our small evening gayety.
+
+At about 6 o'clock P.M., Ella took her some tea, and fearing she would
+be dull, offered to stay with her during the evening. This, however,
+Catherine would not hear of. "You go and entertain your company," said
+she laughingly, "and leave me to my own devices; I feel very lazy, and I
+dare say I shall go to sleep." As she had not slept much on the
+preceding night, Ella thought it was the best thing she could do; so she
+went out by the door leading on to the corridor, first placing the
+night-lamp on a table behind the door opening on to the laundry, so that
+it might not shine in her face.
+
+She did not again visit Catherine's room until reminded to do so by my
+son George, at about half-past ten. She then rapped at the door, and
+receiving no answer, opened it softly, and approached the bed. Catherine
+lay quite still, and Ella imagined her to be asleep. She therefore
+returned to the drawing-room without disturbing her.
+
+As it was New Year's eve, we stayed up "to see the old year out and the
+new year in," and at a few minutes to twelve we all gathered round the
+open window on the stairs to hear the chimes ring out from the village
+church.
+
+We were all listening breathlessly as the hall-clock struck twelve, when
+a piercing cry suddenly echoed through the house, causing us all to
+start in alarm. I knew that it could only proceed from Catherine's room,
+for the servants were all assembled at the window beneath us, listening,
+like ourselves, for the chimes. Thither therefore I flew, followed by
+Ella, and we found poor Catherine in a truly pitiable state.
+
+She was deadly pale, in an agony of terror, and the perspiration stood
+in large drops upon her forehead. It was some time before we could
+succeed at all in composing her, and her first words were to implore us
+to take her into another room.
+
+She was too weak to stand, so we wrapped her in blankets, and carried
+her into Ella's bedroom. I noticed that as she was taken through the
+laundry she shuddered, and put her hands before her eyes. When she was
+laid on Ella's bed she grew calmer, and apologized for the trouble she
+had caused, saying that she had had a dreadful dream.
+
+With this explanation we were fain to be content, though I thought it
+hardly accounted for her excessive terror. I had observed, however, that
+any allusion to what had passed caused her to tremble and turn pale
+again, and I thought it best to refrain from exciting her further.
+
+When morning came I found Catherine almost her usual self again; but I
+persuaded her to remain in bed until the evening, as her cold was not
+much better. Ella's curiosity to hear the dream which had so much
+excited her friend could now no longer be restrained; but whenever she
+asked to hear it, Catherine said, "Not now; another time, perhaps, I may
+tell you."
+
+When she came down to dinner in the evening, we noticed that she was
+peculiarly silent, and we endeavored to rally her into her usual
+spirits, but in vain. She tried to laugh and to appear merry, poor
+child; but there was evidently something on her mind.
+
+At last, as we all sat round the fire after dinner, she spoke. She
+addressed herself to my husband, but the tone of her voice caused us all
+to listen.
+
+"Mr. Fanshawe, I have something to ask of you," said she, and then
+paused.
+
+"Ask on," said Mr. Fanshawe.
+
+"I know that you will think the request I am going to make a peculiar
+one; but I have a particular reason for making it," continued she. "It
+is that you will have the wooden da�s in front of the laundry window
+removed."
+
+Mr. Fanshawe certainly was taken aback, as were we all. When he had
+mastered his bewilderment, and assured himself that he had heard
+aright--
+
+"It is, indeed, a strange request, my dear Catherine," said he; "what
+can be your reason for asking such a thing?"
+
+"If you will only have it done, and not question me, you will understand
+my reason," answered Catherine.
+
+Mr. Fanshawe demurred, however, thinking it some foolish whim, and at
+last Catherine said:
+
+"I must tell you why I wish it done, then: I am sure we shall discover
+something underneath."
+
+At this we all looked at one another in extreme bewilderment.
+
+"Discover something underneath? No doubt we should--cobwebs, probably,
+and dust and spiders," answered Mr. Fanshawe, much amused.
+
+But Catherine was not to be laughed down.
+
+"Only do as I wish," said she beseechingly, "and you will see. If you
+find nothing underneath the da�s but cobwebs and dust, then you may
+laugh at me as much as you like." And I saw that she was serious, for
+tears were actually gathering in her eyes. Of course we were all very
+anxious to know what Catherine expected to find, and how she came to
+suspect that there was anything to be found; but she would not say, and
+begged us all not to question her.
+
+And now George took upon himself to interfere.
+
+"Let us do as Catherine wishes, father," said he; "the da�s spoils the
+laundry, and would be much better away."
+
+"Well, well," said Mr. Fanshawe, "do as you like, only I shall expect my
+share of the treasure that is found.--And now," added he, "you must have
+a glass of wine to warm you, Catherine, for you look sadly pale, child."
+
+Here the conversation changed, though we often alluded to the subject
+again during the evening.
+
+The next morning the first thing in all our thoughts was Catherine's
+singular request.
+
+I think Mr. Fanshawe had hoped she would have forgotten it, but such
+was not the case; on the contrary, she enlisted George's services the
+first thing after breakfast to carry out her design, and they left the
+room together, accompanied by Ella.
+
+It was a snowy morning, and Mr. Fanshawe was obliged to be away from
+home all day on business, so I was quite at a loss how to entertain my
+numerous guests successfully. Happily for me, however, the mystery
+attendant on the removal of the da�s in the laundry charmed them all;
+and I have to thank Catherine for contributing to their amusement much
+better than I could possibly have done.
+
+Not long after the disappearance of Catherine, Ella, and George, a
+message was sent to us in the drawing-room requesting our presence in
+the laundry; and on all flocking there with more or less eagerness, we
+found a fire burning on the old-fashioned hearth and chairs arranged
+round it.
+
+It appeared that with the help of Sam, our factotum, who was a kind of
+Jack-of-all-trades, George had succeeded in loosening the planks of the
+da�s, which, although strongly put together, were rotten and worm-eaten,
+and that we were now summoned to be witnesses of its removal. We found
+Catherine trembling with a strange eagerness, and her face quite pale
+with excitement. This was shared by Ella and George; and, judging by the
+important expression on their faces, I fancied they were let further
+into the secret than any one else.
+
+We all sat down in the chairs placed for our accommodation, and the wild
+whistling of the wind in the huge chimney, together with the sheets of
+snow which darkened the window-panes, enhanced the mystery of the whole
+affair, while George and his coadjutor worked lustily on.
+
+At length, after a great deal of panting and puffing, George was heard
+to exclaim, "Now for the tug of war!" and there followed a minute's
+pause, and then a crash as the loosened planks were torn asunder, and a
+cloud of dust enveloped both workmen and spectators.
+
+Involuntarily we all started forward, and a moment of the direst
+confusion ensued, during which the boys of our party greatly endangered
+their limbs among the broken boards.
+
+"By George!" exclaimed my son at last--in his eagerness invoking his
+patron saint--as he stumbled upon something, "there is something here
+and no mistake;" and, hastily clearing away the rubbish and clinging
+cobwebs, he disclosed to view what proved on examination to be an
+immense oaken chest, about four feet in height, heavily carved, and
+ornamented with brass mouldings corroded with age and damp.
+
+Here was a piece of excitement indeed; never in my most imaginative
+moments had I thought of anything so mysterious as this. The most
+sceptical among us grew interested.
+
+"Oh, do open it!" cried Ella, when the first exclamations of surprise
+were over.
+
+"Easier to say than to do, miss," replied Sam, exerting his Herculean
+strength in vain. With the aid of a hammer and the kitchen-poker,
+however, he at last succeeded in forcing it open. We all pressed forward
+eagerly to peer inside. There was something in it certainly, but we none
+of us could determine what, until Sam, who was the boldest of us all,
+thrust in his hand and brought forth--something which caused the bravest
+to start with horror, while poor Catherine sank down, white and
+trembling, upon the littered floor. It was a bone, to which adhered
+fragments of decaying silk.
+
+The consternation and conjectures which followed can be better imagined
+than described. Seeing the effects of the discovery upon Catherine, and
+indeed upon all, I bade Sam replace it in the chest, which George closed
+again, to be left until Mr. Fanshawe came home and could investigate the
+matter.
+
+The rest of the day I passed in attending to Catherine, who seemed much
+shocked and overcome by what she had seen, and in trying to divert my
+guests' thoughts from the subject, and dispel the gloom which had
+gathered over all. In this I succeeded only partially, and never did I
+welcome my husband's return more gladly than on that evening.
+
+On his arrival I would not let him be disturbed by the relation of what
+had happened until he had finished his dinner, and it was not till we
+were gathered as usual round the fire that George related the whole
+story to him.
+
+When he ended the two gentlemen left the room together, in order that
+Mr. Fanshawe might verify by his own eyes what he would hardly believe.
+
+They were some time gone, and on their return I noticed that my husband
+held in his hand an old piece of soiled parchment, with mouldy seals
+affixed to it.
+
+"We certainly have discovered much more than I thought for, Catherine,"
+said he, "and possibly more than you thought for either." Here he paused
+for her to reply, but she did not.
+
+"The bones are most probably those of some animal," added he--I fancied
+I could detect a certain anxiety in his tone that belied what he said;
+"but in order to quell the active imaginations which I can see are
+running away with some of you"--here he looked round with a smile--"I
+will send for Dr. Driscoll to come and examine them to-morrow. I have
+also found a piece of parchment in the chest," he added; "but I have not
+yet looked at its contents."
+
+"Before you do that, Mr. Fanshawe, and before you send for the surgeon,"
+interrupted Catherine suddenly in a clear voice, "I think I can tell you
+all about the bones found in the chest, and how I guessed them to be
+there."
+
+"I should certainly be very glad to be told," my husband admitted, much
+surprised; "though how you can possibly know, I cannot surmise."
+
+"Listen, and I will tell you," answered Catherine; and feeling very glad
+that our curiosity was at last to be gratified, we all "pricked up our
+ears," as George would say, to listen.
+
+I here transcribe Catherine's story word for word, as my son George
+subsequently wrote it down from her dictation.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"You all remember," she began, "my alarming you on New Year's eve at
+midnight, and that I told you I was disturbed by a dreadful dream.
+
+"I said so because I thought you would make fun of me if I called it a
+vision; and yet it was much more like a vision, for I seemed to see it
+waking, and it was more vivid and consecutive than any dream I ever had.
+
+"Before I try to describe it, I want you all to understand that I seemed
+intuitively to comprehend what I saw, and to recognize all the figures
+which appeared before me, and their relation to one another, though I am
+sure I never beheld them before in my life.
+
+"When Ella left me that night, I lay propped up with pillows, staring
+idly at the strange shadows thrown by the hidden lamp across the laundry
+ceiling and over the floor. As I looked it seemed to me that a change
+came over the room--a most unaccountable change.
+
+"Instead of the blocked-up window, the rusty mangle, and the da�s at the
+farther end, I saw the window clear and distinct from top to bottom, and
+in front of a deep window-seat at its base stood an oaken chest, exactly
+corresponding to the one discovered this morning. The room seemed
+brilliantly lighted, and everything was clearly and distinctly visible;
+and not only was it changed, but also peopled.
+
+"Many figures passed up and down; brocaded silks swept the floor, and
+old-world forms of men in strange costumes bowed in courtly style to the
+dames by their side. Among all these figures I noticed only one couple
+particularly, and I knew them to be bride and bridegroom. The man was
+tall and broad, with dark hair and eyes, and a sensual and cruel face.
+He seemed, however, to be quite enslaved by the woman by his side, whom
+I hardly even now like to think of, there was something to me so
+repellent in her presence.
+
+"She was tall and of middle age, and would have been handsome were it
+not for a sinister expression in her dark flashing eyes, which was
+enhanced by the black eyebrows which met over them.
+
+"She reminded me irresistibly of the effigy on the stone monument in
+Craymoor church, which Ella and I named "the wicked woman."
+
+"As I gazed on the strange scene before me I presently became aware of
+three other figures which I had not noticed before. They were standing
+in a small arched doorway in one corner of the room (where the servants'
+bedroom now is) furtively watching the gay company. One was a pale,
+careworn woman, apparently of about five-and-thirty, still beautiful,
+though haggard and mournful-looking, with blue eyes and a fair
+complexion.
+
+"Her hands rested on the shoulders of two children, one a boy and the
+other a girl, of about ten and eleven years of age respectively. They
+much resembled their mother, and, like her, they were meanly dressed,
+though no poverty of attire could hide the nobility of their aspect. I
+noticed that the mother's eyes rested chiefly on the face of the tall
+stately man before mentioned, who seemed unaware or careless of her
+presence; and instinctively I knew him to be the father of her children
+and the blighter of her life.
+
+"As I looked and beheld all this, the lights vanished, the company
+disappeared, and the room became dark and deserted. No, not quite
+deserted, for I presently distinguished, seated on the window-seat by
+the old oaken chest, the fair woman and her children again.
+
+"The moonlight now streamed through the window upon the woman's face,
+making it appear more ghastly and haggard than before. In her long thin
+fingers she was holding up to the light a necklace of large pearls,
+curiously interwoven in a diamond pattern, and on this the children's
+eyes were fixed.
+
+"She then hung it on the girl's fair neck, who hid it in her bosom. Both
+children then twined their arms round their mother and kissed her
+repeatedly, while her head sank lower and lower, and the paleness of
+death overspread her features.
+
+"This scene faded away as the other had done, and I saw the fair woman
+no more.
+
+"Then it seemed to me that many figures passed and repassed before the
+window--the wicked woman (as I shall call her to distinguish her),
+accompanied by a boy the image of herself, whom I knew to be her son. He
+was apparently older than the fair-haired children, who also passed to
+and fro, attired as servants, and generally employed in some menial
+work.
+
+"At last the wicked woman's son, with haughty gestures, ordered the
+other boy to pick up something that lay on the ground, and when he
+refused, he raised his cane as though to strike him. Before he could do
+so, however, the boy flew at him, and they engaged in a fierce struggle.
+
+"In the midst of this the wicked woman, whom I had learned to dread,
+came forward and separated them; after which she pointed imperiously to
+the door, and signed to the younger boy to go out.
+
+"He obeyed her mandate, but first threw his arms round his sister in a
+last embrace, and she detached the pearl necklace from off her neck and
+gave it to him. He then went out, waving a last adieu to her, and I saw
+him no more.
+
+"Confused images seemed to crowd before me after this, and I remember
+nothing clearly until I beheld an infirm and tottering figure led away
+through the arched doorway, in whom I recognized the tall and stately
+man I had first seen in company with the wicked woman, but who was now
+an old man, apparently being supported to his bed to die. As he passed
+out he laid one trembling hand upon the head of the fair girl, now a
+blooming woman, and a softer shade came over his face. This the wicked
+woman noted, and she marked her disapproval by a vindictive frown.
+
+"She also was older-looking, but age had in no degree softened her
+features; on the contrary, they appeared to me to wear a harsher
+expression than before.
+
+"In the next scene which came before me, the wicked woman's son was
+evidently making love to the girl. Both were standing by the old
+window-seat, but her face was resolutely turned away from him, and when
+she at last looked at him it was with an expression of uncontrollable
+horror and dislike.
+
+"Again this scene changed as those before it had done; the young man was
+gone, and only the light of a grated lantern illumined the room, or
+rather made darkness visible. The wicked woman was the only occupant of
+the laundry; she was kneeling by the oaken chest, trying to raise the
+heavy lid. In her left hand she held a piece of parchment, with large
+red seals pendent from it. I knew it to be the old man's will which she
+was hiding, thus defrauding the just claimants of their rights.
+
+"Her hands trembled, and her whole appearance denoted guilty
+trepidation. At length, however, the lid was raised, but just as she was
+about to replace the parchment in the chest, a figure glided silently
+from a dark corner of the window-seat and confronted her. It was the
+fair girl, pale, resolute, and extending her hand to claim the will.
+
+"After the first guilty start, which caused her to drop the parchment
+into the chest, the wicked woman hurriedly tried to close the lid. Her
+efforts were frustrated, however, by the girl, who leaned with all her
+force upon it, keeping it back, and still held out her hand as before.
+
+"There followed a pause, which seemed to me very long, but which could
+in reality have only lasted a minute.
+
+"It was broken by the wicked woman, who, hastily casting a glance behind
+her into the gloom of the darkened chamber, then seized the girl by the
+arm and dragged her with all her force into the chest. It was but the
+work of a moment, for the woman was much the more powerful of the two,
+and the poor victim was too much taken by surprise to make much
+resistance. I saw one despairing look in her face as her murderess
+flashed the lantern before it with a hideous gleam of triumph.
+
+"Then the lid was pressed down upon her, and I saw no more, only I felt
+an unutterable terror, and tried in vain to scream.
+
+"This was not all the vision, however, for before I had mastered my
+terror the scene was superseded by another.
+
+"This time it was twilight, and the wicked woman and her son were
+together. The son seemed to be talking eagerly, and grew more and more
+excited, while the mother stood still and erect, with a malicious smile
+upon her lips. Presently she moved toward the chest with a fell purpose
+in her eyes, unlocked it with a key which hung from her girdle, raised
+the lid and disclosed the contents.
+
+"I understood it all now: the son was asking for the girl whom he had
+loved, and whom on his return home he missed, and the wicked woman,
+enraged at hearing for the first time that he had loved her, was
+determined to have her revenge.
+
+"He should see her again.
+
+"On beholding the dread contents of the chest, the man staggered back
+horrified; then, doubtless comprehending the case, he turned suddenly
+upon the murderess, and threw his arm around her, and there ensued a
+struggle terrible to witness.
+
+"Her proud triumphant glance of malice was now succeeded by one of
+abject fear, and, as his strength began to gain the mastery, of despair.
+
+"His iron frame heaved for a moment with the violence of his efforts,
+the next he had forced her down into the chest upon the mouldering body
+of her victim. I saw her eyes light up with the terror of death for one
+second, and then her screams were stifled forever beneath the massive
+lid.
+
+"The horror of this scene was too much for me; I found voice to scream
+at last, and I suppose it was my cry which alarmed you all."
+
+When Catherine ceased speaking there was a profound silence for a
+minute, which Mr. Fanshawe was the first to break as he said with a
+peculiar intonation in his voice, "It is very strange, very
+unaccountable," re�choing all our thoughts.
+
+Now it happened that Mr. Fleet, our family lawyer, was among our guests
+that Christmas-time, and since the discovery of the chest and bones had
+taken a great interest in the whole affair. He now questioned and
+cross-questioned Catherine, and seemed quite satisfied with the result.
+
+"This would have made a fine case," said he, "if only it had been a
+question of the right of succession, for any lawyer to make out; but
+unfortunately the events are too long past to have any bearing upon the
+present." (There Mr. Fleet was wrong, though we none of us knew it at
+the time.)
+
+We now all launched forth into conjectures and opinions, during which
+Catherine lay still and weary upon the sofa. I saw this, and thought it
+quite time to put an end to the day's adventures by suggesting a
+retirement for the night, and we were soon all dispersed to dream of the
+mysterious vision and discovery.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I think we were none of us sorry when morning dawned without any further
+tragedy (by _us_, I mean the female part of the establishment).
+
+When I came down to breakfast I found Mr. Fleet very active on the
+subject of the night before.
+
+"A surgeon ought to be immediately sent for to pronounce an opinion on
+the contents of the chest," he said; and Dr. Driscoll presently came,
+and after examining the bones minutely, decided that they were, as we
+thought, those of two females, who might have been from one to two
+hundred years dead.
+
+Mr. Fleet next offered to decipher the will, for such he imagined the
+parchment to be, and he and Mr. Fanshawe were closeted together for some
+time.
+
+When they at last appeared again, they looked much interested and
+excited, and led me away to inform me of the result of their
+examination.
+
+They told me that the document had proved to be a will, but that there
+was a circumstance connected with it which greatly added to the mystery
+of the whole business. This was the mention of the name of L'Estrange. I
+was, of course, as much surprised as they, and heard the will read with
+great interest.
+
+I cannot remember the technical terms in which it was expressed. Mr.
+Fleet read me the translation he had made, for the original was in old
+English; but it was to this effect:
+
+It purported to be the will of Reginald, Viscount St. Aubyn, in which he
+bequeathed all his inheritance to his lawful son Francis St.
+Aubyn--commonly known by the name of Francis l'Estrange--and to his
+heirs forever. It was signed Reginald, Viscount St. Aubyn, and the
+witnesses were John Murray and Phoebe Brett, who in the old copy had
+each affixed their mark.
+
+Mr. Fleet affirmed that it was a perfectly legal document, but this was
+not all it contained.
+
+There was an appendix which our lawyer translated as follows:
+
+"In order to avoid all disputes and doubts which might otherwise arise,
+I do hereby declare that my lawful wife was Editha, youngest daughter of
+Francis l'Estrange, Baronet, and that the register of our marriage may
+be seen in the church of St. Andrew, Haslet. By this marriage we had two
+children, a son Francis, and a daughter Catherine, commonly called
+Francis and Catherine l'Estrange. And I hereby declare that Agatha
+Thornhaugh was not legally married to me as she imagined, my lawful wife
+being alive at the time; neither do I leave to her son by her first
+husband, Ralph Thornhaugh, any part or share in my inheritance."
+
+Both the will and the writing at the foot of it were dated the 14th of
+May, 1668.
+
+This accumulation of mysteries caused me for a time to feel quite
+bewildered and unable to think, but Mr. Fleet was in his element.
+
+"Here is a case worth entering into," said he, and he further went on to
+state that he had no doubt that the L'Estranges mentioned in the will
+were our Catherine's ancestors, the Christian names being similar
+rendering it more than probable. She was most likely a direct descendant
+of Francis l'Estrange, the heir mentioned in the will, who was no doubt
+also the fair-haired boy Catherine had seen in her vision.
+
+The bones were those of his sister, the murdered Catherine l'Estrange,
+and of her murderess Agatha Thornhaugh, herself immured by her own son;
+but the matter ought not to rest on mere surmise, and the first place to
+go to for corroborating evidence was Craymoor church.
+
+The rapidity with which Mr. Fleet came to his conclusions increased my
+bewilderment, and I was at a loss to know what evidence he expected to
+gain from Craymoor church. He reminded me, however, of Catherine's
+statement that "the wicked woman" of her vision resembled the effigy on
+the monument there.
+
+Thither, then, the lawyer repaired, accompanied by Mr. Fanshawe and
+George. It was thought best to keep the sequel of the story from
+Catherine and the others until it was explained more fully, as Mr. Fleet
+boldly affirmed it should be. I awaited anxiously the result of their
+researches, and they exceeded I think even our good investigator's
+hopes.
+
+Not only had they deciphered the inscription round the old monument, but
+with leave from the clergyman and the assistance of the sexton they had
+disinterred the coffin and found it to be filled with stones.
+
+I am aware that this was rather an illegal proceeding, but as Mr. Fleet
+was only acting _en amateur_ and not professionally, he did not stick at
+trifles.
+
+The inscription was in Latin, and stated that the tomb was erected in
+memory of Agatha, wife of Reginald, Viscount St. Aubyn, who was buried
+beneath, and who died on the 31st day of December, 1649--exactly two
+hundred years before the day on which Catherine had seen the vision.
+
+I could not help thinking it shocking that the villagers had for two
+centuries been worshipping in the presence of a perpetual lie, but Mr.
+Fleet thought only of the grand corroboration of his "case." He applied
+to Mr. Fanshawe to take the next step, namely, to write to Catherine's
+aunt and only living relative, to tell her the whole story, and beg
+her to assist in elucidating matters by giving all the information she
+could respecting the L'Estrange family.
+
+This was done, and we anxiously awaited the answer. Meantime, all my
+guests were clamorous to hear the contents of the will, and I had to
+appease them as best I could, by promising that they should know all
+soon.
+
+In a few days, old Miss l'Estrange's answer came. She said her brother,
+father, and grandfather had all served in India, and that she believed
+her great-grandfather, who was a Francis l'Estrange, to have passed most
+of his life abroad, there having been a cloud over his early youth. What
+this was, however, she could not say. She affirmed that the L'Estranges
+had in old times resided in ----shire; and she further stated that her
+father's family had consisted of herself and her brother, whose only
+child Catherine was.
+
+This was certainly not much information, but it was enough for our
+purpose. We no longer remained in doubt as to the truth of Mr. Fleet's
+version of the story, and when he himself told it to all our
+family-party one evening, every one agreed that he had certainly
+succeeded in making out a very clever case.
+
+As for Catherine, on being told that the figures she had beheld in the
+vision were thought to be those of her ancestors, she was not so much
+surprised as I expected, but said that she had had a presentiment all
+along that the tragedies she had witnessed were in some way connected
+with her own family.
+
+I must not forget to say that on ascertaining that the parish church of
+Haslet was still standing, we searched the register, and another link of
+evidence was made clear by the finding of the looked-for entry.
+
+There remains little more to be told. The charge of the old will was
+committed to Mr. Fleet, and Catherine's story has been carefully laid up
+among the archives of our family. I say advisedly of _our_ family, for
+the line of the L'Estranges, alias St. Aubyns, has been united to ours
+by the marriage of Catherine to my son George, which took place in 1850.
+
+I who write this am an old woman now, but I still live with my son and
+daughter-in-law.
+
+George has bought Craymoor Grange, thus rendering justice after the
+lapse of two centuries, and restoring the inheritance of her fathers to
+the rightful owner.
+
+I have but one more incident to relate, and I have done. A short time
+ago, old Miss l'Estrange died, bequeathing all her worldly possessions
+to Catherine. Among these were some old family relics. Catherine was
+looking over them as George unpacked them, and she presently came to a
+miniature of a young and beautiful girl with fair hair and blue eyes,
+and a wistful expression, and with it a necklace of pearls strung in a
+diamond pattern. On seeing these she became suddenly grave, and handing
+them to me, said: "They are the same; the young girl, and the pearl
+necklace I told you of." No more was said at the time, for the children
+were present, and we had always avoided alluding to the horrible family
+tragedy before them; but if we had still retained any doubt about its
+truth--which we had not--this would have set it at rest.
+
+If you were to visit Craymoor Grange now, you would find no old laundry.
+The part of the house containing it has been pulled down, and children
+play and chickens peckett on the ground where it once stood.
+
+The oaken chest has also long since been destroyed.
+
+
+
+
+HAUNTED.
+
+
+Some few years ago one of those great national conventions which draw
+together all ages and conditions of the sovereign people of America was
+held in Charleston, South Carolina.
+
+Colonel Demarion, one of the State Representatives, had attended that
+great national convention; and, after an exciting week, was returning
+home, having a long and difficult journey before him.
+
+A pair of magnificent horses, attached to a light buggy, flew merrily
+enough over a rough-country for a while; but toward evening stormy
+weather reduced the roads to a dangerous condition, and compelled the
+Colonel to relinquish his purpose of reaching home that night, and to
+stop at a small wayside tavern, whose interior, illuminated by blazing
+wood-fires, spread a glowing halo among the dripping trees as he
+approached it, and gave promise of warmth and shelter at least.
+
+Drawing up to this modest dwelling, Colonel Demarion saw through its
+uncurtained windows that there was no lack of company within. Beneath
+the trees, too, an entanglement of rustic vehicles, giving forth red
+gleams from every dripping angle, told him that beasts as well as men
+were cared for. At the open door appeared the form of a man, who, at the
+sound of wheels, but not seeing in the outside darkness whom he
+addressed, called out, "'Tain't no earthly use a-stoppin' here."
+
+Caring more for his chattels than for himself, the Colonel paid no
+further regard to this address than to call loudly for the landlord.
+
+At the tone of authority, the man in outline more civilly announced
+himself to be the host; yet so far from inviting the traveller to
+alight, insisted that the house was "as full as it could pack;" but that
+there was a place a little farther down the road where the gentleman
+would be certain to find excellent accommodation.
+
+"What stables have you here?" demanded the traveller, giving no more
+heed to this than to the former announcement; but bidding his servant to
+alight, and preparing to do so himself.
+
+"Stables!" repeated the baffled host, shading his eyes so as to
+scrutinize the newcomer, "_stables_, Cap'n?"
+
+"Yes, _stables_. I want you to take care of my horses; _I_ can take care
+of myself. Some shelter for cattle you must have by the look of these
+traps," pointing to the wagons. "I don't want my horses to be kept
+standing out in this storm, you know."
+
+"No, Major. Why no, cert'n'y; Marion's ain't over a mile, and----"
+
+"Conf--!" muttered the Colonel; "but it's over the _river_, which I
+don't intend to ford to-night under any consideration."
+
+So saying, the Colonel leaped to the ground, directing his servant to
+cover the horses and then get out his valise; while the host, thus
+defeated, assumed the best grace he could to say that he would see what
+could be done "for the _horses_."
+
+"I am a soldier, my man," added the Colonel in a milder tone, as he
+stamped his cold feet on the porch and shook off the rain from his
+travelling-gear; "I am used to rough fare and a hard couch: all we want
+is shelter. A corner of the floor will suffice for me and my rug; a
+private room I can dispense with at such times as these."
+
+The landlord seemed no less relieved at this assurance than mollified by
+the explanation of a traveller whom he now saw was of a very different
+stamp from those who usually frequented the tavern. "For the matter of
+_stables_, his were newly put up, and first-rate," he said; and
+"cert'n'y the Gen'ral was welcome to a seat by the fire while 'twas
+a-storming so fierce."
+
+Colonel Demarion gave orders to his servant regarding the horses, while
+the landlord, kicking at what seemed to be a bundle of sacking down
+behind the door, shouted--"Jo! Ho, Jo! Wake up, you sleepy-headed
+nigger! Be alive, boy, and show this gentleman's horses to the stables."
+Upon a repetition of which charges a tall, gaunt, dusky figure lifted
+itself from out of the dark corner, and grew taller and more gaunt as it
+stretched itself into waking with a grin which was the most visible part
+of it, by reason of two long rows of ivory gleaming in the red glare.
+The hard words had fallen as harmless on Jo's ear-drum as the kicks upon
+his impassive frame. To do Jo's master justice, the kicks were not
+vicious kicks, and the rough language was but an intimation that
+dispatch was needed. Very much of the spaniel's nature had Jo; and as he
+rolled along the passage to fetch a lantern, his mouth expanded into a
+still broader grin at the honor of attending so stately a gentleman.
+Quick, like his master, too, was Jo to discriminate between "real
+gentlefolks" and the "white trash" whose rough-coated, rope-harnessed
+mules were the general occupants of his stables.
+
+"Splendid pair, sir," said the now conciliating landlord. "Shove some o'
+them mules out into the shed, Jo (which your horses 'll feel more to hum
+in my new stalls, Gen'ral)."
+
+Again cautioning his man Plato not to leave them one moment, Colonel
+Demarion turned to enter the house.
+
+"You'll find a rough crowd in here, sir," said the host, as he paused on
+the threshold; "but a good fire, anyhow. 'Tain't many of these loafers
+as understand this convention business--I _pre_sume, Gen'ral, you've
+attended the convention--they all on 'em _thinks_ they does, tho'. Fact
+most on 'em thinks they'd orter be on the committee theirselves. Good
+many on 'em is from Char'ston to-day, but is in the same fix as yerself,
+Gen'ral--can't get across the river to-night."
+
+"I see, I see," cried the statesman, with a gesture toward the
+sitting-room. "Now what have you got in your larder, Mr. Landlord? and
+send some supper out to my servant; he must make a bed of the
+carriage-mats to-night."
+
+The landlord introduced his guest into a room filled chiefly with that
+shiftless and noxious element of Southern society known as "mean
+whites." Pipes and drinks, and excited arguments, engaged these people
+as they stood or sat in groups. The host addressed those who were
+gathered round the log-fire, and they opened a way for the new-comer,
+some few, with republican freedom, inviting him to be seated, the rest
+giving one furtive glance, and then, in antipathy born of envy, skulking
+away.
+
+The furniture of this comfortless apartment consisted of sloppy,
+much-jagged deal tables, dirty whittled benches, and a few uncouth
+chairs. The walls were dirty with accumulated tobacco stains, and so
+moist and filthy was the floor, that the sound only of scraping seats
+and heavy footsteps told that it was of boards and not bare earth.
+
+Seated with his back toward the majority of the crowd, and shielded by
+his newspaper, Colonel Demarion sat awhile unobserved; but was presently
+recognized by a man from his own immediate neighborhood, when the
+information was quickly whispered about that no less a person than their
+distinguished Congressman was among them.
+
+This piece of news speedily found its way to the ears of the landlord,
+to whom Colonel Demarion was known by name only, and forthwith he
+reappeared to overwhelm the representative of his State with apologies
+for the uncourteous reception which had been given him, and to express
+his now very sincere regrets that the house offered no suitable
+accommodation for the gentleman. Satisfied as to the safety of his
+chattels, the Colonel generously dismissed the idea of having anything
+either to resent or to forgive; and assured the worthy host that he
+would accept of no exclusive indulgences.
+
+In spite of which the landlord bustled about to bring in a separate
+table, on which he spread a clean coarse cloth, and a savory supper of
+broiled ham, hot corncakes, and coffee; every few minutes stopping to
+renew his apologies, and even appearing to grow confidentially
+communicative regarding his domestic economies; until the hungry
+traveller cut him short with "Don't say another word about it, my
+friend; you have not a spare sleeping-room, and that is enough. Find me
+a corner--a clean corner"--looking round upon the most unclean corners
+of that room--"perhaps up-stairs somewhere, and----"
+
+"Ah! _upsta'rs_, Gen'ral. Now, that's jest what I had in my mind to ax
+you. Fact is ther' _is_ a spar' room upsta'rs, as comfortable a room as
+the best of folks can wish; but----"
+
+"But it's crammed with sleeping folks, so there's an end of it," cried
+the senator, thoroughly bored.
+
+"No, sir, ain't no person in it; and ther' ain't no person likely to be
+in it 'cept 'tis _yerself_, Colonel Demarion. Leastways----"
+
+After a good deal of hesitation and embarrassment, the host, in
+mysterious whispers, imparted the startling fact that this most
+desirable sleeping room was _haunted_; that the injury he had sustained
+in consequence had compelled him to fasten it up altogether; that he had
+come to be very suspicious of admitting strangers, and had limited his
+custom of late to what the bar could supply, keeping the matter hushed
+up in the hope that it might be the sooner forgotten by the neighbors;
+but that in the case of Colonel Demarion he had now made bold to mention
+it; "as I can't but think, sir," he urged, "you'd find it prefer'ble to
+sleepin' on the floor or sittin' up all night along ov these loafers.
+Fer if 'tis any deceivin' trick got up in the house, maybe they won't
+try it on, sir, to a gentleman of your reputation."
+
+Colonel Demarion became interested in the landlord's confidences, but
+could only gather in further explanation that for some time past all
+travellers who had occupied that room had "made off in the middle of the
+night, never showin' their faces at the inn again;" that on endeavoring
+to arrest one or more in their nocturnal flight, they--all more or less
+terrified--had insisted on escaping without a moment's delay, assigning
+no other reason than that they had seen a ghost. "Not that folks seem to
+get much harm by it, Colonel--not by the way they makes off without
+paying a cent of money!"
+
+Great indeed was the satisfaction evinced by the victim of unpaid bills
+on the Colonel's declaring that the haunted chamber was the very room
+for him. "If to be turned out of my bed at midnight is all I have to
+fear, we will see who comes off master in my case. So, Mr. Landlord, let
+the chamber be got ready directly, and have a good fire built there at
+once."
+
+The exultant host hurried away to confide the great news to Jo, and with
+him to make the necessary preparations. "Come what will, Jo, Colonel
+Demarion ain't the man to make off without paying down good money for
+his accommodations."
+
+In reasonable time, Colonel Demarion was beckoned out of the public
+room, and conducted up-stairs by the landlord, who, after receiving a
+cheerful "good-night," paused on the landing to hear his guest bolt and
+bar the door within, and then push a piece of furniture against it.
+"Ah," murmured the host, as a sort of misgiving came over him, "if a
+apparishum has a mind to come thar, 'tain't all the bolts and bars in
+South Carolina as 'll kip'en away."
+
+But the Colonel's precaution of securing his door, as also that of
+placing his revolvers in readiness, had not the slightest reference to
+the reputed ghost. Spiritual disturbances of such kind he feared not.
+Spirits _tangible_ were already producing ominous demonstrations in the
+rooms below, nor was it possible to conjecture what troubles these might
+evolve. Glad enough to escape from the noisy company, he took a survey
+of his evil-reputed chamber. The only light was that of the roaring,
+crackling, blazing wood-fire, and no other was needed. And what
+storm-benighted traveller, when fierce winds and rains are lashing
+around his lodging, can withstand the cheering influences of a glorious
+log-fire? especially if, as in that wooden tenement, that fire be of
+abundant pine-knots. It rivals the glare of gas and the glow of a
+furnace; it charms away the mustiness and fustiness of years, and causes
+all that is dull and dead around to laugh and dance in its bright light.
+
+By the illumination of just such a fire, Colonel Demarion observed that
+the apartment offered nothing worthier of remark than that the furniture
+was superior to anything that might be expected in a small wayside
+tavern. In truth, the landlord had expended a considerable sum in
+fitting up this, his finest chamber, and had therefore sufficient reason
+to bemoan its unprofitableness.
+
+Having satisfied himself as to his apparent security, the senator
+thought no more of spirits palpable or impalpable; but to the far graver
+issues of the convention his thoughts reverted. It was yet early; he
+lighted a cigar, and in full appreciation of his retirement, took out
+his note-book and plunged into the affairs of state. Now and then he was
+recalled to the circumstances of his situation by the swaggering tread
+of unsteady feet about the house, or when the boisterous shouts below
+raged above the outside storm; but even then he only glanced up from his
+papers to congratulate himself upon his agreeable seclusion.
+
+Thus he sat for above an hour, then he heaped fresh logs upon the
+hearth, looked again to his revolvers, and retired to rest.
+
+The house-clock was striking twelve as the Colonel awoke. He awoke
+suddenly from a sound sleep, flashing, as it were, into full
+consciousness, his mind and memory clear, all his faculties invigorated,
+his ideas undisturbed, but with a perfect conviction that he was not
+alone.
+
+He lifted his head. A man was standing a few feet from the bed, and
+between it and the fire, which was still burning, and burning brightly
+enough to display every object in the room, and to define the outline of
+the intruder clearly. His dress also and his features were plainly
+distinguishable: the dress was a travelling-costume, in fashion somewhat
+out of date; the features wore a mournful and distressed expression--the
+eyes were fixed upon the Colonel. The right arm hung down, and the hand,
+partially concealed, might, for aught the Colonel knew, be grasping one
+of his own revolvers; the left arm was folded against the waist. The man
+seemed about to advance still closer to the bed, and returned the
+occupant's gaze with a fixed stare.
+
+"Stand, or I'll fire!" cried the Colonel, taking in all this at a
+glance, and starting up in his bed, revolver in hand.
+
+The man remained still.
+
+"What is your business here?" demanded the statesman, thinking he was
+addressing one of the roughs from below.
+
+The man was silent.
+
+"Leave this room, if you value your life," shouted the indignant
+soldier, pointing his revolver.
+
+The man was motionless.
+
+"RETIRE! or by heaven I'll send a bullet through you!"
+
+But the man moved not an inch.
+
+The Colonel fired. The bullet lodged in the breast of the stranger, but
+he started not. The soldier leaped to the floor and fired again. The
+shot entered the heart, pierced the body, and lodged in the wall beyond;
+and the Colonel beheld the hole where the bullet had entered, and the
+firelight glimmering through it. And yet the intruder stirred not.
+Astounded, the Colonel dropped his revolver, and stood face to face
+before the unmoved man.
+
+"Colonel Demarion," spake the deep solemn voice of the perforated
+stranger, "in vain you shoot me--I am dead already."
+
+The soldier, with all his bravery, gasped, spellbound. The firelight
+gleamed through the hole in the body, and the eyes of the shooter were
+riveted there.
+
+"Fear nothing," spake the mournful presence; "I seek but to divulge my
+wrongs. Until my death shall be avenged my unquiet spirit lingers here.
+Listen."
+
+Speechless, motionless was the statesman; and the mournful apparition
+thus slowly and distinctly continued:
+
+"Four years ago I travelled with one I trusted. We lodged here. That
+night my comrade murdered me. He plunged a dagger into my heart while I
+slept. He covered the wound with a plaster. He feigned to mourn my
+death. He told the people here I had died of heart complaint; that I had
+long been ailing. I had gold and treasures. With my treasure secreted
+beneath his garments he paraded mock grief at my grave. Then he
+departed. In distant parts he sought to forget his crime; but his stolen
+gold brought him only the curse of an evil conscience. Rest and peace
+are not for him. He now prepares to leave his native land forever. Under
+an assumed name that man is this night in Charleston. In a few hours he
+will sail for Europe. Colonel Demarion, you must prevent it. Justice and
+humanity demand that a murderer roam not at large, nor squander more of
+the wealth that is by right my children's."
+
+The spirit paused. To the extraordinary revelation the Colonel had
+listened in rapt astonishment. He gazed at the presence, at the
+firelight glimmering through it--through the very place where a human
+heart would be--and he felt that he was indeed in the presence of a
+supernatural being. He thought of the landlord's story; but while
+earnestly desiring to sift the truth of the mystery, words refused to
+come to his aid.
+
+"Do you hesitate?" said the mournful spirit. "Will _you_ also flee, when
+my orphan children cry for retribution?" Seeming to anticipate the will
+of the Colonel, "I await your promise, senator," he said. "There is no
+time to lose."
+
+With a mighty effort, the South Carolinian said, "I promise. What would
+you have me do?"
+
+In the same terse, solemn manner, the ghostly visitor gave the real and
+assumed names of the murderer, described his person and dress at the
+present time, described a certain curious ring he was then wearing,
+together with other distinguishing characteristics: all being carefully
+noted down by Colonel Demarion, who, by degrees, recovered his
+self-possession, and pledged himself to use every endeavor to bring the
+murderer to justice.
+
+Then, with a portentous wave of the hand, "It is well," said the
+apparition. "Not until the spirit of my murderer shall be separated from
+the mortal clay can _my_ spirit rest in peace." And vanished.
+
+Half-past six in the morning was the appointed time for the steamer to
+leave Charleston; and the Colonel lost not a moment in preparing to
+depart. As he hurried down the stairs he encountered the landlord,
+who--his eyes rolling in terror--made an attempt to speak. Unheeding,
+except to demand his carriage, the Colonel pushed past him, and effected
+a quick escape toward the back premises, shouting lustily for "Jo" and
+"Plato," and for his carriage to be got ready immediately. A few minutes
+more, and the bewildered host was recalled to the terrible truth by the
+noise of the carriage dashing through the yard and away down the road;
+and it was some miles nearer Charleston before the unfortunate man
+ceased to peer after it in the darkness--as if by so doing he could
+recover damages--and bemoan to Jo the utter ruin of his house and
+hopes.
+
+Thirty miles of hard driving had to be accomplished in little more than
+five hours. No great achievement under favorable circumstances; but the
+horses were only half refreshed from their yesterday's journey, and
+though the storm was over, the roads were in a worse condition than
+ever.
+
+Colonel Demarion resolved to be true to his promise; and fired by a
+curiosity to investigate the extraordinary communication which had been
+revealed to him, urged on his horses, and reached the wharf at
+Charleston just as the steamer was being loosed from her moorings.
+
+He hailed her. "Stop her! Business with the captain! STOP HER!"
+
+Her machinery was already in motion; her iron lungs were puffing forth
+dense clouds of smoke and steam; and as the Colonel shouted--the crowd
+around, from sheer delight in shouting, echoing his "Stop her! stop
+her!"--the voices on land were confounded with the voices of the
+sailors, the rattling of chains, and the haulings of ropes.
+
+Among the passengers standing to wave farewells to their friends on the
+wharf were some who recognised Colonel Demarion, and drew the captain's
+attention toward him; and as he continued vehemently to gesticulate,
+that officer, from his post of observation, demanded the nature of the
+business which should require the ship's detention. Already the steamer
+was clear of the wharf. In another minute she might be beyond reach of
+the voice; therefore, failing by gestures and entreaties to convince the
+captain of the importance of his errand, Colonel Demarion, in
+desperation, cried at the top of his voice, "A murderer on board! For
+God's sake, STOP!" He wished to have made this startling declaration in
+private, but not a moment was to be lost; and the excitement around him
+was intense.
+
+In the midst of the confusion another cry of "Man overboard!" might have
+been heard in a distant part of the ship, had not the attention of the
+crowd been fastened on the Colonel. Such a cry was, however, uttered,
+offering a still more urgent motive for stopping; and the steamer being
+again made fast, Colonel Demarion was received on board.
+
+"Let not a soul leave the vessel!" was his first and prompt suggestion;
+and the order being issued he drew the captain aside, and concisely
+explained his grave commission. The captain thereupon conducted him to
+his private room, and summoned the steward, before whom the details were
+given, and the description of the murderer was read over. The steward,
+after considering attentively, seemed inclined to associate the
+description with that of a passenger whose remarkably dejected
+appearance had already attracted his observation. In such a grave
+business it was, however, necessary to proceed with the utmost caution,
+and the "passenger-book" was produced. Upon reference to its pages, the
+three gentlemen were totally dismayed by the discovery that the name of
+this same dejected individual was that under which, according to the
+apparition, the murderer had engaged his passage.
+
+"I am here to charge that man with murder," said Colonel Demarion. "He
+must be arrested."
+
+Horrified as the captain was at this astounding declaration, yet, on
+account of the singular and unusual mode by which the Colonel had become
+possessed of the facts, and the impossibility of proving the charge, he
+hesitated in consenting to the arrest of a passenger. The steward
+proposed that they should repair to the saloons and deck, and while
+conversing with one or another of the passengers, mention--as it were
+casually--in the hearing of the suspected party his own proper name, and
+observe the effect produced on him. To this they agreed, and without
+loss of time joined the passengers, assigning some feasible cause for a
+short delay of the ship.
+
+The saloon was nearly empty, and while the steward went below, the other
+two repaired to the deck, where they observed a crowd gathered seaward,
+apparently watching something over the ship's side.
+
+During the few minutes which had detained the captain in this
+necessarily hurried business, a boat had been lowered, and some sailors
+had put off in her to rescue the person who was supposed to have fallen
+overboard; and it was only now, on joining the crowd, that the captain
+learned the particulars of the accident. "Who was it?" "What was he
+like?" they exclaimed simultaneously. That a man had fallen overboard
+was all that could be ascertained. Some one had seen him run across the
+deck, looking wildly about him. A splash in the water had soon afterward
+attracted attention to the spot, and a body had since been seen
+struggling on the surface. The waves were rough after the storm, and
+thick with seaweed, and the sailors had as yet missed the body. The two
+gentlemen took their post among the watchers, and kept their eyes
+intently upon the waves, and upon the sailors battling against them. Ere
+long they see the body rise again to the surface. Floated on a powerful
+wave, they can for the few moments breathlessly scrutinize it. The color
+of the dress is observed. A face of agony upturned displays a peculiar
+contour of forehead; the hair, the beard; and now he struggles--an arm
+is thrown up, and a remarkable ring catches the Colonel's eye. "Great
+heavens! The whole description tallies!" The sailors pull hard for the
+spot, the next stroke and they will rescue----
+
+A monster shark is quicker than they. The sea is tinged with blood. The
+man is no more!
+
+Shocked and silent, Colonel Demarion and the captain quitted the deck
+and resummoned the steward, who had, but without success, visited the
+berths and various parts of the ship for the individual in question.
+Every hole and corner was now, by the captain's order carefully
+searched, but in vain; and as no further information concerning the
+missing party could be obtained, and the steward persisted in his
+statement regarding his general appearance, they proceeded to examine
+his effects. In these he was identified beyond a doubt. Papers and
+relics proved not only his guilt but his remorse; remorse which, as the
+apparition had said, permitted him no peace in his wanderings.
+
+Those startling words, "A murderer on board!" had doubtless struck fresh
+terror to his heart and, unable to face the accusation, he had thus
+terminated his wretched existence.
+
+Colonel Demarion revisited the little tavern, and on several occasions
+occupied the haunted chamber; but never again had he the honor of
+receiving a midnight commission from a ghostly visitor, and never again
+had the landlord to bemoan the flight of a non-paying customer.
+
+
+
+
+PICHON & SONS, OF THE CROIX ROUSSE.
+
+
+Giraudier, _pharmacien, premi�re classe_, is the legend, recorded in
+huge, ill-proportioned letters, which directs the attention of the
+stranger to the most prosperous-looking shop in the grand _place_ of La
+Croix Rousse, a well-known suburb of the beautiful city of Lyons, which
+has its share of the shabby gentility and poor pretence common to the
+suburban commerce of great towns.
+
+Giraudier is not only _pharmacien_ but _propri�taire_, though not by
+inheritance; his possession of one of the prettiest and most prolific of
+the small vineyards in the beautiful suburb, and a charming inconvenient
+house, with low ceilings, liliputian bedrooms, and a profusion of
+_persiennes_, _jalousies_, and _contrevents_, comes by purchase. This
+enviable little _terre_ was sold by the Nation, when that terrible
+abstraction transacted the public business of France; and it was bought
+very cheaply by the strong-minded father of the Giraudier of the
+present, who was not disturbed by the evil reputation which the place
+had gained, at a time the peasants of France, having been bullied into a
+renunciation of religion, eagerly cherished superstition. The Giraudier
+of the present cherishes the particular superstition in question
+affectionately; it reminds him of an uncommonly good bargain made in his
+favor, which is always a pleasant association of ideas, especially to a
+Frenchman, still more especially to a Lyonnais; and it attracts
+strangers to his _pharmacie_, and leads to transactions in _Grand
+Chartreuse_ and _Cr�me de Roses_, ensuing naturally on the narration of
+the history of Pichon & Sons. Giraudier is not of aristocratic
+principles and sympathies; on the contrary, he has decided republican
+leanings, and considers _Le Progr�s_ a masterpiece of journalistic
+literature; but, as he says simply and strongly, "it is not because a
+man is a marquis that one is not to keep faith with him; a bad action is
+not good because it harms a good-for-nothing of a noble; the more when
+that good-for-nothing is no longer a noble, but _pour rire_." At the
+easy price of acquiescence in these sentiments, the stranger hears one
+of the most authentic, best-remembered, most popular of the many
+traditions of the bad old times "before General Bonaparte," as
+Giraudier, who has no sympathy with any later designation of _le grand
+homme_, calls the Emperor, whose statue one can perceive--a speck in the
+distance--from the threshold of the _pharmacie_.
+
+The Marquis de S�nanges, in the days of the triumph of the great
+Revolution, was fortunate enough to be out of France, and wise enough to
+remain away from that country, though he persisted, long after the old
+_r�gime_ was as dead as the Ptolemies, in believing it merely suspended,
+and the Revolution a lamentable accident of vulgar complexion, but
+happily temporary duration. The Marquis de S�nanges, who affected the
+_style r�gence_, and was the politest of infidels and the most refined
+of voluptuaries, got on indifferently in inappreciative foreign parts;
+but the members of his family--his brother and sisters, two of whom were
+guillotined, while the third escaped to Savoy and found refuge there in
+a convent of her order--got on exceedingly ill in France. If the
+_ci-devant_ Marquis had had plenty of money to expend in such feeble
+imitations of his accustomed pleasures as were to be had out of Paris,
+he would not have been much affected by the fate of his relatives. But
+money became exceedingly scarce; the Marquis had actually beheld many of
+his peers reduced to the necessity of earning the despicable but
+indispensable article after many ludicrous fashions. And the duration of
+this absurd upsetting of law, order, privilege, and property began to
+assume unexpected and very unpleasant proportions.
+
+The Ch�teau de S�nanges, with its surrounding lands, was confiscated to
+the Nation, during the third year of the "emigration" of the Marquis de
+S�nanges; and the greater part of the estate was purchased by a thrifty,
+industrious, and rich _avocat_, named Prosper Alix, a widower with an
+only daughter. Prosper Alix enjoyed the esteem of the entire
+neighborhood. First, he was rich; secondly, he was of a taciturn
+disposition, and of a neutral tint in politics. He had done well under
+the old _r�gime_ and, he was doing well under the new--thank God, or the
+Supreme Being, or the First Cause, or the goddess Reason herself, for
+all;--he would have invoked Dagon, Moloch, or Kali, quite as readily as
+the Saints and the Madonna, who has gone so utterly out of fashion of
+late. Nobody was afraid to speak out before Prosper Alix; he was not a
+spy; and though a cold-hearted man, except in the instance of his only
+daughter, he never harmed anybody.
+
+Very likely it was because he was the last person in the vicinity whom
+anybody would have suspected of being applied to by the dispossessed
+family, that the son of the Marquis' brother, a young man of promise, of
+courage, of intellect, and of morals of decidedly a higher calibre than
+those actually and traditionally imputed to the family, sought the aid
+of the new possessor of the Ch�teau de S�nanges, which had changed its
+old title for that of the Maison Alix. The father of M. Paul de S�nanges
+had perished in the September massacres; his mother had been guillotined
+at Lyons; and he--who had been saved by the interposition of a young
+comrade, whose father had, in the wonderful rotations of the wheel of
+Fate, acquired authority in the place where he had once esteemed the
+notice of the nephew of the Marquis a crowning honor for his son--had
+passed through the common vicissitudes of that dreadful time, which
+would take a volume for their recital in each individual instance.
+
+Paul de S�nanges was a handsome young fellow, frank, high-spirited, and
+of a brisk and happy temperament; which, however, modified by the many
+misfortunes he had undergone, was not permanently changed. He had plenty
+of capacity for enjoyment in him still; and as his position was very
+isolated, and his mind had become enlightened on social and political
+matters to an extent in which the men of his family would have
+discovered utter degradation and the women diabolical possession, he
+would not have been very unhappy if, under the new condition of things,
+he could have lived in his native country and gained an honest
+livelihood. But he could not do that, he was too thoroughly "suspect;"
+the antecedents of his family were too powerful against him: his only
+chance would have been to have gone into the popular camp as an extreme,
+violent partisan, to have out-Heroded the revolutionary Herods; and that
+Paul de S�nanges was too honest to do. So he was reduced to being
+thankful that he had escaped with his life, and to watching for an
+opportunity of leaving France and gaining some country where the reign
+of liberty, fraternity, and equality was not quite so oppressive.
+
+The long-looked-for opportunity at length offered itself, and Paul de
+S�nanges was instructed by his uncle the Marquis that he must contrive
+to reach Marseilles, whence he should be transported to Spain--in which
+country the illustrious emigrant was then residing--by a certain named
+date. His uncle's communication arrived safely, and the plan proposed
+seemed a secure and eligible one. Only in two respects was it calculated
+to make Paul de S�nanges thoughtful. The first was, that his uncle
+should take any interest in the matter of his safety; the second, what
+could be the nature of a certain deposit which the Marquis's letter
+directed him to procure, if possible, from the Ch�teau de S�nanges. The
+fact of this injunction explained, in some measure, the first of the two
+difficulties. It was plain that whatever were the contents of this
+packet which he was to seek for, according to the indications marked on
+a ground-plan drawn by his uncle and enclosed in the letter, the Marquis
+wanted them, and could not procure them except by the agency of his
+nephew. That the Marquis should venture to direct Paul de S�nanges to
+put himself in communication with Prosper Alix, would have been
+surprising to any one acquainted only with the external and generally
+understood features of the character of the new proprietor of the
+Ch�teau de S�nanges. But a few people knew Prosper Alix thoroughly, and
+the Marquis was one of the number; he was keen enough to know in theory
+that, in the case of a man with only one weakness, that is likely to be
+a very weak weakness indeed, and to apply the theory to the _avocat_.
+The beautiful, pious, and aristocratic mother of Paul de S�nanges--a
+lady to whose superiority the Marquis had rendered the distinguished
+testimony of his dislike, not hesitating to avow that she was "much too
+good for _his_ taste"--had been very fond of, and very kind to, the
+motherless daughter of Prosper Alix, and he held her memory in reverence
+which he accorded to nothing beside, human or divine, and taught his
+daughter the matchless worth of the friend she had lost. The Marquis
+knew this, and though he had little sympathy with the sentiment, he
+believed he might use it in the present instance to his own profit, with
+safety. The event proved that he was right. Private negotiations, with
+the manner of whose transaction we are not concerned, passed between the
+_avocat_ and the _ci-devant_ Marquis; and the young man, then leading a
+life in which skulking had a large share, in the vicinity of Dijon, was
+instructed to present himself at the Maison Alix, under the designation
+of Henri Glaire, and in the character of an artist in house-decoration.
+The circumstances of his life in childhood and boyhood had led to his
+being almost safe from recognition as a man at Lyons; and, indeed, all
+the people on the _ci-devant_ visiting-list of the ch�teau had been
+pretty nearly killed off, in the noble and patriotic ardor of the
+revolutionary times.
+
+The ancient Ch�teau de S�nanges was proudly placed near the summit of
+the "Holy Hill," and had suffered terrible depredations when the church
+at Fourvi�res was sacked, and the shrine desecrated with that ingenious
+impiety which is characteristic of the French; but it still retained
+somewhat of its former heavy grandeur. The ch�teau was much too large
+for the needs, tastes, or ambition of its present owner, who was too
+wise, if even he had been of an ostentatious disposition, not to have
+sedulously resisted its promptings. The jealousy of the nation of
+brothers was easily excited, and departure from simplicity and frugality
+was apt to be commented upon by domiciliary visits, and the eager
+imposition of fanciful fines. That portion of the vast building occupied
+by Prosper Alix and the _citoyenne_ Berthe, his daughter, presented an
+appearance of well-to-do comfort and modest ease, which contrasted with
+the grandiose proportions and the elaborate decorations of the wide
+corridors, huge flat staircases, and lofty panelled apartments. The
+_avocat_ and his daughter lived quietly in the old place, hoping, after
+a general fashion, for better times, but not finding the present very
+bad; the father becoming day by day more pleasant with his bargain, the
+daughter growing fonder of the great house, and the noble _bocages_, of
+the scrappy little vineyards, struggling for existence on the sunny
+hill-side, and the place where the famous shrine had been. They had
+done it much damage; they had parted its riches among them; the once
+ever-open doors were shut, and the worn flags were untrodden; but
+nothing could degrade it, nothing could destroy what had been, in the
+mind of Berthe Alix, who was as devout as her father was unconcernedly
+unbelieving. Berthe was wonderfully well educated for a Frenchwoman of
+that period, and surprisingly handsome for a Frenchwoman of any. Not too
+tall to offend the taste of her compatriots, and not too short to be
+dignified and graceful, she had a symmetrical figure, and a small,
+well-poised head, whose profuse, shining, silken dark-brown hair she
+wore as nature intended, in a shower of curls, never touched by the hand
+of the coiffeur,--curls which clustered over her brow, and fell far down
+on her shapely neck. Her features were fine; the eyes very dark, and the
+mouth very red; the complexion clear and rather pale, and the style of
+the face and its expression lofty. When Berthe Alix was a child, people
+were accustomed to say she was pretty and refined enough to belong to
+the aristocracy; nobody would have dared to say so now, prettiness and
+refinement, together with all the other virtues admitted to a place on
+the patriotic roll, having become national property.
+
+Berthe loved her father dearly. She was deeply impressed with the sense
+of her supreme importance to him, and fully comprehended that he would
+be influenced by and through her when all other persuasion or argument
+would be unavailing. When Prosper Alix wished and intended to do
+anything rather mean or selfish, he did it without letting Berthe know;
+and when he wished to leave undone something which he knew his daughter
+would decide ought to be done, he carefully concealed from her the
+existence of the dilemma. Nevertheless, this system did not prevent the
+father and daughter being very good and even confidential friends.
+Prosper Alix loved his daughter immeasurably, and respected her more
+than he respected any one in the world. With regard to her persevering
+religiousness, when such things were not only out of fashion and date,
+but illegal as well, he was very tolerant. Of course it was weak, and an
+absurdity; but every woman, even his beautiful, incomparable Berthe, was
+weak and absurd on some point or other; and, after all, he had come to
+the conclusion that the safest weakness with which a woman can be
+afflicted is that romantic and ridiculous _faiblesse_ called piety. So
+these two lived a happy life together, Berthe's share of it being very
+secluded, and were wonderfully little troubled by the turbulence with
+which society was making its tumultuous way to the virtuous serenity of
+republican perfection.
+
+The communication announcing the project of the _ci-devant_ Marquis for
+the secure exportation of his nephew, and containing the skilful appeal
+before mentioned, grievously disturbed the tranquillity of Prosper, and
+was precisely one of those incidents which he would especially have
+liked to conceal from his daughter. But he could not do so; the appeal
+was too cleverly made; and utter indifference to it, utter neglect of
+the letter, which naturally suggested itself as the easiest means of
+getting rid of a difficulty, would have involved an act of direct and
+uncompromising dishonesty to which Prosper, though of sufficiently
+elastic conscience within the limit of professional gains, could not
+contemplate. The Ch�teau de S�nanges was indeed his own lawful property;
+his without prejudice to the former owners, dispossessed by no act of
+his. But the _ci-devant_ Marquis--confiding in him to an extent which
+was quite astonishing, except on the _pis-aller_ theory, which is so
+unflattering as to be seldom accepted--announced to him the existence of
+a certain packet, hidden in the ch�teau, acknowledging its value, and
+urging the need of its safe transmission. This was not his property. He
+heartily wished he had never learned its existence, but wishing that was
+clearly of no use; then he wished the nephew of the _ci-devant_ might
+come soon, and take himself and the hidden wealth away with all possible
+speed. This latter was a more realizable desire, and Prosper settled his
+mind with it, communicated the interesting but decidedly dangerous
+secret to Berthe, received her warm sanction, and transmitted to the
+Marquis, by the appointed means, an assurance that his wishes should be
+punctually carried out. The absence of an interdiction of his visit
+before a certain date was to be the signal to M. Paul de S�nanges that
+he was to proceed to act upon his uncle's instructions; he waited the
+proper time, the reassuring silence was maintained unbroken, and he
+ultimately set forth on his journey, and accomplished it in safety.
+
+Preparations had been made at the Maison Alix for the reception of M.
+Glaire, and his supposed occupation had been announced. The apartments
+were decorated in a heavy, gloomy style, and those of the _citoyenne_ in
+particular (they had been occupied by a lady who had once been
+designated as _feue Madame la Marquise_, but who was referred to now as
+_la m�re du ci-devant_) were much in need of renovation. The alcove, for
+instance, was all that was least gay and most far from simple. The
+_citoyenne_ would have all that changed. On the morning of the day of
+the expected arrival, Berthe said to her father:
+
+"It would seem as if the Marquis did not know the exact spot in which
+the packet is deposited. M. Paul's assumed character implies the
+necessity for a search."
+
+M. Henri Glaire arrived at the Maison Alix, was fraternally received,
+and made acquainted with the sphere of his operations. The young man had
+a good deal of both ability and taste in the line he had assumed, and
+the part was not difficult to play. Some days were judiciously allowed
+to pass before the real object of the masquerade was pursued, and during
+that time cordial relations established themselves between the _avocat_
+and his guest. The young man was handsome, elegant, engaging, with all
+the external advantages, and devoid of the vices, errors, and hopeless
+infatuated unscrupulousness, of his class; he had naturally quick
+intelligence, and some real knowledge and comprehension of life had been
+knocked into him by the hard-hitting blows of Fate. His face was like
+his mother's, Prosper Alix thought, and his mind and tastes were of the
+very pattern which, in theory, Berthe approved. Berthe, a very
+unconventional French girl--who thought the new era of purity, love,
+virtue, and disinterestedness ought to do away with marriage by barter
+as one of its most notable reforms, and had been disenchanted by
+discovering that the abolition of marriage altogether suited the taste
+of the incorruptible Republic better--might like, might even love, this
+young man. She saw so few men, and had no fancy for patriots; she would
+certainly be obstinate about it if she did chance to love him. This
+would be a nice state of affairs. This would be a pleasant consequence
+of the confiding request of the _ci-devant_. Prosper wished with all his
+heart for the arrival of the concerted signal, which should tell Henri
+Glaire that he might fulfil the purpose of his sojourn at the Maison
+Alix, and set forth for Marseilles.
+
+But the signal did not come, and the days--long, beautiful, sunny,
+soothing summer-days--went on. The painting of the panels of the
+_citoyenne's_ apartment, which she vacated for that purpose, progressed
+slowly; and M. Paul de S�nanges, guided by the ground-plan, and aided by
+Berthe, had discovered the spot in which the jewels of price, almost the
+last remnants of the princely wealth of the S�nanges, had been hidden by
+the _femme-de-chambre_ who had perished with her mistress, having
+confided a general statement of the fact to a priest, for transmission
+to the Marquis. This spot had been ingeniously chosen. The
+sleeping-apartment of the late Marquis was extensive, lofty, and
+provided with an alcove of sufficiently large dimensions to have formed
+in itself a handsome room. This space, containing a splendid but gloomy
+bed, on an estrade, and hung with rich faded brocade, was divided from
+the general extent of the apartment by a low railing of black oak,
+elaborately carved, opening in the centre, and with a flat wide bar
+along the top, covered with crimson velvet. The curtains were contrived
+to hang from the ceiling, and, when let down inside the screen of
+railing, they matched the draperies which closed before the great stone
+balcony at the opposite end of the room. Since the _avocat's_ daughter
+had occupied this palatial chamber, the curtains of the alcove had never
+been drawn, and she had substituted for them a high folding screen of
+black-and-gold Japanese pattern, also a relic of the grand old times,
+which stood about six feet on the outside of the rails that shut in her
+bed. The floor was of shining oak, testifying to the conscientious and
+successful labors of successive generations of _frotteurs_; and on the
+spot where the railing of the alcove opened by a pretty quaint device
+sundering the intertwined arms of a pair of very chubby cherubs, a
+square space in the floor was also richly carved.
+
+The seekers soon reached the end of their search. A little effort
+removed the square of carved oak, and underneath they found a casket,
+evidently of old workmanship, richly wrought in silver, much tarnished
+but quite intact. It was agreed that this precious deposit should be
+replaced, and the carved square laid down over it, until the signal for
+his departure should reach Paul. The little baggage which under any
+circumstances he could have ventured to allow himself in the dangerous
+journey he was to undertake, must be reduced, so as to admit of his
+carrying the casket without exciting suspicion.
+
+The finding of the hidden treasure was not the first joint discovery
+made by the daughter of the _avocat_ and the son of the _ci-devant_. The
+cogitations of Prosper Alix were very wise, very reasonable; but they
+were a little tardy. Before he had admitted the possibility of mischief,
+the mischief was done. Each had found out that the love of the other was
+indispensable to the happiness of life; and they had exchanged
+confidences, assurances, protestations, and promises, as freely, as
+fervently, and as hopefully, as if no such thing as a Republic, one and
+indivisible, with a keen scent and an unappeasable thirst for the blood
+of aristocrats, existed. They forgot all about "Liberty, Fraternity, and
+Equality"--these egotistical, narrow-minded young people;--they also
+forgot the characteristic alternative to those unparalleled
+blessings--"Death." But Prosper Alix did not forget any of these things;
+and his consternation, his provision of suffering for his beloved
+daughter, were terrible, when she told him, with a simple noble
+frankness which the _grandes dames_ of the dead-and-gone time of great
+ladies had rarely had a chance of exhibiting, that she loved M. Paul de
+S�nanges, and intended to marry him when the better times should come.
+Perhaps she meant when that alternative of _death_ should be struck off
+the sacred formula;--of course she meant to marry him with the sanction
+of her father, which she made no doubt she should receive.
+
+Prosper Alix was in pitiable perplexity. He could not bear to terrify
+his daughter by a full explanation of the danger she was incurring; he
+could not bear to delude her with false hope. If this young man could be
+got away at once safely, there was not much likelihood that he would
+ever be able to return to France. Would Berthe pine for him, or would
+she forget him, and make a rational, sensible, rich, republican
+marriage, which would not imperil either her reputation for pure
+patriotism or her father's? The latter would be the very best thing that
+could possibly happen, and therefore it was decidedly unwise to
+calculate upon it; but, after all, it was possible; and Prosper had not
+the courage, in such a strait, to resist the hopeful promptings of a
+possibility. How ardently he regretted that he had complied with the
+prayer of the _ci-devant_! When would the signal for Mr. Paul's
+departure come?
+
+Prosper Alix had made many sacrifices, had exercised much self-control
+for his daughter's sake; but he had never sustained a more severe trial
+than this, never suffered more than he did now, under the strong
+necessity for hiding from her his absolute conviction of the
+impossibility of a happy result for this attachment, in that future to
+which the lovers looked so fearlessly. He could not even make his
+anxiety and apprehension known to Paul de S�nanges; for he did not
+believe the young man had sufficient strength of will to conceal
+anything so important from the keen and determined observation of
+Berthe.
+
+The expected signal was not given, and the lovers were incautious. The
+seclusion of the Maison Alix had all the danger, as well as all the
+delight, of solitude, and Paul dropped his disguise too much and too
+often. The servants, few in number, were of the truest patriotic
+principles, and to some of them the denunciation of the _citoyen_, whom
+they condescended to serve because the sacred Revolution had not yet
+made them as rich as he, would have been a delightful duty, a
+sweet-smelling sacrifice to be laid on the altar of the country. They
+heard certain names and places mentioned; they perceived many things
+which led them to believe that Henri Glaire was not an industrial artist
+and pure patriot, worthy of respect, but a wretched _ci-devant_,
+resorting to the dignity of labor to make up for the righteous
+destruction of every other kind of dignity. One day a gardener, of less
+stoical virtue than his fellows, gave Prosper Alix a warning that the
+presence of a _ci-devant_ upon his premises was suspected, and that he
+might be certain a domiciliary visit, attended with dangerous results to
+himself, would soon take place. Of course the _avocat_ did not commit
+himself by any avowal to this lukewarm patriot; but he casually
+mentioned that Henri Glaire was about to take his leave. What was to be
+done? He must not leave the neighborhood without receiving the
+instructions he was awaiting; but he must leave the house, and be
+supposed to have gone quite away. Without any delay or hesitation,
+Prosper explained the facts to Berthe and her lover, and insisted on the
+necessity for an instant parting. Then the courage and the readiness of
+the girl told. There was no crying, and very little trembling; she was
+strong and helpful.
+
+"He must go to Pichon's, father," she said, "and remain there until the
+signal is given.--Pichon is a master-mason, Paul," she continued,
+turning to her lover, "and his wife was my nurse. They are avaricious
+people; but they are fond of me in their way, and they will shelter you
+faithfully enough, when they know that my father will pay them
+handsomely. You must go at once, unseen by the servants; they are at
+supper. Fetch your valise, and bring it to my room. We will put the
+casket in it, and such of your things as you must take out to make room
+for it, we can hide under the plank. My father will go with you to
+Pichon's, and we will communicate with you there as soon as it is safe."
+
+Paul followed her to the large gloomy room where the treasure lay, and
+they took the casket from its hiding-place. It was heavy, though not
+large, and an awkward thing to pack away among linen in a small valise.
+They managed it, however, and, the brief preparation completed, the
+moment of parting arrived. Firmly and eloquently, though in haste,
+Berthe assured Paul of her changeless love and faith, and promised him
+to wait for him for any length of time in France, if better days should
+be slow of coming, or to join him in some foreign land, if they were
+never to come. Her father was present, full of compassion and misgiving.
+At length he said:
+
+"Come, Paul, you must leave her; every moment is of importance."
+
+The young man and his betrothed were standing on the spot whence they
+had taken the casket; the carved rail with the heavy curtains might have
+been the outer sanctuary of an altar, and they bride and bridegroom
+before it, with earnest, loving faces, and clasped hands.
+
+"Farewell, Paul," said Berthe; "promise me once more, in this the moment
+of our parting, that you will come to me again, if you are alive, when
+the danger is past."
+
+"Whether I am living or dead, Berthe," said Paul de S�nanges, strongly
+moved by some sudden inexplicable instinct, "I will come to you again."
+
+In a few more minutes, Prosper Alix and his guest, who carried, not
+without difficulty, the small but heavy leather valise, had disappeared
+in the distance, and Berthe was on her knees before the _prie-dieu_ of
+the _ci-devant_ Marquise, her face turned toward the "Holy Hill" of
+Fourvi�res.
+
+Pichon, _m�itre_, and his sons, _gar�ons-ma�ons_, were well-to-do
+people, rather morose, exceedingly avaricious, and of taciturn
+dispositions; but they were not ill spoken of by their neighbors. They
+had amassed a good deal of money in their time, and were just then
+engaged on a very lucrative job. This was the construction of several of
+the steep descents, by means of stairs, straight and winding, cut in the
+face of the _c�teaux_, by which pedestrians are enabled to descend into
+the town. Pichon _p�re_ was a _propri�taire_ as well; his property was
+that which is now in the possession of Giraudier, _pharmacien, premi�re
+classe_, and which was destined to attain a sinister celebrity during
+his proprietorship. One of the straightest and steepest of the stairways
+had been cut close to the _terre_ which the mason owned, and a massive
+wall, destined to bound the high-road at the foot of the declivity, was
+in course of construction.
+
+When Prosper Alix and Paul de S�nanges reached the abode of Pichon, the
+master-mason, with his sons and workmen, had just completed their day's
+work, and were preparing to eat the supper served by the wife and
+mother, a tall, gaunt woman, who looked as if a more liberal scale of
+housekeeping would have done her good, but on whose features the stamp
+of that devouring and degrading avarice which is the commonest vice of
+the French peasantry, was set as plainly as on the hard faces of her
+husband and her sons. The _avocat_ explained his business and introduced
+his companion briefly, and awaited the reply of Pichon _p�re_ without
+any appearance of inquietude.
+
+"You don't run any risk," he said; "at least, you don't run any risk
+which I cannot make it worth your while to incur. It is not the first
+time you have received a temporary guest on my recommendation. You know
+nothing about the citizen Glaire, except that he is recommended to you
+by me. I am responsible; you can, on occasion, make me so. The citizen
+may remain with you a short time; can hardly remain long. Say, citizen,
+is it agreed? I have no time to spare."
+
+It was agreed, and Prosper Alix departed, leaving M. Paul de S�nanges,
+convinced that the right, indeed the only, thing had been done, and yet
+much troubled and depressed.
+
+Pichon _p�re_ was a short, squat, powerfully built man, verging on
+sixty, whose thick, dark grizzled hair, sturdy limbs, and hard hands, on
+which the muscles showed like cords, spoke of endurance and strength; he
+was, indeed, noted in the neighborhood for those qualities. His sons
+resembled him slightly, and each other closely, as was natural, for they
+were twins. They were heavy, lumpish fellows, and they made but an
+ungracious return to the attempted civilities of the stranger, to whom
+the offer of their mother to show him his room was a decided relief. As
+he rose to follow the woman, Paul de S�nanges lifted his small valise
+with difficulty from the floor, on which he had placed it on entering
+the house, and carried it out of the room in both his arms. The
+brothers followed these movements with curiosity, and, when the door
+closed behind their mother and the stranger, their eyes met.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Twenty-four hours had passed away, and nothing new had occurred at the
+Maison Alix. The servants had not expressed any curiosity respecting the
+departure of the citizen Glaire, no domiciliary visit had taken place,
+and Berthe and her father were discussing the propriety of Prosper's
+venturing, on the pretext of an excursion in another direction, a visit
+to the isolated and quiet dwelling of the master-mason. No signal had
+yet arrived. It was agreed that after the lapse of another day, if their
+tranquillity remained undisturbed, Prosper Alix should visit Paul de
+S�nanges. Berthe, who was silent and preoccupied, retired to her own
+room early, and her father, who was uneasy and apprehensive, desperately
+anxious for the promised communication from the Marquis, was relieved by
+her absence.
+
+The moon was high in the dark sky, and her beams were flung across the
+polished oak floor of Berthe's bedroom, through the great window with
+the stone balcony, when the girl, who had gone to sleep with her lover's
+name upon her lips in prayer, awoke with a sudden start, and sat up in
+her bed. An unbearable dread was upon her; and yet she was unable to
+utter a cry, she was unable to make another movement. Had she heard a
+voice? No, no one had spoken, nor did she fancy that she heard any
+sound. But within her, somewhere inside her heaving bosom, something
+said, "Berthe!"
+
+And she listened, and knew what it was. And it spoke, and said:
+
+"I promised you that, living or dead, I would come to you again. And I
+have come to you; but not living."
+
+She was quite awake. Even in the agony of her fear she looked around,
+and tried to move her hands, to feel her dress and the bedclothes, and
+to fix her eyes on some familiar object, that she might satisfy herself,
+before this racing and beating, this whirling and yet icy chilliness of
+her blood should kill her outright, that she was really awake.
+
+"I have come to you; but not living."
+
+What an awful thing that voice speaking within her was! She tried to
+raise her head and to look toward the place where the moonbeams marked
+bright lines upon the polished floor, which lost themselves at the foot
+of the Japanese screen. She forced herself to this effort, and lifted
+her eyes, wild and haggard with fear, and there, the moonbeams at his
+feet, the tall black screen behind him, she saw Paul de S�nanges. She
+saw him; she looked at him quite steadily; she rose, slowly, with a
+mechanical movement, and stood upright beside her bed, clasping her
+forehead with her hands, and gazing at him. He stood motionless, in the
+dress he had worn when he took leave of her, the light-colored
+riding-coat of the period, with a short cape, and a large white cravat
+tucked into the double breast. The white muslin was flecked, and the
+front of the riding-coat was deeply stained, with blood. He looked at
+her, and she took a step forward--another--then, with a desperate
+effort, she dashed open the railing and flung herself on her knees
+before him, with her arms stretched out as if to clasp him. But he was
+no longer there; the moonbeams fell clear and cold upon the polished
+floor, and lost themselves where Berthe lay, at the foot of the screen,
+her head upon the ground, and every sign of life gone from her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Where is the citizen Glaire?" asked Prosper Alix of the _citoyenne_
+Pichon, entering the house of the master-mason abruptly, and with a
+stern and threatening countenance. "I have a message for him; I must see
+him."
+
+"I know nothing about him," replied the _citoyenne_, without turning in
+his direction, or relaxing her culinary labors. "He went away from here
+the next morning, and I did not trouble myself to ask where; that is his
+affair."
+
+"He went away? Without letting me know! Be careful, _citoyenne_; this is
+a serious matter."
+
+"So they tell me," said the woman with a grin, which was not altogether
+free from pain and fear; "for you! A serious thing to have a _suspect_
+in your house, and palm him off on honest people. However, he went away
+peaceably enough when he knew we had found him out, and that we had no
+desire to go to prison, or worse, on his account, or yours."
+
+She was strangely insolent, this woman, and the listener felt his
+helplessness; he had brought the young man there with such secrecy, he
+had so carefully provided for the success of concealment.
+
+"Who carried his valise?" Prosper Alix asked her suddenly.
+
+"How should I know?" she replied; but her hands lost their steadiness,
+and she upset a stew-pan; "he carried it here, didn't he? and I suppose
+he carried it away again."
+
+Prosper Alix looked at her steadily--she shunned his gaze, but she
+showed no other sign of confusion; then horror and disgust of the woman
+came over him.
+
+"I must see Pichon," he said; "where is he?"
+
+"Where should he be but at the wall? he and the boys are working there,
+as always. The citizen can see them; but he will remember not to detain
+them; in a little quarter of an hour the soup will be ready."
+
+The citizen did see the master-mason and his sons, and after an
+interview of some duration he left the place in a state of violent
+agitation and complete discomfiture. The master-mason had addressed to
+him these words at parting:
+
+"I assert that the man went away at his own free will; but if you do not
+keep very quiet, I shall deny that he came here at all--you cannot prove
+he did--and I will denounce you for harboring a _suspect_ and
+_ci-devant_ under a false name. I know a De S�nanges when I see him as
+well as you, citizen Alix; and, wishing M. Paul a good journey, I hope
+you will consider about this matter, for truly, my friend, I think you
+will sneeze in the sack before I shall."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"We must bear it, Berthe, my child," said Prosper Alix to his daughter
+many weeks later, when the fever had left her, and she was able to talk
+with her father of the mysterious and frightful events which had
+occurred. "We are utterly helpless. There is no proof, only the word of
+these wretches against mine, and certain destruction to me if I speak.
+We will go to Spain, and tell the Marquis all the truth, and never
+return, if you would rather not. But, for the rest, we must bear it."
+
+"Yes, my father," said Berthe submissively, "I know we must; but God
+need not, and I don't believe He will."
+
+The father and the daughter left France unmolested, and Berthe "bore it"
+as well as she could. When better times come they returned, Prosper Alix
+an old man, and Berthe a stern, silent, handsome woman, with whom no one
+associated any notions of love or marriage. But long before their return
+the traditions of the Croix Rousse were enriched by circumstances which
+led to that before-mentioned capital bargain made by the father of the
+Giraudier of the present. These circumstances were the violent death of
+Pichon and his two sons, who were killed by the fall of a portion of the
+great boundary-wall on the very day of its completion, and the
+discovery, close to its foundation, at the extremity of Pichon's
+_terre_, of the corpse of a young man attired in a light-colored
+riding-coat, who had been stabbed through the heart.
+
+Berthe Alix lived alone in the Ch�teau de S�nanges, under its restored
+name, until she was a very old woman. She lived long enough to see the
+golden figure on the summit of the "Holy Hill," long enough to forget
+the bad old times, but not long enough to forget or cease to mourn the
+lover who had kept his promise, and come back to her; the lover who
+rested in the earth which once covered the bones of the martyrs, and who
+kept a place for her by his side. She has filled that place for many
+years. You may see it, when you look down from the second gallery of the
+bell-tower at Fourvi�res, following the bend of the outstretched golden
+arm of Notre Dame.
+
+The ch�teau was pulled down some years ago, and there is no trace of its
+former existence among the vines.
+
+Good times, and bad times, and again good times have come for the Croix
+Rousse, for Lyons, and for France, since then; but the remembrance of
+the treachery of Pichon & Sons, and of the retribution which at once
+exposed and punished their crime, outlives all changes. And once, every
+year, on a certain summer night, three ghostly figures are seen, by any
+who have courage and patience to watch for them, gliding along by the
+foot of the boundary-wall, two of them carrying a dangling corpse, and
+the other, implements for mason's work and a small leather valise.
+Giraudier, _pharmacien_, has never seen these ghostly figures, but he
+describes them with much minuteness; and only the _esprits forts_ of the
+Croix Rousse deny that the ghosts of Pichon & Sons are not yet laid.
+
+
+
+
+THE PHANTOM FOURTH.
+
+
+They were three.
+
+It was in the cheap night-service train from Paris to Calais that I
+first met them.
+
+Railways, as a rule, are among the many things which they do _not_ order
+better in France, and the French Northern line is one of the worst
+managed in the world, barring none, not even the Italian _vie ferrate_.
+I make it a rule, therefore, to punish the directors of, and the
+shareholders in, that undertaking to the utmost within my limited
+ability, by spending as little money on their line as I can help.
+
+It was, then, in a third-class compartment of the train that I met the
+three.
+
+Three as hearty, jolly-looking Saxon faces, with stalwart frames to
+match, as one would be likely to meet in an hour's walk from the
+Regent's Park to the Mansion House.
+
+One of the three was dark, the other two were fair. The dark one was the
+senior of the party. He wore an incipient full beard, evidently in
+process of training, with a considerable amount of grizzle in it.
+
+The face of one of his companions was graced with a magnificent flowing
+beard. The third of the party, a fair-haired youth of some twenty-three
+or four summers, showed a scrupulously smooth-shaven face.
+
+They looked all three much flushed and slightly excited, and, I must
+say, they turned out the most boisterous set of fellows I ever met.
+
+They were clearly gentlemen, however, and men of education, with
+considerable linguistic acquirements; for they chatted and sang, and
+declaimed and "did orations" all the way from Paris to Calais, in a
+slightly bewildering variety of tongues.
+
+Their jollity had, perhaps, just a little over-tinge of the slap-bang
+jolly-dog style in it; but there was so much heartiness and good-nature
+in all they said and in all they did, that it was quite impossible for
+any of the other occupants of the carriage to vote them a nuisance; and
+even the sourest of the officials, whom they chaffed most unmercifully
+and unremittingly at every station on the line, took their punishment
+with a shrug and a grin. The only person, indeed, who rose against them
+in indignant protestation was the head-waiter at the Calais station
+refreshment-room, to whom they would persist in propounding puzzling
+problems, such as, for instance, "If you charge two shillings for
+one-and-a-half-ounce slice of breast of veal, how many fools will it
+take to buy the joint off you?"--and what _he_ got by the attempt to
+stop their chaff was a caution to any other sinner who might have felt
+similarly inclined.
+
+As for me, I could only give half my sense of hearing to their
+utterings, the other half being put under strict sequester at the time
+by my friend O'Kweene, the great Irish philosopher, who was delivering
+to me, for my own special behoof and benefit, a brilliant, albeit
+somewhat abstruse, dissertation on the "visible and palpable outward
+manifestations of the inner consciousness of the soul in a trance;"
+which occupied all the time from Paris to Calais, full eight hours, and
+which, to judge from my feelings at the time, would certainly afford
+matter for three heavy volumes of reading in bed, in cases of inveterate
+sleeplessness--a hint to enterprising publishers.
+
+My friend O'Kweene, who intended to stay a few days at Calais, took
+leave of me on the pier, and I went on board the steamer that was to
+carry us and the mail over to Dover.
+
+Here I found our trio of the railway-car, snugly ensconced under an
+extemporized awning, artfully constructed with railway-rugs and
+greatcoats, supported partly against the luggage, and partly upon
+several oars, purloined from the boats, and turned into tent-poles for
+the nonce--which made the skipper swear wofully when he found it out
+some time after.
+
+The three were even more cheery and boisterous on board than they had
+been on shore. From what I could make out in the dark, they were
+discussing the contents of divers bottles of liquor; I counted four dead
+men dropped quietly overboard by them in the course of the hour and a
+half we had to wait for the arrival of the mail-train, which was late,
+as usual on this line.
+
+At last we were off, about half-past two o'clock in the morning. It was
+a beautiful, clear, moonlit night, so clear, indeed, that we could see
+the Dover lights almost from Calais harbor. But we had considerably more
+than a capful of wind, and there was a turgent ground-swell on, which
+made our boat--double-engined, and as trim and tidy a craft as ever sped
+across the span from shore to shore--behave rather lively, with sportive
+indulgence in a brisk game of pitch-and-toss that proved anything but
+comfortable to most of the passengers.
+
+When we were steaming out of Calais harbor, our three friends, emerging
+from beneath their tent, struck up in chorus Campbell's noble song, "Ye
+Mariners of England," finishing up with a stave from "Rule, Britannia!"
+
+But, alas for them! however loudly their throats were shouting forth the
+sway proverbially held by Albion and her sons over the waves, on this
+occasion at least the said waves seemed determined upon ruling these
+particular three Britons with a rod of antimony; for barely a few
+seconds after the last vibrating echoes of the "Britons never, never,
+never shall be slaves!" had died away upon the wind, I beheld the three
+leaning lovingly together, in fast friendship linked, over the rail,
+conversing in deep ventriguttural accents with the denizens of Neptune's
+watery realm.
+
+We had one of the quickest passages on record--ninety-three minutes'
+steaming carried us across from shore to shore. When we were just on the
+point of landing, I heard the dark senior of the party mutter to his
+companions, in a hollow whisper and mysterious manner, "He is gone
+again;" to which the others, the bearded and the smooth-shaven,
+responded in the same way, with deep sighs of evident relief, "Ay,
+marry! so he is at last."
+
+This mysterious communication roused my curiosity. Who was the party
+that was said to be gone at last? Where had he come from? where had he
+been hiding, that _I_ had not seen him? and where was he gone to now? I
+determined to know; if but the opportunity would offer, to screw, by
+cunning questioning, the secret out of either of the three.
+
+Fate favored my design.
+
+For some inscrutable reason, known only to the company's officials, we
+cheap-trainers were not permitted to proceed on our journey to London
+along with the mail, but were left to kick our heels for some two hours
+at the Dover station.
+
+I went into the refreshment-room to look for my party; I had a notion I
+should find them where the Briton's unswerving and unerring instinct
+would be most likely to lead them. It turned out that I was right in my
+conjecture. There they were, seated round a table with huge bowls of
+steaming tea and monster piles of buttered toast and muffins spread on
+the festive board before them. Ay, indeed, there they were; but _quantum
+mutati ab illis_! how strangely changed from the noisy, rollicking set I
+had known them in the railway-car and on board the steamer, ere yet the
+demon of sea-sickness had claimed them for his own! How ghastly sober
+they looked now, to be sure! And how sternly and silently bent upon
+devoting themselves to the swilling of the Chinese shrub infusion and to
+the gorging of indigestible muffins. It was quite clear to me that it
+would have been worse than folly to venture upon addressing them while
+thus absorbed in absorbing. So I resolved to await a more favorable
+opening, and went out meanwhile to walk on the platform.
+
+A short time I was left in solitary possession of the promenade; then I
+became suddenly aware that another traveller was treading the same
+ground with me--it was the dark elderly leader of the three. I glanced
+at him as he passed me under one of the lamps. He looked pale and sad.
+The furrowed lines on his brow bespoke deliberation deep and pondering
+profound. All the infinite mirth of the preceding few hours had departed
+from him, leaving him but a wretched wreck of his former reckless self.
+
+"A fine night, sir," I said to break the ice--"for the season of the
+year," I added by way of a saving clause, to tone down the absoluteness
+of the assertion.
+
+He looked at me abstractedly, merely re�choing my own words, "A fine
+night, sir, for the season of the year."
+
+"Why look ye so sad now, who were erst so jolly?" I bluntly asked,
+determined to force him into conversation.
+
+"Ay, indeed, why so sad now?" he replied, looking me full in the face;
+then, suddenly clasping my arm with a spasmodic grip, he continued
+hurriedly, "I think I had best confide our secret to you. You seem a man
+of thought. I witnessed and admired the patient attention with which you
+listened to your friend's abstruse talk in the railway-car. Maybe you
+can find the solution of a mystery which defies the ponderings of our
+poor brains--mine and my two friends."
+
+Then he proceeded to pour into my attentive ear this gruesome tale of
+mystery:
+
+"We three--that is, myself, yon tall bearded Briton," pointing to the
+glass door of the refreshment-room, "whose name is Jack Hobson, and
+young Emmanuel Topp, junior partner in a great beer firm, whom you may
+behold now at his fifth bowl of tea and his seventh muffin--are
+teetotallers----"
+
+"Teetotallers!" I could not help exclaiming. "Lord bless me! that is
+certainly about the last thing I should have taken you for, either of
+you."
+
+"Well," he replied with some slight confusion, "at least, we _were
+total_ teetotallers, though I admit we can now only claim the character
+of partial abstainers. The fact is, when, about a fortnight ago, we were
+discussing the plan of our projected visit to the great Paris
+Exhibition, Topp suggested that while in France we should do as the
+French do, to which Jack Hobson assented, remarking that the French knew
+nothing about tea, and that a Frenchman's tea would be sure to prove an
+Englishman's poison. So we resolved to suspend the pledge during our
+visit to France.
+
+"It was on the second day after our arrival in Paris. We were dining in
+a private cabinet at D�sir� Beaurain's, one of the leading restaurants
+on the fashionable side of the Montmartre--Italiens Boulevard. Our
+dinner was what an Irishman might call a most 'illigant' affair. We had
+sipped several bottles of Sauterne, and tasted a few of Tavel, and we
+were just topping the entertainment with a solitary bottle of champagne,
+when I became suddenly aware of the presence of another party in the
+room--a _fourth man_--who sat him down at our table, and helped himself
+liberally to our liquor. From what I ascertained afterward from Jack
+Hobson and Emmanuel Topp, the intruder's presence became revealed to
+them also, either about the same time or a little later. What was he
+like? I cannot tell. His figure and face remained indistinct
+throughout--phantom-like. His features seemed endowed with a stronge
+weird mobility that would defyingly elude the fixing grasp of our eager
+eyes. Now, and to my two companions, he would look marvellously like me;
+then, to me, he would stalk and rave about in the likeness of Jack
+Hobson; again, he would seem the counterfeit of Emmanuel Topp; then he
+would look like all the three of us put together; then like neither of
+us, nor like anybody else. Oh, sir, it was a woful thing to be haunted
+by this phantom apparition. Yet the strangest part of the affair was
+that neither of us seemed to feel a whit surprised at the dread
+presence; that we quietly and uncomplainingly let him drink our wine,
+and actually give orders for more; that we never objected, in fact, to
+any of his sayings and doings. What seemed also strange was that the
+waiter, while yet receiving and executing his orders, was evidently
+pretending to ignore his presence. But then, as I dare say you know as
+well as I do, French waiters are _such_ actors!
+
+"Well, to resume, there he was, this fourth man, seated at our table and
+feasting at our expense. And the pranks that he would play us--they were
+truly stupendous. He began his little game by ordering in half-a-dozen
+of champagne. And when the waiter seemed slightly doubtful and
+hesitating about executing the order, Topp, forsooth, must put in his
+oar, and indorse the command, actually pretending that _I_, who am now
+speaking to you, and who am the very last man in the world likely to
+dream of such a preposterous thing, had given the order, and that I was
+a jolly old brick, and the best of boon companions. Surprise at this
+barefaced assertion kept me mute, and so, of course, the champagne was
+brought in, and I thought the best thing to do under the circumstances
+was to have my share of it at least; and so I had--my fair share; but,
+bless you, it was nothing to what that fourth man drank of it. In fact,
+the amount of liquor _he_ would swill on this and on the many subsequent
+occasions he intruded his presence upon us, was a caution.
+
+"We paid our little bill without grumbling, though the presence of the
+fourth man at our table had added rather heavily to the _addition_, as
+they call bills at French restaurants.
+
+"We sallied forth into the street to get a whiff of fresh air. _He_, the
+demon, pertinaciously stuck to us; he familiarly linked his arm through
+mine, and, suggesting coffee as rather a good thing to take after
+dinner, took us over to the Caf� du Cardinal, where he, however, took
+none of the Arabian beverage himself (there being only three cups placed
+for us, as I distinctly saw), but drank an interminable succession of
+_chasse-caf�_, utterly regardless of the divisional lines of the cognac
+_carafon_. Part of these he would take neat, another portion he would
+burn over sugar, gloating glaringly over the bluish flame, while gleams
+of demoniac delight would flit across his ever-changing features. Jack
+Hobson and Topp, I am sorry to say, joined him with a will in this
+double-distilled debauch; and when I attempted to remonstrate with them,
+they brazenly asserted that _I_, who am now speaking to you, who have
+always, publicly and privately, declared brandy to be the worst of evil
+spirits, had taken more of it, to my own cheek, as they slangily
+expressed it, than the two of them together; and the waiter, who had
+evidently been bribed by them, boldly maintained that _le vieux
+monsieur_, as he had the impudence to call me, had swallowed _plus de
+trois carafons de fine_; whereupon the fourth man, stepping up to him,
+punched his head, which served him right. Now you will hardly believe me
+when I tell you that at that very instant Topp forced me back into my
+chair, while Jack Hobson pinioned my arms from behind, and the waiter
+had the unblushing effrontery to stamp and rave at me like a maniac,
+demanding satisfaction or compensation at my hands for the unprovoked
+assault committed upon him by _me, coram populo_!--by _me_, who, I beg
+to assure you, am the most peaceable man living, and am actually famed
+for the mildness of my disposition and the sweetness and suavity of my
+temper. And, would you believe it? everybody present, waiters and
+guests, and my own two bosom-friends, joined in the conspiracy against
+me, and I actually had to give the wretch of a waiter ten francs as a
+plaster for his broken pate, and a salve for his wounded honor! Where
+was the real culprit all this time, you ask me--the fourth man? Why, he
+quietly stood by grinning, and they all and every one of them pretended
+not to see him, though Topp and Jack Hobson next morning confessed to me
+that they certainly had an indistinct consciousness of the presence
+throughout of this miserable intruder.
+
+"How we finished that night I remember not; nor could Jack Hobson or
+Emmanuel Topp. All we could conscientiously stand by, if we were
+questioned, is that we awoke next morning--the three of us--with some
+slight swimming in our heads, and a hazy recollection of a gorgeous
+dream of brilliant lights and sounds of music and revelry, and bright
+visions of groves and grottoes, and dancing houris (or hussies, as moral
+Jack Hobson calls the poor things), and a hot supper at a certain place
+in the Passage des Princes, of which I think the name is Peter's.
+
+"I will not tire your courteous patience by a detailed narrative of our
+experiences day after day, during our fortnight's stay in Paris. Suffice
+it to tell you that from that time forward to yesterday, when we left,
+the _fourth man_, as we, by mutual consent, agreed to call the phantom
+apparition, came in regularly to our dinner; with the dessert or a
+little after; that he would constantly suggest a fresh supply of C�te
+St. Jacques, Moulin-�-Vent, Beaune, Chambertin, Roederer Carte Blanche,
+and a variety of other, generally rather more than less expensive,
+wines--and that he somehow would manage to make us have them, too.
+
+"Then he would sally forth with us to the caf�, where he would indulge
+in irritating chaff of the waiters, and in slighting comments upon the
+great French nation in general, and the Parisians in particular, and
+upon their institutions and manners and customs.
+
+"He would insist upon singing the Marseillaise; he would speak
+disparagingly of the Emperor, whom he would irreverently call Lambert;
+he would pass cutting and unsavory remarks upon the glorious system of
+the night-carts; he would call down the judgment of Heaven upon the
+devoted head of poor Mr. Haussmann; he would go up to some unhappy
+sergent-de-ville, who might, however unwittingly, excite his ire, and
+tell him a bit of his mind in English, with sarcastic allusions to his
+cocket-hat and his toasting-fork, and polite inquiries after the health
+of _ce cher_ Monsieur Lambert, or the whereabouts of _cet excellent_
+Monsieur Godinot. The worst of the matter was that I suppose for the
+reason that man is an imitative animal, a sort of [Greek: pith�kos
+my�ros], or Monboddian monkey minus the tail--my two companions were,
+somehow, always sure to join the wretch in his evil behavior, and to go
+on just as bad as he did. No wonder, then, that we got into no end of
+rows, and it is a marvel to me now, how ever we have managed to get off
+with a whole skin to our bodies.
+
+"He would insist upon taking us to Mabille, the Closerie des Lilas, and
+the Ch�teaurouge, where he would indulge in the maddest pranks and
+antics, and somehow lead us to join in the wildest dances, and make us
+lift our legs as high as the highest lifter among the _habitu�s_, male
+or female.
+
+"One night, at about half-past two in the morning (_Hibernic�_), he had
+the cool assurance to drag us along with him to the then closed entrance
+to the Passage des Princes, where he frantically shook the gate, and
+insisted to the frightened concierge, who came running up in his
+night-shirt, that Peter's must and ought to be open still, as _we_ had
+not had our supper yet; and Topp and Jack Hobson, forsooth, must join in
+the row. I have no distinct recollection of whether it was our phantom
+guest or either of my companions that madly strove to detain the hastily
+retreating form of the concierge by a desperate clutch at the tail of
+his shirt; I only remember that the garment gave way in the struggle,
+and that the unhappy functionary was reduced nearly altogether to the
+primitive buff costume of the father of man in Paradise ere he had put
+his teeth into that unlucky apple of which, the pips keep so
+inconveniently sticking in poor humanity's gizzard to the present day.
+And what I remember also to my cost is, that the sergent-de-ville, whom
+the bereaved man's shouts of distress brought to the scene, fastened
+upon _me_, the most inoffensive of mortals, for a compensation fine of
+twenty francs, as if _I_ had been the culprit. And deuced glad we were,
+I assure you, to get off without more serious damage to our pocket and
+reputation than this, and a copious volley of _sacr�s ivrognes Anglais_,
+fired at us by the wretched concierge and his friend of the police, who,
+I am quite sure, went halves with him in the compensation. Ah! they are
+a lawless set, these French.
+
+"On another occasion we three went to the Exhibition, where we visited
+one of our colonial departments, in company with several English
+friends, and some French gentlemen appointed on the wine jury. We went
+to taste a few samples of colonial wines. _He_ was not with us _then_.
+Barely, however, had we uncorked a poor dozen bottles, which turned out
+rather good for colonial, though a little raw and slightly uneducated,
+when _who_ should stalk in but our fourth man, as jaunty and
+unconcerned as ever. Well, _he_ fell to tasting, and he soon grew
+eloquent in praise of the colonial juice, which he declared would, in
+another twenty years' time, be fit to compete successfully with the best
+French vintages. Of course, the French gentlemen with us could not stand
+_this_; they spoke slightingly of the British colonial, and one of them
+even went so far as to call it rotgut. I cannot say whether it was the
+spirit of the uncompromising opinion thus pronounced, or the coarsely
+indelicate way in which the judgment of our French friend was expressed,
+that riled our phantom guest--enough, it brought him down in full force
+upon the offender and his countrymen, with most fluent French
+vituperation and an unconscionable amount of bad jokes and worse puns,
+finishing up with a general address to them as members of the
+_disgusting_ jury, instead of jury of _d�gustation_. Now, this I should
+not have minded so much; for, I must confess, I felt rather nettled at
+the national conceit and prejudice of these French. But the wretch, in
+the impetuous utterance of his invective, must somehow--though I was not
+aware of it at the time--have mimicked my gestures and imitated the very
+tones and accent of my voice so closely as to deceive even some of my
+English companions: or how else to account for the fact of their calling
+me a noisy brawler and a pestilent nuisance? _me_, the gentlest and
+mildest-spoken of mortals!
+
+"Before our departure from London we had calculated our probable
+expenses on a most liberal scale, and we had made comfortable provision
+accordingly for a few weeks' stay in Paris. But with the additional
+heavy burden of the franking of so copious an imbiber as our fourth man
+thus unexpectedly thrown on our shoulders, it was no great wonder that
+we should find our resources go much faster than we had anticipated; so
+we had already been forcedly led to bethink ourselves of shortening our
+intended stay in the French capital when a fresh exploit of the phantom
+fourth, climaxing all his past misdeeds, brought matters to a crisis.
+
+"It was the day before yesterday, the 4th of September. We had been
+dining at Marigny, and dancing at Mabille. Our eccentric guest had come
+in, as usual, with the champagne, and had of course, after dinner, taken
+us over to the enchanted gardens. We were all very jolly. _He_ suggested
+supper at the Cascades, in the Bois de Boulogne. We chartered a _fiacre_
+to take us there and back. We supped rather copiously. _He_ somehow made
+our coachman drunk, and took upon himself to drive us home. Need I tell
+you that he upset us in the Avenue de l'Imp�ratrice, and that we had to
+walk it, and pretty fast too? It was a mercy there were no bones broken.
+
+"Well, as we were walking along, just barely recovering from the shock
+of the accident, he suddenly took some new whim into his confounded
+noddle. Nothing would do for him but he must drag us along with him to
+the great entrance of the Elys�e Napol�on (which erst was, and maybe is
+soon likely to be once more, the Elys�e Bourbon), where he had the
+brazen impudence to claim admittance, as the Emperor, he pretended, had
+been graciously pleased to offer us the splendid hospitality of that
+renowned mansion. What further happened here, neither I nor either of
+my friends can tell. Our recollections from this period till next
+morning are doubtful and indistinct. All we can state for certain is,
+that yesterday morning we awoke, the three of us, in a most wretched
+state, in a strange, nasty place. We learn soon after from a gentleman
+in a cocked hat, who came to visit us on business, that the imperial
+hospitality which we had claimed last night had indeed been extended to
+us--only in the _violon_, instead of the Elys�e. Our phantom guest was
+gone: he would alway, somehow sneak away in the morning, when there was
+nothing left for him to drink--the guzzling villain!
+
+"The gentleman in the cocked-hat pressingly invited us to pay a visit to
+the Commissaire du Quartier. That formidable functionary received us
+with the customary French-polished veneer of urbanity which, as a rule,
+constitutes the _suaviter in modo_ of the higher class of Gallic
+officials. He read us a severe lecture, however, upon the alleged
+impropriety of our conduct; and when I ventured to protest that it was
+not to us the blame ought to be imputed, but to the _quatri�me_, he
+mistook my meaning, and, ere I could explain myself, he cut me short
+with a polite remark that the French used the cardinal instead of the
+ordinal numbers in stating the days of the month, with the exception of
+the first, and that he had had too much trouble with our countrymen (he
+took us for Yankees!) on the 4th of July, to be disposed to look with an
+over-lenient eye upon the vagaries we had chosen to commit on the 4th of
+September, which he supposed was another great national day with us. He
+would, however, let us off this time with a simple reprimand, upon
+payment of one hundred francs, compensation for damage done to the
+coach--drunken cabby having turned up, of course, to testify against us.
+Well, we paid the money, and handed the worthy magistrate twenty francs
+besides, for the benefit of the poor, by way of acknowledgment for the
+imperial hospitality we had enjoyed. We were then allowed to depart in
+peace.
+
+"Now, you'll hardly believe it, I dare say, but it is the truth
+notwithstanding, that we three, who have been fast friends for years,
+actually began to quarrel among ourselves now, mutually imputing to one
+another the blame of all our misadventures and misfortunes since our
+arrival in Paris, while yet we clearly knew and felt, each and every of
+us, that it was all the doings of that phantom fourth.
+
+"One thing, however, we all agreed to do--to leave Paris by the first
+train.
+
+"To fortify ourselves for the coming journey, we went to indulge in the
+luxury of a farewell breakfast at D�sir� Beaurain's. Of course we
+emptied a few bottles to our reconciliation. I do not exactly remember
+how many, but this I _do_ remember, that our irrepressible incubus
+walked in again, and took his place in the midst of us rather sooner
+even than he had been wont to do; and he never left us from that time to
+the moment of our landing at Dover harbor, when he took his, I hope and
+trust final, departure with a ghastly grin.
+
+"I dare say you must have thought us a most noisy and obstreperous lot:
+well, with my hand on my heart, I can assure you, on my conscience,
+that a quieter and milder set of fellows than us three you are not
+likely to find on this or the other side the Channel. But for that
+mysterious phantom fourth----"
+
+Here the whistle sounded, and the guard came up to us with a hurried,
+"Now then, gents, take your seats, please; train is off in half a
+minnit!"
+
+"What can have become of Topp and Jack Hobson?" muttered my new friend,
+looking around him with eager scrutiny. "I should not wonder if they
+were still refreshing." And he started off in the direction of the
+refreshment-room.
+
+I took my seat. Immediately after the train whirled off. I cannot say
+whether the three were left behind; all I know is that I did not see
+them get out at London Bridge.
+
+Remembering, however, that the appalling secret of the supernatural
+visitation which had thus harassed my three fellow-travellers had been
+confided to me under the impression that I might be likely to find a
+solution of the mystery, I have ever since deeply pondered thereon.
+
+Shallow thinkers, and sneerers uncharitably given, may, from a
+consideration of the times, places, and circumstances at and under which
+the abnormal phenomena here recited were stated to have been observed,
+be led to attribute them simply to the promptings and imaginings of
+brains overheated by excessive indulgence in spirituous liquors. But I,
+striving to be mindful always of the great scriptural injunction to
+judge not, lest we be judged, and opportunely remembering my friend
+O'Kweene's learned dissertation above alluded to, feel disposed to
+pronounce the apparition of the phantom of the fourth man, and all the
+sayings, doings, and demeanings of the same, to have been simply so many
+visible and palpable outward manifestations of the inner consciousness
+of the souls of the three, and more notably of that of the elderly
+senior of the party, in a succession of vino-alcoholic trances.
+
+My friend O'Kweene is, of course, welcome to such credit as may attach
+to this attempted solution of mine.
+
+
+
+
+THE SPIRIT'S WHISPER.
+
+
+Yes, I have been haunted!--haunted so fearfully that for some little
+time I thought myself insane. I was no raving maniac; I mixed in society
+as heretofore, although perhaps a trifle more grave and taciturn than
+usual; I pursued my daily avocations; I employed myself even on literary
+work. To all appearance I was one of the sanest of the sane; and yet all
+the while I considered myself the victim of such strange delusions that,
+in my own mind, I fancied my senses--and one sense in particular--so far
+erratic and beyond my own control that I was, in real truth, a madman.
+How far I was then insane it must be for others, who hear my story, to
+decide. My hallucinations have long since left me, and, at all events, I
+am now as sane as I suppose most men are.
+
+My first attack came on one afternoon when, being in a listless and an
+idle mood, I had risen from my work and was amusing myself with
+speculating at my window on the different personages who were passing
+before me. At that time I occupied apartments in the Brompton Road.
+Perhaps, there is no thoroughfare in London where the ordinary
+passengers are of so varied a description or high life and low life
+mingle in so perpetual a medley. South-Kensington carriages there jostle
+costermongers' carts; the clerk in the public office, returning to his
+suburban dwelling, brushes the laborer coming from his work on the
+never-ending modern constructions in the new district; and the ladies of
+some of the surrounding squares flaunt the most gigantic of _chignons_,
+and the most exuberant of motley dresses, before the envying eyes of the
+ragged girls with their vegetable-baskets.
+
+There was, as usual, plenty of material for observation and conjecture
+in the passengers, and their characters or destinations, from my window
+on that day. Yet I was not in the right cue for the thorough enjoyment
+of my favorite amusement. I was in a rather melancholy mood. Somehow or
+other, I don't know why, my memory had reverted to a pretty woman whom I
+had not seen for many years. She had been my first love, and I had loved
+her with a boyish passion as genuine as it was intense. I thought my
+heart would have broken, and I certainly talked seriously of dying, when
+she formed an attachment to an ill-conditioned, handsome young
+adventurer, and, on her family objecting to such an alliance, eloped
+with him. I had never seen the fellow, against whom, however, I
+cherished a hatred almost as intense as my passion for the infatuated
+girl who had flown from her home for his sake. We had heard of her being
+on the Continent with her husband, and learned that the man's shifty
+life had eventually taken him to the East. For some years nothing more
+had been heard of the poor girl. It was a melancholy history, and its
+memory ill-disposed me for amusement.
+
+A sigh was probably just escaping my lips with the half-articulated
+words, "Poor Julia!" when my eyes fell on a man passing before my
+window. There was nothing particularly striking about him. He was tall,
+with fine features, and a long, fair beard, contrasting somewhat with
+his bronzed complexion. I had seen many of our officers on their return
+from the Crimea look much the same. Still, the man's aspect gave me a
+shuddering feeling, I didn't know why. At the same moment, a whispering,
+low voice uttered aloud in my ear the words, "It is he!" I turned,
+startled; there was no one near me, no one in the room. There was no
+fancy in the sound; I had heard the words with painful distinctness. I
+ran to the door, opened it--not a sound on the staircase, not a sound in
+the whole house--nothing but the hum from the street. I came back and
+sat down. It was no use reasoning with myself; I had the ineffaceable
+conviction that I had heard the voice. Then first the idea crossed my
+mind that I might be the victim of hallucinations. Yes, it must have
+been so, for now I recalled to mind that the voice had been that of my
+poor lost Julia; and at the moment I heard it I had been dreaming of
+her. I questioned my own state of health. I was well; at least I had
+been so, I felt fully assured, up to that moment. Now a feeling of
+chilliness and numbness and faintness had crept over me, a cold sweat
+was on my forehead. I tried to shake off this feeling by bringing back
+my thoughts to some other subject. But, involuntarily as it were, I
+again uttered the words, "Poor Julia!" aloud. At the same time a deep
+and heavy sigh, almost a groan, was distinctly audible close by me. I
+sprang up; I was alone--quite alone. It was, once more, an
+hallucination.
+
+By degrees the first painful impression wore away. Some days had passed,
+and I had begun to forget my singular delusion. When my thoughts aid
+revert to it, the recollection was dismissed as that of a ridiculous
+fancy. One afternoon I was in the Strand, coming from Charing Cross,
+when I was once more overcome by that peculiar feeling of cold and
+numbness which I had before experienced. The day was warm and bright and
+genial, and yet I positively shivered. I had scarce time to interrogate
+my own strange sensations when a man went by me rapidly. How was it that
+I recognized him at once as the individual who had only passed my window
+so casually on that morning of the hallucination? I don't know, and yet
+I was aware that this man was the tall, fair passer-by of the Brompton
+Road. At the same moment the voice I had previously heard whispered
+distinctly in my ear the words, "Follow him!" I stood stupefied. The
+usual throngs of indifferent persons were hurrying past me in that
+crowded thoroughfare, but I felt convinced that not one of these had
+spoken to me. I remained transfixed for a moment. I was bent on a matter
+of business in the contrary direction to the individual I had remarked,
+and so, although with unsteady step, I endeavored to proceed on my way.
+Again that voice said, still more emphatically, in my ear, "Follow him!"
+I stopped involuntarily. And a third time, "Follow him!" I told myself
+that the sound was a delusion, a cheat of my senses, and yet I could not
+resist the spell. I turned to follow. Quickening my pace, I soon came up
+with the tall, fair man, and, unremarked by him, I followed him. Whither
+was this foolish pursuit to lead me? It was useless to ask myself the
+question--I was impelled to follow.
+
+I was not destined to go very far, however. Before long the object of my
+absurd chase entered a well-known insurance-office. I stopped at the
+door of the establishment. I had no business within, why should I
+continue to follow? Had I not already been making a sad fool of myself
+by my ridiculous conduct? These were my thoughts as I stood heated by my
+quick walk. Yes, heated; and yet, once more, came the sudden chill. Once
+more that same low but now awful voice spoke in my ear: "Go in!" it
+said. I endeavored to resist the spell, and yet I felt that resistance
+was in vain. Fortunately, as it seemed to me, the thought crossed my
+mind that an old acquaintance was a clerk in that same insurance-office.
+I had not seen the fellow for a great length of time, and I never had
+been very intimate with him. But here was a pretext; and so I went in
+and inquired for Clement Stanley. My acquaintance came forward. He was
+very busy, he said. I invented, on the spur of the moment, some excuse
+of the most frivolous and absurd nature, as far as I can recollect, for
+my intrusion.
+
+"By the way," I said, as I turned to take my leave, although my question
+was "by the way" of nothing at all, "who was that tall, fair man who
+just now entered the office?"
+
+"Oh, that fellow?" was the indifferent reply; "a Captain Campbell, or
+Canton, or some such name; I forget what. He is gone in before the
+board--insured his wife's life--and she is dead; comes for a settlement,
+I suppose."
+
+There was nothing more to be gained, and so I left the office. As soon
+as I came without into the scorching sunlight, again the same feeling of
+cold, again the same voice--"Wait!" Was I going mad? More and more the
+conviction forced itself upon me that I was decidedly a monomaniac
+already. I felt my pulse. It was agitated and yet not feverish. I was
+determined not to give way to this absurd hallucination; and yet, so far
+was I out of my senses, that my will was no longer my own. Resolved as I
+was to go, I listened to the dictates of that voice and waited. What was
+it to me that this Campbell or Canton had insured his wife's life, that
+she was dead, and that he wanted a settlement of his claim? Obviously
+nothing; and I yet waited.
+
+So strong was the spell on me that I had no longer any count of time. I
+had no consciousness whether the period was long or short that I stood
+there near the door, heedless of all the throng that passed, gazing on
+vacancy. The fiercest of policemen might have told me to "move on," and
+I should not have stirred, spite of all the terrors of the "station."
+The individual came forth. He paid no heed to me. Why should he? What
+was I to him? This time I needed no warning voice to bid me follow. I
+was a madman, and I could not resist the impulses of my madness. It was
+thus, at least I reasoned with myself. I followed into Regent Street.
+The object of my insensate observation lingered, and looked around as if
+in expectation. Presently a fine-looking woman, somewhat extravagantly
+dressed, and obviously not a lady, advanced toward him on the pavement.
+At the sight of her he quickened his step, and joined her rapidly. I
+shuddered again, but this time a sort of dread was mingled with that
+strange shivering. I knew what was coming, and it came. Again that voice
+in my ear. "Look and remember!" it said. I passed the man and woman as
+they stopped at their first meeting!
+
+"Is all right, George?" said the female.
+
+"All right, my girl," was the reply.
+
+I looked. An evil smile, as if of wicked triumph, was on the man's face,
+I thought. And on the woman's? I looked at her, and I remembered. I
+could not be mistaken. Spite of her change in manner, dress, and
+appearance, it was Mary Simms. This woman some years before, when she
+was still very young, had been a sort of humble companion to my mother.
+A simple-minded, honest girl, we thought her. Sometimes I had fancied
+that she had paid me, in a sly way, a marked attention. I had been
+foolish enough to be flattered by her stealthy glances and her sighs.
+But I had treated these little demonstrations of partiality as due only
+to a silly girlish fancy. Mary Simms, however, had come to grief in our
+household. She had been detected in the abstraction of sundry jewels and
+petty ornaments. The morning after discovery she had left the house, and
+we had heard of her no more. As these recollections passed rapidly
+through my mind I looked behind me. The couple had turned back. I turned
+to follow again; and spite of carriages and cabs, and shouts and oaths
+of drivers, I took the middle of the street in order to pass the man and
+woman at a little distance unobserved. No; I was not mistaken. The woman
+was Mary Simms, though without any trace of all her former
+simple-minded airs; Mary Simms, no longer in her humble attire, but
+flaunting in all the finery of overdone fashion. She wore an air of
+reckless joyousness in her face; and yet, spite of that, I pitied her.
+It was clear she had fallen on the evil ways of bettered
+fortune--bettered, alas! for the worse.
+
+I had an excuse now, in my own mind, for my continued pursuit, without
+deeming myself an utter madman--the excuse of curiosity to know the
+destiny of one with whom I had been formerly familiar, and in whom I had
+taken an interest. Presently the game I was hunting down stopped at the
+door of the Grand Caf�. After a little discussion they entered. It was a
+public place of entertainment; there was no reason why I should not
+enter also. I found my way to the first floor. They were already seated
+at a table, Mary holding the _carte_ in her hand. They were about to
+dine. Why should not I dine there too? There was but one little
+objection,--I had an engagement to dinner. But the strange impulse which
+overpowered me, and seemed leading me on step by step, spite of myself,
+quickly overruled all the dictates of propriety toward my intended
+hosts. Could I not send a prettily devised apology? I glided past the
+couple, with my head averted, seeking a table, and I was unobserved by
+my old acquaintance. I was too agitated to eat, but I made a semblance,
+and little heeded the air of surprise and almost disgust on the
+bewildered face of the waiter as he bore away the barely touched dishes.
+I was in a very fever of impatience and doubt what next to do. They
+still sat on, in evident enjoyment of their meal and their constant
+draughts of sparkling wine. My impatience was becoming almost unbearable
+when the man at last rose. The woman seemed to have uttered some
+expostulation, for he turned at the door and said somewhat harshly
+aloud, "Nonsense; only one game and I shall be back. The waiter will
+give you a paper--a magazine--something to while away the time." And he
+left the room for the billiard-table, as I surmised.
+
+Now was my opportunity. After a little hesitation, I rose, and planted
+myself abruptly on the vacant seat before the woman.
+
+"Mary," I said.
+
+She started, with a little exclamation of alarm, and dropped the paper
+she had held. She knew me at once.
+
+"Master John!" she exclaimed, using the familiar term still given me
+when I was long past boyhood; and then, after a lengthened gaze, she
+turned away her head. I was embarrassed at first how to address her.
+
+"Mary," I said at last, "I am grieved to see you thus."
+
+"Why should you be grieved for me?" she retorted, looking at me sharply,
+and speaking in a tone of impatient anger. "I am happy as I am."
+
+"I don't believe you," I replied.
+
+She again turned away her head.
+
+"Mary," I pursued, "can you doubt, that, spite of all, I have still a
+strong interest in the companion of my youth?"
+
+She looked at me almost mournfully, but did not speak. At that moment I
+probably grew pale; for suddenly that chilly fit seized me again, and
+my forehead became clammy. That voice sounded again in my ear: "Speak
+of him!" were the words it uttered. Mary gazed on me with surprise, and
+yet I was assured that _she_ had not heard that voice, so plain to me.
+She evidently mistook the nature of my visible emotion.
+
+"O Master John!" she stammered, with tears gathering in her eyes,
+reverting again to that name of bygone times, "if you had loved me
+then--if you had consoled my true affection with one word of hope, one
+look of loving-kindness--if you had not spurned and crushed me, I should
+not have been what I am now."
+
+I was about to make some answer to this burst of unforgotten passion,
+when the voice came again: "Speak of him!"
+
+"You have loved others since," I remarked, with a coldness which seemed
+cruel to myself. "You love _him_ now." And I nodded my head toward the
+door by which the man had disappeared.
+
+"Do I?" she said, with a bitter smile. "Perhaps; who knows?"
+
+"And yet no good can come to you from a connection with that man," I
+pursued.
+
+"Why not? He adores me, and he is free," was her answer, given with a
+little triumphant air.
+
+"Yes," I said, "I know he is free: he has lately lost his wife. He has
+made good his claim to the sum for which he insured her life."
+
+Mary grew deadly pale. "How did you learn this? what do you know of
+him?" she stammered.
+
+I had no reply to give. She scanned my face anxiously for some time;
+then in a low voice she added, "What do you suspect?"
+
+I was still silent, and only looked at her fixedly.
+
+"You do not speak," she pursued nervously. "Why do you not speak? Ah,
+you know more than you would say! Master John, Master John, you might
+set my tortured mind at rest, and clear or confirm those doubts which
+_will_ come into my poor head, spite of myself. Speak out--O, do speak
+out!"
+
+"Not here; it is impossible," I replied, looking around. The room as the
+hour advanced, was becoming more thronged with guests, and the full
+tables gave a pretext for my reticence, when in truth I had nothing to
+say.
+
+"Will you come and see me--will you?" she asked with earnest entreaty.
+
+I nodded my head.
+
+"Have you a pocketbook? I will write you my address; and you will
+come--yes, I am sure you will come!" she said in an agitated way.
+
+I handed her my pocketbook and pencil; she wrote rapidly.
+
+"Between the hours of three and five," she whispered, looking uneasily
+at the door; "_he_ is sure not to be at home."
+
+I rose; Mary held out her hand to me, then withdrew it hastily with an
+air of shame, and the tears sprang into her eyes again. I left the room
+hurriedly, and met her companion on the stairs.
+
+That same evening, in the solitude of my own room, I pondered over the
+little event of the day. I had calmed down from my state of excitement.
+The living apparition of Mary Simms occupied my mind almost to the
+exclusion of the terrors of the ghostly voice which had haunted me, and
+my own fears of coming insanity. In truth, what was that man to me?
+Nothing. What did his doings matter to such a perfect stranger as
+myself? Nothing. His connection with Mary Simms was our only link; and
+in what should that affect me? Nothing again. I debated with myself
+whether it were not foolish of me to comply with my youthful companion's
+request to visit her; whether it were not imprudent in me to take any
+further interest in the lost woman; whether there were not even danger
+in seeking to penetrate mysteries which were no concern of mine. The
+resolution to which I came pleased me, and I said aloud, "No, I will not
+go!"
+
+At the same moment came again the voice like an awful echo to my
+words--"Go!" It came so suddenly and so imperatively, almost without any
+previous warning of the usual shudder, that the shock was more than I
+could bear. I believe I fainted; I know I found myself, when I came to
+consciousness, in my arm-chair, cold and numb, and my candles had almost
+burned down into their sockets.
+
+The next morning I was really ill. A sort of low fever seemed to have
+prostrated me, and I would have willingly seized so valid a reason for
+disobeying, at least for that day--for some days, perhaps--the
+injunction of that ghostly voice. But all that morning it never left me.
+My fearful chilly fit was of constant recurrence, and the words "Go! go!
+go!" were murmured so perpetually in my ears--the sound was one of such
+urgent entreaty--that all force of will gave way completely. Had I
+remained in that lone room, I should have gone wholly mad. As yet, to my
+own feelings, I was but partially out of my senses.
+
+I dressed hastily; and, I scarce know how--by no effort of my own will,
+it seemed to me--I was in the open air. The address of Mary Simms was in
+a street not far from my own suburb. Without any power of reasoning, I
+found myself before the door of the house. I knocked, and asked a
+slipshod girl who opened the door to me for "Miss Simms." She knew no
+such person, held a brief shrill colloquy with some female in the
+back-parlor, and, on coming back, was about to shut the door in my face,
+when a voice from above--the voice of her I sought--called down the
+stairs, "Let the gentleman come up!"
+
+I was allowed to pass. In the front drawing-room I found Mary Simms.
+
+"They do not know me under that name," she said with a mournful smile,
+and again extended, then withdrew, her hand.
+
+"Sit down," she went on to say, after a nervous pause. "I am alone now;
+told I adjure you, if you have still one latent feeling of old kindness
+for me, explain your words of yesterday to me."
+
+I muttered something to the effect that I had no explanation to give. No
+words could be truer; I had not the slightest conception what to say.
+
+"Yes, I am sure you have; you must, you will," pursued Mary excitedly;
+"you have some knowledge of that matter."
+
+"What matter?" I asked.
+
+"Why, the insurance," she replied impatiently. "You know well what I
+mean. My mind has been distracted about it. Spite of myself, terrible
+suspicions have forced themselves on me. No; I don't mean that," she
+cried, suddenly checking herself and changing her tone; "don't heed
+what I said; it was madness in me to say what I did. But do, do, do tell
+me all you know."
+
+The request was a difficult one to comply with, for I knew nothing. It
+is impossible to say what might have been the end of this strange
+interview, in which I began to feel myself an unwilling impostor; but
+suddenly Mary started.
+
+"The noise of the latchkey in the lock!" she cried, alarmed; "He has
+returned; he must not see you; you must come another time. Here, here,
+be quick! I'll manage him."
+
+And before I could utter another word she had pushed me into the back
+drawing-room and closed the door. A man's step on the stairs; then
+voices. The man was begging Mary to come out with him, as the day was so
+fine. She excused herself; he would hear no refusal. At last she
+appeared to consent, on condition that the man would assist at her
+toilet. There was a little laughter, almost hysterical on the part of
+Mary, whose voice evidently quivered with trepidation.
+
+Presently both mounted the upper stairs. Then the thought stuck me that
+I had left my hat in the front room--a sufficient cause for the woman's
+alarm. I opened the door cautiously, seized my hat, and was about to
+steal down the stairs, when I was again spellbound by that numb cold.
+
+"Stay!" said the voice. I staggered back to the other room with my hat,
+and closed the door.
+
+Presently the couple came down. Mary was probably relieved by
+discovering that my hat was no longer there, and surmised that I had
+departed; for I heard her laughing as they went down the lower flight.
+Then I heard them leave the house.
+
+I was alone in that back drawing-room. Why? what did I want there? I was
+soon to learn. I felt the chill invisible presence near me; and the
+voice said, "Search!"
+
+The room belonged to the common representative class of back
+drawing-rooms in "apartments" of the better kind. The only one
+unfamiliar piece of furniture was an old Indian cabinet; and my eye
+naturally fell on that. As I stood and looked at it with a strange
+unaccountable feeling of fascination, again came the voice--"Search!"
+
+I shuddered and obeyed. The cabinet was firmly locked; there was no
+power of opening it except by burglarious infraction; but still the
+voice said, "Search!"
+
+A thought suddenly struck me, and I turned the cabinet from its position
+against the wall. Behind, the woodwork had rotted, and in many portions
+fallen away, so that the inner drawers were visible. What could my
+ghostly monitor mean--that I should open those drawers? I would not do
+such a deed of petty treachery. I turned defiantly, and addressing
+myself to the invisible as if it were a living creature by my side, I
+cried, "I must not, will not, do such an act of baseness."
+
+The voice replied, "Search!"
+
+I might have known that, in my state of what I deemed insanity,
+resistance was in vain. I grasped the most accessible drawer from
+behind, and pulled it toward me. Uppermost within it lay letters: they
+were addressed to "Captain Cameron,"--"Captain George Cameron." That
+name!--the name of Julia's husband, the man with whom she had eloped;
+for it was he who was the object of my pursuit.
+
+My shuddering fit became so strong that I could scarce hold the papers;
+and "Search!" was repeated in my ear.
+
+Below the letters lay a small book in a limp black cover. I opened this
+book with trembling hand; it was filled with manuscript--Julia's
+well-known handwriting.
+
+"Read!" muttered the voice. I read. There were long entries by poor
+Julia of her daily life; complaints of her husband's unkindness,
+neglect, then cruelty. I turned to the last pages: her hand had grown
+very feeble now, and she was very ill. "George seems kinder now," she
+wrote; "he brings me all my medicines with his own hand." Later on: "I
+am dying; I know I am dying: he has poisoned me. I saw him last night
+through the curtains pour something in my cup; I saw it in his evil eye.
+I would not drink; I will drink no more; but I feel that I must die."
+
+These were the last words. Below were written, in a man's bold hand, the
+words "Poor fool!"
+
+This sudden revelation of poor Julia's death and dying thoughts unnerved
+me quite. I grew colder in my whole frame than ever.
+
+"Take it!" said her voice. I took the book, pushed back the cabinet into
+its place against the wall, and, leaving that fearful room, stole down
+the stairs with trembling limbs, and left the house with all the
+feelings of a guilty thief.
+
+For some days I perused my poor lost Julia's diary again and again. The
+whole revelation of her sad life and sudden death led but to one
+conclusion,--she had died of poison by the hands of her unworthy
+husband. He had insured her life, and then----
+
+It seemed evident to me that Mary Simms had vaguely shared suspicions of
+the same foul deed. On my own mind came conviction. But what could I do
+next? how bring this evil man to justice? what proof would be deemed to
+exist in those writings? I was bewildered, weak, irresolute. Like
+Hamlet, I shrank back and temporized. But I was not feigning madness; my
+madness seemed but all too real for me. During all this period the
+wailing of that wretched voice in my ear was almost incessant. O, I must
+have been mad!
+
+I wandered about restlessly, like the haunted thing I had become. One
+day I had come unconsciously and without purpose into Oxford Street. My
+troubled thoughts were suddenly broken in upon by the solicitations of a
+beggar. With a heart hardened against begging impostors, and under the
+influence of the shock rudely given to my absorbing dreams, I answered
+more hardly than was my wont. The man heaved a heavy sigh, and sobbed
+forth, "Then Heaven help me!" I caught sight of him before he turned
+away. He was a ghastly object, with fever in his hollow eyes and sunken
+cheeks, and fever on his dry, chapped lips. But I knew, or fancied I
+knew, the tricks of the trade, and I was obdurate. Why, I asked myself,
+should the cold shudder come over me at such a moment? But it was so
+strong on me as to make me shake all over. It came--that maddening
+voice. "Succor!" it said now. I had become so accustomed already to
+address the ghostly voice that I cried aloud, "Why, Julia, why?" I saw
+people laughing in my face at this strange cry, and I turned in the
+direction in which the beggar had gone. I just caught sight of him as he
+was tottering down a street toward Soho. I determined to have pity for
+this once, and followed the poor man. He led me on through I know not
+what streets. His steps was hurried now. In one street I lost sight of
+him; but I felt convinced he must have turned into a dingy court. I made
+inquiries, but for a time received only rude jeering answers from the
+rough men and women whom I questioned. At last a little girl informed me
+that I must mean the strange man who lodged in the garret of a house she
+pointed out to me. It was an old dilapidated building, and I had much
+repugnance on entering it. But again I was no master of my will. I
+mounted some creaking stairs to the top of the house, until I could go
+no further. A shattered door was open; I entered a wretched garret; the
+object of my search lay now on a bundle of rags on the bare floor. He
+opened his wild eyes as I approached.
+
+"I have come to succor," I said, using unconsciously the word of the
+voice; "what ails you?"
+
+"Ails me?" gasped the man; "hunger, starvation, fever."
+
+I was horrified. Hurrying to the top of the stairs, I shouted till I had
+roused the attention of an old woman. I gave her money to bring me food
+and brandy, promising her a recompense for her trouble.
+
+"Have you no friends?" I asked the wretched man as I returned.
+
+"None," he said feebly. Then as the fever rose in his eyes and even
+flushed his pallid face, he said excitedly, "I had a master once--one I
+perilled my soul for. He knows I am dying; but, spite of all my letters,
+he will not come. He wants me dead, he wants me dead--and his wish is
+coming to pass now."
+
+"Cannot I find him--bring him here?" I asked.
+
+The man stared at me, shook his head, and at last, as if collecting his
+faculties with much exertion, muttered, "Yes; it is a last hope; perhaps
+you may, and I can be revenged on him at least. Yes revenged. I have
+threatened him already." And the fellow laughed a wild laugh.
+
+"Control yourself," I urged, kneeling by his side; "give me his
+name--his address."
+
+"Captain George Cameron," he gasped, and then fell back.
+
+"Captain George Cameron!" I cried. "Speak! what of him?"
+
+But the man's senses seemed gone; he only muttered incoherently. The old
+woman returned with the food and spirits. I had found one honest
+creature in that foul region. I gave her money--provide her more if she
+would bring a doctor. She departed on her new errand. I raised the man's
+head, moistened his lips with the brandy, and then poured some of the
+spirit down his throat. He gulped at it eagerly, and opened his eyes;
+but he still raved incoherently, "I did not do it, it was he. He made me
+buy the poison; he dared not risk the danger himself, the coward! I knew
+what he meant to do with it, and yet I did not speak; I was her murderer
+too. Poor Mrs. Cameron! poor Mrs. Cameron! do you forgive?--can you
+forgive?" And the man screamed aloud and stretched out his arms as if to
+fright away a phantom.
+
+I had drunk in every word, and knew the meaning of those broken accents
+well. Could I have found at last the means of bringing justice on the
+murderer's head? But the man was raving in a delirium, and I was obliged
+to hold him with all my strength. A step on the stairs. Could it be the
+medical man I had sent for? That would be indeed a blessing. A man
+entered--it was Cameron!
+
+He came in jauntily, with the words, "How now, Saunders, you rascal!
+What more do you want to get out of me?"
+
+He started at the sight of a stranger.
+
+I rose from my kneeling posture like an accusing spirit. I struggled for
+calm; but passion beyond my control mastered me, and was I not a madman?
+I seized him by the throat, with the words, "Murderer! poisoner! where
+is Julia?" He shook me off violently.
+
+"And who the devil are you, sir?" he cried.
+
+"That murdered woman's cousin!" I rushed at him again.
+
+"Lying hound!" he shouted, and grappled me. His strength was far beyond
+mine. He had his hand on my throat; a crimson darkness was in my eyes; I
+could not see, I could not hear; there was a torrent of sound pouring in
+my ears. Suddenly his grasp relaxed. When I recovered my sight, I saw
+the murderer struggling with the fever-stricken man, who had risen from
+the floor, and seized him from behind. This unexpected diversion saved
+my life; but the ex-groom was soon thrown back on the ground.
+
+"Captain George Cameron," I cried, "kill me, but you will only heap
+another murder on your head!"
+
+He advanced on me with something glittering in his hand. Without a word
+he came and stabbed at me; but at the same moment I darted at him a
+heavy blow. What followed was too confused for clear remembrance. I
+saw--no, I will say I fancied that I saw--the dim form of Julia Staunton
+standing between me and her vile husband. Did he see the vision too? I
+cannot say. He reeled back, and fell heavily to the floor. Maybe it was
+only my blow that felled him. Then came confusion--a dream of a crowd of
+people--policemen--muttered accusations. I had fainted from the wound in
+my arm.
+
+Captain George Cameron was arrested. Saunders recovered, and lived long
+enough to be the principal witness on his trial. The murderer was found
+guilty. Poor Julia's diary, too, which I had abstracted, told fearfully
+against him. But he contrived to escape the gallows; he had managed to
+conceal poison on his person, and he was found dead in his cell. Mary
+Simms I never saw again. I once received a little scrawl, "I am at peace
+now, Master John. God bless you!"
+
+I have had no more hallucinations since that time; the voice has never
+come again. I found out poor Julia's grave, and, as I stood and wept by
+its side, the cold shudder came over me for the last time. Who shall
+tell me whether I was once really mad, or whether I was not?
+
+
+
+
+DOCTOR FEVERSHAM'S STORY.
+
+
+"I have made a point all my life," said the doctor, "of believing
+nothing of the kind."
+
+Much ghost-talk by firelight had been going on in the library at
+Fordwick Chase, when Doctor Feversham made this remark.
+
+"As much as to say," observed Amy Fordwick, "that you are afraid to
+tackle the subject, because you pique yourself on being strong-minded,
+and are afraid of being convinced against your will."
+
+"Not precisely, young lady. A man convinced against his will is in a
+different state of mind from mine in matters like these. But it is true
+that cases in which the supernatural element appears at first sight to
+enter are so numerous in my profession, that I prefer accepting only the
+solutions of science, so far as they go, to entering on any wild
+speculations which it would require more time than I should care to
+devote to them to trace to their origin."
+
+"But without entering fully into the why and wherefore, how can you be
+sure that the proper treatment is observed in the numerous cases of
+mental hallucination which must come under your notice?" inquired
+Latimer Fordwick, who was studying for the Bar.
+
+"I content myself, my young friend, with following the rules laid down
+for such cases, and I generally find them successful," answered the old
+Doctor.
+
+"Then you admit that cases have occurred within your knowledge of which
+the easiest apparent solution could be one which involved a belief in
+supernatural agencies?" persisted Latimer, who was rather prolix and
+pedantic in his talk.
+
+"I did not say so," said the Doctor.
+
+"But of course he meant us to infer it," said Amy. "Now, my dear old
+Doctor, do lay aside professional dignity, and give us one good
+ghost-story out of your personal experience. I believe you have been
+dying to tell one for the last hour, if you would only confess it."
+
+"I would rather not help to fill that pretty little head with idle
+fancies, dear child," answered the old man, looking fondly at Amy, who
+was his especial pet and darling.
+
+"Nonsense! You know I am even painfully unimaginative and
+matter-of-fact; and as for idle fancies, is it an idle fancy to think
+you like to please me?" said Amy coaxingly.
+
+"Well, after all, you have been frightening each other with so many
+thrilling tales for the last hour or two, that I don't suppose I should
+do much harm by telling you a circumstance which happened to me when I
+was a young man, and has always rather puzzled me."
+
+A murmur of approval ran round the party. All disposed themselves to
+listen; and Doctor Feversham, after a prefatory pinch of snuff, began.
+
+"In my youth I resided for some time with a family in the north of
+England, in the double capacity of secretary and physician. While I was
+going through the hospitals of Paris I became acquainted with my
+employer, whom I will call Sir James Collingham, under rather peculiar
+circumstances, which have nothing to do with my story. He had an only
+daughter, who was about sixteen when I first entered the family, and it
+was on her account that Sir James wished to have some person with a
+competent knowledge of medicine and physiology as one of his household.
+Miss Collingham was subject to fits of a very peculiar kind, which threw
+her into a sort of trance, lasting from half an hour to three or even
+four days, according to the severity of the visitation. During these
+attacks she occasionally displayed that extraordinary phenomenon which
+goes by the name of clairvoyance. She saw scenes and persons who were
+far distant, and described them with wonderful accuracy. Though quite
+unconscious of all outward things, and apparently in a state of the
+deepest insensibility, she would address remarks to those present which
+bore reference to the thoughts then occupying their minds, though they
+had given them no outward expression; and her remarks showed an insight
+into matters which had perhaps been carefully kept secret, which might
+truly be termed preternatural. Under these circumstances, Sir James was
+very unwilling to bring her into contact with strangers when it could
+possibly be avoided; and the events which first brought us together,
+having also led to my treating Miss Collingham rather successfully in a
+severe attack of her malady, induced her father to offer me a position
+in his household which, as a young, friendless man, I was very willing
+to accept.
+
+"Collingham-Westmore was a very ancient house of great extent, and but
+indifferently kept in repair. The country surrounding it is of great
+natural beauty, thinly inhabited, and, especially at the time I speak
+of, before railways had penetrated so far north, somewhat lonely and
+inaccessible. A group of small houses clustered round the village church
+of Westmorton, distant about three miles from the mansion of the
+Collingham family; and a solitary posting-house, on what was then the
+great north road, could be reached by a horseman in about an hour,
+though the only practicable road for carriages was at least fifteen
+miles from the highway to Collingham-Westmore. Wild and lovely in the
+eyes of an admirer of nature were the hills and 'cloughs' among which I
+pursued my botanical studies for many a long, silent summer day. My
+occupations at the mansion--everybody called it the mansion, and I must
+do so from force of habit, though it sounds rather like a house-agent's
+advertisement--were few and light; the society was not particularly to
+my taste, and the fine old library only attracted me on rainy days, of
+which, truth to say, we had our full share.
+
+"The Collingham family circle comprised a maiden aunt of Sir James, Miss
+Patricia, a stern and awful specimen of the female sex in its fossil
+state; her ward, Miss Henderson, who, having long passed her pupilage,
+remained at Collingham-Westmore in the capacity of gouvernante and
+companion to the young heiress; the heiress aforesaid, and myself. A
+priest--did I say that the Collinghams still professed the old
+religion?--came on Sundays and holydays to celebrate mass in the gloomy
+old chapel; but neighbors there were none, and only about half-a-dozen
+times during the four years I was an inmate of the mansion were
+strangers introduced into the family party."
+
+"How dreadfully dull it must have been!" exclaimed Amy sympathetically.
+
+"It _was_ dull," answered the Doctor. "Even with my naturally cheerful
+disposition, and the course of study with which I methodically filled up
+all my leisure hours except those devoted to out-of-door exercise, the
+gloom of the old mansion weighed upon me till I sometimes felt that I
+must give up my situation at all risks, and return to the world, though
+it were to struggle with poverty and friendlessness.
+
+"There was no lack of dismal legends and superstitions connected with
+the mansion, and every trifling circumstance that occurred was twisted
+into an omen or presage, whether of good or evil, by the highly wrought
+fancy of Miss Patricia. These absurdities, together with the past
+grandeur of their house, and the former glories of their religion,
+formed the staple subjects of conversation when the family was
+assembled; and as I became more intimately acquainted with the state of
+my patient, I felt convinced that the atmosphere of gloomy superstition
+in which she had been reared had fostered, even if it had not altogether
+been the cause of, her morbid mental and bodily condition.
+
+"Among the many legends connected with the mansion, one seemed to have a
+peculiar fascination for Miss Collingham, perhaps because it was the
+most ghastly and repulsive. One wing of the house was held to be haunted
+by the spirit of an ancestress of the family, who appeared in the shape
+of a tall woman, with one hand folded in her white robe and the other
+pointing upward. It was said, that in a room at the end of the haunted
+wing this lady had been foully murdered by her jealous husband. The
+window of the apartment overhung the wild wooded side of one of the
+'cloughs' common in the country; and tradition averred that the victim
+was thrown from this window by her murderer. As she caught hold of the
+sill in a last frantic struggle for life, he severed her hand at the
+wrist, and the mutilated body fell, with one fearful shriek, into the
+depth below. Since then, a white shadowy form has forever been sitting
+at the fatal window, or wandering along the deserted passages of the
+haunted wing with the bleeding stump folded in her robe; and in moments
+of danger or approaching death to any member of the Collingham family,
+the same long, wild shriek rises slowly from the wooded cliff and peals
+through the mansion; while to different individuals of the house, a pale
+hand has now and then been visible, laid on themselves or some other of
+the family, a never-failing omen of danger or death.
+
+"I need not tell you how false and foolish all this dreary superstition
+appeared to me; and I exerted all my powers of persuasion to induce Miss
+Patricia to dwell less on these and similar themes in the presence of
+Miss Collingham. But there seemed to be something in the very air of the
+gloomy old mansion which fostered such delusions; for when I spoke to
+Father O'Connor the priest, and urged on him the pernicious effect which
+was thus produced on my patient's mind, I found him as fully imbued with
+the spirit of credulity as the most hysterical housemaid of them all. He
+solemnly declared to me that he had himself repeatedly seen the pale
+lady sitting at the fatal window, when on his way to and from his home
+beyond the hills; and moreover, that on the death of Lady Collingham,
+which occurred at her daughter's birth, he had heard the long, shrill
+death-scream echo through the mansion while engaged in the last offices
+of the Church by the bedside of the dying lady.
+
+"So I found it impossible to fight single-handed against these adverse
+influences, and could only endeavor to divert the mind of my patient
+into more healthy channels of thought. In this I succeeded perfectly.
+She became an enthusiastic botanist, and our rambles in search of the
+rare and lovely specimens which were to be found among the woods and
+moors surrounding her dwelling did more for her health, both of body and
+mind, than all the medical skill I could bring to bear on her melancholy
+case.
+
+"Four years had elapsed since I first took up my abode at
+Collingham-Westmore. Miss Collingham had grown from a sickly child into
+a singularly graceful young woman, full of bright intelligence, eager
+for information, and with scarcely an outward trace remaining of her
+former fragile health. Still those mysterious swoons occasionally
+visited her, forming an insurmountable obstacle to her mingling in
+general society, which she was in all other respects so well fitted to
+adorn. They occurred without any warning or apparent cause; one moment
+she would be engaged in animated conversation, and the next, white and
+rigid as a statue, she would fall back in her chair insensible to all
+outward objects, but rapt and carried away into a world of her own,
+whose visions she would sometimes describe in glowing language, although
+she retained no recollection whatever of them when she returned, as
+suddenly and at as uncertain a period, to her normal condition. On one
+of these occasions we were sitting, after dinner, in a large apartment
+called the summer dining-room. Fruit and wine were on the table, and the
+last red beams of the setting sun lighted up the distant woods, which
+were in the first flush of their autumn glory. I turned to remark on the
+beautiful effect of light to Miss Collingham, and at the very moment I
+did so she fell back in one of her strange swoons. But instead of the
+death-like air which her features usually assumed, a lovely smile
+lighted them up, and an expression of ecstasy made her beauty appear for
+the moment almost superhuman. Slowly she raised her right hand, and
+pointed in the direction of the setting sun. 'He is coming,' she said in
+soft, clear tones; 'life and light are coming with him,--life and light
+and liberty!'
+
+"Her hand fell gently by her side; the rapt expression faded from her
+countenance, and the usual death-like blank overspread it. This trance
+passed away like others, and by midnight the house was profoundly still.
+Soon after that hour a vociferous peal at the great hall-bell roused
+most of the inmates from sleep. My rooms were in a distant quarter of
+the house, and a door opposite to that of my bedroom led to the haunted
+wing, but was always kept locked. I started up on hearing a second ring,
+and looked out, in hopes of seeing a servant pass, and ascertaining the
+cause of this unusual disturbance. I saw no one, and after listening for
+a while to the opening of the hall-door, and the sound of distant
+voices, I made up my mind that I should be sent for if wanted, and
+re-entered my room. As I was closing the door, I was rather startled to
+see a tall object, of grayish-white color and indistinct form, issue
+from the gallery whose door, as I said before, had always been locked in
+my recollection. For a moment I felt as though rooted to the spot, and a
+strange sensation crept over me. The next, all trace of the appearance
+had vanished, and I persuaded myself that what I had seen must have been
+some effect of light from the open door of my room.
+
+"The cause of the nightly disturbance appeared at breakfast on the
+following morning in the shape of a remarkably handsome young man, who
+was introduced by Sir James as his nephew, Don Luis de Cabral, the son
+of an only sister long dead, who had married a Spaniard of high rank.
+Don Luis showed but little trace of his southern parentage. If I may so
+express it, all the depth and warmth of coloring in that portion of his
+blood which he inherited from his Spanish ancestors came out in the
+raven-black hair and large lustrous dark eyes, which impressed you at
+once with their uncommon beauty. For the rest, he was a fine well-grown
+young man, no darker in complexion than an Englishman might well be, and
+with a careless, happy boyishness of manner, which won immediately on
+the regard of strangers, and rendered his presence in the house like
+that of a perpetual sunbeam. We all wondered, after a little while, what
+we had done before Luis came among us. He was as a son to Sir James;
+Miss Patricia softened to this new and pleasing interest in her
+colorless existence as I could not have believed it was in her
+fossilized nature to do; Miss Henderson became animated, almost young,
+under the reviving influence of the youth and joyousness of our new
+inmate; and I own that I speedily attached myself with a warm and
+affectionate regard to the happy, unselfish nature that seemed to
+brighten all who came near it.
+
+"But the most remarkable effect of the presence of Don Luis de Cabral
+among us was visible in Miss Collingham. 'Love at first sight,' often
+considered as a mere phrase, was, in the case of these two young
+creatures, an unmistakable reality. From the moment of their first
+meeting, the cousins were mutually drawn toward each other; and seeing
+the bright and wonderful change wrought by the presence of Don Luis in
+Blanche Collingham, I could not but remember, with the interest that
+attaches to a curious psychological phenomenon, the words she uttered in
+her trance on the eve of his arrival. 'Life, light, and liberty,'
+indeed, appeared given to all that was best and brightest in her nature.
+Her health improved visibly, and her beauty, always touching, became
+radiant in its full development. My duties toward her were now merely
+nominal; and when, about two months later, Sir James announced to me her
+approaching marriage, and confessed that it was with this object he had
+invited Don Luis to come and make the acquaintance of his English
+relations, the strong opinions I entertained against the marriage of
+first cousins, and also on the especial inadvisability of any project of
+marriage in the case of Miss Collingham, could not prevent my hearty
+rejoicing in the fair prospect of happiness in which two persons who
+deeply interested me were indulging.
+
+"Winter set in early and severely that year among our northern hills,
+and with a view to Blanche's removal from its withering influence, which
+I always considered prejudicial to her, the preparations for the
+marriage were hurried on, and the ceremony was fixed to take place about
+the middle of December. The travelling-carriage which was to convey the
+young couple on their way southward was to arrive at the nearest
+railway-station--then more than thirty miles distant--a week before the
+marriage; and as some important portions of the trousseau, together with
+a valuable package of jewels intended by Don Luis as presents for his
+bride, were expected at the same time, the young man announced his
+intention of riding across the hills to ----, in order to superintend
+the conveyance of the carriage and its contents along the rough mountain
+roads that it must traverse.
+
+"We were all sitting around the great fireplace in the winter parlor on
+the evening before his departure. Miss Collingham had been languid and
+depressed throughout the day, and often adverted to the long wintry ride
+he was to undertake in a strain of apprehension at which Don Luis
+laughed gayly. To divert her mind, he recounted various adventures
+which had befallen him in foreign lands, with a vigorous simplicity of
+description which enchained her attention and interested us all.
+
+"Suddenly, so sitting, Miss Collingham leaned forward, and in a changed,
+eager voice exclaimed, 'Luis, take away your hand from your throat!'
+
+"We looked. Luis' hands were lying one over the other on his knee in a
+careless attitude that was habitual to him.
+
+"'Take it away, I say! Oh, take it away!'
+
+"Miss Collingham started to her feet as she uttered these words almost
+in a shriek, and then fell back rigid and senseless, her outstretched
+hand still pointing to her betrothed.
+
+"The fit was a severe one, but by morning it had yielded to remedies,
+and Luis set off early on his ride, to make the most of the short
+daylight, and intending to return with the carriage on the morrow. All
+that day Miss Collingham remained in a half-conscious state. It was a
+dreary day of gloom, with a piercing north wind, and toward evening the
+snow began to fall in those close, compact flakes which forebode a heavy
+storm. We were glad to think that Luis must have reached his destination
+before it began; but when the next morning dawned on a wide expanse of
+snow, and the air was still thick with fast-falling flakes, it was
+feared that the state of the roads would preclude all hope of the
+arrival of the carriage on that day.
+
+"My patient took no heed of the untoward state of the weather. She was
+still in a drowsy condition, very unlike that which usually succeeded
+her attacks, and Miss Henderson, who had watched by her through the
+night, told me she spoke more than once in a strange, excited manner, as
+though carrying on a conversation with some one whom she appeared to see
+by her bedside. As the good lady, however, could give but a very
+imperfect and incoherent account of what had passed, I was left in some
+doubt as to whether Miss Collingham had seen more or Miss Henderson less
+than there really was to be seen, as I had before had reason to believe
+that she was not a very vigilant nurse.
+
+"So the hours went on, and night closed in. Sir James began to feel some
+uneasiness at the non-appearance, not only of Don Luis, but also of the
+priest, who was to have arrived at Collingham-Westmore on that day.
+
+"On questioning some of the servants who had been out of the house, the
+absence of Father O'Connor at least was satisfactorily accounted for:
+they all declared that it would be quite impossible for those best
+acquainted with the hills to find their way across them in the blinding
+drifts which had never ceased throughout the day. We concluded that
+Father O'Connor and Don Luis were alike storm-stayed, and had no remedy
+but patience.
+
+"Late in the evening--it must have been near midnight--I was in Miss
+Collingham's dressing-room with Miss Patricia, who intended to watch by
+her through the night. We were talking by the fire, of the snow-storm
+which still continued, and of the hindrance it might prove to the
+marriage--the day fixed for which was now less than a week
+distant--when we heard a voice in the adjoining room, where we imagined
+the object of our care to be sleeping. We went in. Miss Collingham was
+sitting up in bed, her eyes wide open, in one of her rigid fits. She was
+speaking rapidly in a low tone, unlike her usual voice.
+
+"'You cannot get through all that snow,' she said. 'Get help; there are
+men not far off with spades. Oh, be careful! You are off the road! Stop,
+stop! that is the way to Armstrong's Clough. Does not the postboy know
+the road? He is bewildered. I tell you it is madness to go on. See, one
+of the horses has fallen; he kicks--he will hit you! Oh, how dark it is!
+And the snow covers your lantern, and you cannot see the edge. Now the
+horse is up again, but he cannot go on. Do not beat him, Luis; it is not
+his fault, poor beast; the snow is too thick, and you are on rough
+ground. Now he rears--he backs--the other one backs also--the wheel of
+the carriage is over the edge--ah!'
+
+"The scream with which these wild, hurried words ended seemed to be
+taken up and echoed from a distance. Miss Patricia stared at me with a
+ghastly white face of horror, and I felt my blood curdle as that long,
+shrill, unearthly shriek pealed through the silent passages. It grew
+louder and nearer, and seemed to sweep through the room, dying away in
+the opposite direction. Miss Patricia fell forward without a word in a
+dead faint.
+
+"I looked at Miss Collingham; she had not moved, or shown any sign of
+hearing or heeding that awful sound. In a few seconds the room was
+filled with terrified women, roused from their sleep by the weird cry
+which rang through the house. Miss Patricia was conveyed by some of them
+to her own room, where, after much difficulty, we restored her to
+consciousness. Her first act was to grasp me by the arm.
+
+"'Mr. Feversham, for the love of the Holy Virgin do not leave me! I have
+seen that which I cannot look upon and live.'
+
+"I soothed her as best I might, and at last persuaded her to allow me to
+leave her with her own maid in order to visit my other patient,
+promising to return shortly.
+
+"I found no change whatever in Miss Collingham. Sir James was in the
+room trying to establish some degree of calmness and order among the
+terrified women. We succeeded in persuading most of them to take a
+restorative and return to bed, and leaving two of the most
+self-possessed to watch beside Miss Collingham, who was still completely
+insensible, we went together to Miss Patricia's room.
+
+"'Brother, I have seen her!' she exclaimed on Sir James' entrance.
+
+"'Seen who, my dear Patricia?'
+
+"'The pale lady--the spectre of our house,' she replied, shuddering from
+head to foot. 'She passed through the room, her hand upraised, and the
+blood-spots on her garment. Oh, James! my time is come, and Father
+O'Connor is not here.'
+
+"Sir James did not attempt to combat his sister's superstitious terrors,
+but appeared, on the contrary, almost as deeply impressed as herself,
+and questioned her closely about the apparition. Her answers led to some
+mention of the strange vision which Miss Collingham was describing in
+her trance just before the scream was heard. At Sir James' request I put
+down in writing, as nearly as I could remember, all she had said, and so
+great was the impression it made on my mind that I believe I recalled
+her very words. Knowing all we did of her abnormal condition while in a
+state of trance, it was impossible not to fear that she might have been
+describing a scene that was actually occurring at the time; and Sir
+James determined to send out a party, as soon as daylight came, on the
+road by which Don Luis must arrive.
+
+"The morning dawned brightly, with a keen frost, and several men were
+sent off along the road to ---- with the first rays of light.
+
+"Some hours afterward Father O'Connor arrived, having made his way with
+considerable difficulty across the hill. Miss Patricia claimed his first
+attention, for my unhappy charge remained senseless and motionless as
+ever.
+
+"After a long conference, he came to me with grave looks.
+
+"'She is at the window this day,' he said, shaking his head sorrowfully,
+when I had told him my share of the last night's singular experiences.
+'The pale lady is there; I saw her as I came by the bridge as plainly as
+now I see you. We shall have evil tidings of that poor lad before
+nightfall, or I am strangely mistaken.'
+
+"Evil tidings indeed they were that reached us on the return of some of
+the exploring-party. They were first attracted from following as nearly
+as they could the line of road, blocked as it was with drifts of snow by
+hearing the howling of a dog at some little distance, in the direction
+of the precipitous ravine which went by the name of 'Armstrong's
+Clough.' Following the sound, they came upon traces of wheels in the
+hill-side, where no carriage could have gone had it not been for the
+deep snow which concealed and smoothed away the inequalities of the
+ground. These marks were traced here and there till they led to the
+verge of the precipice, where a struggle had evidently taken place, and
+masses of snow had been dislodged and fallen into the ravine.
+
+"Looking below, the only thing they could see in the waste of snow was a
+little dog, who was known to be in the habit of running with the
+post-horses from ----, which was scraping wildly in the snow and filling
+the air with its dismal howlings. A considerable circuit had to be made
+before the bottom of the clough could be reached, and then the whole
+tragedy was revealed. There lay the broken carriage, the dead horses,
+and two stiffened corpses under the snow, that had drifted over and
+around them.
+
+"I need not pursue the melancholy story; I was an old fool for telling
+it to you," said the Doctor.
+
+"But Miss Collingham--what became of her?" asked an eager listener.
+
+"Well, she did not recover," answered the Doctor with a slight trembling
+in his voice. "It was a sad matter altogether; and within a short time
+she lay beside her betrothed in the family vault below the chapel. Sir
+James broke up his establishment and went abroad, and I never saw any of
+the family again."
+
+"And what did you do, Doctor?"
+
+"I went to London, to seek my fortune as best I might; and I hope you
+may all prosper as well, my young friends."
+
+"And is it all really true?" asked Amy, who had listened with breathless
+attention.
+
+"That is the worst of it; it really is," said the Doctor.
+
+
+
+
+THE SECRET OF THE TWO PLASTER CASTS.
+
+
+Years before the accession of her Majesty Queen Victoria, and yet at not
+so remote a date as to be utterly beyond the period to which the
+reminiscences of our middle-aged readers extend, it happened that two
+English gentlemen sat at table on a summer's evening, after dinner,
+quietly sipping their wine and engaged in desultory conversation. They
+were both men known to fame. One of them was a sculptor whose statues
+adorned the palaces of princes, and whose chiselled busts were the pride
+of half the nobility of his nation; the other was no less renowned as an
+anatomist and surgeon. The age of the anatomist might have been guessed
+at fifty, but the guess would have erred on the side of youth by at
+least ten years. That of the sculptor could scarcely be more than
+five-and-thirty. A bust of the anatomist, so admirably executed as to
+present, although in stone, the perfect similitude of life and flesh,
+stood upon a pedestal opposite to the table at which sat the pair, and
+at once explained at least one connecting-link of companionship between
+them. The anatomist was exhibiting for the criticism of his friend a
+rare gem which he had just drawn from his cabinet: it was a crucifix
+magnificently carved in ivory, and incased in a setting of pure gold.
+
+"The carving, my dear sir," observed Mr. Fiddyes, the sculptor, "is
+indeed, as you say, exquisite. The muscles are admirably made out, the
+flesh well modelled, wonderfully so for the size and material; and
+yet--by the bye, on this point you must know more than I--the more I
+think upon the matter, the more I regard the artistic conception as
+utterly false and wrong."
+
+"You speak in a riddle," replied Dr. Carnell; "but pray go on, and
+explain."
+
+"It is a fancy I first had in my student-days," replied Fiddyes.
+"Conventionality, not to say a most proper and becoming reverence,
+prevents people by no means ignorant from considering the point. But
+once think upon it, and you at least, of all men, must at once perceive
+how utterly impossible it would be for a victim nailed upon a cross by
+hands and feet to preserve the position invariably displayed in figures
+of the Crucifixion. Those who so portray it fail in what should be their
+most awful and agonizing effect. Think for one moment, and imagine, if
+you can, what would be the attitude of a man, living or dead, under this
+frightful torture."
+
+"You startle me," returned the great surgeon, "not only by the truth of
+your remarks, but by their obviousness. It is strange indeed that such a
+matter should have so long been overlooked. The more I think upon it the
+more the bare idea of actual crucifixion seems to horrify me, though
+heaven knows I am accustomed enough to scenes of suffering. How would
+you represent such a terrible agony?"
+
+"Indeed I cannot tell," replied the sculptor; "to guess would be almost
+vain. The fearful strain upon the muscles, their utter helplessness and
+inactivity, the frightful swellings, the effect of weight upon the
+racked and tortured sinews, appal me too much even for speculation."
+
+"But this," replied the surgeon, "one might think a matter of
+importance, not only to art, but, higher still, to religion itself."
+
+"Maybe so," returned the sculptor. "But perhaps the appeal to the senses
+through a true representation might be too horrible for either the one
+or the other."
+
+"Still," persisted the surgeon, "I should like--say for
+curiosity--though I am weak enough to believe even in my own motive as a
+higher one--to ascertain the effect from actual observation."
+
+"So should I, could it be done, and of course without pain to the
+object, which, as a condition, seems to present at the outset an
+impossibility."
+
+"Perhaps not," mused the anatomist; "I think I have a notion. Stay--we
+may contrive this matter. I will tell you my plan, and it will be
+strange indeed if we two cannot manage to carry it out."
+
+The discourse here, owing to the rapt attention of both speakers,
+assumed a low and earnest tone, but had perhaps better be narrated by a
+relation of the events to which it gave rise. Suffice it to say that the
+Sovereign was more than once mentioned during its progress, and in a
+manner which plainly told that the two speakers each possessed
+sufficient influence to obtain the assistance of royalty, and that such
+assistance would be required in their scheme.
+
+The shades of evening deepened while the two were still conversing. And
+leaving this scene, let us cast one hurried glimpse at another taking
+place contemporaneously.
+
+Between Pimlico and Chelsea, and across a canal of which the bed has
+since been used for the railway terminating at Victoria Station, there
+was at the time of which we speak a rude timber footway, long since
+replaced by a more substantial and convenient erection, but then known
+as the Wooden Bridge. It was named shortly afterward Cutthroat Bridge,
+and for this reason.
+
+While Mr. Fiddyes and Dr. Carnell were discoursing over their wine, as
+we have already seen, one Peter Starke, a drunken Chelsea pensioner, was
+murdering his wife upon the spot we have last indicated. The coincidence
+was curious.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In those days the punishment of criminals followed closely upon their
+conviction. The Chelsea pensioner whom we have mentioned was found
+guilty one Friday and sentenced to die on the following Monday. He was a
+sad scoundrel, impenitent to the last, glorying in the deeds of
+slaughter which he had witnessed and acted during the series of
+campaigns which had ended just previously at Waterloo. He was a tall,
+well-built fellow enough, of middle age, for his class was not then, as
+now, composed chiefly of veterans, but comprised many young men, just
+sufficiently disabled to be unfit for service. Peter Starke, although
+but slightly wounded, had nearly completed his term of service, and had
+obtained his pension and presentment to Chelsea Hospital. With his life
+we have but little to do, save as regards its close, which we shall
+shortly endeavor to describe far more veraciously, and at some greater
+length than set forth in the brief account which satisfied the public of
+his own day, and which, as embodied in the columns of the few journals
+then appearing, ran thus:
+
+    "On Monday last Peter Starke was executed at Newgate for the
+    murder at the Wooden Bridge, Chelsea, with four others for
+    various offences. After he had been hanging only for a few
+    minutes a respite arrived, but although he was promptly cut
+    down, life was pronounced to be extinct. His body was buried
+    within the prison walls."
+
+Thus far history. But the conciseness of history far more frequently
+embodies falsehood than truth. Perhaps the following narration may
+approach more nearly to the facts.
+
+A room within the prison had been, upon that special occasion and by
+high authority, allotted to the use of Dr. Carnell and Mr. Fiddyes, the
+famous sculptor, for the purpose of certain investigations connected
+with art and science. In that room Mr. Fiddyes, while wretched Peter
+Starke was yet swinging between heaven and earth, was busily engaged in
+arranging a variety of implements and materials, consisting of a large
+quantity of plaster-of-Paris, two large pails of water, some tubs, and
+other necessaries of the moulder's art. The room contained a large deal
+table, and a wooden cross, not neatly planed and squared at the angles,
+but of thick, narrow, rudely-sawn oaken plank, fixed by strong, heavy
+nails. And while Mr. Fiddyes was thus occupied, the executioner
+entered, bearing upon his shoulders the body of the wretched Peter,
+which he flung heavily upon the table.
+
+"You are sure he is dead?" asked Mr. Fiddyes.
+
+"Dead as a herring," replied the other. "And yet just as warm and limp
+as if he had only fainted."
+
+"Then go to work at once," replied the sculptor, as turning his back
+upon the hangman, he resumed his occupation.
+
+The "work" was soon done. Peter was stripped and nailed upon the timber,
+which was instantly propped against the wall.
+
+"As fine a one as ever I see," exclaimed the executioner, as he regarded
+the defunct murderer with an expression of admiration, as if at his own
+handiwork, in having abruptly demolished such a magnificent animal.
+"Drops a good bit for'ard, though. Shall I tie him up round the waist,
+sir?"
+
+"Certainly not," returned the sculptor. "Just rub him well over with
+this oil, especially his head, and then you can go. Dr. Carnell will
+settle with you."
+
+"All right, sir."
+
+The fellow did as ordered, and retired without another word; leaving
+this strange couple, the living and the dead, in that dismal chamber.
+
+Mr. Fiddyes was a man of strong nerve in such matters. He had been too
+much accustomed to taking posthumous casts to trouble himself with any
+sentiment of repugnance at his approaching task of taking what is called
+a "piece-mould" from a body. He emptied a number of bags of the white
+powdery plaster-of-Paris into one of the larger vessels, poured into it
+a pail of water, and was carefully stirring up the mass, when a sound of
+dropping arrested his ear.
+
+_Drip, drip._
+
+"There's something leaking," he muttered, as he took a second pail, and
+emptying it, again stirred the composition.
+
+_Drip, drip, drip._
+
+"It's strange," he soliloquized, half aloud. "There is no more water,
+and yet----"
+
+The sound was heard again.
+
+He gazed at the ceiling; there was no sign of damp. He turned his eyes
+to the body, and something suddenly caused him a violent start. The
+murderer was bleeding.
+
+The sculptor, spite of his command over himself, turned pale. At that
+moment the head of Starke moved--clearly moved. It raised itself
+convulsively for a single moment; its eyes rolled, and it gave vent to a
+subdued moan of intense agony. Mr. Fiddyes fell fainting on the floor as
+Dr. Carnell entered. It needed but a glance to tell the doctor what had
+happened, even had not Peter just then given vent to another low cry.
+The surgeon's measures were soon taken. Locking the door, he bore a
+chair to the wall which supported the body of the malefactor. He drew
+from his pocket a case of glittering instruments, and with one of these,
+so small and delicate that it scarcely seemed larger than a needle, he
+rapidly, but dexterously and firmly, touched Peter just at the back of
+the neck. There was no wound larger than the head of a small pin, and
+yet the head fell instantly as though the heart had been pierced. The
+doctor had divided the spinal cord, and Peter Starke was dead indeed.
+
+A few minutes sufficed to recall the sculptor to his senses. He at first
+gazed wildly upon the still suspended body, so painfully recalled to
+life by the rough venesection of the hangman and the subsequent friction
+of anointing his body to prevent the adhesion of the plaster.
+
+"You need not fear now," said Dr. Carnell; "I assure you he is dead."
+
+"But he _was_ alive, surely!"
+
+"Only for a moment, and even that scarcely to be called life--mere
+muscular contraction, my dear sir, mere muscular contraction."
+
+The sculptor resumed his labor. The body was girt at various
+circumferences with fine twine, to be afterward withdrawn through a
+thick coating of plaster, so as to separate the various pieces of the
+mould, which was at last completed; and after this Dr. Carnell skilfully
+flayed the body, to enable a second mould to be taken of the entire
+figure, showing every muscle of the outer layer.
+
+The two moulds were thus taken. It is difficult to conceive more ghastly
+appearances than they presented. For sculptor's work they were utterly
+useless; for no artist except the most daring of realists would have
+ventured to indicate the horrors which they presented. Fiddyes refused
+to receive them. Dr. Carnell, hard and cruel as he was, for kindness'
+sake, in his profession, was a gentle, genial father of a family of
+daughters. He received the casts, and at once consigned them to a
+garret, to which he forbade access. His youngest daughter, one
+unfortunate day, during her father's absence, was impelled by feminine
+curiosity--perhaps a little increased by the prohibition--to enter the
+mysterious chamber.
+
+Whether she imagined in the pallid figure upon the cross a celestial
+rebuke for her disobedience, or whether she was overcome by the mere
+mortal horror of one or both of those dreadful casts, can now never be
+known. But this is true: she became a maniac.
+
+The writer of this has more than once seen (as, no doubt, have many
+others) the plaster effigies of Peter Starke, after their removal from
+Dr. Carnell's to a famous studio near the Regent's Park. It was there
+that he heard whispered the strange story of their origin. Sculptor and
+surgeon are now both long since dead, and it is no longer necessary to
+keep _the secret of the two plaster casts_.
+
+
+
+
+WHAT WAS IT?
+
+
+It is, I confess, with considerable diffidence that I approached the
+strange narrative which I am about to relate. The events which I purpose
+detailing are of so extraordinary a character that I am quite prepared
+to meet with an unusual amount of incredulity and scorn. I accept all
+such beforehand. I have, I trust, the literary courage to face unbelief.
+I have, after mature consideration, resolved to narrate, in as simple
+and straightforward a manner as I can compass, some facts that passed
+under my observation, in the month of July last, and which, in the
+annals of the mysteries of physical science, are wholly unparalleled.
+
+I live at No. -- Twenty-sixth Street, in New York. The house is in some
+respects a curious one. It has enjoyed for the last two years the
+reputation of being haunted. The house is very spacious. A hall of noble
+size leads to a large spiral staircase winding through its centre, while
+the various apartments are of imposing dimensions. It was built some
+fifteen or twenty years since by Mr. A----, the well-known New York
+merchant, who five years ago threw the commercial world into convulsions
+by a stupendous bank fraud. Mr. A----, as every one knows, escaped to
+Europe, and died not long after, of a broken heart. Almost immediately
+after the news of his decease reached this country and was verified,
+the report spread in Twenty-sixth Street that No. -- was haunted. Legal
+measures had dispossessed the widow of its former owner, and it was
+inhabited merely by a care-taker and his wife, placed there by the
+house-agent into whose hands it had passed for purposes of renting or
+sale. These people declared that they were troubled with unnatural
+noises. Doors were opened without any visible agency. The remnants of
+furniture scattered through the various rooms were, during the night,
+piled one upon the other by unknown hands. Invisible feet passed up and
+down the stairs in broad daylight, accompanied by the rustle of unseen
+silk dresses, and the gliding of viewless hands along the massive
+balusters. The care-taker and his wife declared they would live there no
+longer. The house-agent laughed, dismissed them, and put others in their
+place. The noises and supernatural manifestations continued. The
+neighborhood caught up the story, and the house remained untenanted for
+three years. Several persons negotiated for it; but, somehow, always
+before the bargain was closed they heard the unpleasant rumors and
+declined to treat any further.
+
+It was in this state of things that my landlady, who at that time kept a
+boarding-house in Bleecker Street, and who wished to move farther up
+town, conceived the bold idea of renting No. -- Twenty-sixth Street.
+Happening to have in her house rather a plucky and philosophical set of
+boarders, she laid her scheme before us, stating candidly everything she
+had heard respecting the ghostly qualities of the establishment to which
+she wished to remove us. With the exception of two timid persons--a
+sea-captain and a returned Californian, who immediately gave notice that
+they would leave--all of Mrs. Moffat's guests declared that they would
+accompany her in her incursion into the abode of spirits.
+
+Our removal was effected in the month of May, and we were charmed with
+our new residence.
+
+Of course we had no sooner established ourselves at No. -- than we began
+to expect the ghosts. We absolutely awaited their advent with eagerness.
+Our dinner conversation was supernatural. I found myself a person of
+immense importance, it having leaked out that I was tolerably well
+versed in the history of supernaturalism, and had once written a story
+the foundation of which was a ghost. If a table or wainscot panel
+happened to warp when we were assembled in the large drawing-room, there
+was an instant silence, and every one was prepared for an immediate
+clanking of chains and a spectral form.
+
+After a month of psychological excitement, it was with the utmost
+dissatisfaction that we were forced to acknowledge that nothing in the
+remotest degree approaching the supernatural had manifested itself.
+
+Things were in this state when an incident took place so awful and
+inexplicable in its character that my reason fairly reels at the bare
+memory of the occurrence. It was the tenth of July. After dinner was
+over I repaired, with my friend Dr. Hammond, to the garden to smoke my
+evening pipe. Independent of certain mental sympathies which existed
+between the doctor and myself, we were linked together by a vice. We
+both smoked opium. We knew each other's secret and respected it. We
+enjoyed together that wonderful expansion of thought, that marvellous
+intensifying of the perceptive faculties, that boundless feeling of
+existence when we seem to have points of contact with the whole
+universe--in short, that unimaginable spiritual bliss, which I would not
+surrender for a throne, and which I hope you, reader, will never--never
+taste.
+
+On the evening in question, the tenth of July, the doctor and myself
+drifted into an unusually metaphysical mood. We lit our large
+meerschaums, filled with fine Turkish tobacco, in the core of which
+burned a little black nut of opium, that, like the nut in the fairy
+tale, held within its narrow limits wonders beyond the reach of kings;
+we paced to and fro, conversing. A strange perversity dominated the
+currents of our thoughts. They would not flow through the sun-lit
+channels into which we strove to divert them. For some unaccountable
+reason, they constantly diverged into dark and lonesome beds, where a
+continual gloom brooded. It was in vain that, after our old fashion, we
+flung ourselves on the shores of the East, and talked of its gay
+bazaars, of the splendors of the time of Haroun, of harems and golden
+palaces. Black afreets continually arose from the depths of our talk,
+and expanded, like the one the fisherman released from the copper
+vessel, until they blotted everything bright from our vision.
+Insensibly, we yielded to the occult force that swayed us, and indulged
+in gloomy speculation. We had talked some time upon the proneness of the
+human mind to mysticism, and the almost universal love of the terrible,
+when Hammond suddenly said to me, "What do you consider to be the
+greatest element of terror?"
+
+The question puzzled me. That many things were terrible, I knew. But it
+now struck me, for the first time, that there must be one great and
+ruling embodiment of fear--a King of Terrors, to which all others must
+succumb. What might it be? To what train of circumstances would it owe
+its existence?
+
+"I confess, Hammond," I replied to my friend, "I never considered the
+subject before. That there must be one Something more terrible than any
+other thing, I feel. I cannot attempt, however, even the most vague
+definition."
+
+"I am somewhat like you, Harry," he answered. "I feel my capacity to
+experience a terror greater than anything yet conceived by the human
+mind--something combining in fearful and unnatural amalgamation hitherto
+supposed incompatible elements. The calling of the voices in Brockden
+Brown's novel of 'Wieland' is awful; so is the picture of the Dweller on
+the Threshold, in Bulwer's 'Zanoni;' but," he added, shaking his head
+gloomily, "there is something more horrible still than these."
+
+"Look here, Hammond," I rejoined, "let us drop this kind of talk, for
+Heaven's sake! We shall suffer for it, depend on it."
+
+"I don't know what's the matter with me to-night," he replied, "but my
+brain is running upon all sorts of weird and awful thoughts. I feel as
+if I could write a story like Hoffman, to-night, if I were only master
+of a literary style."
+
+"Well, if we are going to be Hoffmanesque in our talk, I'm off to bed.
+Opium and nightmares should never be brought together. How sultry it
+is! Good-night, Hammond."
+
+"Good-night, Harry. Pleasant dreams to you."
+
+"To you, gloomy wretch, afreets, ghouls, and enchanters."
+
+We parted, and each sought his respective chamber. I undressed quickly
+and got into bed, taking with me, according to my usual custom, a book
+over which I generally read myself to sleep. I opened the volume as soon
+as I had laid my head upon the pillow, and instantly flung it to the
+other side of the room. It was Goudon's "History of Monsters,"--a
+curious French work, which I had lately imported from Paris, but which,
+in the state of mind I had then reached, was anything but an agreeable
+companion. I resolved to go to sleep at once; so, turning down my gas
+until nothing but a little blue point of light glimmered on the top of
+the tube, I composed myself to rest.
+
+The room was in total darkness. The atom of gas that still remained
+alight did not illuminate a distance of three inches round the burner. I
+desperately drew my arm across my eyes, as if to shut out even the
+darkness and tried to think of nothing. It was in vain. The confounded
+themes touched on by Hammond in the garden kept obtruding themselves on
+my brain. I battled against them. I erected ramparts of would-be
+blankness of intellect to keep them out. They still crowded upon me.
+While I was lying still as a corpse, hoping that by a perfect physical
+inaction I should hasten mental repose, an awful incident occurred. A
+Something dropped, as it seemed, from the ceiling, plumb upon my chest,
+and the next instant I felt two bony hands encircling my throat,
+endeavoring to choke me.
+
+I am no coward, and am possessed of considerable physical strength. The
+suddenness of the attack, instead of stunning me, strung every nerve to
+its highest tension. My body acted from instinct, before my brain had
+time to realize the terrors of my position. In an instant I wound two
+muscular arms around the creature, and squeezed it, with all the
+strength of despair, against my chest. In a few seconds the bony hands
+that had fastened on my throat loosened their hold, and I was free to
+breathe once more. Then commenced a struggle of awful intensity.
+Immersed in the most profound darkness, totally ignorant of the nature
+of the Thing by which I was so suddenly attacked, finding my grasp
+slipping every moment, by reason, it seemed to me, of the entire
+nakedness of my assailant, bitten with sharp teeth in the shoulder,
+neck, and chest, having every moment to protect my throat against a pair
+of sinewy, agile hands, which my utmost efforts could not confine--these
+were a combination of circumstances to combat which required all the
+strength, skill, and courage that I possessed.
+
+At last, after a silent, deadly, exhausting struggle, I got my assailant
+under by a series of incredible efforts of strength. Once pinned, with
+my knee on what I made out to be its chest, I knew that I was victor. I
+rested for a moment to breathe. I heard the creature beneath me panting
+in the darkness, and felt the violent throbbing of a heart. It was
+apparently as exhausted as I was; that was one comfort. At this moment I
+remembered that I usually placed under my pillow, before going to bed,
+a large yellow silk pocket-handkerchief. I felt for it instantly; it was
+there. In a few seconds more I had, after a fashion, pinioned the
+creature's arms.
+
+I now felt tolerably secure. There was nothing more to be done but to
+turn on the gas, and, having first seen what my midnight assailant was
+like, arouse the household. I will confess to being actuated by a
+certain pride in not giving the alarm before; I wished to make the
+capture alone and unaided.
+
+Never losing my hold for an instant, I slipped from the bed to the
+floor, dragging my captive with me. I had but a few steps to make to
+reach the gas-burner; these I made with the greatest caution, holding
+the creature in a grip like a vice. At last I got within arm's length of
+the tiny speck of blue light which told me where the gas-burner lay.
+Quick as lightning I released my grasp with one hand and let on the full
+flood of light. Then I turned to look at my captive.
+
+I cannot even attempt to give any definition of my sensations the
+instant after I turned on the gas. I suppose I must have shrieked with
+terror, for in less than a minute afterward my room was crowded with the
+inmates of the house. I shudder now as I think of that awful moment. _I
+saw nothing!_ Yes; I had one arm firmly clasped round a breathing,
+panting, corporeal shape, my other hand gripped with all its strength a
+throat as warm, and apparently fleshly, as my own; and yet, with this
+living substance in my grasp, with its body pressed against my own, and
+all in the bright glare of a large jet of gas, I absolutely beheld
+nothing! Not even an outline--a vapor!
+
+I do not, even at this hour, realize the situation in which I found
+myself. I cannot recall the astounding incident thoroughly. Imagination
+in vain tries to compass the awful paradox.
+
+It breathed. I felt its warm breath upon my cheek. It struggled
+fiercely. It had hands. They clutched me. Its skin was smooth, like my
+own. There it lay, pressed close up against me, solid as stone--and yet
+utterly invisible!
+
+I wonder that I did not faint or go mad on the instant. Some wonderful
+instinct must have sustained me; for absolutely, in place of loosening
+my hold on the terrible Enigma, I seemed to gain an additional strength
+in my moment of horror, and tightened my grasp with such wonderful force
+that I felt the creature shivering with agony.
+
+Just then Hammond entered my room at the head of the household. As soon
+as he beheld my face--which, I suppose, must have been an awful sight to
+look at--he hastened forward, crying, "Great Heaven, what has happened?"
+
+"Hammond! Hammond!" I cried, "come here. Oh, this is awful! I have been
+attacked in bed by something or other, which I have hold of; but I can't
+see it--I can't see it!"
+
+Hammond, doubtless struck by the unfeigned horror expressed in my
+countenance, made one or two steps forward with an anxious yet puzzled
+expression. A very audible titter burst from the remainder of my
+visitors. This suppressed laughter made me furious. To laugh at a human
+being in my position! It was the worst species of cruelty. _Now_, I can
+understand why the appearance of a man struggling violently, as it would
+seem, with an airy nothing, and calling for assistance against a vision,
+should have appeared ludicrous. _Then_, so great was my rage against the
+mocking crowd that had I the power I would have stricken them dead where
+they stood.
+
+"Hammond! Hammond!" I cried again, despairingly, "for God's sake come to
+me. I can hold the--the thing but a short while longer. It is
+overpowering me. Help me! Help me!"
+
+"Harry," whispered Hammond, approaching me, "you have been smoking too
+much opium."
+
+"I swear to you, Hammond, that this is no vision," I answered, in the
+same low tone. "Don't you see how it shakes my whole frame with its
+struggles? If you don't believe me convince yourself. Feel it--touch
+it."
+
+Hammond advanced and laid his hand in the spot I indicated. A wild cry
+of horror burst from him. He had felt it!
+
+In a moment he had discovered somewhere in my room a long piece of cord,
+and was the next instant winding it and knotting it about the body of
+the unseen being that I clasped in my arms.
+
+"Harry," he said, in a hoarse, agitated voice, for, though he preserved
+his presence of mind, he was deeply moved, "Harry, it's all safe now.
+You may let go, old fellow, if you're tired. The Thing can't move."
+
+I was utterly exhausted, and I gladly loosed my hold.
+
+[Illustration: "BOTH OF US--CONQUERING OUR FEARFUL REPUGNANCE TO TOUCH
+THE INVISIBLE CREATURE--LIFTED IT FROM THE GROUND, MANACLED AS IT WAS,
+AND TOOK IT TO MY BED."]
+
+Hammond stood holding the ends of the cord, that bound the Invisible,
+twisted round his hand, while before him, self-supporting as it were, he
+beheld a rope laced and interlaced, and stretching tightly around a
+vacant space. I never saw a man look so thoroughly stricken with awe.
+Nevertheless his face expressed all the courage and determination which
+I knew him to possess. His lips, although white, were set firmly, and
+one could perceive at a glance that, although stricken with fear, he was
+not daunted.
+
+The confusion that ensued among the guests of the house who were
+witnesses of this extraordinary scene between Hammond and myself--who
+beheld the pantomime of binding this struggling Something--who beheld me
+almost sinking from physical exhaustion when my task of jailer was
+over--the confusion and terror that took possession of the bystanders,
+when they saw all this, was beyond description. The weaker ones fled
+from the apartment. The few who remained clustered near the door and
+could not be induced to approach Hammond and his Charge. Still
+incredulity broke out through their terror. They had not the courage to
+satisfy themselves, and yet they doubted. It was in vain that I begged
+of some of the men to come near and convince themselves by touch of the
+existence in that room of a living being which was invisible. They were
+incredulous, but did not dare to undeceive themselves. How could a
+solid, living, breathing body be invisible, they asked. My reply was
+this. I gave a sign to Hammond, and both of us--conquering our fearful
+repugnance to touch the invisible creature--lifted it from the ground,
+manacled as it was, and took it to my bed. Its weight was about that of
+a boy of fourteen.
+
+"Now, my friends," I said, as Hammond and myself held the creature
+suspended over the bed, "I can give you self-evident proof that here is
+a solid, ponderable body, which, nevertheless, you cannot see. Be good
+enough to watch the surface of the bed attentively."
+
+I was astonished at my own courage in treating this strange event so
+calmly; but I had recovered from my first terror, and felt a sort of
+scientific pride in the affair, which dominated every other feeling.
+
+The eyes of the bystanders were immediately fixed on my bed. At a given
+signal Hammond and I let the creature fall. There was the dull sound of
+a heavy body alighting on a soft mass. The timbers of the bed creaked. A
+deep impression marked itself distinctly on the pillow, and on the bed
+itself. The crowd who witnessed this gave a low cry, and rushed from the
+room. Hammond and I were left alone with our Mystery.
+
+We remained silent for some time, listening to the low irregular
+breathing of the creature on the bed and watching the rustle of the
+bed-clothes as it impotently struggled to free itself from confinement.
+Then Hammond spoke.
+
+"Harry, this is awful."
+
+"Ay, awful."
+
+"But not unaccountable."
+
+"Not unaccountable! What do you mean? Such a thing has never occurred
+since the birth of the world. I know not what to think, Hammond. God
+grant that I am not mad and that this is not an insane fantasy!"
+
+"Let us reason a little, Harry. Here is a solid body which we touch but
+which we cannot see. The fact is so unusual that it strikes us with
+terror. Is there no parallel, though, for such a phenomenon? Take a
+piece of pure glass. It is tangible and transparent. A certain chemical
+coarseness is all that prevents its being so entirely transparent as to
+be totally invisible. It is not _theoretically impossible_, mind you, to
+make a glass which shall not reflect a single ray of light--a glass so
+pure and homogeneous in its atoms that the rays from the sun will pass
+through it as they do through the air, refracted but not reflected. We
+do not see the air, and yet we feel it."
+
+"That's all very well, Hammond, but these are inanimate substances.
+Glass does not breathe, air does not breathe. This thing has a heart
+that palpitates--a will that moves it--lungs that play, and inspire and
+respire."
+
+"You forget the phenomena of which we have so often heard of late,"
+answered the doctor gravely. "At the meetings called 'spirit circles,'
+invisible hands have been thrust into the hands of those persons round
+the table--warm, fleshly hands that seemed to pulsate with mortal life."
+
+"What? Do you think, then, that this thing is----"
+
+"I don't know what it is," was the solemn reply; "but please the gods I
+will, with your assistance, thoroughly investigate it."
+
+We watched together, smoking many pipes, all night long, by the bedside
+of the unearthly being that tossed and panted until it was apparently
+wearied out. Then we learned by the low, regular breathing that it
+slept.
+
+The next morning the house was all astir. The boarders congregated on
+the landing outside my room, and Hammond and myself were lions. We had
+to answer a thousand questions as to the state of our extraordinary
+prisoner, for as yet not one person in the house except ourselves could
+be induced to set foot in the apartment.
+
+The creature was awake. This was evidenced by the convulsive manner in
+which the bed-clothes were moved in its efforts to escape. There was
+something truly terrible in beholding, as it were, those second-hand
+indications of the terrible writhings and agonized struggles for liberty
+which themselves were invisible.
+
+Hammond and myself had racked our brains during the long night to
+discover some means by which we might realize the shape and general
+appearance of the Enigma. As well as we could make out by passing our
+hands over the creature's form, its outlines and lineaments were human.
+There was a mouth; a round, smooth head without hair; a nose, which,
+however, was little elevated above the cheeks; and its hands and feet
+felt like those of a boy. At first we thought of placing the being on a
+smooth surface and tracing its outlines with chalk, as shoemakers trace
+the outline of the foot. This plan was given up as being of no value.
+Such an outline would give not the slightest idea of its conformation.
+
+A happy thought struck me. We would take a cast of it in
+plaster-of-Paris. This would give us the solid figure, and satisfy all
+our wishes. But how to do it. The movements of the creature would
+disturb the setting of the plastic covering, and distort the mould.
+Another thought. Why not give it chloroform? It had respiratory
+organs--that was evident by its breathing. Once reduced to a state of
+insensibility, we could do with it what we would. Doctor X---- was sent
+for; and after the worthy physician had recovered from the first shock
+of amazement, he proceeded to administer the chloroform. In three
+minutes afterward we were enabled to remove the fetters from the
+creature's body, and a modeller was busily engaged in covering the
+invisible form with the moist clay. In five minutes more we had a mould,
+and before evening a rough fac-simile of the Mystery. It was shaped like
+a man--distorted, uncouth, and horrible, but still a man. It was small,
+not over four feet and some inches in height, and its limbs revealed a
+muscular development that was unparalleled. Its face surpassed in
+hideousness anything I had ever seen. Gustave Dor�, or Callot, or Tony
+Johannot, never conceived anything so horrible. There is a face in one
+of the latter's illustrations to _Un Voyage o� il vous plaira_, which
+somewhat approaches the countenance of this creature, but does not equal
+it. It was the physiognomy of what I should fancy a ghoul might be. It
+looked as if it was capable of feeding on human flesh.
+
+Having satisfied our curiosity, and bound every one in the house to
+secrecy, it became a question what was to be done with our Enigma? It
+was impossible that we should keep such a horror in our house; it was
+equally impossible that such an awful being should be let loose upon the
+world. I confess that I would have gladly voted for the creature's
+destruction. But who would shoulder the responsibility? Who would
+undertake the execution of this horrible semblance to a human being? Day
+after day this question was deliberated gravely. The boarders all left
+the house. Mrs. Moffat was in despair, and threatened Hammond and myself
+with all sorts of legal penalties if we did not remove the Horror. Our
+answer was, "We will go if you like, but we decline taking this creature
+with us. Remove it yourself if you please. It appeared in your house. On
+you the responsibility rests." To this there was, of course, no answer.
+Mrs. Moffat could not obtain for love or money a person who would even
+approach the Mystery.
+
+At last it died. Hammond and I found it cold and stiff one morning in
+the bed. The heart had ceased to beat, the lungs to inspire. We hastened
+to bury it in the garden. It was a strange funeral, the dropping of that
+viewless corpse into the damp hole. The cast of its form I gave to
+Doctor X----, who keeps it in his museum in Tenth Street.
+
+As I am on the eve of a long journey from which I may not return, I have
+drawn up this narrative of an event the most singular that has ever come
+to my knowledge.
+
+
+    +------------------------------------------------------------------+
+    |Transcriber's Note:                                               |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |The words peckett (page 11), stronge (page 170) and Boulevart(s)  |
+    |(pages 59 and 80), the use of both L'Estrange and l'Estrange, and |
+    |variations in hyphenated words have been retained as in the       |
+    |original book.                                                    |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  21 "Derybshire" changed to "Derbyshire"                     |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  22 "felt their hair" changed to "felt the hair"             |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  46 "Come baack to" changed to "Come back to"                |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  48 Added " before Dear Mr. Westcar                          |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  61 "sufficiently start ling" changed to                     |
+    |         "sufficiently startling"                                 |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  84 Changed " to ' before And what other                     |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  95 Removed " before together with                           |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 115 "dangerous conditon" changed to "dangerous condition"    |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 120 "keeeping the matter" changed to "keeping the matter"    |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 123 Added " after new stalls, Gen'ral).                      |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 127 "beyond each" changed to "beyond reach"                  |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 138 "tradionally imputed" changed to "traditionally imputed" |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 152 "by which pedestrains" changed to "by which pedestrians" |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 164 "buy the joint of you" changed to "buy the joint off you"|
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 191 "was on the the man's" changed to "was on the man's"     |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 219 "Miss Collingwood had been languid" changed to           |
+    |         "Miss Collingham had been languid"                       |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 220 Added " before Miss Collingham started                   |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 232 Removed " before The shades of evening                   |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 233 "Ferhaps the following" changed to                       |
+    |         "Perhaps the following"                                  |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 235 "it gavevent to" changed to "it gave vent to"            |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 250 "my rage are against" changed to "my rage against"       |
+    +------------------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Stable for Nightmares, by 
+J. Sheridan Le Fanu and Charles Young and and Others
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STABLE FOR NIGHTMARES ***
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Stable for Nightmares, by J. Sheridan Le Fanu and Others
+    </title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Stable for Nightmares, by 
+J. Sheridan Le Fanu and Charles Young and and Others
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Stable for Nightmares
+       or Weird Tales
+
+Author: J. Sheridan Le Fanu
+        Charles Young
+        and Others
+
+Release Date: August 28, 2008 [EBook #26451]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STABLE FOR NIGHTMARES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Jacqueline Jeremy and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+<h1 class="title">A STABLE FOR NIGHTMARES</h1>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 377px;">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="377" height="600" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 347px;">
+<img src="images/title.jpg" width="347" height="600" alt="A Stable for Nightmares" title="" />
+<span class="illus"><a href="images/titlel.jpg">View larger image</a></span>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="hr3" />
+
+<div class="tp">
+<p class="noi"><span class="tphead">A STABLE</span>
+<img src="images/deco.jpg" width="200" height="41" alt="" title="" />
+<br />
+<span class="tphead">FOR NIGHTMARES</span></p>
+
+<p class="center noi tm"><small>OR</small><br />
+<br /><br />
+<span class="tphead2">WEIRD TALES</span><br />
+<br /><br />
+<small>BY</small><br />
+<br /><br />
+<span class="tphead2">J. SHERIDAN LE FANU</span><br />
+<small>AUTHOR OF &#8220;UNCLE SILAS,&#8221; &#8220;HOUSE BY THE CHURCHYARD,&#8221;</small><br />
+<br /><br />
+<span class="tphead2">SIR CHARLES YOUNG,</span> <span class="smcap">Bart</span>.<br />
+
+<small>AND OTHERS</small><br />
+<br /><br />
+<span class="tphead2">Illustrated</span></p>
+
+<p class="center noi tphead3 tm">NEW YORK NEW<br />
+AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY<br />
+156 <span class="smcap">Fifth Avenue</span><br />
+1896</p>
+</div>
+
+<h4>Copyright, 1896,<br />
+by<br />
+<span class="smcap">New Amsterdam Book Company</span></h4>
+
+<hr class="hr4" />
+
+<h2><a name="contents" id="contents"></a>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2>
+<table summary="Content">
+<tr>
+<th class="tdr" colspan="2"><small>PAGE</small></th>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Dickon the Devil</span>,</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#dickon">9</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl">
+<span class="smcap">A Debt of Honor</span>,</td>
+<td class="tdr"> <a href="#debt">27</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl">
+<span class="smcap">Devereux&#8217;s Dream</span>,</td>
+<td class="tdr"> <a href="#dream">59</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl">
+<span class="smcap">Catherine&#8217;s Quest</span>,</td>
+<td class="tdr"> <a href="#quest">89</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl">
+<span class="smcap">Haunted</span>,</td>
+<td class="tdr"> <a href="#haunted">115</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl">
+<span class="smcap">Pichon and Sons, of the Croix Rousse</span>,</td>
+<td class="tdr"> <a href="#pichon">135</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl">
+<span class="smcap">The Phantom Fourth</span>,</td>
+<td class="tdr"> <a href="#phantom">163</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl">
+<span class="smcap">The Spirit&#8217;s Whisper</span>,</td>
+<td class="tdr"> <a href="#spirit">185</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl">
+<span class="smcap">Dr. Feversham&#8217;s Story</span>,</td>
+<td class="tdr"> <a href="#story">209</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl">
+<span class="smcap">The Secret of the Two Plaster Casts</span>,</td>
+<td class="tdr"> <a href="#secret">229</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl">
+<span class="smcap">What Was It?</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"> <a href="#what">241</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>
+<a name="dickon" id="dickon"></a>DICKON THE DEVIL.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">ABOUT thirty years ago I was selected by two rich old maids to visit a
+property in that part of Lancashire which lies near the famous forest of
+Pendle, with which Mr. Ainsworth&#8217;s &#8220;Lancashire Witches&#8221; has made us so
+pleasantly familiar. My business was to make partition of a small
+property, including a house and demesne to which they had, a long time
+before, succeeded as coheiresses.</p>
+
+<p>The last forty miles of my journey I was obliged to post, chiefly by
+cross-roads, little known, and less frequented, and presenting scenery
+often extremely interesting and pretty. The picturesqueness of the
+landscape was enhanced by the season, the beginning of September, at
+which I was travelling.</p>
+
+<p>I had never been in this part of the world before; I am told it is now a
+great deal less wild, and, consequently, less beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>At the inn where I had stopped for a relay of horses and some
+dinner&#8212;for it was then past five o&#8217;clock&#8212;I found the host, a hale old
+fellow of five-and-sixty, as he told me, a man of easy and garrulous
+benevolence, willing to accommodate his guests with any amount of talk,
+which the slightest tap sufficed to set flowing, on any subject you
+pleased.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
+I was curious to learn something about Barwyke, which was the name of
+the demesne and house I was going to. As there was no inn within some
+miles of it, I had written to the steward to put me up there, the best
+way he could, for a night.</p>
+
+<p>The host of the &#8220;Three Nuns,&#8221; which was the sign under which he
+entertained wayfarers, had not a great deal to tell. It was twenty
+years, or more, since old Squire Bowes died, and no one had lived in the
+Hall ever since, except the gardener and his wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tom Wyndsour will be as old a man as myself; but he&#8217;s a bit taller, and
+not so much in flesh, quite,&#8221; said the fat innkeeper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But there were stories about the house,&#8221; I repeated, &#8220;that, they said,
+prevented tenants from coming into it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Old wives&#8217; tales; many years ago, that will be, sir; I forget &#8217;em; I
+forget &#8217;em all. Oh yes, there always will be, when a house is left so;
+foolish folk will always be talkin&#8217;; but I han&#8217;t heard a word about it
+this twenty year.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was vain trying to pump him; the old landlord of the &#8220;Three Nuns,&#8221;
+for some reason, did not choose to tell tales of Barwyke Hall, if he
+really did, as I suspected, remember them.</p>
+
+<p>I paid my reckoning, and resumed my journey, well pleased with the good
+cheer of that old-world inn, but a little disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>We had been driving for more than an hour, when we began to cross a wild
+common; and I knew that, this passed, a quarter of an hour would bring
+me to the door of Barwyke Hall.</p>
+
+<p>The peat and furze were pretty soon left behind;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> we were again in the
+wooded scenery that I enjoyed so much, so entirely natural and pretty,
+and so little disturbed by traffic of any kind. I was looking from the
+chaise-window, and soon detected the object of which, for some time, my
+eye had been in search. Barwyke Hall was a large, quaint house, of that
+cage-work fashion known as &#8220;black-and-white,&#8221; in which the bars and
+angles of an oak framework contrast, black as ebony, with the white
+plaster that overspreads the masonry built into its interstices. This
+steep-roofed Elizabethan house stood in the midst of park-like grounds
+of no great extent, but rendered imposing by the noble stature of the
+old trees that now cast their lengthening shadows eastward over the
+sward, from the declining sun.</p>
+
+<p>The park-wall was gray with age, and in many places laden with ivy. In
+deep gray shadow, that contrasted with the dim fires of evening
+reflected on the foliage above it, in a gentle hollow, stretched a lake
+that looked cold and black, and seemed, as it were, to skulk from
+observation with a guilty knowledge.</p>
+
+<p>I had forgot that there was a lake at Barwyke; but the moment this
+caught my eye, like the cold polish of a snake in the shadow, my
+instinct seemed to recognize something dangerous, and I knew that the
+lake was connected, I could not remember how, with the story I had heard
+of this place in my boyhood.</p>
+
+<p>I drove up a grass-grown avenue, under the boughs of these noble trees,
+whose foliage, dyed in autumnal red and yellow, returned the beams of
+the western sun gorgeously.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+We drew up at the door. I got out, and had a good look at the front of
+the house; it was a large and melancholy mansion, with signs of long
+neglect upon it; great wooden shutters, in the old fashion, were barred,
+outside, across the windows; grass, and even nettles, were growing thick
+on the courtyard, and a thin moss streaked the timber beams; the plaster
+was discolored by time and weather, and bore great russet and yellow
+stains. The gloom was increased by several grand old trees that crowded
+close about the house.</p>
+
+<p>I mounted the steps, and looked round; the dark lake lay near me now, a
+little to the left. It was not large; it may have covered some ten or
+twelve acres; but it added to the melancholy of the scene. Near the
+centre of it was a small island, with two old ash-trees, leaning toward
+each other, their pensive images reflected in the stirless water. The
+only cheery influence of this scene of antiquity, solitude, and neglect
+was that the house and landscape were warmed with the ruddy western
+beams. I knocked, and my summons resounded hollow and ungenial in my
+ear; and the bell, from far away, returned a deep-mouthed and surly
+ring, as if it resented being roused from a score years&#8217; slumber.</p>
+
+<p>A light-limbed, jolly-looking old fellow, in a barracan jacket and
+gaiters, with a smirk of welcome, and a very sharp, red nose, that
+seemed to promise good cheer, opened the door with a promptitude that
+indicated a hospitable expectation of my arrival.</p>
+
+<p>There was but little light in the hall, and that little lost itself in
+darkness in the background. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> was very spacious and lofty, with a
+gallery running round it, which, when the door was open, was visible at
+two or three points. Almost in the dark my new acquaintance led me
+across this wide hall into the room destined for my reception. It was
+spacious, and wainscoted up to the ceiling. The furniture of this
+capacious chamber was old-fashioned and clumsy. There were curtains
+still to the windows, and a piece of Turkey carpet lay upon the floor;
+those windows were two in number, looking out, through the trunks of the
+trees close to the house, upon the lake. It needed all the fire, and all
+the pleasant associations of my entertainer&#8217;s red nose, to light up this
+melancholy chamber. A door at its farther end admitted to the room that
+was prepared for my sleeping apartment. It was wainscoted, like the
+other. It had a four-post bed, with heavy tapestry curtains, and in
+other respects was furnished in the same old-world and ponderous style
+as the other room. Its window, like those of that apartment, looked out
+upon the lake.</p>
+
+<p>Sombre and sad as these rooms were, they were yet scrupulously clean. I
+had nothing to complain of; but the effect was rather dispiriting.
+Having given some directions about supper&#8212;a pleasant incident to look
+forward to&#8212;and made a rapid toilet, I called on my friend with the
+gaiters and red nose (Tom Wyndsour), whose occupation was that of a
+&#8220;bailiff,&#8221; or under-steward, of the property, to accompany me, as we had
+still an hour or so of sun and twilight, in a walk over the grounds.</p>
+
+<p>It was a sweet autumn evening, and my guide,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> a hardy old fellow, strode
+at a pace that tasked me to keep up with.</p>
+
+<p>Among clumps of trees at the northern boundary of the demesne we lighted
+upon the little antique parish church. I was looking down upon it, from
+an eminence, and the park-wall interposed; but a little way down was a
+stile affording access to the road, and by this we approached the iron
+gate of the churchyard. I saw the church door open; the sexton was
+replacing his pick, shovel, and spade, with which he had just been
+digging a grave in the churchyard, in their little repository under the
+stone stair of the tower. He was a polite, shrewd little hunchback, who
+was very happy to show me over the church. Among the monuments was one
+that interested me; it was erected to commemorate the very Squire Bowes
+from whom my two old maids had inherited the house and estate of
+Barwyke. It spoke of him in terms of grandiloquent eulogy, and informed
+the Christian reader that he had died, in the bosom of the Church of
+England, at the age of seventy-one.</p>
+
+<p>I read this inscription by the parting beams of the setting sun, which
+disappeared behind the horizon just as we passed out from under the
+porch.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Twenty years since the Squire died,&#8221; said I, reflecting, as I loitered
+still in the churchyard.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ay, sir; &#8217;twill be twenty year the ninth o&#8217; last month.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And a very good old gentleman?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good-natured enough, and an easy gentleman he was, sir; I don&#8217;t think
+while he lived he ever hurt a fly,&#8221; acquiesced Tom Wyndsour. &#8220;It ain&#8217;t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>
+always easy sayin&#8217; what&#8217;s in &#8217;em, though, and what they may take or turn
+to afterward; and some o&#8217; them sort, I think, goes mad.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t think he was out of his mind?&#8221; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He? La! no; not he, sir; a bit lazy, mayhap, like other old fellows;
+but a knew devilish well what he was about.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom Wyndsour&#8217;s account was a little enigmatical; but, like old Squire
+Bowes, I was &#8220;a bit lazy&#8221; that evening, and asked no more questions
+about him.</p>
+
+<p>We got over the stile upon the narrow road that skirts the churchyard.
+It is overhung by elms more than a hundred years old, and in the
+twilight, which now prevailed, was growing very dark. As side-by-side we
+walked along this road, hemmed in by two loose stone-like walls,
+something running toward us in a zig-zag line passed us at a wild pace,
+with a sound like a frightened laugh or a shudder, and I saw, as it
+passed, that it was a human figure. I may confess, now, that I was a
+little startled. The dress of this figure was, in part, white: I know I
+mistook it at first for a white horse coming down the road at a gallop.
+Tom Wyndsour turned about and looked after the retreating figure.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;ll be on his travels to-night,&#8221; he said, in a low tone. &#8220;Easy served
+with a bed, <em>that</em> lad be; six foot o&#8217; dry peat or heath, or a nook in a
+dry ditch. That lad hasn&#8217;t slept once in a house this twenty year, and
+never will while grass grows.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is he mad?&#8221; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Something that way, sir; he&#8217;s an idiot, an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> awpy; we call him &#8216;Dickon
+the devil,&#8217; because the devil&#8217;s almost the only word that&#8217;s ever in his
+mouth.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It struck me that this idiot was in some way connected with the story of
+old Squire Bowes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Queer things are told of him, I dare say?&#8221; I suggested.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;More or less, sir; more or less. Queer stories, some.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Twenty years since he slept in a house? That&#8217;s about the time the
+Squire died,&#8221; I continued.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So it will be, sir; not very long after.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must tell me all about that, Tom, to-night, when I can hear it
+comfortably, after supper.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom did not seem to like my invitation; and looking straight before him
+as we trudged on, he said:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see, sir, the house has been quiet, and nout&#8217;s been troubling folk
+inside the walls or out, all round the woods of Barwyke, this ten year,
+or more; and my old woman, down there, is clear against talking about
+such matters, and thinks it best&#8212;and so do I&#8212;to let sleepin&#8217; dogs be.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He dropped his voice toward the close of the sentence, and nodded
+significantly.</p>
+
+<p>We soon reached a point where he unlocked a wicket in the park wall, by
+which we entered the grounds of Barwyke once more.</p>
+
+<p>The twilight deepening over the landscape, the huge and solemn trees,
+and the distant outline of the haunted house, exercised a sombre
+influence on me, which, together with the fatigue of a day of travel,
+and the brisk walk we had had, disinclined me to interrupt the silence
+in which my companion now indulged.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
+A certain air of comparative comfort, on our arrival, in great measure
+dissipated the gloom that was stealing over me. Although it was by no
+means a cold night, I was very glad to see some wood blazing in the
+grate; and a pair of candles aiding the light of the fire, made the room
+look cheerful. A small table, with a very white cloth, and preparations
+for supper, was also a very agreeable object.</p>
+
+<p>I should have liked very well, under these influences, to have listened
+to Tom Wyndsour&#8217;s story; but after supper I grew too sleepy to attempt
+to lead him to the subject; and after yawning for a time, I found there
+was no use in contending against my drowsiness, so I betook myself to my
+bedroom, and by ten o&#8217;clock was fast asleep.</p>
+
+<p>What interruption I experienced that night I shall tell you presently.
+It was not much, but it was very odd.</p>
+
+<p>By next night I had completed my work at Barwyke. From early morning
+till then I was so incessantly occupied and hard-worked, that I had no
+time to think over the singular occurrence to which I have just
+referred. Behold me, however, at length once more seated at my little
+supper-table, having ended a comfortable meal. It had been a sultry day,
+and I had thrown one of the large windows up as high as it would go. I
+was sitting near it, with my brandy and water at my elbow, looking out
+into the dark. There was no moon, and the trees that are grouped about
+the house make the darkness round it supernaturally profound on such
+nights.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tom,&#8221; said I, so soon as the jug of hot punch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> I had supplied him with
+began to exercise its genial and communicative influence; &#8220;you must tell
+me who beside your wife and you and myself slept in the house last
+night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom, sitting near the door, set down his tumbler, and looked at me
+askance, while you might count seven, without speaking a word.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who else slept in the house?&#8221; he repeated, very deliberately. &#8220;Not a
+living soul, sir;&#8221; and he looked hard at me, still evidently expecting
+something more.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That <em>is</em> very odd,&#8221; I said, returning his stare, and feeling really a
+little odd. &#8220;You are sure <em>you</em> were not in my room last night?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not till I came to call you, sir, this morning; I can make oath of
+that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; said I, &#8220;there was some one there, <em>I</em> can make oath of that. I
+was so tired I could not make up my mind to get up; but I was waked by a
+sound that I thought was some one flinging down the two tin boxes in
+which my papers were locked up violently on the floor. I heard a slow
+step on the ground, and there was light in the room, although I
+remembered having put out my candle. I thought it must have been you,
+who had come in for my clothes, and upset the boxes by accident. Whoever
+it was, he went out, and the light with him. I was about to settle
+again, when, the curtain being a little open at the foot of the bed, I
+saw a light on the wall opposite; such as a candle from outside would
+cast if the door were very cautiously opening. I started up in the bed,
+drew the side curtain, and saw that the door <em>was</em> opening, and
+admitting light from outside. It is close,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> you know, to the head of the
+bed. A hand was holding on the edge of the door and pushing it open; not
+a bit like yours; a very singular hand. Let me look at yours.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He extended it for my inspection.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh no; there&#8217;s nothing wrong with your hand. This was differently
+shaped; fatter; and the middle finger was stunted, and shorter than the
+rest, looking as if it had once been broken, and the nail was crooked
+like a claw. I called out, &#8220;Who&#8217;s there?&#8221; and the light and the hand
+were withdrawn, and I saw and heard no more of my visitor.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So sure as you&#8217;re a living man, that was him!&#8221; exclaimed Tom Wyndsour,
+his very nose growing pale, and his eyes almost starting out of his
+head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who?&#8221; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Old Squire Bowes; &#8217;twas <em>his</em> hand you saw; the Lord a&#8217; mercy on us!&#8221;
+answered Tom. &#8220;The broken finger, and the nail bent like a hoop. Well
+for you, sir, he didn&#8217;t come back when you called, that time. You came
+here about them Miss Dymock&#8217;s business, and he never meant they should
+have a foot o&#8217; ground in Barwyke; and he was making a will to give it
+away quite different, when death took him short. He never was uncivil to
+no one; but he couldn&#8217;t abide them ladies. My mind misgave me when I
+heard &#8217;twas about their business you were coming; and now you see how it
+is; he&#8217;ll be at his old tricks again!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>With some pressure, and a little more punch, I induced Tom Wyndsour to
+explain his mysterious allusions by recounting the occurrences which
+followed the old Squire&#8217;s death.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
+&#8220;Squire Bowes, of Barwyke, died without making a will, as you know,&#8221;
+said Tom. &#8220;And all the folk round were sorry; that is to say, sir, as
+sorry as folk will be for an old man that has seen a long tale of years,
+and has no right to grumble that death has knocked an hour too soon at
+his door. The Squire was well liked; he was never in a passion, or said
+a hard word; and he would not hurt a fly; and that made what happened
+after his decease the more surprising.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The first thing these ladies did, when they got the property, was to
+buy stock for the park.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was not wise, in any case, to graze the land on their own account.
+But they little knew all they had to contend with.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Before long something went wrong with the cattle; first one, and then
+another, took sick and died, and so on, till the loss began to grow
+heavy. Then, queer stories, little by little, began to be told. It was
+said, first by one, then by another, that Squire Bowes was seen, about
+evening time, walking, just as he used to do when he was alive, among
+the old trees, leaning on his stick; and, sometimes, when he came up
+with the cattle, he would stop and lay his hand kindly like on the back
+of one of them; and that one was sure to fall sick next day, and die
+soon after.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No one ever met him in the park, or in the woods, or ever saw him,
+except a good distance off. But they knew his gait and his figure well,
+and the clothes he used to wear; and they could tell the beast he laid
+his hand on by its color&#8212;white, dun, or black; and that beast was sure
+to sicken and die. The neighbors grew shy of taking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> the path over the
+park; and no one liked to walk in the woods, or come inside the bounds
+of Barwyke; and the cattle went on sickening and dying, as before.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At that time there was one Thomas Pyke; he had been a groom to the old
+Squire; and he was in care of the place, and was the only one that used
+to sleep in the house.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tom was vexed, hearing these stories; which he did not believe the half
+on &#8217;em; and more especial as he could not get man or boy to herd the
+cattle; all being afeared. So he wrote to Matlock, in <a name="derby" id="derby"></a><ins class="translit" title="original has Derybshire">Derbyshire</ins>, for
+his brother, Richard Pyke, a clever lad, and one that knew nout o&#8217; the
+story of the old Squire walking.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dick came; and the cattle was better; folk said they could still see
+the old Squire, sometimes, walking, as before, in openings of the wood,
+with his stick in his hand; but he was shy of coming nigh the cattle,
+whatever his reason might be, since Dickon Pyke came; and he used to
+stand a long bit off, looking at them, with no more stir in him than a
+trunk o&#8217; one of the old trees, for an hour at a time, till the shape
+melted away, little by little, like the smoke of a fire that burns out.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tom Pyke and his brother Dickon, being the only living souls in the
+house, lay in the big bed in the servants&#8217; room, the house being fast
+barred and locked, one night in November.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tom was lying next the wall, and, he told me, as wide awake as ever he
+was at noonday. His brother Dickon lay outside, and was sound asleep.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, as Tom lay thinking, with his eyes turned toward the door, it
+opens slowly, and who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> should come in but old Squire Bowes, his face
+lookin&#8217; as dead as he was in his coffin.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tom&#8217;s very breath left his body; he could not take his eyes off him;
+and he felt <a name="hair" id="hair"></a><ins class="translit" title="original has their">the</ins> hair rising up on his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The Squire came to the side of the bed, and put his arms under Dickon,
+and lifted the boy&#8212;in a dead sleep all the time&#8212;and carried him out
+so, at the door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Such was the appearance, to Tom Pyke&#8217;s eyes, and he was ready to swear
+to it, anywhere.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When this happened, the light, wherever it came from, all on a sudden
+went out, and Tom could not see his own hand before him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;More dead than alive, he lay till daylight.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure enough his brother Dickon was gone. No sign of him could he
+discover about the house; and with some trouble he got a couple of the
+neighbors to help him to search the woods and grounds. Not a sign of him
+anywhere.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At last one of them thought of the island in the lake; the little boat
+was moored to the old post at the water&#8217;s edge. In they got, though with
+small hope of finding him there. Find him, nevertheless, they did,
+sitting under the big ash-tree, quite out of his wits; and to all their
+questions he answered nothing but one cry&#8212;&#8216;Bowes, the devil! See him;
+see him; Bowes, the devil!&#8217; An idiot they found him; and so he will be
+till God sets all things right. No one could ever get him to sleep under
+roof-tree more. He wanders from house to house while daylight lasts; and
+no one cares to lock the harmless creature in the workhouse. And folk
+would rather not meet him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> after nightfall, for they think where he is
+there may be worse things near.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A silence followed Tom&#8217;s story. He and I were alone in that large room;
+I was sitting near the open window, looking into the dark night air. I
+fancied I saw something white move across it; and I heard a sound like
+low talking, that swelled into a discordant shriek&#8212;&#8220;Hoo-oo-oo! Bowes,
+the devil! Over your shoulder. Hoo-oo-oo! ha! ha! ha!&#8221; I started up, and
+saw, by the light of the candle with which Tom strode to the window, the
+wild eyes and blighted face of the idiot, as, with a sudden change of
+mood, he drew off, whispering and tittering to himself, and holding up
+his long fingers, and looking at them as if they were lighted at the
+tips like a &#8220;hand of glory.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom pulled down the window. The story and its epilogue were over. I
+confessed I was rather glad when I heard the sound of the horses&#8217; hoofs
+on the courtyard, a few minutes later; and still gladder when, having
+bidden Tom a kind farewell, I had left the neglected house of Barwyke a
+mile behind me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24-26" id="Page_24-26">[24&#8211;26]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="back"><a href="#contents"><small>Back to Contents</small></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>
+<a name="debt" id="debt"></a>A DEBT OF HONOR.<br /><br />
+<small>A GHOST STORY.</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">HUSH! what was that cry, so low but yet so piercing, so strange but yet
+so sorrowful? It was not the marmot upon the side of the Righi&#8212;it was
+not the heron down by the lake; no, it was distinctively human. Hush!
+there it is again&#8212;from the churchyard which I have just left!</p>
+
+<p>Not ten minutes have elapsed since I was sitting on the low wall of the
+churchyard of Weggis, watching the calm glories of the moonlight
+illuminating with silver splendor the lake of Lucerne; and I am certain
+there was no one within the inclosure but myself.</p>
+
+<p>I am mistaken, surely. What a silence there is upon the night! Not a
+breath of air now to break up into a thousand brilliant ripples the long
+reflection of the August moon, or to stir the foliage of the chestnuts;
+not a voice in the village; no splash of oar upon the lake. All life
+seems at perfect rest, and the solemn stillness that reigns about the
+topmost glaciers of S. Gothard has spread its mantle over the warmer
+world below.</p>
+
+<p>I must not linger; as it is, I shall have to wake up the porter to let
+me into the hotel. I hurry on.</p>
+
+<p>Not ten paces, though. Again I hear the cry.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> This time it sounds to me
+like the long, sad sob of a wearied and broken heart. Without staying to
+reason with myself, I quickly retrace my steps.</p>
+
+<p>I stumble about among the iron crosses and the graves, and displace in
+my confusion wreaths of immortelles and fresher flowers. A huge
+mausoleum stands between me and the wall upon which I had been sitting
+not a quarter of an hour ago. The mausoleum casts a deep shadow upon the
+side nearest to me. Ah! something is stirring there. I strain my
+eyes&#8212;the figure of a man passes slowly out of the shade, and silently
+occupies my place upon the wall. It must have been his lips that gave
+out that miserable sound.</p>
+
+<p>What shall I do? Compassion and curiosity are strong. The man whose
+heart can be rent so sorely ought not to be allowed to linger here with
+his despair. He is gazing, as I did, upon the lake. I mark his
+profile&#8212;clear-cut and symmetrical; I catch the lustre of large eyes.
+The face, as I can see it, seems very still and placid. I may be
+mistaken; he may merely be a wanderer like myself; perhaps he heard the
+three strange cries, and has also come to seek the cause. I feel
+impelled to speak to him.</p>
+
+<p>I pass from the path by the church to the east side of the mausoleum,
+and so come toward him, the moon full upon his features. Great heaven!
+how pale his face is!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good-evening, sir. I thought myself alone here, and wondered that no
+other travellers had found their way to this lovely spot. Charming, is
+it not?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>For a moment he says nothing, but his eyes are full upon me. At last he
+replies:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is charming, as you say, Mr. Reginald Westcar.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know me?&#8221; I exclaim, in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pardon me, I can scarcely claim a personal acquaintance. But yours is
+the only English name entered to-day in the Livre des &Eacute;trangers.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are staying at the H&ocirc;tel de la Concorde, then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>An inclination of the head is all the answer vouchsafed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;May I ask,&#8221; I continue, &#8220;whether you heard just now a very strange cry
+repeated three times?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A pause. The lustrous eyes seem to search me through and through&#8212;I can
+hardly bear their gaze. Then he replies.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I fancy I heard the echoes of some such sounds as you describe.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The <em>echoes</em>! Is this, then, the man who gave utterance to those cries
+of woe! is it possible? The face seems so passionless; but the pallor of
+those features bears witness to some terrible agony within.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thought some one must be in distress,&#8221; I rejoin, hastily; &#8220;and I
+hurried back to see if I could be of any service.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very good of you,&#8221; he answers, coldly; &#8220;but surely such a place as this
+is not unaccustomed to the voice of sorrow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No doubt. My impulse was a mistaken one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But kindly meant. You will not sleep less soundly for acting on that
+impulse, Reginald Westcar.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>He rises as he speaks. He throws his cloak round him, and stands
+motionless. I take the hint. My mysterious countryman wishes to be
+alone. Some one that he has loved and lost lies buried here.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good-night, sir,&#8221; I say, as I move in the direction of the little
+chapel at the gate. &#8220;Neither of us will sleep the less soundly for
+thinking of the perfect repose that reigns around this place.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean?&#8221; he asks.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The dead,&#8221; I reply, as I stretch my hand toward the graves. &#8220;Do you not
+remember the lines in &#8216;King Lear&#8217;?</p>
+
+<p class="center">&#8220;&#8216;After life&#8217;s fitful fever he sleeps well.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But <em>you</em> have never died, Reginald Westcar. You know nothing of the
+sleep of death.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For the third time he speaks my name almost familiarly, and&#8212;I know not
+why&#8212;a shudder passes through me. I have no time, in my turn, to ask him
+what he means; for he strides silently away into the shadow of the
+church, and I, with a strange sense of oppression upon me, returned to
+my hotel.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+<p>The events which I have just related passed in vivid recollection
+through my mind as I travelled northward one cold November day in the
+year 185&#8212;. About six months previously I had taken my degree at Oxford,
+and had since been enjoying a trip upon the continent; and on my return
+to London I found a letter awaiting me from my lawyers, informing me
+somewhat to my astonishment,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> that I had succeeded to a small estate in
+Cumberland. I must tell you exactly how this came about. My mother was a
+Miss Ringwood, and she was the youngest of three children: the eldest
+was Aldina, the second was Geoffrey, and the third (my mother) Alice.
+Their mother (who had been a widow since my mother&#8217;s birth) lived at
+this little place in Cumberland, and which was known as The Shallows;
+she died shortly after my mother&#8217;s marriage with my father, Captain
+Westcar. My aunt Aldina and my uncle Geoffrey&#8212;the one at that time aged
+twenty-eight, and the other twenty-six&#8212;continued to reside at The
+Shallows. My father and mother had to go to India, where I was born, and
+where, when quite a child, I was left an orphan. A few months after my
+mother&#8217;s marriage my aunt disappeared; a few weeks after that event, and
+my uncle Geoffrey dropped down dead, as he was playing at cards with Mr.
+Maryon, the proprietor of a neighboring mansion known as The Mere. A
+fortnight after my uncle&#8217;s death, my aunt Aldina returned to The
+Shallows, and never left it again till she was carried out in her coffin
+to her grave in the churchyard. Ever since her return from her
+mysterious disappearance she maintained an impenetrable reserve. As a
+schoolboy I visited her twice or thrice, but these visits depressed my
+youthful spirits to such an extent, that as I grew older I excused
+myself from accepting my aunt&#8217;s not very pressing invitations; and at
+the time I am now speaking of I had not seen her for eight or ten years.
+I was rather surprised, therefore, when she bequeathed me The Shallows,
+which, as the surviving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> child, she inherited under her mother&#8217;s
+marriage settlement.</p>
+
+<p>But The Shallows had always exercised a grim influence over me, and the
+knowledge that I was now going to it as my home oppressed me. The road
+seemed unusually dark, cold, and lonely. At last I passed the lodge, and
+two hundred yards more brought me to the porch. Very soon the door was
+opened by an elderly female, whom I well remembered as having been my
+aunt&#8217;s housekeeper and cook. I had pleasant recollections of her, and
+was glad to see her. To tell the truth, I had not anticipated my visit
+to my newly acquired property with any great degree of enthusiasm; but a
+very tolerable dinner had an inspiriting effect, and I was pleased to
+learn that there was a bin of old Madeira in the cellar. Naturally I
+soon grew cheerful, and consequently talkative; and summoned Mrs. Balk
+for a little gossip. The substance of what I gathered from her rather
+diffusive conversation was as follows:</p>
+
+<p>My aunt had resided at The Shallows ever since the death of my uncle
+Geoffrey, but she had maintained a silent and reserved habit; and Mrs.
+Balk was of opinion that she had had some great misfortune. She had
+persistently refused all intercourse with the people at The Mere. Squire
+Maryon, himself a cold and taciturn man, had once or twice showed a
+disposition to be friendly, but she had sternly repulsed all such
+overtures. Mrs. Balk was of opinion that Miss Ringwood was not &#8220;quite
+right,&#8221; as she expressed it, on some topics; especially did she seem
+impressed with the idea that The Mere ought to belong to her. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>
+appeared that the Ringwoods and Maryons were distant connections; that
+The Mere belonged in former times to a certain Sir Henry Benet; that he
+was a bachelor, and that Squire Maryon&#8217;s father and old Mr. Ringwood
+were cousins of his, and that there was some doubt as to which was the
+real heir; that Sir Henry, who disliked old Maryon, had frequently said
+he had set any chance of dispute at rest, by bequeathing the Mere
+property by will to Mr. Ringwood, my mother&#8217;s father; that, on his
+death, no such will could be found; and the family lawyers agreed that
+Mr. Maryon was the legal inheritor, and my uncle Geoffrey and his
+sisters must be content to take the Shallows, or nothing at all. Mr.
+Maryon was comparatively rich, and the Ringwoods poor, consequently they
+were advised not to enter upon a costly lawsuit. My aunt Aldina
+maintained to the last that Sir Henry had made a will, and that Mr.
+Maryon knew it, but had destroyed or suppressed the document. I did not
+gather from Mrs. Balk&#8217;s narrative that Miss Ringwood had any foundation
+for her belief, and I dismissed the notion at once as baseless.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And my uncle Geoffrey died of apoplexy, you say, Mrs. Balk?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<em>I</em> don&#8217;t say so, sir, no more did Miss Ringwood; but <em>they</em> said so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whom do you mean by <em>they</em>?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The people at The Mere&#8212;the young doctor, a friend of Squire Maryon&#8217;s,
+who was brought over from York, and the rest; he fell heavily from his
+chair, and his head struck against the fender.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Playing at cards with Mr. Maryon, I think you said.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
+&#8220;Yes, sir; he was too fond of cards, I believe, was Mr. Geoffrey.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is Mr. Maryon seen much in the county&#8212;is he hospitable?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, sir, he goes up to London a good deal, and has some friends down
+from town occasionally; but he does not seem to care much about the
+people in the neighborhood.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He has some children, Mrs. Balk?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only one daughter, sir; a sweet pretty thing she is. Her mother died
+when Miss Agnes was born.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have no idea, Mrs. Balk, what my aunt Aldina&#8217;s great misfortune
+was?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, sir, I can&#8217;t help thinking it must have been a love affair. She
+always hated men so much.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then why did she leave The Shallows to me, Mrs. Balk?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, you are laughing, sir. No doubt she considered that The Mere ought
+to belong to you, as the heir of the Ringwoods, and she placed you here,
+as near as might be to the place.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In hopes that I might marry Miss Maryon, eh, Mrs. Balk?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are laughing again, sir. I don&#8217;t imagine she thought so much of
+that, as of the possibility of your discovering something about the
+missing will.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I bade the communicative Mrs. Balk good night and retired to my
+bedroom&#8212;a low, wide, sombre, oak-panelled chamber. I must confess that
+family stories had no great interest for me, living apart from them at
+school and college as I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> done; and as I undressed I thought more of
+the probabilities of sport the eight hundred acres of wild shooting
+belonging to The Shallows would afford me, than of the supposed will my
+poor aunt had evidently worried herself about so much. Thoroughly tired
+after my long journey, I soon fell fast asleep amid the deep shadows of
+the huge four-poster I mentally resolved to chop up into firewood at an
+early date, and substitute for it a more modern iron bedstead.</p>
+
+<p>How long I had been asleep I do not know, but I suddenly started up, the
+echo of a long, sad cry ringing in my ears.</p>
+
+<p>I listened eagerly&#8212;sensitive to the slightest sound&#8212;painfully
+sensitive as one is only in the deep silence of the night.</p>
+
+<p>I heard the old-fashioned clock I had noticed on the stairs strike
+three. The reverberation seemed to last a long time, then all was silent
+again. &#8220;A dream,&#8221; I muttered to myself, as I lay down upon the pillow;
+&#8220;Madeira is a heating wine. But what can I have been dreaming of?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sleep seemed to have gone altogether, and the busy mind wandered among
+the continental scenes I had lately visited. By and by I found myself in
+memory once more within the Weggis churchyard. I was satisfied; I had
+traced my dream to the cries that I had heard there. I turned round to
+sleep again. Perhaps I fell into a doze&#8212;I cannot say; but again I
+started up at the repetition, as it seemed outside my window, of that
+cry of sadness and despair. I hastily drew aside the heavy curtains of
+my bed&#8212;at that moment the room seemed to be illuminated with a dim,
+unearthly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> light&#8212;and I saw, gradually growing into human shape, the
+figure of a woman. I recognized in it my aunt, Miss Ringwood.
+Horror-struck, I gazed at the apparition; it advanced a little&#8212;the lips
+moved&#8212;I heard it distinctly say:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<em>Reginald Westcar, The Mere belongs to you. Compel John Maryon to pay
+the debt of honor!</em>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I fell back senseless.</p>
+
+<p>When next I returned to consciousness, it was when I was called in the
+morning; the shutters were opened, and I saw the red light of the
+dawning winter sun.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+<p>There is a strange sympathy between the night and the mind. All one&#8217;s
+troubles represent themselves as increased a hundredfold if one wakes in
+the night, and begins to think about them. A muscular pain becomes the
+certainty of an incurable internal disease; and a headache suggests
+incipient softening of the brain. But all these horrors are dissipated
+with the morning light, and the after-glow of a cold bath turns them
+into jokes. So it was with me on the morning after my arrival at The
+Shallows. I accounted most satisfactorily for all that had occurred, or
+seemed to have occurred, during the night; and resolved that, though the
+old Madeira was uncommonly good, I must be careful in future not to
+drink more than a couple of glasses after dinner. I need scarcely say
+that I said nothing to Mrs. Balk of my bad dreams, and shortly after
+breakfast I took my gun, and went out in search of such game as I might
+chance to meet with. At three o&#8217;clock I sent the keeper<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> home, as his
+capacious pockets were pretty well filled, telling him that I thought I
+knew the country, and should stroll back leisurely. The gray gloom of
+the November evening was spreading over the sky as I came upon a small
+plantation which I believed belonged to me. I struck straight across it;
+emerging from its shadows, I found myself by a small stream and some
+marshy land; on the other side another small plantation. A snipe got up,
+I fired, and tailored it. I marked the bird into this other plantation,
+and followed. Up got a covey of partridges&#8212;bang, bang&#8212;one down by the
+side of an oak. I was about to enter this covert, when a lady and
+gentleman emerged, and, struck with the unpleasant thought that I was
+possibly trespassing, I at once went forward to apologize.</p>
+
+<p>Before I could say a word, the gentleman addressed me.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;May I ask, sir, if I have given you permission to shoot over my
+preserves?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I beg to express my great regret, sir,&#8221; I replied, as I lifted my hat
+in acknowledgment of the lady&#8217;s presence, &#8220;that I should have trespassed
+upon your land. I can only plead, as my excuse, that I fully believed I
+was still upon the manor belonging to The Shallows.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gentlemen who go out shooting ought to know the limits of their
+estates,&#8221; he answered harshly; &#8220;the boundaries of The Shallows are well
+defined, nor is the area they contain so very extensive. You have no
+right upon this side the stream, sir; oblige me by returning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I merely bowed, for I was nettled by his tone,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> and as I turned away I
+noticed that the young lady whispered to him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One moment, sir,&#8221; he said, &#8220;my daughter suggests the possibility of
+your being the new owner of The Shallows. May I ask if this is so?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It had not occurred to me before, but I understood in a moment to whom I
+had been speaking, and I replied:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Mr. Maryon&#8212;my name is Westcar.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Such was my introduction to Mr. and Miss Maryon. The proprietor of The
+Mere appeared to be a gentleman, but his manners were cold and reserved,
+and a careful observer might have remarked a perpetual restlessness in
+the eyes, as if they were physically incapable of regarding the same
+object for more than a moment. He was about sixty years of age,
+apparently; and though he now and again made an effort to carry himself
+upright, the head and shoulders soon drooped again, as if the weight of
+years, and, it might be, the memory of the past, were a heavy load to
+carry. Of Miss Maryon it is sufficient to say that she was nineteen or
+twenty, and it did not need a second glance to satisfy me that her
+beauty was of no ordinary kind.</p>
+
+<p>I must hurry over the records of the next few weeks. I became a frequent
+visitor at The Mere. Mr. Maryon&#8217;s manner never became cordial, but he
+did not seem displeased to see me; and as to Agnes,&#8212;well, she certainly
+was not displeased either.</p>
+
+<p>I think it was on Christmas Day that I suddenly discovered that I was
+desperately in love. Miss Maryon had been for two or three days confined
+to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> her room by a bad cold, and I found myself in a great state of
+anxiety to see her again. I am sorry to say that my thoughts wandered a
+good deal when I was at church upon that festival, and I could not help
+thinking what ample room there was for a bridal procession up the
+spacious aisle. Suddenly my eyes rested upon a mural tablet, inscribed,
+&#8220;To the memory of Aldina Ringwood.&#8221; Then with a cold thrill there came
+back upon me what I had almost forgotten, the dream, or whatever it was,
+that had occurred on that first night at The Shallows; and those strange
+words&#8212;&#8220;The Mere belongs to you. Compel John Maryon to pay the debt of
+honor!&#8221; Nothing but the remembrance of Agnes&#8217; sweet face availed for the
+time to banish the vision, the statement, and the bidding.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maryon was soon down-stairs again. Did I flatter myself too much in
+thinking that she was as glad to see me as I was to see her? No&#8212;I felt
+sure that I did not. Then I began to reflect seriously upon my position.
+My fortune was small, quite enough for me, but not enough for two; and
+as she was heiress of The Mere and a comfortable rent-roll of some six
+or eight thousand a year, was it not natural that Mr. Maryon expected
+her to make what is called a &#8220;good match&#8220;? Still, I could not conceal
+from myself the fact, that he evinced no objection whatever to my
+frequent visits at his house, nor to my taking walks with his daughter
+when he was unable to accompany us.</p>
+
+<p>One bright, frosty day I had been down to the lake with Miss Maryon, and
+had enjoyed the privilege of teaching her to skate; and on returning to
+the house, we met Mr. Maryon upon the terrace,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> He walked with us to the
+conservatory; we went in to examine the plants, and he remained outside,
+pacing up and down the terrace. Both Agnes and myself were strangely
+silent; perhaps my tongue had found an eloquence upon the ice which was
+well met by a shy thoughtfulness upon her part. But there was a lovely
+color upon her cheeks, and I experienced a very considerable and unusual
+fluttering about my heart. It happened as we were standing at the door
+of the conservatory, both of us silently looking away from the flowers
+upon the frosty view, that our eyes lighted at the same time upon Mr.
+Maryon. He, too, was apparently regarding the prospect, when suddenly he
+paused and staggered back, as if something unexpected met his gaze.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, poor papa! I hope he is not going to have one of his fits!&#8221;
+exclaimed Agnes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fits! Is he subject to such attacks?&#8221; I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not ordinary fits,&#8221; she answered hurriedly; &#8220;I hardly know how to
+explain them. They come upon him occasionally, and generally at this
+period of the year.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shall we go to him?&#8221; I suggested.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No; you cannot help him; and he cannot bear that they should be
+noticed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We both watched him. His arms were stretched up above his head, and
+again he recoiled a step or two. I sought for an explanation in Agnes&#8217;
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A stranger!&#8221; she exclaimed. &#8220;Who can it be?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I looked toward Mr. Maryon. A tall figure of a man had come from the
+farther side of the house;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> he wore a large, loose coat and a kind of
+military cap upon his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doubtless you are surprised to see me, John,&#8221; we heard the new-comer
+say, in a confident voice, &#8220;but I am not the devil, man, that you should
+greet me with such a peculiar attitude.&#8221; He held out his hand, and
+continued, &#8220;Come, don&#8217;t let the warmth of old fellowship be all on one
+side, this wintry day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We could see that Mr. Maryon took the proffered right hand with his left
+for an instant, then seemed to shrink away, but exchanged no word of
+this greeting.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t understand this,&#8221; said Agnes, and we both hurried forward. The
+stranger, seeing Agnes approach, lifted his cap.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, your daughter, John, no doubt. I see the likeness to her lamented
+mother. Pray introduce me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Maryon&#8217;s usually pallid features had assumed a still paler hue, and
+he said in a low voice:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Colonel Bludyer&#8212;my daughter.&#8221; Agnes barely bowed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Charmed to renew your acquaintance, Miss Maryon. When last I saw you,
+you were quite a baby; but your father and I are very old friends&#8212;are
+we not, John?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Maryon vaguely nodded his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, John, you have often pressed your hospitality upon me, but till
+now I have never had an opportunity of availing myself of your kind
+offers; so I have brought my bag, and intend at last to give you the
+pleasure of my company for a few days.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
+I certainly should have thought that a man of Mr. Maryon&#8217;s disposition
+would have resented such conduct as this, or, at all events, have given
+this self-invited guest a chilling welcome. Mr. Maryon, however, in a
+confused and somewhat stammering tone, said that he was glad Colonel
+Bludyer had come at last, and bade his daughter go and make the
+necessary arrangements. Agnes, in silent astonishment, entered the
+house, and then Mr. Maryon turned to me hastily and bade me good-by. In
+a by no means comfortable frame of mind I returned to The Shallows.</p>
+
+<p>The sudden advent of this miscellaneous colonel was naturally somewhat
+irritating to me. Not only did I regard the man as an intolerable bore,
+but I could not help fancying that he was something more than an old
+friend of Mr. Maryon&#8217;s; in fact, I was led to judge, by Mr. Maryon&#8217;s
+strange conduct, that this Bludyer had some power over him which might
+be exercised to the detriment of the Maryon family, and I was convinced
+there was some mystery it was my business to penetrate.</p>
+
+<p>The following day I went up to The Mere to see if Miss Maryon was
+desirous of renewing her skating lesson. I found the party in the
+billiard-room, Agnes marking for her father and the Colonel. Mr. Maryon,
+whom I knew to be an exceptionally good player, seemed incapable of
+making a decent stroke; the Colonel, on the other hand, could evidently
+give a professional fifteen, and beat him easily. We all went down to
+the lake together. I had no chance of any quiet conversation with Agnes;
+the Colonel was perpetually beside us.</p>
+
+<p>I returned home disgusted. For two whole days<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> I did not go near The
+Mere. On the third day I went up, hoping that the horrid Colonel would
+be gone. It was beginning to snow when I left The Shallows at about two
+o&#8217;clock in the afternoon, and Mrs. Balk foretold a heavy storm, and bade
+me not be late returning.</p>
+
+<p>The black winter darkness in the sky deepened as I approached The Mere.
+I was ushered again into the billiard-room. Agnes was marking, as upon
+the previous occasion, but two days had worked a sad difference in her
+face. Mr. Maryon hardly noticed my entrance; he was flushed, and playing
+eagerly; the Colonel was boisterous, declaring that John had never
+played better twenty years ago. I relieved Agnes of the duty of marking.
+The snow fell in a thick layer upon the skylight, and the Colonel became
+seriously anxious about my return home. As I did not think he was the
+proper person to give me hints, I resolutely remained where I was,
+encouraged in my behavior by the few words I gained from Agnes, and by
+the looks of entreaty she gave me. I had always considered Mr. Maryon to
+be an abstemious man, but he drank a good deal of brandy and soda during
+the long game of seven hundred up, and when he succeeded in beating the
+Colonel by forty-three, he was in roaring spirits, and insisted upon my
+staying to dinner. Need I say that I accepted the invitation?</p>
+
+<p>I made such toilet as I could in a most unattainable chamber that was
+allotted to me, and hurried back to the drawing-room in the hope that I
+might get a few private words with Agnes. I was not disappointed. She,
+too, had hurried<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> down, and in a few words I learned that this
+abominable Bludyer was paying her his coarse attentions, and with,
+apparently, the full consent of Mr. Maryon. My indignation was
+unbounded. Was it possible that Mr. Maryon intended to sacrifice this
+fair creature to that repulsive man?</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Maryon had appeared in excellent spirits when dinner began, and the
+first glass or two of champagne made him merrier than I thought it
+possible for him to be. But by the time the dessert was on the table he
+had grown silent and thoughtful; nor did he respond to the warm
+eulogiums the Colonel passed upon the magnum of claret which was set
+before us.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner we sat in the library. The Colonel left the room to fetch
+some cigars he had been loudly extolling. Then Agnes had an opportunity
+of whispering to me.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look at papa&#8212;see how strangely he sits&#8212;his hands clenching the arms
+of the chair, his eyes fixed upon the blazing coals! How old he seems to
+be to-night! His terrible fits are coming on&#8212;he is always like this
+toward the end of January!&#8221; The Colonel&#8217;s return put an end to any
+further confidential talk.</p>
+
+<p>When we separated for the night, I felt that my going to bed would be
+purposeless. I felt most painfully wide awake. I threw myself down upon
+my bed, and worried myself by trying to imagine what secret there could
+be between Maryon and Bludyer&#8212;for that a secret of some kind existed, I
+felt certain. I tossed about till I heard the stroke of one. A dreadful
+restlessness had come upon me. It seemed as if the solemn night-side of
+life<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> was busy waking now, but the silence and solitude of my antique
+chamber became too much for me. I rose from my bed, and paced up and
+down the room. I raked up the dying embers of the fire, and drew an
+arm-chair to the hearth. I fell into a doze. By and by I woke up
+suddenly, and I was conscious of stealthy footsteps in the passage. My
+sense of hearing became painfully acute. I heard the footsteps
+retreating down the corridor, until they were lost in the distance. I
+cautiously opened the door, and, shading the candle with my hand, looked
+out&#8212;there was nothing to be seen; but I felt that I could not remain
+quietly in my room, and, closing the door behind me, I went out in
+search of I knew not what.</p>
+
+<p>The sitting-rooms and bedrooms in ordinary use at The Mere were in the
+modern part of the house; but there was an old Elizabethan wing which I
+had often longed to explore, and in this strange ramble of mine I soon
+had reason to be satisfied that I was well within it. At the end of an
+oak-panelled narrow passage a door stood open, and I entered a low,
+sombre apartment fitted with furniture in the style of two hundred years
+ago. There was something awfully ghostly about the look of this room. A
+great four-post bedstead, with heavy hangings, stood in a deep recess; a
+round oak table and two high-backed chairs were in the centre of the
+room. Suddenly, as I gazed on these things, I heard stealthy footsteps
+in the passage, and saw a dim light advancing. Acting on a sudden
+impulse, I extinguished my candle and withdrew into the shadow of the
+recess, watching eagerly. The footsteps came nearer. My heart seemed to
+stand still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> with expectation. They paused outside the door, for a
+moment really&#8212;for an age it seemed to me. Then, to my astonishment, I
+saw Mr. Maryon enter. He carried a small night-lamp in his hand. Another
+glance satisfied me that he was walking in his sleep. He came straight
+to the round table, and set down the lamp. He seated himself in one of
+the high-backed chairs, his vacant eyes staring at the chair opposite;
+then his lips began to move quickly, as if he were addressing some one.
+Then he rose, went to the bureau, and seemed to take something from it;
+then he sat down again. What a strange action of his hands! At first I
+could not understand it; then it flashed upon me that in this dream of
+his he must be shuffling cards. Yes, he began to deal; then he was
+playing with his adversary&#8212;his lips moving anxiously at times.</p>
+
+<p>A look of terrible eagerness came over the sleepwalker&#8217;s countenance.
+With nimble fingers he dealt the cards, and played. Suddenly with a
+sweep of his hand he seemed to fling the pack into the fireplace,
+started from his seat, grappled with his unseen adversary, raised his
+powerful right hand, and struck a tremendous blow. Hush! more footsteps
+along the passage! Am I deceived? From my concealment I watch for what
+is to follow. Colonel Bludyer comes in, half dressed, but wide awake.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You maniac!&#8221; I hear him mutter: &#8220;I expected you were given to such
+tricks as these. Lucky for you no eyes but mine have seen your abject
+folly. Come <a name="back" id="back"></a><ins class="translit" title="original has baack">back</ins> to your room.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Maryon is still gazing, his arms lifted wildly above his head, upon
+the imagined foe whom he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> had felled to the ground. The Colonel touches
+him on the shoulder, and leads him away, leaving the lamp. My reasoning
+faculties had fully returned to me. I held a clue to the secret, and for
+Agnes&#8217; sake it must be followed up. I took the lamp away, and placed it
+on a table where the chamber candlesticks stood, relit my own candle,
+and found my way back to my bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning, when I came down to breakfast, I found Colonel Bludyer
+warming himself satisfactorily at the blazing fire. I learned from him
+that our host was far from well, and that Miss Maryon was in attendance
+upon her father; that the Colonel was charged with all kinds of
+apologies to me, and good wishes for my safe return home across the
+snow. I thanked him for the delivery of the message, while I felt
+perfectly convinced that he had never been charged with it. However that
+might be, I never saw Mr. Maryon that morning; and I started back to The
+Shallows through the snow.</p>
+
+<p>For the next two or three days the weather was very wild, but I
+contrived to get up to The Mere, and ask after Mr. Maryon. Better, I was
+told, but unable to see any one. Miss Maryon, too, was fatigued with
+nursing her father. So there was nothing to do but to trudge home again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<em>Reginald Westcar, The Mere is yours. Compel John Maryon to pay the
+debt of honor!</em>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again and again these words forced themselves upon me, as I listlessly
+gazed out upon the white landscape. The strange scene that I had
+witnessed on that memorable night I passed beneath Mr. Maryon&#8217;s roof had
+brought them back to my memory<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> with redoubled force, and I began to
+think that the apparition I had seen&#8212;or dreamed of&#8212;on my first night
+at The Shallows had more of truth in it than I had been willing to
+believe.</p>
+
+<p>Three more days passed away, and a carter-boy from The Mere brought me a
+note. It was Agnes&#8217; handwriting. It said:</p>
+
+<p><a name="dear" id="dear"></a><ins class="translit" title="original omitted open quote">&#8220;<span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Westcar</span></ins>: Pray come up here, if you possibly can. I cannot
+understand what is the matter with papa; and he wishes me to do a
+dreadful thing. Do come. I feel that I have no friend but you. I am
+obliged to send this note privately.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I need scarcely say that five minutes afterward I was plunging through
+the snow toward The Mere. It was already late on that dark February
+evening as I gained the shrubbery; and as I was pondering upon the best
+method of securing admittance, I became aware that the figure of a man
+was hurrying on some yards in front of me. At first I thought it must be
+one of the gardeners, but all of a sudden I stood still, and my blood
+seemed to freeze with horror, as I remarked that the figure in front of
+me <em>left no trace of footmarks on the snow</em>! My brain reeled for a
+moment, and I thought I should have fallen; but I recovered my nerves,
+and when I looked before me again, it had disappeared. I pressed on
+eagerly. I arrived at the front door&#8212;it was wide open; and I passed
+through the hall to the library. I heard Agnes&#8217; voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no, papa. You must not force me to this! I cannot&#8212;will not&#8212;marry
+Colonel Bludyer!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You <em>must</em>,&#8221; answered Mr. Maryon, in a hoarse voice; &#8220;you <em>must</em> marry
+him, and save your father from something worse than disgrace!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
+Not feeling disposed to play the eavesdropper, I entered the room. Mr.
+Maryon was standing at the fireplace. Agnes was crouching on the ground
+at his feet. I saw at once that it was no use for me to dissemble the
+reason of my visit, and, without a word of greeting, I said:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Miss Maryon, I have come, in obedience to your summons. If I can
+prevent any misfortune from falling upon you I am ready to help you,
+with my life. You have guessed that I love you. If my love is returned I
+am prepared to dispute my claim with any man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Agnes, with a cry of joy, rose from her knees, and rushed toward me. Ah!
+how strong I felt as I held her in my arms!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have my answer,&#8221; I continued. &#8220;Mr. Maryon, I have reason to believe
+that your daughter is in fear of the future you have forecast for her. I
+ask you to regard those fears, and to give her to me, to love and
+cherish as my wife.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Maryon covered his face with his hands; and I could hear him murmur,
+&#8220;Too late&#8212;too late!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, not too late,&#8221; I echoed. &#8220;What is this Bludyer to you, that you
+should sacrifice your daughter to a man whose very look proclaims him a
+villain? Nothing can compel you to such a deed&#8212;not even a <em>debt of
+honor</em>!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>What it was impelled me to say these last words I know not, but they had
+an extraordinary effect upon Mr. Maryon. He started toward me, then
+checked himself; his face was livid, his eyeballs glaring, and he threw
+up his arms in the strange manner I had already witnessed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>
+&#8220;What is all this?&#8221; exclaimed a harsh voice behind me. &#8220;Mr. Westcar
+insulting Miss Maryon and her father! it is time for me to interfere.&#8221;
+And Colonel Bludyer approached me menacingly. All his jovial manner and
+fulsome courtesy was gone; and in his flushed face and insolent look the
+savage rascal was revealed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You will interfere at your peril,&#8221; I replied. &#8220;I am a younger man than
+you are, and my strength has not been weakened by drink and dissipation.
+Take care.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The villain drew himself up to his full height; and, though he must have
+been at least some sixty years of age, I felt assured that I should meet
+no ordinary adversary if a personal struggle should ensue. Agnes
+fainted, and I laid her on a sofa.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Miss Maryon wants air,&#8221; said the Colonel, in a calmer voice. &#8220;Excuse
+me, Mr. Maryon, if I open a window.&#8221; He tore open the shutters, and
+threw up the sash. &#8220;And now, Mr. Westcar, unless you are prepared to be
+sensible, and make your exit by the door, I shall be under the
+unpleasant necessity of throwing you out of the window.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The ruffian advanced toward me as he spoke. Suddenly he paused. His jaw
+dropped; his hair seemed literally to stand on end; his white lips
+quivered; he shook, as with an ague; his whole form appeared to shrink.
+I stared in amazement at the awful change. A strange thrill shot through
+me, as I heard a quiet voice say:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Richard Bludyer, your grave is waiting for you. Go.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The figure of a man passed between me and him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> The wretched man shrank
+back, and, with a wild cry, leaped from the window he had opened.</p>
+
+<p>All this time Mr. Maryon was standing like a lifeless statue.</p>
+
+<p>In helpless wonder I gazed at the figure before me. I saw clearly the
+features in profile, and, swift as lightning, my memory was carried back
+to the unforgotten scene in the churchyard upon the Lake of Lucerne, and
+I recognized the white face of the young man with whom I there had
+spoken.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;John Maryon,&#8221; said the voice, &#8220;this is the night upon which, a quarter
+of a century ago, you killed me. It is your last night on earth. You
+must go through the tragedy again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Maryon, still statue-like, beckoned to the figure, and opened a
+half-concealed door which led into his study. The strange but opportune
+visitant seemed to motion to me with a gesture of his hand, which I felt
+I must obey, and I followed in this weird procession. From the study we
+mounted by a private staircase to a large, well-furnished bed-chamber.
+Here we paused. Mr. Maryon looked tremblingly at the stranger, and said,
+in a low, stammering voice:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is my room. In this room, on this night, twenty-five years ago,
+you told me that you were certain Sir Henry Benet&#8217;s will was in
+existence, and that you had made up your mind to dispute my possession
+to this property. You had discovered letters from Sir Henry to your
+father which gave you a clue to the spot where that will might be found.
+You, Geoffrey Ringwood, of generous and extravagant nature, offered to
+find the will in my presence. It was late at night, as now; all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> the
+household slept. I accepted your invitation, and followed you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Maryon ceased; he seemed physically unable to continue. The terrible
+stranger, in his low, echoing voice, replied:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go on; confess all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You and I, Geoffrey, had been what the world calls friends. We had been
+much in London together; we were both passionately fond of cards. We had
+a common acquaintance, Richard Bludyer. He was present on the 2d of
+February, when I lost a large sum of money to you at <em>&eacute;cart&eacute;</em>. He hinted
+to me that you might possibly use these sums in instituting a lawsuit
+against me for the recovery of this estate. Your intimation that you
+knew of the existence of the will alarmed me, as it had become necessary
+for me to remain owner of The Mere. As I have said, I accepted your
+invitation, and followed you to Sir Henry Benet&#8217;s room; and now I follow
+you again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As he said these words, Geoffrey Ringwood, or his ghost, passed silently
+by Mr. Maryon, and led the way into the corridor. At the end of the
+corridor all three paused outside an oak door which I remembered well. A
+gesture from the leader made Mr. Maryon continue:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;On this threshold you told me suddenly that Bludyer was a villain, and
+had betrayed your sister Aldina; that she had fled with him that night;
+that he could never marry her, as you had reason to know he had a wife
+alive. You made me swear to help you in your vengeance against him. We
+entered the room, as we enter it now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Our leader had opened the door of the room,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> and we were in the same
+chamber I had wandered to when I had slept at The Mere. The figure of
+Geoffrey Ringwood paused at the round table, and looked again at Mr.
+Maryon, who proceeded:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You went straight to the fifth panel from the fireplace, and then
+touched a spring, and the panel opened. You said that the will giving
+this property to your father and his heirs was to be found there. I was
+convinced that you spoke the truth, but, suddenly remembering your love
+of gambling, I suggested that we should play for it. You accepted at
+once. We searched among the papers, and found the will. We placed the
+will upon the table, and began to play. We agreed that we would play up
+to ten thousand pounds. Your luck was marvellous. In two hours the limit
+was reached. I owed you ten thousand pounds, and had lost The Mere. You
+laughed, and said, &#8216;Well, John, you have had a fair chance. At ten
+o&#8217;clock this morning I shall expect you to pay me <em>your debt of honor</em>.&#8217;
+I rose; the devil of despair strong upon me. With one hand I swept the
+cards from the table into the fire, and with the other seized you by the
+throat, and dealt you a blow upon the temple. You fell dead upon the
+floor.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Need I say that as I heard this fearful narrative, I recognized the
+actions of the sleep-walker, and understood them all?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To the end!&#8221; said the hollow voice. &#8220;Confess to the end!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The doctor who examined your body gave his opinion, at the inquest,
+that you had died of apoplexy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> caused by strong cerebral excitement. My
+evidence was to the effect that I believed you had lost a very large sum
+of money to Captain Bludyer, and that you had told me you were utterly
+unable to pay it. The jury found their verdict accordingly, and I was
+left in undisturbed possession of The Mere. But the memory of my crime
+haunted me as only such memories can haunt a criminal, and I became a
+morose and miserable man. One thing bound me to life&#8212;my daughter. When
+Reginald Westcar appeared upon the scene I thought that the debt of
+honor would be satisfied if he married Agnes. Then Bludyer reappeared,
+and he told me that he knew that I had killed you. He threatened to
+revive the story, to exhume your body, and to say that Aldina Ringwood
+had told him all about the will. I could purchase his silence only by
+giving him my daughter, the heiress of The Mere. To this I consented.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As he said these last words, Mr. Maryon sunk heavily into the chair.</p>
+
+<p>The figure of Geoffrey Ringwood placed one ghostly hand upon his left
+temple, and then passed silently out of the room. I started up, and
+followed the phantom along the corridor&#8212;down the staircase&#8212;out at the
+front door, which still stood open&#8212;across the snow-covered lawn&#8212;into
+the plantation; and then it disappeared as strangely as I first had seen
+it; and, hardly knowing whether I was mad or dreaming, I found my way
+back to The Shallows.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+<p>For some weeks I was ill with brain-fever. When I recovered I was told
+that terrible things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> had happened at The Mere. Mr. Maryon had been
+found dead in Sir Henry Benet&#8217;s room&#8212;an effusion of blood upon the
+brain, the doctors said&#8212;and the body of Colonel Bludyer had been
+discovered in the snow in an old disused gravel-pit not far from the
+house.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+<p>A year afterward I married Agnes Maryon; and, if all that I had seen and
+heard upon that 3d of February was not merely the invention of a fevered
+brain, the debt of honor was at last discharged, for I, the nephew of
+the murdered Geoffrey Ringwood, became the owner of The Mere.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56-58" id="Page_56-58">[56&#8211;58]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="back"><a href="#contents"><small>Back to Contents</small></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+<a name="dream" id="dream"></a>DEVEREUX&#8217;S DREAM.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">I GIVE you this story only at second-hand; but you have it in
+substance&#8212;and he wasted few words over it&#8212;as Paul Devereux told it me.</p>
+
+<p>It was not the only queer story he could have told about himself if he
+had chosen, by a good many, I should say. Paul&#8217;s life had been an
+eminently unconventional one: the man&#8217;s face certified to that&#8212;hard,
+bronzed, war-worn, seamed and scarred with strange battle-marks&#8212;the
+face of a man who had dared and done most things.</p>
+
+<p>It was not his custom to speak much of what he had done, however.
+Probably only because he and I were little likely to meet again that he
+told me this I am free to tell you now.</p>
+
+<p>We had come across one another for the first time for years that
+afternoon on the Italian Boulevart. Paul had landed a couple of weeks
+previously at Marseilles from a long yacht-cruise in southern waters,
+the monotony of which we heard had been agreeably diversified by a
+little pirate-hunting and slaver-chasing&#8212;the evil tongues called it
+piracy and slave-running; and certainly Devereux was quite equal to
+either <em>m&eacute;tier</em>; and he was about starting on a promising little
+filibustering expedition across the Atlantic, where the chances were he
+would be shot, and the certainty was that he would be starved. So
+perhaps he felt inclined to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> be a trifle more communicative than usual,
+as we sat late that night over a blazing pyre of logs and in a cloud of
+Cavendish. At all events he was, and after this fashion.</p>
+
+<p>I forget now exactly how the subject was led up to. Expression of some
+philosophic incredulity on my part regarding certain matters, followed
+by a ten-minutes&#8217; silence on his side pregnant with unwonted words to
+come&#8212;that was it, perhaps. At last he said, more to himself, it seemed,
+than to me:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Such stuff as dreams are made of.&#8217; Well, who knows? You&#8217;re a Sadducee,
+Bertie; you call this sort of thing, politely, indigestion. Perhaps
+you&#8217;re right. But yet I had a queer dream once.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not unlikely,&#8221; I assented.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re wrong; I never dream, as a rule. But, as I say, I had a queer
+dream once; and queer because it came literally true three years
+afterward.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Queer indeed, Paul.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Happens to be true. What&#8217;s queerer still, my dream was the means of my
+finding a man I owed a long score, and a heavy one, and of my paying him
+in full.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bad for the payee!&#8221; I thought.</p>
+
+<p>Paul&#8217;s face had grown terribly eloquent as he spoke those last words. On
+a sudden the expression of it changed&#8212;another memory was stirring in
+him. Wonderfully tender the fierce eyes grew; wonderfully tender the
+faint, sad smile, that was like sunshine on storm-scathed granite. That
+smile transfigured the man before me.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>
+&#8220;Ah, poor child&#8212;poor Lucille!&#8221; I heard him mutter.</p>
+
+<p>That was it, was it? So I let him be. Presently he lifted his head. If
+he had let himself get the least thing out of hand for a moment, he had
+got back his self-mastery the next.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll tell you that queer story, Bertie, if you like,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>The proposition was flatteringly unusual, but the voice was quite his
+own.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Somehow I&#8217;d sooner talk than think about&#8212;<em>her</em>,&#8221; he went on after a
+pause.</p>
+
+<p>I nodded. He might talk about this, you see, but <em>I</em> couldn&#8217;t. He began
+with a question&#8212;an odd one:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did you ever hear I&#8217;d been married?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Paul Devereux and a wife had always seemed and been to me a most
+unheard-of conjunction. So I laconically said:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I was once, years ago. She was my wife&#8212;that child&#8212;for a week.
+And then&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I easily filled up the pause; but, as it happened, I filled it up
+wrongly; for he added:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And then she was murdered.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I was not unused to our Paul&#8217;s stony style of talk; but this last
+sentence was sufficiently <a name="startling" id="startling"></a><ins class="translit" title="original has start ling">startling</ins>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Murdered&#8212;in her sleep. They never found the man who did it either,
+though I had Durbec and all the Rue de J&eacute;rusalem at work. But I forgave
+them that, for I found the man myself, and killed him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>He was filling his pipe again as he told me this, and he perhaps rammed
+the Cavendish in a little tighter, but that was all. The thing was a
+matter of course; I knew my Paul, well enough to know that. Of course he
+killed him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mind you,&#8221; he continued, kindling the black <em>br&ucirc;le-gueule</em> the
+while&#8212;&#8220;mind you, I&#8217;d never seen this man before, never known of his
+existence, except in a way that&#8212;however, it was this way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He let his grizzled head drop back on the cushions of his chair, and his
+eyes seemed to see the queer story he was telling enacted once more
+before him in the red hollows of the fire.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As I said, it was years ago. I was waiting here in Paris for some
+fellows who were to join me in a campaign we&#8217;d arranged against the
+African big game. I never was more fit for anything of that sort than I
+was then. I only tell you this to show you that the thing can&#8217;t be
+accounted for by my nerves having been out of order at all.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well: I was dining alone that day, at the Caf&eacute; Anglais. It was late
+when I sat down to my dinner in the little salon as usual. Only two
+other men were still lingering over theirs. All the time they stayed
+they bored me so persistently with some confounded story of a murder
+they were discussing, that I was once or twice more than half-inclined
+to tell them so. At last, though, they went away.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But their talk kept buzzing abominably in my head. When the waiter
+brought me the evening paper, the first thing that caught my eye was a
+circumstantial account of the <em>probable</em> way the fellow did his murder.
+I say probable, for they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> never caught him; and, as you will see
+directly, they could only suppose how it occurred.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It seemed that a well-known Paris banker, who was ascertained beyond
+doubt to have left one station alive and well, and with a couple of
+hundred thousand francs in a leathern <em>sac</em> under his seat, arrived at
+the next station the train stopped at with his throat cut and <em>minus</em>
+all his money, except a few bank-notes to no great amount, which the
+assassin had been wise enough to leave behind him. The train was a night
+express on one of the southern lines; the banker travelled quite alone,
+in a first-class carriage; and the murder must have taken place between
+midnight and 1 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span> next morning. The newspapers supposed&#8212;rightly
+enough, I think&#8212;that the murderer must have entered the carriage <em>from
+without</em>, stabbed his victim in his sleep&#8212;there were no signs of any
+struggle&#8212;opened the <em>sac</em>, taken what he wanted, and retreated, loot
+and all, by the way he came. I fully indorsed my particular writer&#8217;s
+opinion that the murderer was an uncommonly cool and clever individual,
+especially as I fancy he got clear off and was never afterward laid
+hands on.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When I had done that I thought I had done with the affair altogether.
+Not at all. I was regularly ridden with this confounded murder. You see
+the banker was rather a swell; everybody knew him: and that, of course,
+made it so shocking. So everybody kept talking about him: they were
+talking about him at the Opera, and over the <em>baccarat</em> and <em>bouillotte</em>
+at La Topaze&#8217;s later. To escape him I went to bed and smoked myself to
+sleep. And then a queer thing came to pass: I had a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> dream&#8212;I who never
+dream; and this is what I dreamed:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I saw a wide, rich country that I knew. A starless night hung over it
+like a pall. I saw a narrow track running through it, straight, both
+ways, for leagues. Something sped along this track with a hurtling rush
+and roar. This something that at first had looked like a red-eyed devil,
+with dark sides full of dim fire, resolved itself, as I watched it,
+presently, into a more conventional night express-train. It flew along,
+though, as no express-train ever travelled yet; for all that, I was able
+to keep it quite easily in view. I could count the carriages as they
+whirled by. One&#8212;two&#8212;three&#8212;four&#8212;five&#8212;six; but I could only see
+distinctly into one. Into that one with perfect distinctness. Into that
+one I seemed forced to look.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was the fourth carriage. Two people were in it. They sat in opposite
+corners; both were sleeping. The one who sat facing forward was a
+woman&#8212;a girl, rather. I could see that; but I couldn&#8217;t see her face.
+The blind was drawn across the lamp in the roof, and the light was very
+dim; moreover, this girl lay back in the shadow. Yet I seemed to know
+her, and I knew that her face was very fair. She wore a cloak that
+shrouded her form completely, yet her form was familiar to me.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The figure opposite to her was a man&#8217;s. Strangely familiar to me too
+this figure was. But, as he slept, his head had sunk upon his breast,
+and the shadow cast upon his face by the low-drawn travelling-cap he
+wore hid it from me. Yet if I had seemed to know the girl&#8217;s face, I was
+certain I knew the man&#8217;s. But as I could see, so I could remember,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+neither. And there was an absolute torture in this which I can&#8217;t explain
+to you,&#8212;in this inability, and in my inability to wake them from their
+sleep.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;From the first I had been conscious of a desire to do that. This desire
+grew stronger every second. I tried to call to them, and my tongue
+wouldn&#8217;t move. I tried to spring toward them, to thrust out my arms and
+touch them, and my limbs were paralyzed. And then I tried to shut my
+eyes to what I <em>knew</em> must happen, and my eyes were held open and
+dragged to look on in spite of me. And I saw this:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I saw the door of the carriage where these two sleepers, whose sleep
+was so horribly sound, were sitting&#8212;I saw this door open, and out of
+the thick darkness another face look in.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The light, as I have said, was very dim, but I could see his face as
+plainly as I can see yours. A large yellow face it was, like a wax mask.
+The lips were full, and lustful and cruel. The eyes were little eyes of
+an evil gray. Thin yellow streaks marked the absence of the eyebrows;
+thin yellow hair showed itself under a huge fur travelling-cap. The
+whole face seemed to grow slowly into absolute distinctness as I looked,
+by the sort of devilish light that it, as it were, radiated. I had
+chanced upon a good many damnable visages before then; but there was a
+cold fiendishness about this one such as I had seen on no man&#8217;s face,
+alive or dead, till then.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The next moment the man this face belonged to was standing in the
+carriage, that seemed to plunge and sway more furiously, as though to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>
+waken them that still slept on. He wore a long fur travelling-robe, girt
+about the waist with a fur girdle. Abnormally tall and broad as he was,
+he looked in this dress gigantic. Yet there was a marvellous cat-like
+lightness and agility about all his movements.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He bent over the girl lying there helpless in her sleep. I don&#8217;t make
+rash bargains as a rule, but I felt I would have given years of my life
+for five minutes of my lost freedom of limb just then. I tell you the
+torture was infernal.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The assassin&#8212;I knew he was an assassin&#8212;bent awhile, gloatingly, over
+the girl. His great yellow hands were both bare, and on the forefinger
+of the right hand I could see some great stone blazing like an evil eye.
+In that right hand there gleamed something else. I saw him draw it
+slowly from his sleeve, and, as he drew it, turn round and look at the
+other sleeper with an infernal triumphant malignity and hate the Devil
+himself might have envied. But the man he looked at slept heavily on.
+And then&#8212;God! I feel the agony I felt in my dream then now!&#8212;then I saw
+the great yellow hand, with the great evil eye upon it, lifted
+murderously, and the bright steel it held shimmer as the assassin turned
+again and bent his yellow face down closer to that other face hidden
+from me in the shadow&#8212;the girl&#8217;s face, that I knew was so fair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How can I tell this?... The blade flashed and fell.... There was the
+sound of a heavy sigh stifled under a heavy hand....</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then the huge form of the assassin was reared erect, and the bloated
+yellow face seemed to laugh<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> silently, while the hand that held the
+steel pointed at the sleeping man in diabolical menace.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And so the huge form and the bloated yellow face seemed to fade away
+while I watched.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The express rushed and roared through the blinding darkness without;
+the sleeping man slept on still; till suddenly a strong light fell full
+upon him, and he woke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And then I saw why I had been so certain that I knew him. For as he
+lifted his head, I saw his face in the strong light.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<em>And the face was my own face; and the sleeper was myself!</em>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Paul Devereux made a pause in his queer story here. Except when he had
+spoken of the girl, he had spoken in his usual cool, hard way. The pipe
+he had been smoking all the time was smoked out. He took time to fill
+another before he went on. I said never a word, for I guessed who the
+sleeping girl was.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; Paul remarked presently, &#8220;that was a devilish queer dream,
+wasn&#8217;t it? You&#8217;ll account for it by telling me I&#8217;d been so pestered with
+the story of the banker&#8217;s murder that I naturally had nightmare;
+perhaps, too, that my digestion was out of order. Call it a nightmare,
+call it dyspepsia, if you like. I <em>don&#8217;t</em>, because&#8212;&#8212;&mdash; But you&#8217;ll see
+why I don&#8217;t directly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At the same moment that my dream-self awoke in my dream, my actual self
+woke in reality, and with the same ghastly horror.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I say the <em>same</em> horror, for neither then nor afterward could I
+separate my one self from my other self. They seemed identical; so that
+this queer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> dream made a more lasting impression upon me than you&#8217;d
+think. However, in the life I led that sort of thing couldn&#8217;t last very
+long. Before I came back from Africa I had utterly forgotten all about
+it. Before I left Paris, though, and while it was quite fresh in my
+memory, I sketched the big murderer just as I had seen him in my dream.
+The great yellow face, the great broad frame in the fur travelling-robe,
+the great hand with the great evil eye upon it&#8212;everything, carefully
+and minutely, as though I had been going to paint a portrait that I
+wanted to make lifelike. I think at the time I had some such intention.
+If I had, I never fulfilled it. But I made the sketch, as I say,
+carefully; and then I forgot all about it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Time passed&#8212;three years nearly. I was wintering in the south of France
+that year. There it was that I met her&#8212;Lucille. Old D&#8217;Avray, her
+father, and I had met before in Algeria. He was dying now. He left the
+child on his death-bed to me. The end was I married her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Poor little thing! I think I might have made her happy&#8212;who knows? She
+used to tell me often she was happy with me. Poor little thing!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, we were to come straight to London. That was Lucille&#8217;s notion.
+She wanted to go to my London first&#8212;nowhere else. Now I would rather
+have gone anywhere else; but, naturally, I let the child have her way.
+She seemed nervously eager about it, I remembered afterward; seemed to
+have a nervous objection to every other place I proposed. But I saw or
+suspected nothing to make me question her very closely, or the reasons
+for her preference for our grimy old Pandemonium. What<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> could I suspect?
+Not the truth. If I only had! If I had only guessed what it was that
+made her, as she said, long to be safe there already. Safe? What had she
+to fear with me? Ah, what indeed!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So we started on our journey to England. It was a cold, dark night,
+early in March. We reached Lyons somewhere about seven. I should have
+stayed there that night but for Lucille. She entreated me so earnestly
+and with such strange vehemence to go on by the night-mail to Paris,
+that at last, to satisfy her, I consented; though it struck me
+unpleasantly at the time that I had let her travel too long already, and
+that this feverishness was the consequence of over-fatigue. But she
+became pacified at once when I told her it should be as she wanted; and
+declared she should sleep perfectly well in the carriage with me beside
+her. She should feel quite safe then, she said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Safe! Where safer? you might ask. Nowhere, I believe. Alone with
+me&#8212;surely nowhere safer. The Paris express was a short train that
+night; but I managed to secure a compartment for ourselves. I left
+Lucille in her corner there while I went across to the <em>buffet</em> to fill
+a flask. I was gone barely five minutes; but when I came back the change
+in the child&#8217;s face fairly startled me. I had seen it last with the
+smile it always wore for me on it, looking so childishly happy in the
+lamp-light. Now it was all gray-pale and distorted; and the great blue
+eyes told me directly with what.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fear&#8212;sudden, terrible fear&#8212;I thought. But <em>fear</em>? Fear of what? I
+asked her. She clung close to me half-sobbing awhile before she could
+answer; and then she told me&#8212;nothing. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> was nothing the matter;
+only she had felt a pain&#8212;a cruel pain&#8212;at her heart; and it had
+frightened her. Yes, that was it; it had frightened her, but it had
+passed; and she was well, quite well again now.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All this time her eyes seemed to be telling me another story; but I
+said nothing; she was obviously too excited already. I did my best to
+soothe her, and I succeeded. She told me she felt quite well once more
+before we started. No, she had rather, much rather go on to Paris, as I
+had promised her she should. She should sleep all the way, if no one
+came into the carriage to disturb her. No one could come in? Then
+nothing could be better.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And so it was that she and I started that night by the Paris mail.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I made her up a bed of rugs and wraps upon the cushions; but she had
+rather rest her head upon my shoulder, she said, and feel my arm about
+her; nothing could hurt her then. Ah, strange how she harped on that.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She lay there, then, as she loved best&#8212;with her head resting on my
+shoulder, not sleeping much or soundly; uneasily, with sudden waking
+starts, and with glances round her; till I would speak to her. And then
+she would look up into my face and smile; and so drop into that uneasy
+sleep again. And I would think she was over-tired, that was all; and
+reproach myself with having let her come on. And three or four hours
+passed like this; and then we had got as far as Dijon.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But the child was fairly worn out now; and she offered no opposition
+when I asked her to let me pillow her head on something softer than my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>
+shoulder. So I folded, a great thick shawl she was too well cloaked to
+need, and she made that her pillow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We were rushing full swing through the wild, dark night, when she
+lifted up her face and bade me kiss her and bid her sleep well. And I
+put my arm round her, and kissed the child&#8217;s loving lips&#8212;for the last
+time while she lived. Then I flung myself on the seat opposite her; and,
+watching her till she slept soundly and peacefully, slept at last myself
+also. I had drawn the blind across the lamp in the roof, and the light
+in the carriage was very dim.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How long I slept I don&#8217;t know; it couldn&#8217;t have been more than an hour
+and a half, because the express was slackening speed for its first halt
+beyond Dijon. I had slept heavily I knew; but I woke with a sudden,
+sharp sense of danger that made me broad awake, and strung every nerve
+in a moment. The sort of feeling you have when you wake on a prairie,
+where you have come across &#8216;Indian sign;&#8217; on outpost-duty, when your
+<em>feldwebel</em> plucks gently at your cloak. You know what I mean.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was on my feet at once. As I said, the light in the carriage was very
+dim, and the shadow was deepest where Lucille lay. I looked there
+instinctively. She must have moved in her sleep, for her face was turned
+away from me; and the cloak I had put so carefully about her had partly
+fallen off. But she slept on still. Only soundly, very soundly; she
+scarcely seemed to breathe. And&#8212;<em>did</em> she breathe?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A ghastly fear ran through my blood, and froze<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> it. I understood why I
+had wakened. In my nostrils was an awful odor that I knew well enough. I
+bent over her; I touched her. Her face was very cold; her eyes glared
+glassily at me; my hands were wet with something. My hands were wet with
+blood&#8212;her blood!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I tore away the blind from the lamp, and then I could see that my wife
+of a week lay there stabbed straight to the heart&#8212;dead&#8212;dead beyond
+doubting; murdered in her sleep.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Devereux&#8217;s stern, low voice shook ever so little as he spoke those last
+words; and we both sat very silent after them for a good while. Only
+when he could trust his utterance again he went on.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A curious piece of devilry, wasn&#8217;t it? That child&#8212;whom had she ever
+harmed? Who could hate her like this? I remember I thought that, in a
+dull, confused sort of way, when I found myself alone in that carriage
+with her lying dead on the cushions before me. <em>Alone</em> with her&#8212;you
+understand? It was confusing.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I pass over what immediately followed. The express came duly to a halt;
+and then I called people to me, and&#8212;and the Paris express went on
+without that particular carriage.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The inquiry began before some local authority next day. Very little
+came of it. What could come of it, unless they had convicted <em>me</em> of the
+murder of this child I would have given my own life to save?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They might have done that at home; but they knew better here, and
+didn&#8217;t. They couldn&#8217;t find me the actual assassin, however; though I
+believe they did their best. All they found was his weapon,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> which he
+most purposely have left behind. I asked for this, and got it. It gave
+their police no clue; and it gave me none. But I had a fancy for it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was a plain, double-edged, admirably-tempered dagger&#8212;a very
+workmanlike article indeed. On the cross hilt of it I swore one day that
+I would live thenceforth for one thing alone&#8212;the discovery of the
+murderer of old D&#8217;Avray&#8217;s child, whom I had promised him to care for
+before all. When I had found this man, whoever he was, I also swore that
+I would kill him. Kill him myself, you understand; without any of the
+law&#8217;s delay or uncertainty, without troubling <em>bourreau</em> or hangman.
+Kill him as he had killed her&#8212;to do this was what I meant to live for.
+There was war to the knife between him and me.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I started, of course, under one heavy disadvantage. He knew me,
+probably, whereas I didn&#8217;t know him at all. When he found that his
+amiable intention of fixing the crime on me had been frustrated, it
+must, I imagined, have occurred to him that the said crime might
+eventually be fixed by me on him. And he had proved himself to be a
+person who didn&#8217;t stick at trifles. It behooved me, therefore, to go to
+work cautiously. But I hadn&#8217;t fought Indians for nothing; and I <em>was</em>
+very cautious. I waited quiet till I got a clue. It was a curious one;
+and I got it in this way. It struck me one day, suddenly, that I had
+heard of a murder precisely similar to this already. I could not at
+first call the thing to mind; but presently I remembered&#8212;my dream. And
+then I asked myself this: <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span><em>Had not this murder been done before my eyes
+three years ago?</em></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I came to the conclusion that the circumstances of the murder in my
+dream were absolutely identical with the circumstances of the actual
+crime. Yes; the girl whose face in that dream I had never been able to
+see was Lucille. Yes; the assassin whose face I had seen so plainly in
+that dream was the real assassin. In short, I believe that the murder
+had been <em>rehearsed</em> before me three years previous to its actual
+committal.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now this sounds rather wild. Yet I came to this conviction quite coolly
+and deliberately. It <em>was</em> a conviction. Assuming it to be true, the
+odds against me grew shorter directly; <em>for I had the portrait of the
+man I wanted drawn by myself the day after I had seen him in my dream</em>.
+And the original of that portrait was a man not to be easily mistaken,
+supposing him to exist at all. The day I came across that sketch of him
+in that old forgotten sketch-book of mine, I was as sure he did exist as
+that I was alive myself. What I had to do was to find this man, and then
+I never doubted I should find the man I wanted. You see how the odds had
+shortened. If he knew me I knew him now, and he had no notion that I did
+know him. It was a good deal fairer fight between us.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I fought it out alone. My story was hardly one the Rue de J&eacute;rusalem
+would have acted upon; and, besides, I wanted no interference. So, with
+the portrait before me, I sat down and began to consider who this man
+was, and why he had murdered that child. The big, burly frame, the heavy
+yellow face, the sandy-yellow hair, the physiognomy generally, was
+Teutonic. My man I put down as a North German. Now there were, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> are
+probably, plenty of men who would have no objection whatever to put a
+knife into me, if they got the chance; but this man, whom I had never
+met, could have had no such quarrel as theirs with me. His quarrel with
+me must have been, then, Lucille. Yes, that was it&#8212;Lucille. I began to
+see clearly: a thwarted, devilish passion&#8212;a cool, infernal revenge. The
+child had feared something of this sort; had perhaps seen him that
+night. This explained her nervous terror, her nervous anxiety to stop
+nowhere, to travel on. In that carriage of that express-train, alone
+with me&#8212;where could she be safer? This accounted, too, for her anxiety
+to reach England. He would not dare follow her there, she had thought,
+or, at least, could not without my noticing him. And then she would have
+told me. She had not told me before evidently because she had feared for
+<em>me</em> too, in a quarrel with this man. She must, innocent child as she
+was, have had some instinctive knowledge of what he was capable.... Ay,
+a cool, infernal revenge, indeed. To kill her; to fix the murder on me.
+That dagger he had left behind.... The apparent impossibility of any
+one&#8217;s entering the carriage as he must have entered it at all, to say
+nothing of the almost absolute impossibility of his doing so without
+disturbing either of us,&#8212;you see it might have gone hard with me if a
+British jury had had to decide on the case.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, to cut this as short as may be, I made up my mind that the man I
+wanted was a North German; that he had conceived a hideous passion for
+Lucille before I knew her; that she had shrunk from it and him so
+unmistakably, that he knew he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> had no chance; that my taking her away as
+my wife, to which he might have been a witness, drove him to as hideous
+a revenge; that, hearing we were going to England, and seeing that we
+were likely to stop nowhere on the way, and so give him a chance of
+doing what he had made up his mind to do, he had decided to do what he
+had done as he had done it,&#8212;counting on finding us asleep as he had
+found us, or on his strength if it came to a fight between him and me;
+but coolly reckless enough to brave everything in any case. And the
+devil aiding, he had in great part and only too well succeeded. He was
+now either so far satisfied that, if I made no move against him&#8212;and
+how, he might think, could I?&#8212;he, feeling himself all safe, would let
+me be; or, on the other hand, he did not feel safe, and was not
+satisfied, and was arranging for my being disposed of by and by. I
+considered the latter frame of mind as his most probable one; I went to
+work cautiously, as I say. I ascertained that Lucille had made no
+mention of any obnoxious <em>pr&eacute;tendant</em> at any time; I didn&#8217;t expect to
+find she had, her terror of the man was too intense. But this man must
+have met her somewhere&#8212;where?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When old D&#8217;Avray came home to die, his daughter was just leaving her
+Paris <em>pensionnat</em>. All through his last illness he had seen no visitor
+but me, and Lucille had never quitted him. Besides, I had been there all
+the time. I presumed, then, that this man and she had met in Paris; and
+I believe they were only likely to have met at one of the half-dozen
+houses where the child would now and again be asked. I got a list of
+all these. One name only struck me; it happened to be a German<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>
+name&#8212;Steinmetz. I wondered if Monsieur Steinmetz was my man. In the
+mean time, who was he? I had no trouble in finding that out: Monsieur
+Steinmetz was a German banker of good standing and repute, reasonably
+well off, and recently left a widower. Personally? <em>Dame</em>, personally
+Monsieur Steinmetz was a great man and a fat, with a big face and blond
+hair, and the appearance of what he really was&#8212;a <em>bon vivant</em> and a
+<em>bon enfant</em> yet <em>n&#8217;avait jamais fait de mal &agrave; personne&#8212;allez!</em>&#8212;All,
+yes; in effect, Madame had died about a year ago, and Monsieur had been
+inconsolable for a long time. He had changed his residence now, and
+inhabited a house in one of the new streets off the Champs Elys&eacute;es.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;From another source I discovered that in the lifetime of Madame
+Steinmetz Lucille was frequently at the house. She had ceased to come
+there about the date of the commencement of Madame&#8217;s sudden illness. I
+got this information by degrees, while I lay <em>perdu</em> in an old haunt of
+mine in the Pays Latin yonder; for I had always had an idea that I
+should find the man I wanted in Paris. When I had got it, I thought I
+should like to see Monsieur Steinmetz, the agreeable banker. One night I
+strolled up as far as his new residence in the street off the Champs
+Elys&eacute;es. Monsieur Steinmetz lived on the first-floor. There was a
+brilliant light there: Monsieur Steinmetz was entertaining friends, it
+seemed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was a fine night; I established myself out of sight under the
+doorway of an unfinished house opposite, and waited. I don&#8217;t know why;
+perhaps I fancied that when his friends were gone, the fineness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> of the
+night might induce Monsieur Steinmetz to take a stroll, and that then I
+should be able to gratify my curiosity. You see, I knew that if he were
+my man, I should know him directly. I waited a good while: shadows
+crossed the lighted blinds; once a big, broad shadow appeared there,
+that made me fancy I mightn&#8217;t have been waiting for nothing after all,
+somehow. Presently Monsieur Steinmetz&#8217;s guests departed, and in a little
+while after there appeared on the little balcony of Monsieur Steinmetz&#8217;s
+apartment <em>the man I wanted</em>. There was a moon that night, and the cold
+white light fell on the great yellow face, with the full lustful lips,
+and the full cruel chin, just as I had seen the light fall on it in my
+dream. It was the same face, Bertie; the same face, the same man. I
+couldn&#8217;t be mistaken. I had no doubt; I <em>knew</em> that the assassin of my
+wife, of that tender, innocent, helpless child, stood there, twenty
+yards from me, on that balcony.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I had got myself pretty well in hand; and it was as well. I never
+moved. The face I knew turned presently toward the spot where I stood
+hidden,&#8212;the face I had seen in my dream, beyond all doubting. The evil
+gray eyes glanced carelessly into the shadow, and up and down the quiet
+street; and then Monsieur Steinmetz, humming an air, got inside the
+window again, and closed it after him. Once more the great burly shadow
+that had at first told me I should not wait in that dark doorway in vain
+crossed the blinds; and then it disappeared. I saw my man no more that
+night; but I had seen enough. I knew who he was now, and where to find
+him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+&#8220;As I walked along home I thought what I would do. I quite meant to kill
+Monsieur Steinmetz; but I also meant to have no <em>d&eacute;m&ecirc;l&eacute;s</em> with an
+Imp&eacute;rial Procureur and the Cour d&#8217;Assizes for doing so. I didn&#8217;t want to
+murder him, either. I thought I would wait a little for the chance of a
+suitable opportunity for settling my business satisfactorily. And I did
+wait. I turned this delay to account, and got together a case of
+circumstantial evidence against my man that, though perhaps it might
+have broken down in a law-court, would have been alone amply sufficient
+for me.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The reason why Lucille&#8217;s visits to the banker&#8217;s house ceased was, it
+appeared, because Madame Steinmetz had conceived all at once a jealous
+dislike to her. How far this was owing to Lucille herself I could well
+understand; but I could understand Madame&#8217;s jealousy equally well.
+Madame&#8217;s illness, strangely sudden, dated from the cessation of
+Lucille&#8217;s visits. Was it hard to find a <em>cause</em> for that illness&#8212;a
+cause for the wife&#8217;s subsequent suspected death? I thought not. Then had
+followed Lucille&#8217;s departure from Paris. The child&#8217;s anxiety for her
+father hid her <em>other fear</em> from his eyes and mine; but that fear must
+have been on her then. With us she forgot it in time; yet it or another
+reason had always prevented all mention of what had occasioned it. She
+became my wife. At that very time I easily ascertained that Steinmetz
+was absent from Paris; less easily, but indubitably, that he had, at all
+events, been as far south as Lyons. At Lyons it must have been that
+Lucille first discovered he was dogging us. Hence her alarm, which I had
+remembered, and her anxiety to proceed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> on our journey without stopping
+for the night, as I had previously arranged. The morning after the
+murder Steinmetz reappeared in Paris. From the hour at which he was seen
+at the <em>gare</em>, it was certain that he had travelled by the night express
+train in which Lucille and I had started from Lyons; and he wore that
+morning a travelling-coat of fur in all respects similar to the one I
+remembered so well.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If I had ever had any doubt of my man after actually seeing him, I
+should probably have convinced myself that he was my man by the general
+tendency of these facts, which I got at slowly and one by one. But I had
+no need of such evidence; and of course no case, even with such
+evidence, for a court of law. However, courts of law I had never
+intended to trouble in the matter.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The opportunity I was waiting was some time before it offered. Monsieur
+Steinmetz was a man of regular habits, I found&#8212;from his first-floor in
+the street off the Champs Elys&eacute;es, every morning at eleven, to the
+Bourse; thence to his bureau hard by till four; from his bureau to his
+caf&eacute;, where he read papers and played dominoes till six; and then home
+slowly by the Boulevarts. He might consider himself tolerably safe from
+me while he led this sort of life, even supposing he was aware he was
+incurring any danger. I don&#8217;t think he troubled much about that; till
+one night, when, over the count of the beloved domino-points, his eyes
+met mine fixed right upon him. I had arranged this little surprise to
+see how it would affect him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps my gaze may have expressed something more than the mere
+distraction I intended; but I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> noticed&#8212;though a more indifferent
+observer might easily have failed to notice&#8212;how the great yellow face,
+expanded in childish interest in the childish game, seemed suddenly to
+grow gray and harden; how the fat smile became a cruel baring of sharp
+white teeth; how the fat chin squared itself. The man knew me, and
+scented danger.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A moment&#8217;s reflection convinced Monsieur Steinmetz, though, that it
+could be by no means so certain that I knew him; five minutes&#8217;
+observation of me more than half satisfied him that I did not. Yet what
+did I want there? What was I doing in Paris? This might concern him
+nearly, he must have thought.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I kept my own face in order, and watched his. It wasn&#8217;t an easy one to
+read; but you see I had studied it closely, and in a way he couldn&#8217;t
+have dreamed of. Monsieur Steinmetz was outwardly his wonted self, but
+inwardly not quite comfortable when he rose; and I saw the evil eye
+gleam on his great yellow finger as he took out his purse to pay the
+<em>gar&ccedil;on</em>, just as I had seen it when that finger pointed at <em>myself</em> in
+my dream. I felt curious sensations, Bertie, as I sat there and looked
+abstractedly at Monsieur Steinmetz. I wondered how long it would be
+before&#8212;&#8212;But my time hadn&#8217;t come yet. He went out without another
+glance at me. I saw his huge form on the other side of the street when I
+left the caf&eacute; in my turn. This I had expected. Monsieur Steinmetz was
+naturally curious. It was hardly possible that I could know him; but it
+was quite certain that he ought to know all about me. So, when I moved
+on, he moved on; in short, Monsieur Steinmetz dogged me up one street
+and down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> another, till he finally dogged me home to my hiding-place in
+the Pays Latin. He did it very well, too&#8212;much better than you would
+have expected from so apparently unwieldy a <em>mouchard</em>. But I
+<em>remembered</em> how lightly he could move.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Next day I had, of course, disappeared from my old quarters, and gone
+no one knew where. I suppose Monsieur Steinmetz didn&#8217;t like this fact
+when he heard of it. It might have seemed suspicious. Suppose I <em>had</em>
+recognized him? In that case I had evidently a little game of my own,
+and was as evidently desirous to keep it dark. He was a cool hand; but I
+fancy my man began to get a little uneasy. He took some trouble to find
+me again. After a while I permitted him to do that. Once found, he
+seemed determined that I should not be lost sight of again for want of
+watching. I permitted that, too; it helped play my game, and I wanted to
+bring it to an end. To which intent, Monsieur Steinmetz got to hear from
+sources best known to himself as much of my plans as should bring him to
+the state I wanted. That was a murderous state. I wanted to get him to
+think that I was dangerous enough to be worth putting out of the way. I
+presume he was aware there were, or would be, weak joints in his armor,
+impenetrable as it seemed; and he preferred not risking the ordeal of
+legal battle if he could help it. At all events, he elected at last to
+rid himself of a person who might be dangerous, and was troublesome, by
+the shortest and the simplest means.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I say so because when, believing my man was ripe for this, I left Paris
+about midday for a certain secluded little spot on the sea-coast, I saw
+one of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> Monsieur Steinmetz&#8217;s employees on the platform; and because,
+two days after my arrival in my secluded spot, I met Monsieur Steinmetz
+in person, newly arrived also. Now this was exactly what I had intended
+and anticipated. Monsieur Steinmetz had come down there to put me out of
+his way, if he could. He passed me, leisurely strolling in the opposite
+direction, humming his favorite <em>aria</em>, bigger and yellower than ever,
+the evil eye fiery on his finger. His own eyes shot me as evil fire; but
+he said nothing.... I saw he was ripe, though.... My time was close at
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It came. Monsieur Steinmetz and I met once more in the very place where
+I, knowing my ground, had intended we should meet. It was a dip in the
+cliffs like a hollowed palm, and just there the cliff jutted out a good
+bit, with a sheer fall on to the rocks below. It was a gray afternoon,
+at the end of summer. The wind was rising fast; there was a thunder of
+heavy waves already.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think he had been dogging me; but I hadn&#8217;t chosen to let him get up
+to me till now. We were quite out of sight when he had reached the level
+bottom of the dip, where I had halted&#8212;quite out of sight, and quite
+alone. To do him justice, he came on steadily enough. His face was liker
+the sketch I had made of it, liker the face I had seen in my dream, than
+it had ever looked before. Evidently he had made up his mind.... At
+last, then!... Well, I had been waiting long!... He was close beside me.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;<em>Ah! bon jour, cher Monsieur Steinmetz.</em>&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;So?&#8217; he said, his little eyes contracting like a cobra&#8217;s. &#8216;Ah!
+Monsieur knows my name?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>&#8220;&#8216;Among other things about you&#8212;yes.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;So!&#8217; The yellow face was turning grayer and harder every minute&#8212;liker
+and liker to my likeness of it. <a name="and" id="and"></a><ins class="translit" title="original omitted open quote">&#8216;And</ins> what other things? Has it never
+appeared to you that this you do, have been doing&#8212;this meddling, may be
+dangerous, <em>hein</em>?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He had changed his tone, as he had changed the person in which he
+addressed me. Yes, he had certainly made up his mind. And his big right
+hand was hidden inside his waistcoat, so that I could not see the evil
+eye I knew was on his finger.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Dangerous?&#8217; he repeated slowly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Possibly.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Ay, surely; I shall crush you!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Try.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;In good time; wait. You plot against me. Take care; I am strong; I
+warn you. There must be an end of this, you understand, or&#8212;&#8212;&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He nodded his big head significantly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;You are right,&#8217; I told him; &#8216;there must be an end. It is coming.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;So?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Yes; I know you. You know me now.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;I know you. What do you want?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;To kill you.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;So?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Yes; as you killed her.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;As I killed her? That is it, then? You know that?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;I know that.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Well, it is true. I killed her. Now you can guess what I am going to
+do to you&#8212;to you, curse you!&#8212;whom she loved.&#8217;</p>
+
+<div class="figc" style="width: 343px;">
+<img src="images/illus-1.jpg" width="343" height="600" alt="" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&#8220;THE GREAT YELLOW FACE LOOKED SILENTLY UP AT ME; AND
+THEN&#8212;THEN IT DISAPPEARED.&#8221;</span><br />
+
+<span class="illus"><a href="images/illus-1l.jpg">View larger image</a></span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
+&#8220;The very face I had seen in my dream now, Bertie, the very face! There
+was something besides the evil eye that gleamed in his right hand when
+he drew it from his breast. Once more he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Yes, I killed her. I meant worse for you. You escaped that; but you
+will not escape me now. Fool! were you mad to do this? Did not I hate
+you enough? And I would have let you be. Ah, die, then, if you will have
+it so!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;His heavy right arm swung high as he spoke, and I saw the sharp steel
+gleam as it turned to fall. And I twisted from his grip, and caught the
+falling arm, and bent it till the dagger dropped to the ground. And
+then, for a fierce, desperate, devilish minute, I had him in my clutch,
+dragging him nearer the smooth, slippery edge. He was no match for me at
+this I knew, and he knew; but he held me with the hold of his despair,
+and I could not loose myself. Both of us together, he meant; but not I.
+Yet I only freed myself just as he rolled exhausted, but clutching at
+the tough, short bushes wildly, toward the brink, and partly over it....
+Only the hold of his hands between him and his death. And I knelt above
+him, with the knife in my hand that was stained with <em>her</em> blood.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The great yellow face, ashen now in its mortal agony, looked silently
+up at me&#8212;for three or four awful seconds; and then&#8212;then it
+disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bah!&#8221; Paul concluded, &#8220;that was the end of it.&#8221;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86-88" id="Page_86-88">[86&#8211;88]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<p class="back"><a href="#contents"><small>Back to Contents</small></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
+<a name="quest" id="quest"></a>CATHERINE&#8217;S QUEST.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">IMAGINE to yourself an old, rambling, red-brick house, with odd corners
+and gables here and there, all bound and clasped together with ivy, and
+you have Craymoor Grange. It was built long before Queen Elizabeth&#8217;s
+time, and that illustrious monarch is said to have slept in it in one of
+her royal progresses&#8212;as where has she not slept?</p>
+
+<p>There still remain some remnants of bygone ages, although it has been
+much modernized and added to in later days. Among these are the
+brewhouse and laundry&#8212;formerly, it is said, dining-hall and ball-room.
+The latter of these is chiefly remarkable for an immense arched window,
+such as you see in churches, with five lights.</p>
+
+<p>When we came to the Grange this window had been partially blocked up,
+and in front of it, up to one-third of its height, was a wooden da&iuml;s, or
+platform, on which stood a cumbrous mangle, left there, I suppose, by
+the last tenants of the house.</p>
+
+<p>Of these last tenants we knew very little, for it was so long since it
+had been inhabited that the oldest authority in the village could not
+remember it.</p>
+
+<p>There were, however, some half-defaced monuments in the village church
+of Craymoor, bearing the figures and escutcheons of knights and dames of
+&#8220;the old family,&#8221; as the villagers said; but the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> inscriptions were worn
+and almost illegible, and for some time we none of us took the pains to
+decipher them.</p>
+
+<p>We first came to Craymoor Grange in the summer of 1849, my husband
+having discovered the place in one of his rambles, and taken a fancy to
+it. At first I certainly thought we could never make it our home, it was
+so dilapidated and tumble-down; but by the time winter came on we had
+had several repairs done and alterations made, and the rooms really
+became quite presentable.</p>
+
+<p>As our family was small we confined ourselves chiefly to the newest part
+of the house, leaving the older rooms to the mice, dust, and darkness.
+We made use of two of the old rooms, however, one as a servants&#8217; bedroom
+and the other as an extra spare chamber, in case of many visitors. For
+myself, though I hope I am neither nervous nor superstitious, I confess
+that I would rather sleep in &#8220;our wing,&#8221; as we called the part of the
+house we inhabited, than in any of the old rooms.</p>
+
+<p>When Catherine l&#8217;Estrange came to us, however, during our first
+Christmas at Craymoor, I found that she was troubled with no such
+fancies, but declared that she delighted in queer old rooms, with
+raftered ceilings and deep window-seats, such as ours, and begged to be
+allowed to occupy the spare chamber. This I readily acceded to, as we
+had several visitors, and needed all the available rooms.</p>
+
+<p>As my story has principally to do with Catherine l&#8217;Estrange, I suppose I
+ought to speak more fully about her. She was an old school-friend of my
+daughter Ella, and at the time of which I am<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> speaking was just
+one-and-twenty, and the merriest girl I ever knew. She had stayed with
+us once or twice before we came to the Grange, but we then knew no other
+particulars concerning her family, than that her father had been an
+Indian officer, and that he and her mother had both died in India when
+she was about six years old, leaving her to the care of an aunt living
+in England.</p>
+
+<p>I now, after a long, and I fear a tedious, preamble, come to my story.</p>
+
+<p>On the eve of the new year of 1850, Catherine had a very bad sore
+throat, and was obliged, though sorely against her inclination, to stay
+in bed all day, and forego our small evening gayety.</p>
+
+<p>At about 6 o&#8217;clock <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>, Ella took her some tea, and fearing she would
+be dull, offered to stay with her during the evening. This, however,
+Catherine would not hear of. &#8220;You go and entertain your company,&#8221; said
+she laughingly, &#8220;and leave me to my own devices; I feel very lazy, and I
+dare say I shall go to sleep.&#8221; As she had not slept much on the
+preceding night, Ella thought it was the best thing she could do; so she
+went out by the door leading on to the corridor, first placing the
+night-lamp on a table behind the door opening on to the laundry, so that
+it might not shine in her face.</p>
+
+<p>She did not again visit Catherine&#8217;s room until reminded to do so by my
+son George, at about half-past ten. She then rapped at the door, and
+receiving no answer, opened it softly, and approached the bed. Catherine
+lay quite still, and Ella imagined her to be asleep. She therefore
+returned to the drawing-room without disturbing her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
+As it was New Year&#8217;s eve, we stayed up &#8220;to see the old year out and the
+new year in,&#8221; and at a few minutes to twelve we all gathered round the
+open window on the stairs to hear the chimes ring out from the village
+church.</p>
+
+<p>We were all listening breathlessly as the hall-clock struck twelve, when
+a piercing cry suddenly echoed through the house, causing us all to
+start in alarm. I knew that it could only proceed from Catherine&#8217;s room,
+for the servants were all assembled at the window beneath us, listening,
+like ourselves, for the chimes. Thither therefore I flew, followed by
+Ella, and we found poor Catherine in a truly pitiable state.</p>
+
+<p>She was deadly pale, in an agony of terror, and the perspiration stood
+in large drops upon her forehead. It was some time before we could
+succeed at all in composing her, and her first words were to implore us
+to take her into another room.</p>
+
+<p>She was too weak to stand, so we wrapped her in blankets, and carried
+her into Ella&#8217;s bedroom. I noticed that as she was taken through the
+laundry she shuddered, and put her hands before her eyes. When she was
+laid on Ella&#8217;s bed she grew calmer, and apologized for the trouble she
+had caused, saying that she had had a dreadful dream.</p>
+
+<p>With this explanation we were fain to be content, though I thought it
+hardly accounted for her excessive terror. I had observed, however, that
+any allusion to what had passed caused her to tremble and turn pale
+again, and I thought it best to refrain from exciting her further.</p>
+
+<p>When morning came I found Catherine almost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> her usual self again; but I
+persuaded her to remain in bed until the evening, as her cold was not
+much better. Ella&#8217;s curiosity to hear the dream which had so much
+excited her friend could now no longer be restrained; but whenever she
+asked to hear it, Catherine said, &#8220;Not now; another time, perhaps, I may
+tell you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When she came down to dinner in the evening, we noticed that she was
+peculiarly silent, and we endeavored to rally her into her usual
+spirits, but in vain. She tried to laugh and to appear merry, poor
+child; but there was evidently something on her mind.</p>
+
+<p>At last, as we all sat round the fire after dinner, she spoke. She
+addressed herself to my husband, but the tone of her voice caused us all
+to listen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Fanshawe, I have something to ask of you,&#8221; said she, and then
+paused.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ask on,&#8221; said Mr. Fanshawe.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know that you will think the request I am going to make a peculiar
+one; but I have a particular reason for making it,&#8221; continued she. &#8220;It
+is that you will have the wooden da&iuml;s in front of the laundry window
+removed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fanshawe certainly was taken aback, as were we all. When he had
+mastered his bewilderment, and assured himself that he had heard
+aright&#8212;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is, indeed, a strange request, my dear Catherine,&#8221; said he; &#8220;what
+can be your reason for asking such a thing?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you will only have it done, and not question me, you will understand
+my reason,&#8221; answered Catherine.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
+Mr. Fanshawe demurred, however, thinking it some foolish whim, and at
+last Catherine said:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I must tell you why I wish it done, then: I am sure we shall discover
+something underneath.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At this we all looked at one another in extreme bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Discover something underneath? No doubt we should&#8212;cobwebs, probably,
+and dust and spiders,&#8221; answered Mr. Fanshawe, much amused.</p>
+
+<p>But Catherine was not to be laughed down.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only do as I wish,&#8221; said she beseechingly, &#8220;and you will see. If you
+find nothing underneath the da&iuml;s but cobwebs and dust, then you may
+laugh at me as much as you like.&#8221; And I saw that she was serious, for
+tears were actually gathering in her eyes. Of course we were all very
+anxious to know what Catherine expected to find, and how she came to
+suspect that there was anything to be found; but she would not say, and
+begged us all not to question her.</p>
+
+<p>And now George took upon himself to interfere.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let us do as Catherine wishes, father,&#8221; said he; &#8220;the da&iuml;s spoils the
+laundry, and would be much better away.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, well,&#8221; said Mr. Fanshawe, &#8220;do as you like, only I shall expect my
+share of the treasure that is found.&#8212;And now,&#8221; added he, &#8220;you must have
+a glass of wine to warm you, Catherine, for you look sadly pale, child.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Here the conversation changed, though we often alluded to the subject
+again during the evening.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning the first thing in all our thoughts was Catherine&#8217;s
+singular request.</p>
+
+<p>I think Mr. Fanshawe had hoped she would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> have forgotten it, but such
+was not the case; on the contrary, she enlisted George&#8217;s services the
+first thing after breakfast to carry out her design, and they left the
+room together, accompanied by Ella.</p>
+
+<p>It was a snowy morning, and Mr. Fanshawe was obliged to be away from
+home all day on business, so I was quite at a loss how to entertain my
+numerous guests successfully. Happily for me, however, the mystery
+attendant on the removal of the da&iuml;s in the laundry charmed them all;
+and I have to thank Catherine for contributing to their amusement much
+better than I could possibly have done.</p>
+
+<p>Not long after the disappearance of Catherine, Ella, and George, a
+message was sent to us in the drawing-room requesting our presence in
+the laundry; and on all flocking there with more or less eagerness, we
+found a fire burning on the old-fashioned hearth and chairs arranged
+round it.</p>
+
+<p>It appeared that with the help of Sam, our factotum, who was a kind of
+Jack-of-all-trades, George had succeeded in loosening the planks of the
+da&iuml;s, which, although strongly put together, were rotten and worm-eaten,
+and that we were now summoned to be witnesses of its removal. We found
+Catherine trembling with a strange eagerness, and her face quite pale
+with excitement. This was shared by Ella and George; and, judging by the
+important expression on their faces, I fancied they were let further
+into the secret than any one else.</p>
+
+<p>We all sat down in the chairs placed for our accommodation, and the wild
+whistling of the wind in the huge chimney, <a name="together" id="together"></a><ins class="translit" title="original has open quote">together</ins> with the sheets of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>
+snow which darkened the window-panes, enhanced the mystery of the whole
+affair, while George and his coadjutor worked lustily on.</p>
+
+<p>At length, after a great deal of panting and puffing, George was heard
+to exclaim, &#8220;Now for the tug of war!&#8221; and there followed a minute&#8217;s
+pause, and then a crash as the loosened planks were torn asunder, and a
+cloud of dust enveloped both workmen and spectators.</p>
+
+<p>Involuntarily we all started forward, and a moment of the direst
+confusion ensued, during which the boys of our party greatly endangered
+their limbs among the broken boards.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By George!&#8221; exclaimed my son at last&#8212;in his eagerness invoking his
+patron saint&#8212;as he stumbled upon something, &#8220;there is something here
+and no mistake;&#8221; and, hastily clearing away the rubbish and clinging
+cobwebs, he disclosed to view what proved on examination to be an
+immense oaken chest, about four feet in height, heavily carved, and
+ornamented with brass mouldings corroded with age and damp.</p>
+
+<p>Here was a piece of excitement indeed; never in my most imaginative
+moments had I thought of anything so mysterious as this. The most
+sceptical among us grew interested.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, do open it!&#8221; cried Ella, when the first exclamations of surprise
+were over.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Easier to say than to do, miss,&#8221; replied Sam, exerting his Herculean
+strength in vain. With the aid of a hammer and the kitchen-poker,
+however, he at last succeeded in forcing it open. We all pressed forward
+eagerly to peer inside. There was something in it certainly, but we none
+of us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> could determine what, until Sam, who was the boldest of us all,
+thrust in his hand and brought forth&#8212;something which caused the bravest
+to start with horror, while poor Catherine sank down, white and
+trembling, upon the littered floor. It was a bone, to which adhered
+fragments of decaying silk.</p>
+
+<p>The consternation and conjectures which followed can be better imagined
+than described. Seeing the effects of the discovery upon Catherine, and
+indeed upon all, I bade Sam replace it in the chest, which George closed
+again, to be left until Mr. Fanshawe came home and could investigate the
+matter.</p>
+
+<p>The rest of the day I passed in attending to Catherine, who seemed much
+shocked and overcome by what she had seen, and in trying to divert my
+guests&#8217; thoughts from the subject, and dispel the gloom which had
+gathered over all. In this I succeeded only partially, and never did I
+welcome my husband&#8217;s return more gladly than on that evening.</p>
+
+<p>On his arrival I would not let him be disturbed by the relation of what
+had happened until he had finished his dinner, and it was not till we
+were gathered as usual round the fire that George related the whole
+story to him.</p>
+
+<p>When he ended the two gentlemen left the room together, in order that
+Mr. Fanshawe might verify by his own eyes what he would hardly believe.</p>
+
+<p>They were some time gone, and on their return I noticed that my husband
+held in his hand an old piece of soiled parchment, with mouldy seals
+affixed to it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>
+&#8220;We certainly have discovered much more than I thought for, Catherine,&#8221;
+said he, &#8220;and possibly more than you thought for either.&#8221; Here he paused
+for her to reply, but she did not.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The bones are most probably those of some animal,&#8221; added he&#8212;I fancied
+I could detect a certain anxiety in his tone that belied what he said;
+&#8220;but in order to quell the active imaginations which I can see are
+running away with some of you&#8221;&#8212;here he looked round with a smile&#8212;&#8220;I
+will send for Dr. Driscoll to come and examine them to-morrow. I have
+also found a piece of parchment in the chest,&#8221; he added; &#8220;but I have not
+yet looked at its contents.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Before you do that, Mr. Fanshawe, and before you send for the surgeon,&#8221;
+interrupted Catherine suddenly in a clear voice, &#8220;I think I can tell you
+all about the bones found in the chest, and how I guessed them to be
+there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I should certainly be very glad to be told,&#8221; my husband admitted, much
+surprised; &#8220;though how you can possibly know, I cannot surmise.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Listen, and I will tell you,&#8221; answered Catherine; and feeling very glad
+that our curiosity was at last to be gratified, we all &#8220;pricked up our
+ears,&#8221; as George would say, to listen.</p>
+
+<p>I here transcribe Catherine&#8217;s story word for word, as my son George
+subsequently wrote it down from her dictation.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+<p>&#8220;You all remember,&#8221; she began, &#8220;my alarming you on New Year&#8217;s eve at
+midnight, and that I told you I was disturbed by a dreadful dream.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I said so because I thought you would make<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> fun of me if I called it a
+vision; and yet it was much more like a vision, for I seemed to see it
+waking, and it was more vivid and consecutive than any dream I ever had.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Before I try to describe it, I want you all to understand that I seemed
+intuitively to comprehend what I saw, and to recognize all the figures
+which appeared before me, and their relation to one another, though I am
+sure I never beheld them before in my life.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When Ella left me that night, I lay propped up with pillows, staring
+idly at the strange shadows thrown by the hidden lamp across the laundry
+ceiling and over the floor. As I looked it seemed to me that a change
+came over the room&#8212;a most unaccountable change.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Instead of the blocked-up window, the rusty mangle, and the da&iuml;s at the
+farther end, I saw the window clear and distinct from top to bottom, and
+in front of a deep window-seat at its base stood an oaken chest, exactly
+corresponding to the one discovered this morning. The room seemed
+brilliantly lighted, and everything was clearly and distinctly visible;
+and not only was it changed, but also peopled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Many figures passed up and down; brocaded silks swept the floor, and
+old-world forms of men in strange costumes bowed in courtly style to the
+dames by their side. Among all these figures I noticed only one couple
+particularly, and I knew them to be bride and bridegroom. The man was
+tall and broad, with dark hair and eyes, and a sensual and cruel face.
+He seemed, however, to be quite enslaved by the woman by his side, whom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
+I hardly even now like to think of, there was something to me so
+repellent in her presence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She was tall and of middle age, and would have been handsome were it
+not for a sinister expression in her dark flashing eyes, which was
+enhanced by the black eyebrows which met over them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She reminded me irresistibly of the effigy on the stone monument in
+Craymoor church, which Ella and I named &#8220;the wicked woman.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As I gazed on the strange scene before me I presently became aware of
+three other figures which I had not noticed before. They were standing
+in a small arched doorway in one corner of the room (where the servants&#8217;
+bedroom now is) furtively watching the gay company. One was a pale,
+careworn woman, apparently of about five-and-thirty, still beautiful,
+though haggard and mournful-looking, with blue eyes and a fair
+complexion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Her hands rested on the shoulders of two children, one a boy and the
+other a girl, of about ten and eleven years of age respectively. They
+much resembled their mother, and, like her, they were meanly dressed,
+though no poverty of attire could hide the nobility of their aspect. I
+noticed that the mother&#8217;s eyes rested chiefly on the face of the tall
+stately man before mentioned, who seemed unaware or careless of her
+presence; and instinctively I knew him to be the father of her children
+and the blighter of her life.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As I looked and beheld all this, the lights vanished, the company
+disappeared, and the room became dark and deserted. No, not quite
+deserted, for I presently distinguished, seated on the window-seat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> by
+the old oaken chest, the fair woman and her children again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The moonlight now streamed through the window upon the woman&#8217;s face,
+making it appear more ghastly and haggard than before. In her long thin
+fingers she was holding up to the light a necklace of large pearls,
+curiously interwoven in a diamond pattern, and on this the children&#8217;s
+eyes were fixed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She then hung it on the girl&#8217;s fair neck, who hid it in her bosom. Both
+children then twined their arms round their mother and kissed her
+repeatedly, while her head sank lower and lower, and the paleness of
+death overspread her features.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This scene faded away as the other had done, and I saw the fair woman
+no more.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then it seemed to me that many figures passed and repassed before the
+window&#8212;the wicked woman (as I shall call her to distinguish her),
+accompanied by a boy the image of herself, whom I knew to be her son. He
+was apparently older than the fair-haired children, who also passed to
+and fro, attired as servants, and generally employed in some menial
+work.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At last the wicked woman&#8217;s son, with haughty gestures, ordered the
+other boy to pick up something that lay on the ground, and when he
+refused, he raised his cane as though to strike him. Before he could do
+so, however, the boy flew at him, and they engaged in a fierce struggle.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In the midst of this the wicked woman, whom I had learned to dread,
+came forward and separated them; after which she pointed imperiously to
+the door, and signed to the younger boy to go out.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+&#8220;He obeyed her mandate, but first threw his arms round his sister in a
+last embrace, and she detached the pearl necklace from off her neck and
+gave it to him. He then went out, waving a last adieu to her, and I saw
+him no more.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Confused images seemed to crowd before me after this, and I remember
+nothing clearly until I beheld an infirm and tottering figure led away
+through the arched doorway, in whom I recognized the tall and stately
+man I had first seen in company with the wicked woman, but who was now
+an old man, apparently being supported to his bed to die. As he passed
+out he laid one trembling hand upon the head of the fair girl, now a
+blooming woman, and a softer shade came over his face. This the wicked
+woman noted, and she marked her disapproval by a vindictive frown.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She also was older-looking, but age had in no degree softened her
+features; on the contrary, they appeared to me to wear a harsher
+expression than before.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In the next scene which came before me, the wicked woman&#8217;s son was
+evidently making love to the girl. Both were standing by the old
+window-seat, but her face was resolutely turned away from him, and when
+she at last looked at him it was with an expression of uncontrollable
+horror and dislike.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Again this scene changed as those before it had done; the young man was
+gone, and only the light of a grated lantern illumined the room, or
+rather made darkness visible. The wicked woman was the only occupant of
+the laundry; she was kneeling by the oaken chest, trying to raise the
+heavy lid. In her left hand she held a piece of parchment,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> with large
+red seals pendent from it. I knew it to be the old man&#8217;s will which she
+was hiding, thus defrauding the just claimants of their rights.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Her hands trembled, and her whole appearance denoted guilty
+trepidation. At length, however, the lid was raised, but just as she was
+about to replace the parchment in the chest, a figure glided silently
+from a dark corner of the window-seat and confronted her. It was the
+fair girl, pale, resolute, and extending her hand to claim the will.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;After the first guilty start, which caused her to drop the parchment
+into the chest, the wicked woman hurriedly tried to close the lid. Her
+efforts were frustrated, however, by the girl, who leaned with all her
+force upon it, keeping it back, and still held out her hand as before.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There followed a pause, which seemed to me very long, but which could
+in reality have only lasted a minute.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was broken by the wicked woman, who, hastily casting a glance behind
+her into the gloom of the darkened chamber, then seized the girl by the
+arm and dragged her with all her force into the chest. It was but the
+work of a moment, for the woman was much the more powerful of the two,
+and the poor victim was too much taken by surprise to make much
+resistance. I saw one despairing look in her face as her murderess
+flashed the lantern before it with a hideous gleam of triumph.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then the lid was pressed down upon her, and I saw no more, only I felt
+an unutterable terror, and tried in vain to scream.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>
+&#8220;This was not all the vision, however, for before I had mastered my
+terror the scene was superseded by another.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This time it was twilight, and the wicked woman and her son were
+together. The son seemed to be talking eagerly, and grew more and more
+excited, while the mother stood still and erect, with a malicious smile
+upon her lips. Presently she moved toward the chest with a fell purpose
+in her eyes, unlocked it with a key which hung from her girdle, raised
+the lid and disclosed the contents.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I understood it all now: the son was asking for the girl whom he had
+loved, and whom on his return home he missed, and the wicked woman,
+enraged at hearing for the first time that he had loved her, was
+determined to have her revenge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He should see her again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;On beholding the dread contents of the chest, the man staggered back
+horrified; then, doubtless comprehending the case, he turned suddenly
+upon the murderess, and threw his arm around her, and there ensued a
+struggle terrible to witness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Her proud triumphant glance of malice was now succeeded by one of
+abject fear, and, as his strength began to gain the mastery, of despair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;His iron frame heaved for a moment with the violence of his efforts,
+the next he had forced her down into the chest upon the mouldering body
+of her victim. I saw her eyes light up with the terror of death for one
+second, and then her screams were stifled forever beneath the massive
+lid.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The horror of this scene was too much for me; I found voice to scream
+at last, and I suppose it was my cry which alarmed you all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>When Catherine ceased speaking there was a profound silence for a
+minute, which Mr. Fanshawe was the first to break as he said with a
+peculiar intonation in his voice, &#8220;It is very strange, very
+unaccountable,&#8221; re&euml;choing all our thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>Now it happened that Mr. Fleet, our family lawyer, was among our guests
+that Christmas-time, and since the discovery of the chest and bones had
+taken a great interest in the whole affair. He now questioned and
+cross-questioned Catherine, and seemed quite satisfied with the result.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This would have made a fine case,&#8221; said he, &#8220;if only it had been a
+question of the right of succession, for any lawyer to make out; but
+unfortunately the events are too long past to have any bearing upon the
+present.&#8221; (There Mr. Fleet was wrong, though we none of us knew it at
+the time.)</p>
+
+<p>We now all launched forth into conjectures and opinions, during which
+Catherine lay still and weary upon the sofa. I saw this, and thought it
+quite time to put an end to the day&#8217;s adventures by suggesting a
+retirement for the night, and we were soon all dispersed to dream of the
+mysterious vision and discovery.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+<p>I think we were none of us sorry when morning dawned without any further
+tragedy (by <em>us</em>, I mean the female part of the establishment).</p>
+
+<p>When I came down to breakfast I found Mr. Fleet very active on the
+subject of the night before.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A surgeon ought to be immediately sent for to pronounce an opinion on
+the contents of the chest,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>&#8221; he said; and Dr. Driscoll presently came,
+and after examining the bones minutely, decided that they were, as we
+thought, those of two females, who might have been from one to two
+hundred years dead.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fleet next offered to decipher the will, for such he imagined the
+parchment to be, and he and Mr. Fanshawe were closeted together for some
+time.</p>
+
+<p>When they at last appeared again, they looked much interested and
+excited, and led me away to inform me of the result of their
+examination.</p>
+
+<p>They told me that the document had proved to be a will, but that there
+was a circumstance connected with it which greatly added to the mystery
+of the whole business. This was the mention of the name of L&#8217;Estrange. I
+was, of course, as much surprised as they, and heard the will read with
+great interest.</p>
+
+<p>I cannot remember the technical terms in which it was expressed. Mr.
+Fleet read me the translation he had made, for the original was in old
+English; but it was to this effect:</p>
+
+<p>It purported to be the will of Reginald, Viscount St. Aubyn, in which he
+bequeathed all his inheritance to his lawful son Francis St.
+Aubyn&#8212;commonly known by the name of Francis l&#8217;Estrange&#8212;and to his
+heirs forever. It was signed Reginald, Viscount St. Aubyn, and the
+witnesses were John Murray and Ph&#339;be Brett, who in the old copy had
+each affixed their mark.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fleet affirmed that it was a perfectly legal document, but this was
+not all it contained.</p>
+
+<p>There was an appendix which our lawyer translated as follows:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>
+&#8220;In order to avoid all disputes and doubts which might otherwise arise,
+I do hereby declare that my lawful wife was Editha, youngest daughter of
+Francis l&#8217;Estrange, Baronet, and that the register of our marriage may
+be seen in the church of St. Andrew, Haslet. By this marriage we had two
+children, a son Francis, and a daughter Catherine, commonly called
+Francis and Catherine l&#8217;Estrange. And I hereby declare that Agatha
+Thornhaugh was not legally married to me as she imagined, my lawful wife
+being alive at the time; neither do I leave to her son by her first
+husband, Ralph Thornhaugh, any part or share in my inheritance.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Both the will and the writing at the foot of it were dated the 14th of
+May, 1668.</p>
+
+<p>This accumulation of mysteries caused me for a time to feel quite
+bewildered and unable to think, but Mr. Fleet was in his element.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here is a case worth entering into,&#8221; said he, and he further went on to
+state that he had no doubt that the L&#8217;Estranges mentioned in the will
+were our Catherine&#8217;s ancestors, the Christian names being similar
+rendering it more than probable. She was most likely a direct descendant
+of Francis l&#8217;Estrange, the heir mentioned in the will, who was no doubt
+also the fair-haired boy Catherine had seen in her vision.</p>
+
+<p>The bones were those of his sister, the murdered Catherine l&#8217;Estrange,
+and of her murderess Agatha Thornhaugh, herself immured by her own son;
+but the matter ought not to rest on mere surmise, and the first place to
+go to for corroborating evidence was Craymoor church.</p>
+
+<p>The rapidity with which Mr. Fleet came to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> conclusions increased my
+bewilderment, and I was at a loss to know what evidence he expected to
+gain from Craymoor church. He reminded me, however, of Catherine&#8217;s
+statement that &#8220;the wicked woman&#8221; of her vision resembled the effigy on
+the monument there.</p>
+
+<p>Thither, then, the lawyer repaired, accompanied by Mr. Fanshawe and
+George. It was thought best to keep the sequel of the story from
+Catherine and the others until it was explained more fully, as Mr. Fleet
+boldly affirmed it should be. I awaited anxiously the result of their
+researches, and they exceeded I think even our good investigator&#8217;s
+hopes.</p>
+
+<p>Not only had they deciphered the inscription round the old monument, but
+with leave from the clergyman and the assistance of the sexton they had
+disinterred the coffin and found it to be filled with stones.</p>
+
+<p>I am aware that this was rather an illegal proceeding, but as Mr. Fleet
+was only acting <em>en amateur</em> and not professionally, he did not stick at
+trifles.</p>
+
+<p>The inscription was in Latin, and stated that the tomb was erected in
+memory of Agatha, wife of Reginald, Viscount St. Aubyn, who was buried
+beneath, and who died on the 31st day of December, 1649&#8212;exactly two
+hundred years before the day on which Catherine had seen the vision.</p>
+
+<p>I could not help thinking it shocking that the villagers had for two
+centuries been worshipping in the presence of a perpetual lie, but Mr.
+Fleet thought only of the grand corroboration of his &#8220;case.&#8221; He applied
+to Mr. Fanshawe to take the next step, namely, to write to Catherine&#8217;s
+aunt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> and only living relative, to tell her the whole story, and beg
+her to assist in elucidating matters by giving all the information she
+could respecting the L&#8217;Estrange family.</p>
+
+<p>This was done, and we anxiously awaited the answer. Meantime, all my
+guests were clamorous to hear the contents of the will, and I had to
+appease them as best I could, by promising that they should know all
+soon.</p>
+
+<p>In a few days, old Miss l&#8217;Estrange&#8217;s answer came. She said her brother,
+father, and grandfather had all served in India, and that she believed
+her great-grandfather, who was a Francis l&#8217;Estrange, to have passed most
+of his life abroad, there having been a cloud over his early youth. What
+this was, however, she could not say. She affirmed that the L&#8217;Estranges
+had in old times resided in &#8212;&#8212;shire; and she further stated that her
+father&#8217;s family had consisted of herself and her brother, whose only
+child Catherine was.</p>
+
+<p>This was certainly not much information, but it was enough for our
+purpose. We no longer remained in doubt as to the truth of Mr. Fleet&#8217;s
+version of the story, and when he himself told it to all our
+family-party one evening, every one agreed that he had certainly
+succeeded in making out a very clever case.</p>
+
+<p>As for Catherine, on being told that the figures she had beheld in the
+vision were thought to be those of her ancestors, she was not so much
+surprised as I expected, but said that she had had a presentiment all
+along that the tragedies she had witnessed were in some way connected
+with her own family.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
+I must not forget to say that on ascertaining that the parish church of
+Haslet was still standing, we searched the register, and another link of
+evidence was made clear by the finding of the looked-for entry.</p>
+
+<p>There remains little more to be told. The charge of the old will was
+committed to Mr. Fleet, and Catherine&#8217;s story has been carefully laid up
+among the archives of our family. I say advisedly of <em>our</em> family, for
+the line of the L&#8217;Estranges, alias St. Aubyns, has been united to ours
+by the marriage of Catherine to my son George, which took place in 1850.</p>
+
+<p>I who write this am an old woman now, but I still live with my son and
+daughter-in-law.</p>
+
+<p>George has bought Craymoor Grange, thus rendering justice after the
+lapse of two centuries, and restoring the inheritance of her fathers to
+the rightful owner.</p>
+
+<p>I have but one more incident to relate, and I have done. A short time
+ago, old Miss l&#8217;Estrange died, bequeathing all her worldly possessions
+to Catherine. Among these were some old family relics. Catherine was
+looking over them as George unpacked them, and she presently came to a
+miniature of a young and beautiful girl with fair hair and blue eyes,
+and a wistful expression, and with it a necklace of pearls strung in a
+diamond pattern. On seeing these she became suddenly grave, and handing
+them to me, said: &#8220;They are the same; the young girl, and the pearl
+necklace I told you of.&#8221; No more was said at the time, for the children
+were present, and we had always avoided alluding to the horrible family
+tragedy before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> them; but if we had still retained any doubt about its
+truth&#8212;which we had not&#8212;this would have set it at rest.</p>
+
+<p>If you were to visit Craymoor Grange now, you would find no old laundry.
+The part of the house containing it has been pulled down, and children
+play and chickens peckett on the ground where it once stood.</p>
+
+<p>The oaken chest has also long since been destroyed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112-114" id="Page_112-114">[112&#8211;114]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="back"><a href="#contents"><small>Back to Contents</small></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
+<a name="haunted" id="haunted"></a>HAUNTED.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">SOME few years ago one of those great national conventions which draw
+together all ages and conditions of the sovereign people of America was
+held in Charleston, South Carolina.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Demarion, one of the State Representatives, had attended that
+great national convention; and, after an exciting week, was returning
+home, having a long and difficult journey before him.</p>
+
+<p>A pair of magnificent horses, attached to a light buggy, flew merrily
+enough over a rough-country for a while; but toward evening stormy
+weather reduced the roads to a dangerous <a name="condition" id="condition"></a><ins class="translit" title="original has conditon">condition</ins>, and compelled the
+Colonel to relinquish his purpose of reaching home that night, and to
+stop at a small wayside tavern, whose interior, illuminated by blazing
+wood-fires, spread a glowing halo among the dripping trees as he
+approached it, and gave promise of warmth and shelter at least.</p>
+
+<p>Drawing up to this modest dwelling, Colonel Demarion saw through its
+uncurtained windows that there was no lack of company within. Beneath
+the trees, too, an entanglement of rustic vehicles, giving forth red
+gleams from every dripping angle, told him that beasts as well as men
+were cared for. At the open door appeared the form of a man, who, at the
+sound of wheels, but not seeing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> in the outside darkness whom he
+addressed, called out, &#8220;&#8217;Tain&#8217;t no earthly use a-stoppin&#8217; here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Caring more for his chattels than for himself, the Colonel paid no
+further regard to this address than to call loudly for the landlord.</p>
+
+<p>At the tone of authority, the man in outline more civilly announced
+himself to be the host; yet so far from inviting the traveller to
+alight, insisted that the house was &#8220;as full as it could pack;&#8221; but that
+there was a place a little farther down the road where the gentleman
+would be certain to find excellent accommodation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What stables have you here?&#8221; demanded the traveller, giving no more
+heed to this than to the former announcement; but bidding his servant to
+alight, and preparing to do so himself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Stables!&#8221; repeated the baffled host, shading his eyes so as to
+scrutinize the newcomer, &#8220;<em>stables</em>, Cap&#8217;n?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, <em>stables</em>. I want you to take care of my horses; <em>I</em> can take care
+of myself. Some shelter for cattle you must have by the look of these
+traps,&#8221; pointing to the wagons. &#8220;I don&#8217;t want my horses to be kept
+standing out in this storm, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, Major. Why no, cert&#8217;n&#8217;y; Marion&#8217;s ain&#8217;t over a mile, and&#8212;&#8212;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Conf&#8212;!&#8221; muttered the Colonel; &#8220;but it&#8217;s over the <em>river</em>, which I
+don&#8217;t intend to ford to-night under any consideration.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So saying, the Colonel leaped to the ground, directing his servant to
+cover the horses and then get out his valise; while the host, thus
+defeated, assumed the best grace he could to say that he would see what
+could be done &#8220;for the <em>horses</em>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>
+&#8220;I am a soldier, my man,&#8221; added the Colonel in a milder tone, as he
+stamped his cold feet on the porch and shook off the rain from his
+travelling-gear; &#8220;I am used to rough fare and a hard couch: all we want
+is shelter. A corner of the floor will suffice for me and my rug; a
+private room I can dispense with at such times as these.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The landlord seemed no less relieved at this assurance than mollified by
+the explanation of a traveller whom he now saw was of a very different
+stamp from those who usually frequented the tavern. &#8220;For the matter of
+<em>stables</em>, his were newly put up, and first-rate,&#8221; he said; and
+&#8220;cert&#8217;n&#8217;y the Gen&#8217;ral was welcome to a seat by the fire while &#8217;twas
+a-storming so fierce.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Demarion gave orders to his servant regarding the horses, while
+the landlord, kicking at what seemed to be a bundle of sacking down
+behind the door, shouted&#8212;&#8220;Jo! Ho, Jo! Wake up, you sleepy-headed
+nigger! Be alive, boy, and show this gentleman&#8217;s horses to the stables.&#8221;
+Upon a repetition of which charges a tall, gaunt, dusky figure lifted
+itself from out of the dark corner, and grew taller and more gaunt as it
+stretched itself into waking with a grin which was the most visible part
+of it, by reason of two long rows of ivory gleaming in the red glare.
+The hard words had fallen as harmless on Jo&#8217;s ear-drum as the kicks upon
+his impassive frame. To do Jo&#8217;s master justice, the kicks were not
+vicious kicks, and the rough language was but an intimation that
+dispatch was needed. Very much of the spaniel&#8217;s nature had Jo; and as he
+rolled along the passage to fetch a lantern, his mouth expanded into a
+still broader<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> grin at the honor of attending so stately a gentleman.
+Quick, like his master, too, was Jo to discriminate between &#8220;real
+gentlefolks&#8221; and the &#8220;white trash&#8221; whose rough-coated, rope-harnessed
+mules were the general occupants of his stables.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Splendid pair, sir,&#8221; said the now conciliating landlord. &#8220;Shove some o&#8217;
+them mules out into the shed, Jo (which your horses &#8217;ll feel more to hum
+in my new stalls, <a name="new" id="new"></a><ins class="translit" title="original omitted close quote">Gen&#8217;ral).&#8221;</ins></p>
+
+<p>Again cautioning his man Plato not to leave them one moment, Colonel
+Demarion turned to enter the house.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll find a rough crowd in here, sir,&#8221; said the host, as he paused on
+the threshold; &#8220;but a good fire, anyhow. &#8217;Tain&#8217;t many of these loafers
+as understand this convention business&#8212;I <em>pre</em>sume, Gen&#8217;ral, you&#8217;ve
+attended the convention&#8212;they all on &#8217;em <em>thinks</em> they does, tho&#8217;. Fact
+most on &#8217;em thinks they&#8217;d orter be on the committee theirselves. Good
+many on &#8217;em is from Char&#8217;ston to-day, but is in the same fix as yerself,
+Gen&#8217;ral&#8212;can&#8217;t get across the river to-night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see, I see,&#8221; cried the statesman, with a gesture toward the
+sitting-room. &#8220;Now what have you got in your larder, Mr. Landlord? and
+send some supper out to my servant; he must make a bed of the
+carriage-mats to-night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The landlord introduced his guest into a room filled chiefly with that
+shiftless and noxious element of Southern society known as &#8220;mean
+whites.&#8221; Pipes and drinks, and excited arguments, engaged these people
+as they stood or sat in groups. The host addressed those who were
+gathered round the log-fire, and they opened a way for the new-comer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>
+some few, with republican freedom, inviting him to be seated, the rest
+giving one furtive glance, and then, in antipathy born of envy, skulking
+away.</p>
+
+<p>The furniture of this comfortless apartment consisted of sloppy,
+much-jagged deal tables, dirty whittled benches, and a few uncouth
+chairs. The walls were dirty with accumulated tobacco stains, and so
+moist and filthy was the floor, that the sound only of scraping seats
+and heavy footsteps told that it was of boards and not bare earth.</p>
+
+<p>Seated with his back toward the majority of the crowd, and shielded by
+his newspaper, Colonel Demarion sat awhile unobserved; but was presently
+recognized by a man from his own immediate neighborhood, when the
+information was quickly whispered about that no less a person than their
+distinguished Congressman was among them.</p>
+
+<p>This piece of news speedily found its way to the ears of the landlord,
+to whom Colonel Demarion was known by name only, and forthwith he
+reappeared to overwhelm the representative of his State with apologies
+for the uncourteous reception which had been given him, and to express
+his now very sincere regrets that the house offered no suitable
+accommodation for the gentleman. Satisfied as to the safety of his
+chattels, the Colonel generously dismissed the idea of having anything
+either to resent or to forgive; and assured the worthy host that he
+would accept of no exclusive indulgences.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of which the landlord bustled about to bring in a separate
+table, on which he spread a clean coarse cloth, and a savory supper of
+broiled ham, hot corncakes, and coffee; every few minutes stopping to
+renew his apologies, and even appearing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> to grow confidentially
+communicative regarding his domestic economies; until the hungry
+traveller cut him short with &#8220;Don&#8217;t say another word about it, my
+friend; you have not a spare sleeping-room, and that is enough. Find me
+a corner&#8212;a clean corner&#8221;&#8212;looking round upon the most unclean corners
+of that room&#8212;&#8220;perhaps up-stairs somewhere, and&#8212;&#8212;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah! <em>upsta&#8217;rs</em>, Gen&#8217;ral. Now, that&#8217;s jest what I had in my mind to ax
+you. Fact is ther&#8217; <em>is</em> a spar&#8217; room upsta&#8217;rs, as comfortable a room as
+the best of folks can wish; but&#8212;&#8212;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But it&#8217;s crammed with sleeping folks, so there&#8217;s an end of it,&#8221; cried
+the senator, thoroughly bored.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, sir, ain&#8217;t no person in it; and ther&#8217; ain&#8217;t no person likely to be
+in it &#8217;cept &#8217;tis <em>yerself</em>, Colonel Demarion. Leastways&#8212;&#8212;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>After a good deal of hesitation and embarrassment, the host, in
+mysterious whispers, imparted the startling fact that this most
+desirable sleeping room was <em>haunted</em>; that the injury he had sustained
+in consequence had compelled him to fasten it up altogether; that he had
+come to be very suspicious of admitting strangers, and had limited his
+custom of late to what the bar could supply, <a name="keeping" id="keeping"></a><ins class="translit" title="original has keeeping">keeping</ins> the matter hushed
+up in the hope that it might be the sooner forgotten by the neighbors;
+but that in the case of Colonel Demarion he had now made bold to mention
+it; &#8220;as I can&#8217;t but think, sir,&#8221; he urged, &#8220;you&#8217;d find it prefer&#8217;ble to
+sleepin&#8217; on the floor or sittin&#8217; up all night along ov these loafers.
+Fer if &#8217;tis any deceivin&#8217; trick got up in the house, maybe they won&#8217;t
+try it on, sir, to a gentleman of your reputation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>
+Colonel Demarion became interested in the landlord&#8217;s confidences, but
+could only gather in further explanation that for some time past all
+travellers who had occupied that room had &#8220;made off in the middle of the
+night, never showin&#8217; their faces at the inn again;&#8221; that on endeavoring
+to arrest one or more in their nocturnal flight, they&#8212;all more or less
+terrified&#8212;had insisted on escaping without a moment&#8217;s delay, assigning
+no other reason than that they had seen a ghost. &#8220;Not that folks seem to
+get much harm by it, Colonel&#8212;not by the way they makes off without
+paying a cent of money!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Great indeed was the satisfaction evinced by the victim of unpaid bills
+on the Colonel&#8217;s declaring that the haunted chamber was the very room
+for him. &#8220;If to be turned out of my bed at midnight is all I have to
+fear, we will see who comes off master in my case. So, Mr. Landlord, let
+the chamber be got ready directly, and have a good fire built there at
+once.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The exultant host hurried away to confide the great news to Jo, and with
+him to make the necessary preparations. &#8220;Come what will, Jo, Colonel
+Demarion ain&#8217;t the man to make off without paying down good money for
+his accommodations.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In reasonable time, Colonel Demarion was beckoned out of the public
+room, and conducted up-stairs by the landlord, who, after receiving a
+cheerful &#8220;good-night,&#8221; paused on the landing to hear his guest bolt and
+bar the door within, and then push a piece of furniture against it.
+&#8220;Ah,&#8221; murmured the host, as a sort of misgiving came over him, &#8220;if a
+apparishum has a mind to come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> thar, &#8217;tain&#8217;t all the bolts and bars in
+South Carolina as &#8217;ll kip&#8217;en away.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But the Colonel&#8217;s precaution of securing his door, as also that of
+placing his revolvers in readiness, had not the slightest reference to
+the reputed ghost. Spiritual disturbances of such kind he feared not.
+Spirits <em>tangible</em> were already producing ominous demonstrations in the
+rooms below, nor was it possible to conjecture what troubles these might
+evolve. Glad enough to escape from the noisy company, he took a survey
+of his evil-reputed chamber. The only light was that of the roaring,
+crackling, blazing wood-fire, and no other was needed. And what
+storm-benighted traveller, when fierce winds and rains are lashing
+around his lodging, can withstand the cheering influences of a glorious
+log-fire? especially if, as in that wooden tenement, that fire be of
+abundant pine-knots. It rivals the glare of gas and the glow of a
+furnace; it charms away the mustiness and fustiness of years, and causes
+all that is dull and dead around to laugh and dance in its bright light.</p>
+
+<p>By the illumination of just such a fire, Colonel Demarion observed that
+the apartment offered nothing worthier of remark than that the furniture
+was superior to anything that might be expected in a small wayside
+tavern. In truth, the landlord had expended a considerable sum in
+fitting up this, his finest chamber, and had therefore sufficient reason
+to bemoan its unprofitableness.</p>
+
+<p>Having satisfied himself as to his apparent security, the senator
+thought no more of spirits palpable or impalpable; but to the far graver
+issues of the convention his thoughts reverted. It was yet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> early; he
+lighted a cigar, and in full appreciation of his retirement, took out
+his note-book and plunged into the affairs of state. Now and then he was
+recalled to the circumstances of his situation by the swaggering tread
+of unsteady feet about the house, or when the boisterous shouts below
+raged above the outside storm; but even then he only glanced up from his
+papers to congratulate himself upon his agreeable seclusion.</p>
+
+<p>Thus he sat for above an hour, then he heaped fresh logs upon the
+hearth, looked again to his revolvers, and retired to rest.</p>
+
+<p>The house-clock was striking twelve as the Colonel awoke. He awoke
+suddenly from a sound sleep, flashing, as it were, into full
+consciousness, his mind and memory clear, all his faculties invigorated,
+his ideas undisturbed, but with a perfect conviction that he was not
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>He lifted his head. A man was standing a few feet from the bed, and
+between it and the fire, which was still burning, and burning brightly
+enough to display every object in the room, and to define the outline of
+the intruder clearly. His dress also and his features were plainly
+distinguishable: the dress was a travelling-costume, in fashion somewhat
+out of date; the features wore a mournful and distressed expression&#8212;the
+eyes were fixed upon the Colonel. The right arm hung down, and the hand,
+partially concealed, might, for aught the Colonel knew, be grasping one
+of his own revolvers; the left arm was folded against the waist. The man
+seemed about to advance still closer to the bed, and returned the
+occupant&#8217;s gaze with a fixed stare.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Stand, or I&#8217;ll fire!&#8221; cried the Colonel, taking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> in all this at a
+glance, and starting up in his bed, revolver in hand.</p>
+
+<p>The man remained still.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is your business here?&#8221; demanded the statesman, thinking he was
+addressing one of the roughs from below.</p>
+
+<p>The man was silent.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Leave this room, if you value your life,&#8221; shouted the indignant
+soldier, pointing his revolver.</p>
+
+<p>The man was motionless.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<span class="smcap">Retire</span>! or by heaven I&#8217;ll send a bullet through you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But the man moved not an inch.</p>
+
+<p>The Colonel fired. The bullet lodged in the breast of the stranger, but
+he started not. The soldier leaped to the floor and fired again. The
+shot entered the heart, pierced the body, and lodged in the wall beyond;
+and the Colonel beheld the hole where the bullet had entered, and the
+firelight glimmering through it. And yet the intruder stirred not.
+Astounded, the Colonel dropped his revolver, and stood face to face
+before the unmoved man.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Colonel Demarion,&#8221; spake the deep solemn voice of the perforated
+stranger, &#8220;in vain you shoot me&#8212;I am dead already.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The soldier, with all his bravery, gasped, spellbound. The firelight
+gleamed through the hole in the body, and the eyes of the shooter were
+riveted there.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fear nothing,&#8221; spake the mournful presence; &#8220;I seek but to divulge my
+wrongs. Until my death shall be avenged my unquiet spirit lingers here.
+Listen.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>
+Speechless, motionless was the statesman; and the mournful apparition
+thus slowly and distinctly continued:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Four years ago I travelled with one I trusted. We lodged here. That
+night my comrade murdered me. He plunged a dagger into my heart while I
+slept. He covered the wound with a plaster. He feigned to mourn my
+death. He told the people here I had died of heart complaint; that I had
+long been ailing. I had gold and treasures. With my treasure secreted
+beneath his garments he paraded mock grief at my grave. Then he
+departed. In distant parts he sought to forget his crime; but his stolen
+gold brought him only the curse of an evil conscience. Rest and peace
+are not for him. He now prepares to leave his native land forever. Under
+an assumed name that man is this night in Charleston. In a few hours he
+will sail for Europe. Colonel Demarion, you must prevent it. Justice and
+humanity demand that a murderer roam not at large, nor squander more of
+the wealth that is by right my children&#8217;s.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The spirit paused. To the extraordinary revelation the Colonel had
+listened in rapt astonishment. He gazed at the presence, at the
+firelight glimmering through it&#8212;through the very place where a human
+heart would be&#8212;and he felt that he was indeed in the presence of a
+supernatural being. He thought of the landlord&#8217;s story; but while
+earnestly desiring to sift the truth of the mystery, words refused to
+come to his aid.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you hesitate?&#8221; said the mournful spirit. &#8220;Will <em>you</em> also flee, when
+my orphan children cry for retribution?&#8221; Seeming to anticipate the will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>
+of the Colonel, &#8220;I await your promise, senator,&#8221; he said. &#8220;There is no
+time to lose.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>With a mighty effort, the South Carolinian said, &#8220;I promise. What would
+you have me do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the same terse, solemn manner, the ghostly visitor gave the real and
+assumed names of the murderer, described his person and dress at the
+present time, described a certain curious ring he was then wearing,
+together with other distinguishing characteristics: all being carefully
+noted down by Colonel Demarion, who, by degrees, recovered his
+self-possession, and pledged himself to use every endeavor to bring the
+murderer to justice.</p>
+
+<p>Then, with a portentous wave of the hand, &#8220;It is well,&#8221; said the
+apparition. &#8220;Not until the spirit of my murderer shall be separated from
+the mortal clay can <em>my</em> spirit rest in peace.&#8221; And vanished.</p>
+
+<p>Half-past six in the morning was the appointed time for the steamer to
+leave Charleston; and the Colonel lost not a moment in preparing to
+depart. As he hurried down the stairs he encountered the landlord,
+who&#8212;his eyes rolling in terror&#8212;made an attempt to speak. Unheeding,
+except to demand his carriage, the Colonel pushed past him, and effected
+a quick escape toward the back premises, shouting lustily for &#8220;Jo&#8221; and
+&#8220;Plato,&#8221; and for his carriage to be got ready immediately. A few minutes
+more, and the bewildered host was recalled to the terrible truth by the
+noise of the carriage dashing through the yard and away down the road;
+and it was some miles nearer Charleston before the unfortunate man
+ceased to peer after it in the darkness&#8212;as if by so doing he could
+recover damages&#8212;and bemoan to Jo the utter ruin of his house and
+hopes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
+Thirty miles of hard driving had to be accomplished in little more than
+five hours. No great achievement under favorable circumstances; but the
+horses were only half refreshed from their yesterday&#8217;s journey, and
+though the storm was over, the roads were in a worse condition than
+ever.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Demarion resolved to be true to his promise; and fired by a
+curiosity to investigate the extraordinary communication which had been
+revealed to him, urged on his horses, and reached the wharf at
+Charleston just as the steamer was being loosed from her moorings.</p>
+
+<p>He hailed her. &#8220;Stop her! Business with the captain! <span class="smcap">Stop her!</span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her machinery was already in motion; her iron lungs were puffing forth
+dense clouds of smoke and steam; and as the Colonel shouted&#8212;the crowd
+around, from sheer delight in shouting, echoing his &#8220;Stop her! stop
+her!&#8221;&#8212;the voices on land were confounded with the voices of the
+sailors, the rattling of chains, and the haulings of ropes.</p>
+
+<p>Among the passengers standing to wave farewells to their friends on the
+wharf were some who recognised Colonel Demarion, and drew the captain&#8217;s
+attention toward him; and as he continued vehemently to gesticulate,
+that officer, from his post of observation, demanded the nature of the
+business which should require the ship&#8217;s detention. Already the steamer
+was clear of the wharf. In another minute she might be beyond <a name="reach" id="reach"></a><ins class="translit" title="original has each">reach</ins> of
+the voice; therefore, failing by gestures and entreaties to convince the
+captain of the importance of his errand, Colonel Demarion, in
+desperation, cried at the top of his voice, &#8220;A murderer on board! For
+God&#8217;s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
+sake, <span class="smcap">stop</span>!&#8221; He wished to have made this startling declaration in
+private, but not a moment was to be lost; and the excitement around him
+was intense.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of the confusion another cry of &#8220;Man overboard!&#8221; might have
+been heard in a distant part of the ship, had not the attention of the
+crowd been fastened on the Colonel. Such a cry was, however, uttered,
+offering a still more urgent motive for stopping; and the steamer being
+again made fast, Colonel Demarion was received on board.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let not a soul leave the vessel!&#8221; was his first and prompt suggestion;
+and the order being issued he drew the captain aside, and concisely
+explained his grave commission. The captain thereupon conducted him to
+his private room, and summoned the steward, before whom the details were
+given, and the description of the murderer was read over. The steward,
+after considering attentively, seemed inclined to associate the
+description with that of a passenger whose remarkably dejected
+appearance had already attracted his observation. In such a grave
+business it was, however, necessary to proceed with the utmost caution,
+and the &#8220;passenger-book&#8221; was produced. Upon reference to its pages, the
+three gentlemen were totally dismayed by the discovery that the name of
+this same dejected individual was that under which, according to the
+apparition, the murderer had engaged his passage.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am here to charge that man with murder,&#8221; said Colonel Demarion. &#8220;He
+must be arrested.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Horrified as the captain was at this astounding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> declaration, yet, on
+account of the singular and unusual mode by which the Colonel had become
+possessed of the facts, and the impossibility of proving the charge, he
+hesitated in consenting to the arrest of a passenger. The steward
+proposed that they should repair to the saloons and deck, and while
+conversing with one or another of the passengers, mention&#8212;as it were
+casually&#8212;in the hearing of the suspected party his own proper name, and
+observe the effect produced on him. To this they agreed, and without
+loss of time joined the passengers, assigning some feasible cause for a
+short delay of the ship.</p>
+
+<p>The saloon was nearly empty, and while the steward went below, the other
+two repaired to the deck, where they observed a crowd gathered seaward,
+apparently watching something over the ship&#8217;s side.</p>
+
+<p>During the few minutes which had detained the captain in this
+necessarily hurried business, a boat had been lowered, and some sailors
+had put off in her to rescue the person who was supposed to have fallen
+overboard; and it was only now, on joining the crowd, that the captain
+learned the particulars of the accident. &#8220;Who was it?&#8221; &#8220;What was he
+like?&#8221; they exclaimed simultaneously. That a man had fallen overboard
+was all that could be ascertained. Some one had seen him run across the
+deck, looking wildly about him. A splash in the water had soon afterward
+attracted attention to the spot, and a body had since been seen
+struggling on the surface. The waves were rough after the storm, and
+thick with seaweed, and the sailors had as yet missed the body. The two
+gentlemen took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> their post among the watchers, and kept their eyes
+intently upon the waves, and upon the sailors battling against them. Ere
+long they see the body rise again to the surface. Floated on a powerful
+wave, they can for the few moments breathlessly scrutinize it. The color
+of the dress is observed. A face of agony upturned displays a peculiar
+contour of forehead; the hair, the beard; and now he struggles&#8212;an arm
+is thrown up, and a remarkable ring catches the Colonel&#8217;s eye. &#8220;Great
+heavens! The whole description tallies!&#8221; The sailors pull hard for the
+spot, the next stroke and they will rescue&#8212;&#8212;</p>
+
+<p>A monster shark is quicker than they. The sea is tinged with blood. The
+man is no more!</p>
+
+<p>Shocked and silent, Colonel Demarion and the captain quitted the deck
+and resummoned the steward, who had, but without success, visited the
+berths and various parts of the ship for the individual in question.
+Every hole and corner was now, by the captain&#8217;s order carefully
+searched, but in vain; and as no further information concerning the
+missing party could be obtained, and the steward persisted in his
+statement regarding his general appearance, they proceeded to examine
+his effects. In these he was identified beyond a doubt. Papers and
+relics proved not only his guilt but his remorse; remorse which, as the
+apparition had said, permitted him no peace in his wanderings.</p>
+
+<p>Those startling words, &#8220;A murderer on board!&#8221; had doubtless struck fresh
+terror to his heart and, unable to face the accusation, he had thus
+terminated his wretched existence.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Demarion revisited the little tavern, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> on several occasions
+occupied the haunted chamber; but never again had he the honor of
+receiving a midnight commission from a ghostly visitor, and never again
+had the landlord to bemoan the flight of a non-paying customer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132-134" id="Page_132-134">[132&#8211;134]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="back"><a href="#contents"><small>Back to Contents</small></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
+<a name="pichon" id="pichon"></a>PICHON &amp; SONS, OF THE CROIX ROUSSE.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">GIRAUDIER, <em>pharmacien, premi&egrave;re classe</em>, is the legend, recorded in
+huge, ill-proportioned letters, which directs the attention of the
+stranger to the most prosperous-looking shop in the grand <em>place</em> of La
+Croix Rousse, a well-known suburb of the beautiful city of Lyons, which
+has its share of the shabby gentility and poor pretence common to the
+suburban commerce of great towns.</p>
+
+<p>Giraudier is not only <em>pharmacien</em> but <em>propri&eacute;taire</em>, though not by
+inheritance; his possession of one of the prettiest and most prolific of
+the small vineyards in the beautiful suburb, and a charming inconvenient
+house, with low ceilings, liliputian bedrooms, and a profusion of
+<em>persiennes</em>, <em>jalousies</em>, and <em>contrevents</em>, comes by purchase. This
+enviable little <em>terre</em> was sold by the Nation, when that terrible
+abstraction transacted the public business of France; and it was bought
+very cheaply by the strong-minded father of the Giraudier of the
+present, who was not disturbed by the evil reputation which the place
+had gained, at a time the peasants of France, having been bullied into a
+renunciation of religion, eagerly cherished superstition. The Giraudier
+of the present cherishes the particular superstition in question
+affectionately; it reminds him of an uncommonly good bargain made in his
+favor, which is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> always a pleasant association of ideas, especially to a
+Frenchman, still more especially to a Lyonnais; and it attracts
+strangers to his <em>pharmacie</em>, and leads to transactions in <em>Grand
+Chartreuse</em> and <em>Cr&eacute;me de Roses</em>, ensuing naturally on the narration of
+the history of Pichon &amp; Sons. Giraudier is not of aristocratic
+principles and sympathies; on the contrary, he has decided republican
+leanings, and considers <em>Le Progr&egrave;s</em> a masterpiece of journalistic
+literature; but, as he says simply and strongly, &#8220;it is not because a
+man is a marquis that one is not to keep faith with him; a bad action is
+not good because it harms a good-for-nothing of a noble; the more when
+that good-for-nothing is no longer a noble, but <em>pour rire</em>.&#8221; At the
+easy price of acquiescence in these sentiments, the stranger hears one
+of the most authentic, best-remembered, most popular of the many
+traditions of the bad old times &#8220;before General Bonaparte,&#8221; as
+Giraudier, who has no sympathy with any later designation of <em>le grand
+homme</em>, calls the Emperor, whose statue one can perceive&#8212;a speck in the
+distance&#8212;from the threshold of the <em>pharmacie</em>.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis de S&eacute;nanges, in the days of the triumph of the great
+Revolution, was fortunate enough to be out of France, and wise enough to
+remain away from that country, though he persisted, long after the old
+<em>r&eacute;gime</em> was as dead as the Ptolemies, in believing it merely suspended,
+and the Revolution a lamentable accident of vulgar complexion, but
+happily temporary duration. The Marquis de S&eacute;nanges, who affected the
+<em>style r&eacute;gence</em>, and was the politest of infidels and the most refined
+of voluptuaries, got on indifferently in inappreciative foreign<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> parts;
+but the members of his family&#8212;his brother and sisters, two of whom were
+guillotined, while the third escaped to Savoy and found refuge there in
+a convent of her order&#8212;got on exceedingly ill in France. If the
+<em>ci-devant</em> Marquis had had plenty of money to expend in such feeble
+imitations of his accustomed pleasures as were to be had out of Paris,
+he would not have been much affected by the fate of his relatives. But
+money became exceedingly scarce; the Marquis had actually beheld many of
+his peers reduced to the necessity of earning the despicable but
+indispensable article after many ludicrous fashions. And the duration of
+this absurd upsetting of law, order, privilege, and property began to
+assume unexpected and very unpleasant proportions.</p>
+
+<p>The Ch&acirc;teau de S&eacute;nanges, with its surrounding lands, was confiscated to
+the Nation, during the third year of the &#8220;emigration&#8221; of the Marquis de
+S&eacute;nanges; and the greater part of the estate was purchased by a thrifty,
+industrious, and rich <em>avocat</em>, named Prosper Alix, a widower with an
+only daughter. Prosper Alix enjoyed the esteem of the entire
+neighborhood. First, he was rich; secondly, he was of a taciturn
+disposition, and of a neutral tint in politics. He had done well under
+the old <em>r&eacute;gime</em> and, he was doing well under the new&#8212;thank God, or the
+Supreme Being, or the First Cause, or the goddess Reason herself, for
+all;&#8212;he would have invoked Dagon, Moloch, or Kali, quite as readily as
+the Saints and the Madonna, who has gone so utterly out of fashion of
+late. Nobody was afraid to speak out before Prosper Alix; he was not a
+spy; and though a cold-hearted man, except in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> instance of his only
+daughter, he never harmed anybody.</p>
+
+<p>Very likely it was because he was the last person in the vicinity whom
+anybody would have suspected of being applied to by the dispossessed
+family, that the son of the Marquis&#8217; brother, a young man of promise, of
+courage, of intellect, and of morals of decidedly a higher calibre than
+those actually and <a name="traditionally" id="traditionally"></a><ins class="translit" title="original has tradionally">traditionally</ins> imputed to the family, sought the aid
+of the new possessor of the Ch&acirc;teau de S&eacute;nanges, which had changed its
+old title for that of the Maison Alix. The father of M. Paul de S&eacute;nanges
+had perished in the September massacres; his mother had been guillotined
+at Lyons; and he&#8212;who had been saved by the interposition of a young
+comrade, whose father had, in the wonderful rotations of the wheel of
+Fate, acquired authority in the place where he had once esteemed the
+notice of the nephew of the Marquis a crowning honor for his son&#8212;had
+passed through the common vicissitudes of that dreadful time, which
+would take a volume for their recital in each individual instance.</p>
+
+<p>Paul de S&eacute;nanges was a handsome young fellow, frank, high-spirited, and
+of a brisk and happy temperament; which, however, modified by the many
+misfortunes he had undergone, was not permanently changed. He had plenty
+of capacity for enjoyment in him still; and as his position was very
+isolated, and his mind had become enlightened on social and political
+matters to an extent in which the men of his family would have
+discovered utter degradation and the women diabolical possession, he
+would not have been very unhappy if, under the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> new condition of things,
+he could have lived in his native country and gained an honest
+livelihood. But he could not do that, he was too thoroughly &#8220;suspect;&#8221;
+the antecedents of his family were too powerful against him: his only
+chance would have been to have gone into the popular camp as an extreme,
+violent partisan, to have out-Heroded the revolutionary Herods; and that
+Paul de S&eacute;nanges was too honest to do. So he was reduced to being
+thankful that he had escaped with his life, and to watching for an
+opportunity of leaving France and gaining some country where the reign
+of liberty, fraternity, and equality was not quite so oppressive.</p>
+
+<p>The long-looked-for opportunity at length offered itself, and Paul de
+S&eacute;nanges was instructed by his uncle the Marquis that he must contrive
+to reach Marseilles, whence he should be transported to Spain&#8212;in which
+country the illustrious emigrant was then residing&#8212;by a certain named
+date. His uncle&#8217;s communication arrived safely, and the plan proposed
+seemed a secure and eligible one. Only in two respects was it calculated
+to make Paul de S&eacute;nanges thoughtful. The first was, that his uncle
+should take any interest in the matter of his safety; the second, what
+could be the nature of a certain deposit which the Marquis&#8217;s letter
+directed him to procure, if possible, from the Ch&acirc;teau de S&eacute;nanges. The
+fact of this injunction explained, in some measure, the first of the two
+difficulties. It was plain that whatever were the contents of this
+packet which he was to seek for, according to the indications marked on
+a ground-plan drawn by his uncle and enclosed in the letter, the Marquis
+wanted them, and could not procure them except by the agency<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> of his
+nephew. That the Marquis should venture to direct Paul de S&eacute;nanges to
+put himself in communication with Prosper Alix, would have been
+surprising to any one acquainted only with the external and generally
+understood features of the character of the new proprietor of the
+Ch&acirc;teau de S&eacute;nanges. But a few people knew Prosper Alix thoroughly, and
+the Marquis was one of the number; he was keen enough to know in theory
+that, in the case of a man with only one weakness, that is likely to be
+a very weak weakness indeed, and to apply the theory to the <em>avocat</em>.
+The beautiful, pious, and aristocratic mother of Paul de S&eacute;nanges&#8212;a
+lady to whose superiority the Marquis had rendered the distinguished
+testimony of his dislike, not hesitating to avow that she was &#8220;much too
+good for <em>his</em> taste&#8221;&#8212;had been very fond of, and very kind to, the
+motherless daughter of Prosper Alix, and he held her memory in reverence
+which he accorded to nothing beside, human or divine, and taught his
+daughter the matchless worth of the friend she had lost. The Marquis
+knew this, and though he had little sympathy with the sentiment, he
+believed he might use it in the present instance to his own profit, with
+safety. The event proved that he was right. Private negotiations, with
+the manner of whose transaction we are not concerned, passed between the
+<em>avocat</em> and the <em>ci-devant</em> Marquis; and the young man, then leading a
+life in which skulking had a large share, in the vicinity of Dijon, was
+instructed to present himself at the Maison Alix, under the designation
+of Henri Glaire, and in the character of an artist in house-decoration.
+The circumstances of his life in childhood and boyhood had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> led to his
+being almost safe from recognition as a man at Lyons; and, indeed, all
+the people on the <em>ci-devant</em> visiting-list of the ch&acirc;teau had been
+pretty nearly killed off, in the noble and patriotic ardor of the
+revolutionary times.</p>
+
+<p>The ancient Ch&acirc;teau de S&eacute;nanges was proudly placed near the summit of
+the &#8220;Holy Hill,&#8221; and had suffered terrible depredations when the church
+at Fourvi&egrave;res was sacked, and the shrine desecrated with that ingenious
+impiety which is characteristic of the French; but it still retained
+somewhat of its former heavy grandeur. The ch&acirc;teau was much too large
+for the needs, tastes, or ambition of its present owner, who was too
+wise, if even he had been of an ostentatious disposition, not to have
+sedulously resisted its promptings. The jealousy of the nation of
+brothers was easily excited, and departure from simplicity and frugality
+was apt to be commented upon by domiciliary visits, and the eager
+imposition of fanciful fines. That portion of the vast building occupied
+by Prosper Alix and the <em>citoyenne</em> Berthe, his daughter, presented an
+appearance of well-to-do comfort and modest ease, which contrasted with
+the grandiose proportions and the elaborate decorations of the wide
+corridors, huge flat staircases, and lofty panelled apartments. The
+<em>avocat</em> and his daughter lived quietly in the old place, hoping, after
+a general fashion, for better times, but not finding the present very
+bad; the father becoming day by day more pleasant with his bargain, the
+daughter growing fonder of the great house, and the noble <em>bocages</em>, of
+the scrappy little vineyards, struggling for existence on the sunny
+hill-side, and the place where the famous shrine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> had been. They had
+done it much damage; they had parted its riches among them; the once
+ever-open doors were shut, and the worn flags were untrodden; but
+nothing could degrade it, nothing could destroy what had been, in the
+mind of Berthe Alix, who was as devout as her father was unconcernedly
+unbelieving. Berthe was wonderfully well educated for a Frenchwoman of
+that period, and surprisingly handsome for a Frenchwoman of any. Not too
+tall to offend the taste of her compatriots, and not too short to be
+dignified and graceful, she had a symmetrical figure, and a small,
+well-poised head, whose profuse, shining, silken dark-brown hair she
+wore as nature intended, in a shower of curls, never touched by the hand
+of the coiffeur,&#8212;curls which clustered over her brow, and fell far down
+on her shapely neck. Her features were fine; the eyes very dark, and the
+mouth very red; the complexion clear and rather pale, and the style of
+the face and its expression lofty. When Berthe Alix was a child, people
+were accustomed to say she was pretty and refined enough to belong to
+the aristocracy; nobody would have dared to say so now, prettiness and
+refinement, together with all the other virtues admitted to a place on
+the patriotic roll, having become national property.</p>
+
+<p>Berthe loved her father dearly. She was deeply impressed with the sense
+of her supreme importance to him, and fully comprehended that he would
+be influenced by and through her when all other persuasion or argument
+would be unavailing. When Prosper Alix wished and intended to do
+anything rather mean or selfish, he did it without letting Berthe know;
+and when he wished to leave undone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> something which he knew his daughter
+would decide ought to be done, he carefully concealed from her the
+existence of the dilemma. Nevertheless, this system did not prevent the
+father and daughter being very good and even confidential friends.
+Prosper Alix loved his daughter immeasurably, and respected her more
+than he respected any one in the world. With regard to her persevering
+religiousness, when such things were not only out of fashion and date,
+but illegal as well, he was very tolerant. Of course it was weak, and an
+absurdity; but every woman, even his beautiful, incomparable Berthe, was
+weak and absurd on some point or other; and, after all, he had come to
+the conclusion that the safest weakness with which a woman can be
+afflicted is that romantic and ridiculous <em>faiblesse</em> called piety. So
+these two lived a happy life together, Berthe&#8217;s share of it being very
+secluded, and were wonderfully little troubled by the turbulence with
+which society was making its tumultuous way to the virtuous serenity of
+republican perfection.</p>
+
+<p>The communication announcing the project of the <em>ci-devant</em> Marquis for
+the secure exportation of his nephew, and containing the skilful appeal
+before mentioned, grievously disturbed the tranquillity of Prosper, and
+was precisely one of those incidents which he would especially have
+liked to conceal from his daughter. But he could not do so; the appeal
+was too cleverly made; and utter indifference to it, utter neglect of
+the letter, which naturally suggested itself as the easiest means of
+getting rid of a difficulty, would have involved an act of direct and
+uncompromising dishonesty to which Prosper,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> though of sufficiently
+elastic conscience within the limit of professional gains, could not
+contemplate. The Ch&acirc;teau de S&eacute;nanges was indeed his own lawful property;
+his without prejudice to the former owners, dispossessed by no act of
+his. But the <em>ci-devant</em> Marquis&#8212;confiding in him to an extent which
+was quite astonishing, except on the <em>pis-aller</em> theory, which is so
+unflattering as to be seldom accepted&#8212;announced to him the existence of
+a certain packet, hidden in the ch&acirc;teau, acknowledging its value, and
+urging the need of its safe transmission. This was not his property. He
+heartily wished he had never learned its existence, but wishing that was
+clearly of no use; then he wished the nephew of the <em>ci-devant</em> might
+come soon, and take himself and the hidden wealth away with all possible
+speed. This latter was a more realizable desire, and Prosper settled his
+mind with it, communicated the interesting but decidedly dangerous
+secret to Berthe, received her warm sanction, and transmitted to the
+Marquis, by the appointed means, an assurance that his wishes should be
+punctually carried out. The absence of an interdiction of his visit
+before a certain date was to be the signal to M. Paul de S&eacute;nanges that
+he was to proceed to act upon his uncle&#8217;s instructions; he waited the
+proper time, the reassuring silence was maintained unbroken, and he
+ultimately set forth on his journey, and accomplished it in safety.</p>
+
+<p>Preparations had been made at the Maison Alix for the reception of M.
+Glaire, and his supposed occupation had been announced. The apartments
+were decorated in a heavy, gloomy style, and those of the <em>citoyenne</em> in
+particular (they had been occupied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> by a lady who had once been
+designated as <em>feue Madame la Marquise</em>, but who was referred to now as
+<em>la m&egrave;re du ci-devant</em>) were much in need of renovation. The alcove, for
+instance, was all that was least gay and most far from simple. The
+<em>citoyenne</em> would have all that changed. On the morning of the day of
+the expected arrival, Berthe said to her father:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It would seem as if the Marquis did not know the exact spot in which
+the packet is deposited. M. Paul&#8217;s assumed character implies the
+necessity for a search.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>M. Henri Glaire arrived at the Maison Alix, was fraternally received,
+and made acquainted with the sphere of his operations. The young man had
+a good deal of both ability and taste in the line he had assumed, and
+the part was not difficult to play. Some days were judiciously allowed
+to pass before the real object of the masquerade was pursued, and during
+that time cordial relations established themselves between the <em>avocat</em>
+and his guest. The young man was handsome, elegant, engaging, with all
+the external advantages, and devoid of the vices, errors, and hopeless
+infatuated unscrupulousness, of his class; he had naturally quick
+intelligence, and some real knowledge and comprehension of life had been
+knocked into him by the hard-hitting blows of Fate. His face was like
+his mother&#8217;s, Prosper Alix thought, and his mind and tastes were of the
+very pattern which, in theory, Berthe approved. Berthe, a very
+unconventional French girl&#8212;who thought the new era of purity, love,
+virtue, and disinterestedness ought to do away with marriage by barter
+as one of its most notable reforms, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> had been disenchanted by
+discovering that the abolition of marriage altogether suited the taste
+of the incorruptible Republic better&#8212;might like, might even love, this
+young man. She saw so few men, and had no fancy for patriots; she would
+certainly be obstinate about it if she did chance to love him. This
+would be a nice state of affairs. This would be a pleasant consequence
+of the confiding request of the <em>ci-devant</em>. Prosper wished with all his
+heart for the arrival of the concerted signal, which should tell Henri
+Glaire that he might fulfil the purpose of his sojourn at the Maison
+Alix, and set forth for Marseilles.</p>
+
+<p>But the signal did not come, and the days&#8212;long, beautiful, sunny,
+soothing summer-days&#8212;went on. The painting of the panels of the
+<em>citoyenne&#8217;s</em> apartment, which she vacated for that purpose, progressed
+slowly; and M. Paul de S&eacute;nanges, guided by the ground-plan, and aided by
+Berthe, had discovered the spot in which the jewels of price, almost the
+last remnants of the princely wealth of the S&eacute;nanges, had been hidden by
+the <em>femme-de-chambre</em> who had perished with her mistress, having
+confided a general statement of the fact to a priest, for transmission
+to the Marquis. This spot had been ingeniously chosen. The
+sleeping-apartment of the late Marquis was extensive, lofty, and
+provided with an alcove of sufficiently large dimensions to have formed
+in itself a handsome room. This space, containing a splendid but gloomy
+bed, on an estrade, and hung with rich faded brocade, was divided from
+the general extent of the apartment by a low railing of black oak,
+elaborately carved, opening in the centre, and with a flat wide bar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
+along the top, covered with crimson velvet. The curtains were contrived
+to hang from the ceiling, and, when let down inside the screen of
+railing, they matched the draperies which closed before the great stone
+balcony at the opposite end of the room. Since the <em>avocat&#8217;s</em> daughter
+had occupied this palatial chamber, the curtains of the alcove had never
+been drawn, and she had substituted for them a high folding screen of
+black-and-gold Japanese pattern, also a relic of the grand old times,
+which stood about six feet on the outside of the rails that shut in her
+bed. The floor was of shining oak, testifying to the conscientious and
+successful labors of successive generations of <em>frotteurs</em>; and on the
+spot where the railing of the alcove opened by a pretty quaint device
+sundering the intertwined arms of a pair of very chubby cherubs, a
+square space in the floor was also richly carved.</p>
+
+<p>The seekers soon reached the end of their search. A little effort
+removed the square of carved oak, and underneath they found a casket,
+evidently of old workmanship, richly wrought in silver, much tarnished
+but quite intact. It was agreed that this precious deposit should be
+replaced, and the carved square laid down over it, until the signal for
+his departure should reach Paul. The little baggage which under any
+circumstances he could have ventured to allow himself in the dangerous
+journey he was to undertake, must be reduced, so as to admit of his
+carrying the casket without exciting suspicion.</p>
+
+<p>The finding of the hidden treasure was not the first joint discovery
+made by the daughter of the <em>avocat</em> and the son of the <em>ci-devant</em>. The
+cogitations of Prosper Alix were very wise, very reasonable; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> they
+were a little tardy. Before he had admitted the possibility of mischief,
+the mischief was done. Each had found out that the love of the other was
+indispensable to the happiness of life; and they had exchanged
+confidences, assurances, protestations, and promises, as freely, as
+fervently, and as hopefully, as if no such thing as a Republic, one and
+indivisible, with a keen scent and an unappeasable thirst for the blood
+of aristocrats, existed. They forgot all about &#8220;Liberty, Fraternity, and
+Equality&#8221;&#8212;these egotistical, narrow-minded young people;&#8212;they also
+forgot the characteristic alternative to those unparalleled
+blessings&#8212;&#8220;Death.&#8221; But Prosper Alix did not forget any of these things;
+and his consternation, his provision of suffering for his beloved
+daughter, were terrible, when she told him, with a simple noble
+frankness which the <em>grandes dames</em> of the dead-and-gone time of great
+ladies had rarely had a chance of exhibiting, that she loved M. Paul de
+S&eacute;nanges, and intended to marry him when the better times should come.
+Perhaps she meant when that alternative of <em>death</em> should be struck off
+the sacred formula;&#8212;of course she meant to marry him with the sanction
+of her father, which she made no doubt she should receive.</p>
+
+<p>Prosper Alix was in pitiable perplexity. He could not bear to terrify
+his daughter by a full explanation of the danger she was incurring; he
+could not bear to delude her with false hope. If this young man could be
+got away at once safely, there was not much likelihood that he would
+ever be able to return to France. Would Berthe pine for him, or would
+she forget him, and make a rational, sensible, rich, republican
+marriage, which would not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> imperil either her reputation for pure
+patriotism or her father&#8217;s? The latter would be the very best thing that
+could possibly happen, and therefore it was decidedly unwise to
+calculate upon it; but, after all, it was possible; and Prosper had not
+the courage, in such a strait, to resist the hopeful promptings of a
+possibility. How ardently he regretted that he had complied with the
+prayer of the <em>ci-devant</em>! When would the signal for Mr. Paul&#8217;s
+departure come?</p>
+
+<p>Prosper Alix had made many sacrifices, had exercised much self-control
+for his daughter&#8217;s sake; but he had never sustained a more severe trial
+than this, never suffered more than he did now, under the strong
+necessity for hiding from her his absolute conviction of the
+impossibility of a happy result for this attachment, in that future to
+which the lovers looked so fearlessly. He could not even make his
+anxiety and apprehension known to Paul de S&eacute;nanges; for he did not
+believe the young man had sufficient strength of will to conceal
+anything so important from the keen and determined observation of
+Berthe.</p>
+
+<p>The expected signal was not given, and the lovers were incautious. The
+seclusion of the Maison Alix had all the danger, as well as all the
+delight, of solitude, and Paul dropped his disguise too much and too
+often. The servants, few in number, were of the truest patriotic
+principles, and to some of them the denunciation of the <em>citoyen</em>, whom
+they condescended to serve because the sacred Revolution had not yet
+made them as rich as he, would have been a delightful duty, a
+sweet-smelling sacrifice to be laid on the altar of the country. They
+heard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> certain names and places mentioned; they perceived many things
+which led them to believe that Henri Glaire was not an industrial artist
+and pure patriot, worthy of respect, but a wretched <em>ci-devant</em>,
+resorting to the dignity of labor to make up for the righteous
+destruction of every other kind of dignity. One day a gardener, of less
+stoical virtue than his fellows, gave Prosper Alix a warning that the
+presence of a <em>ci-devant</em> upon his premises was suspected, and that he
+might be certain a domiciliary visit, attended with dangerous results to
+himself, would soon take place. Of course the <em>avocat</em> did not commit
+himself by any avowal to this lukewarm patriot; but he casually
+mentioned that Henri Glaire was about to take his leave. What was to be
+done? He must not leave the neighborhood without receiving the
+instructions he was awaiting; but he must leave the house, and be
+supposed to have gone quite away. Without any delay or hesitation,
+Prosper explained the facts to Berthe and her lover, and insisted on the
+necessity for an instant parting. Then the courage and the readiness of
+the girl told. There was no crying, and very little trembling; she was
+strong and helpful.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He must go to Pichon&#8217;s, father,&#8221; she said, &#8220;and remain there until the
+signal is given.&#8212;Pichon is a master-mason, Paul,&#8221; she continued,
+turning to her lover, &#8220;and his wife was my nurse. They are avaricious
+people; but they are fond of me in their way, and they will shelter you
+faithfully enough, when they know that my father will pay them
+handsomely. You must go at once, unseen by the servants; they are at
+supper. Fetch your valise, and bring it to my room. We will put<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> the
+casket in it, and such of your things as you must take out to make room
+for it, we can hide under the plank. My father will go with you to
+Pichon&#8217;s, and we will communicate with you there as soon as it is safe.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Paul followed her to the large gloomy room where the treasure lay, and
+they took the casket from its hiding-place. It was heavy, though not
+large, and an awkward thing to pack away among linen in a small valise.
+They managed it, however, and, the brief preparation completed, the
+moment of parting arrived. Firmly and eloquently, though in haste,
+Berthe assured Paul of her changeless love and faith, and promised him
+to wait for him for any length of time in France, if better days should
+be slow of coming, or to join him in some foreign land, if they were
+never to come. Her father was present, full of compassion and misgiving.
+At length he said:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come, Paul, you must leave her; every moment is of importance.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The young man and his betrothed were standing on the spot whence they
+had taken the casket; the carved rail with the heavy curtains might have
+been the outer sanctuary of an altar, and they bride and bridegroom
+before it, with earnest, loving faces, and clasped hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Farewell, Paul,&#8221; said Berthe; &#8220;promise me once more, in this the moment
+of our parting, that you will come to me again, if you are alive, when
+the danger is past.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whether I am living or dead, Berthe,&#8221; said Paul de S&eacute;nanges, strongly
+moved by some sudden inexplicable instinct, &#8220;I will come to you again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>
+In a few more minutes, Prosper Alix and his guest, who carried, not
+without difficulty, the small but heavy leather valise, had disappeared
+in the distance, and Berthe was on her knees before the <em>prie-dieu</em> of
+the <em>ci-devant</em> Marquise, her face turned toward the &#8220;Holy Hill&#8221; of
+Fourvi&egrave;res.</p>
+
+<p>Pichon, <em>m&acirc;itre</em>, and his sons, <em>gar&ccedil;ons-ma&ccedil;ons</em>, were well-to-do
+people, rather morose, exceedingly avaricious, and of taciturn
+dispositions; but they were not ill spoken of by their neighbors. They
+had amassed a good deal of money in their time, and were just then
+engaged on a very lucrative job. This was the construction of several of
+the steep descents, by means of stairs, straight and winding, cut in the
+face of the <em>c&ocirc;teaux</em>, by which <a name="pedestrians" id="pedestrians"></a><ins class="translit" title="original has pedestrains">pedestrians</ins> are enabled to descend into
+the town. Pichon <em>p&egrave;re</em> was a <em>propri&eacute;taire</em> as well; his property was
+that which is now in the possession of Giraudier, <em>pharmacien, premi&egrave;re
+classe</em>, and which was destined to attain a sinister celebrity during
+his proprietorship. One of the straightest and steepest of the stairways
+had been cut close to the <em>terre</em> which the mason owned, and a massive
+wall, destined to bound the high-road at the foot of the declivity, was
+in course of construction.</p>
+
+<p>When Prosper Alix and Paul de S&eacute;nanges reached the abode of Pichon, the
+master-mason, with his sons and workmen, had just completed their day&#8217;s
+work, and were preparing to eat the supper served by the wife and
+mother, a tall, gaunt woman, who looked as if a more liberal scale of
+housekeeping would have done her good, but on whose features the stamp
+of that devouring and degrading avarice which is the commonest vice of
+the French peasantry,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> was set as plainly as on the hard faces of her
+husband and her sons. The <em>avocat</em> explained his business and introduced
+his companion briefly, and awaited the reply of Pichon <em>p&egrave;re</em> without
+any appearance of inquietude.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t run any risk,&#8221; he said; &#8220;at least, you don&#8217;t run any risk
+which I cannot make it worth your while to incur. It is not the first
+time you have received a temporary guest on my recommendation. You know
+nothing about the citizen Glaire, except that he is recommended to you
+by me. I am responsible; you can, on occasion, make me so. The citizen
+may remain with you a short time; can hardly remain long. Say, citizen,
+is it agreed? I have no time to spare.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was agreed, and Prosper Alix departed, leaving M. Paul de S&eacute;nanges,
+convinced that the right, indeed the only, thing had been done, and yet
+much troubled and depressed.</p>
+
+<p>Pichon <em>p&egrave;re</em> was a short, squat, powerfully built man, verging on
+sixty, whose thick, dark grizzled hair, sturdy limbs, and hard hands, on
+which the muscles showed like cords, spoke of endurance and strength; he
+was, indeed, noted in the neighborhood for those qualities. His sons
+resembled him slightly, and each other closely, as was natural, for they
+were twins. They were heavy, lumpish fellows, and they made but an
+ungracious return to the attempted civilities of the stranger, to whom
+the offer of their mother to show him his room was a decided relief. As
+he rose to follow the woman, Paul de S&eacute;nanges lifted his small valise
+with difficulty from the floor, on which he had placed it on entering
+the house, and carried it out of the room<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> in both his arms. The
+brothers followed these movements with curiosity, and, when the door
+closed behind their mother and the stranger, their eyes met.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+<p>Twenty-four hours had passed away, and nothing new had occurred at the
+Maison Alix. The servants had not expressed any curiosity respecting the
+departure of the citizen Glaire, no domiciliary visit had taken place,
+and Berthe and her father were discussing the propriety of Prosper&#8217;s
+venturing, on the pretext of an excursion in another direction, a visit
+to the isolated and quiet dwelling of the master-mason. No signal had
+yet arrived. It was agreed that after the lapse of another day, if their
+tranquillity remained undisturbed, Prosper Alix should visit Paul de
+S&eacute;nanges. Berthe, who was silent and preoccupied, retired to her own
+room early, and her father, who was uneasy and apprehensive, desperately
+anxious for the promised communication from the Marquis, was relieved by
+her absence.</p>
+
+<p>The moon was high in the dark sky, and her beams were flung across the
+polished oak floor of Berthe&#8217;s bedroom, through the great window with
+the stone balcony, when the girl, who had gone to sleep with her lover&#8217;s
+name upon her lips in prayer, awoke with a sudden start, and sat up in
+her bed. An unbearable dread was upon her; and yet she was unable to
+utter a cry, she was unable to make another movement. Had she heard a
+voice? No, no one had spoken, nor did she fancy that she heard any
+sound. But within her, somewhere<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> inside her heaving bosom, something
+said, &#8220;Berthe!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And she listened, and knew what it was. And it spoke, and said:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I promised you that, living or dead, I would come to you again. And I
+have come to you; but not living.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She was quite awake. Even in the agony of her fear she looked around,
+and tried to move her hands, to feel her dress and the bedclothes, and
+to fix her eyes on some familiar object, that she might satisfy herself,
+before this racing and beating, this whirling and yet icy chilliness of
+her blood should kill her outright, that she was really awake.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have come to you; but not living.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>What an awful thing that voice speaking within her was! She tried to
+raise her head and to look toward the place where the moonbeams marked
+bright lines upon the polished floor, which lost themselves at the foot
+of the Japanese screen. She forced herself to this effort, and lifted
+her eyes, wild and haggard with fear, and there, the moonbeams at his
+feet, the tall black screen behind him, she saw Paul de S&eacute;nanges. She
+saw him; she looked at him quite steadily; she rose, slowly, with a
+mechanical movement, and stood upright beside her bed, clasping her
+forehead with her hands, and gazing at him. He stood motionless, in the
+dress he had worn when he took leave of her, the light-colored
+riding-coat of the period, with a short cape, and a large white cravat
+tucked into the double breast. The white muslin was flecked, and the
+front of the riding-coat was deeply stained, with blood. He looked at
+her, and she took a step forward&#8212;another&#8212;then,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> with a desperate
+effort, she dashed open the railing and flung herself on her knees
+before him, with her arms stretched out as if to clasp him. But he was
+no longer there; the moonbeams fell clear and cold upon the polished
+floor, and lost themselves where Berthe lay, at the foot of the screen,
+her head upon the ground, and every sign of life gone from her.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+<p>&#8220;Where is the citizen Glaire?&#8221; asked Prosper Alix of the <em>citoyenne</em>
+Pichon, entering the house of the master-mason abruptly, and with a
+stern and threatening countenance. &#8220;I have a message for him; I must see
+him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know nothing about him,&#8221; replied the <em>citoyenne</em>, without turning in
+his direction, or relaxing her culinary labors. &#8220;He went away from here
+the next morning, and I did not trouble myself to ask where; that is his
+affair.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He went away? Without letting me know! Be careful, <em>citoyenne</em>; this is
+a serious matter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So they tell me,&#8221; said the woman with a grin, which was not altogether
+free from pain and fear; &#8220;for you! A serious thing to have a <em>suspect</em>
+in your house, and palm him off on honest people. However, he went away
+peaceably enough when he knew we had found him out, and that we had no
+desire to go to prison, or worse, on his account, or yours.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She was strangely insolent, this woman, and the listener felt his
+helplessness; he had brought the young man there with such secrecy, he
+had so carefully provided for the success of concealment.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>
+&#8220;Who carried his valise?&#8221; Prosper Alix asked her suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How should I know?&#8221; she replied; but her hands lost their steadiness,
+and she upset a stew-pan; &#8220;he carried it here, didn&#8217;t he? and I suppose
+he carried it away again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Prosper Alix looked at her steadily&#8212;she shunned his gaze, but she
+showed no other sign of confusion; then horror and disgust of the woman
+came over him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I must see Pichon,&#8221; he said; &#8220;where is he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where should he be but at the wall? he and the boys are working there,
+as always. The citizen can see them; but he will remember not to detain
+them; in a little quarter of an hour the soup will be ready.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The citizen did see the master-mason and his sons, and after an
+interview of some duration he left the place in a state of violent
+agitation and complete discomfiture. The master-mason had addressed to
+him these words at parting:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I assert that the man went away at his own free will; but if you do not
+keep very quiet, I shall deny that he came here at all&#8212;you cannot prove
+he did&#8212;and I will denounce you for harboring a <em>suspect</em> and
+<em>ci-devant</em> under a false name. I know a De S&eacute;nanges when I see him as
+well as you, citizen Alix; and, wishing M. Paul a good journey, I hope
+you will consider about this matter, for truly, my friend, I think you
+will sneeze in the sack before I shall.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+<p>&#8220;We must bear it, Berthe, my child,&#8221; said Prosper<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> Alix to his daughter
+many weeks later, when the fever had left her, and she was able to talk
+with her father of the mysterious and frightful events which had
+occurred. &#8220;We are utterly helpless. There is no proof, only the word of
+these wretches against mine, and certain destruction to me if I speak.
+We will go to Spain, and tell the Marquis all the truth, and never
+return, if you would rather not. But, for the rest, we must bear it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, my father,&#8221; said Berthe submissively, &#8220;I know we must; but God
+need not, and I don&#8217;t believe He will.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The father and the daughter left France unmolested, and Berthe &#8220;bore it&#8221;
+as well as she could. When better times come they returned, Prosper Alix
+an old man, and Berthe a stern, silent, handsome woman, with whom no one
+associated any notions of love or marriage. But long before their return
+the traditions of the Croix Rousse were enriched by circumstances which
+led to that before-mentioned capital bargain made by the father of the
+Giraudier of the present. These circumstances were the violent death of
+Pichon and his two sons, who were killed by the fall of a portion of the
+great boundary-wall on the very day of its completion, and the
+discovery, close to its foundation, at the extremity of Pichon&#8217;s
+<em>terre</em>, of the corpse of a young man attired in a light-colored
+riding-coat, who had been stabbed through the heart.</p>
+
+<p>Berthe Alix lived alone in the Ch&acirc;teau de S&eacute;nanges, under its restored
+name, until she was a very old woman. She lived long enough to see the
+golden figure on the summit of the &#8220;Holy Hill,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>&#8221; long enough to forget
+the bad old times, but not long enough to forget or cease to mourn the
+lover who had kept his promise, and come back to her; the lover who
+rested in the earth which once covered the bones of the martyrs, and who
+kept a place for her by his side. She has filled that place for many
+years. You may see it, when you look down from the second gallery of the
+bell-tower at Fourvi&egrave;res, following the bend of the outstretched golden
+arm of Notre Dame.</p>
+
+<p>The ch&acirc;teau was pulled down some years ago, and there is no trace of its
+former existence among the vines.</p>
+
+<p>Good times, and bad times, and again good times have come for the Croix
+Rousse, for Lyons, and for France, since then; but the remembrance of
+the treachery of Pichon &amp; Sons, and of the retribution which at once
+exposed and punished their crime, outlives all changes. And once, every
+year, on a certain summer night, three ghostly figures are seen, by any
+who have courage and patience to watch for them, gliding along by the
+foot of the boundary-wall, two of them carrying a dangling corpse, and
+the other, implements for mason&#8217;s work and a small leather valise.
+Giraudier, <em>pharmacien</em>, has never seen these ghostly figures, but he
+describes them with much minuteness; and only the <em>esprits forts</em> of the
+Croix Rousse deny that the ghosts of Pichon &amp; Sons are not yet laid.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160-162" id="Page_160-162">[160&#8211;162]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<p class="back"><a href="#contents"><small>Back to Contents</small></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
+<a name="phantom" id="phantom"></a>THE PHANTOM FOURTH.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">THEY were three.</p>
+
+<p>It was in the cheap night-service train from Paris to Calais that I
+first met them.</p>
+
+<p>Railways, as a rule, are among the many things which they do <em>not</em> order
+better in France, and the French Northern line is one of the worst
+managed in the world, barring none, not even the Italian <em>vie ferrate</em>.
+I make it a rule, therefore, to punish the directors of, and the
+shareholders in, that undertaking to the utmost within my limited
+ability, by spending as little money on their line as I can help.</p>
+
+<p>It was, then, in a third-class compartment of the train that I met the
+three.</p>
+
+<p>Three as hearty, jolly-looking Saxon faces, with stalwart frames to
+match, as one would be likely to meet in an hour&#8217;s walk from the
+Regent&#8217;s Park to the Mansion House.</p>
+
+<p>One of the three was dark, the other two were fair. The dark one was the
+senior of the party. He wore an incipient full beard, evidently in
+process of training, with a considerable amount of grizzle in it.</p>
+
+<p>The face of one of his companions was graced with a magnificent flowing
+beard. The third of the party, a fair-haired youth of some twenty-three<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>
+or four summers, showed a scrupulously smooth-shaven face.</p>
+
+<p>They looked all three much flushed and slightly excited, and, I must
+say, they turned out the most boisterous set of fellows I ever met.</p>
+
+<p>They were clearly gentlemen, however, and men of education, with
+considerable linguistic acquirements; for they chatted and sang, and
+declaimed and &#8220;did orations&#8221; all the way from Paris to Calais, in a
+slightly bewildering variety of tongues.</p>
+
+<p>Their jollity had, perhaps, just a little over-tinge of the slap-bang
+jolly-dog style in it; but there was so much heartiness and good-nature
+in all they said and in all they did, that it was quite impossible for
+any of the other occupants of the carriage to vote them a nuisance; and
+even the sourest of the officials, whom they chaffed most unmercifully
+and unremittingly at every station on the line, took their punishment
+with a shrug and a grin. The only person, indeed, who rose against them
+in indignant protestation was the head-waiter at the Calais station
+refreshment-room, to whom they would persist in propounding puzzling
+problems, such as, for instance, &#8220;If you charge two shillings for
+one-and-a-half-ounce slice of breast of veal, how many fools will it
+take to buy the joint <a name="off" id="off"></a><ins class="translit" title="original has of">off</ins> you?&#8221;&#8212;and what <em>he</em> got by the attempt to
+stop their chaff was a caution to any other sinner who might have felt
+similarly inclined.</p>
+
+<p>As for me, I could only give half my sense of hearing to their
+utterings, the other half being put under strict sequester at the time
+by my friend O&#8217;Kweene, the great Irish philosopher, who was delivering
+to me, for my own special behoof and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> benefit, a brilliant, albeit
+somewhat abstruse, dissertation on the &#8220;visible and palpable outward
+manifestations of the inner consciousness of the soul in a trance;&#8221;
+which occupied all the time from Paris to Calais, full eight hours, and
+which, to judge from my feelings at the time, would certainly afford
+matter for three heavy volumes of reading in bed, in cases of inveterate
+sleeplessness&#8212;a hint to enterprising publishers.</p>
+
+<p>My friend O&#8217;Kweene, who intended to stay a few days at Calais, took
+leave of me on the pier, and I went on board the steamer that was to
+carry us and the mail over to Dover.</p>
+
+<p>Here I found our trio of the railway-car, snugly ensconced under an
+extemporized awning, artfully constructed with railway-rugs and
+greatcoats, supported partly against the luggage, and partly upon
+several oars, purloined from the boats, and turned into tent-poles for
+the nonce&#8212;which made the skipper swear wofully when he found it out
+some time after.</p>
+
+<p>The three were even more cheery and boisterous on board than they had
+been on shore. From what I could make out in the dark, they were
+discussing the contents of divers bottles of liquor; I counted four dead
+men dropped quietly overboard by them in the course of the hour and a
+half we had to wait for the arrival of the mail-train, which was late,
+as usual on this line.</p>
+
+<p>At last we were off, about half-past two o&#8217;clock in the morning. It was
+a beautiful, clear, moonlit night, so clear, indeed, that we could see
+the Dover lights almost from Calais harbor. But we had considerably more
+than a capful of wind, and there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> was a turgent ground-swell on, which
+made our boat&#8212;double-engined, and as trim and tidy a craft as ever sped
+across the span from shore to shore&#8212;behave rather lively, with sportive
+indulgence in a brisk game of pitch-and-toss that proved anything but
+comfortable to most of the passengers.</p>
+
+<p>When we were steaming out of Calais harbor, our three friends, emerging
+from beneath their tent, struck up in chorus Campbell&#8217;s noble song, &#8220;Ye
+Mariners of England,&#8221; finishing up with a stave from &#8220;Rule, Britannia!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But, alas for them! however loudly their throats were shouting forth the
+sway proverbially held by Albion and her sons over the waves, on this
+occasion at least the said waves seemed determined upon ruling these
+particular three Britons with a rod of antimony; for barely a few
+seconds after the last vibrating echoes of the &#8220;Britons never, never,
+never shall be slaves!&#8221; had died away upon the wind, I beheld the three
+leaning lovingly together, in fast friendship linked, over the rail,
+conversing in deep ventriguttural accents with the denizens of Neptune&#8217;s
+watery realm.</p>
+
+<p>We had one of the quickest passages on record&#8212;ninety-three minutes&#8217;
+steaming carried us across from shore to shore. When we were just on the
+point of landing, I heard the dark senior of the party mutter to his
+companions, in a hollow whisper and mysterious manner, &#8220;He is gone
+again;&#8221; to which the others, the bearded and the smooth-shaven,
+responded in the same way, with deep sighs of evident relief, &#8220;Ay,
+marry! so he is at last.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This mysterious communication roused my curiosity. Who was the party
+that was said to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> gone at last? Where had he come from? where had he
+been hiding, that <em>I</em> had not seen him? and where was he gone to now? I
+determined to know; if but the opportunity would offer, to screw, by
+cunning questioning, the secret out of either of the three.</p>
+
+<p>Fate favored my design.</p>
+
+<p>For some inscrutable reason, known only to the company&#8217;s officials, we
+cheap-trainers were not permitted to proceed on our journey to London
+along with the mail, but were left to kick our heels for some two hours
+at the Dover station.</p>
+
+<p>I went into the refreshment-room to look for my party; I had a notion I
+should find them where the Briton&#8217;s unswerving and unerring instinct
+would be most likely to lead them. It turned out that I was right in my
+conjecture. There they were, seated round a table with huge bowls of
+steaming tea and monster piles of buttered toast and muffins spread on
+the festive board before them. Ay, indeed, there they were; but <em>quantum
+mutati ab illis</em>! how strangely changed from the noisy, rollicking set I
+had known them in the railway-car and on board the steamer, ere yet the
+demon of sea-sickness had claimed them for his own! How ghastly sober
+they looked now, to be sure! And how sternly and silently bent upon
+devoting themselves to the swilling of the Chinese shrub infusion and to
+the gorging of indigestible muffins. It was quite clear to me that it
+would have been worse than folly to venture upon addressing them while
+thus absorbed in absorbing. So I resolved to await a more favorable
+opening, and went out meanwhile to walk on the platform.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>
+A short time I was left in solitary possession of the promenade; then I
+became suddenly aware that another traveller was treading the same
+ground with me&#8212;it was the dark elderly leader of the three. I glanced
+at him as he passed me under one of the lamps. He looked pale and sad.
+The furrowed lines on his brow bespoke deliberation deep and pondering
+profound. All the infinite mirth of the preceding few hours had departed
+from him, leaving him but a wretched wreck of his former reckless self.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A fine night, sir,&#8221; I said to break the ice&#8212;&#8220;for the season of the
+year,&#8221; I added by way of a saving clause, to tone down the absoluteness
+of the assertion.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at me abstractedly, merely re&euml;choing my own words, &#8220;A fine
+night, sir, for the season of the year.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why look ye so sad now, who were erst so jolly?&#8221; I bluntly asked,
+determined to force him into conversation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ay, indeed, why so sad now?&#8221; he replied, looking me full in the face;
+then, suddenly clasping my arm with a spasmodic grip, he continued
+hurriedly, &#8220;I think I had best confide our secret to you. You seem a man
+of thought. I witnessed and admired the patient attention with which you
+listened to your friend&#8217;s abstruse talk in the railway-car. Maybe you
+can find the solution of a mystery which defies the ponderings of our
+poor brains&#8212;mine and my two friends.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then he proceeded to pour into my attentive ear this gruesome tale of
+mystery:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We three&#8212;that is, myself, yon tall bearded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> Briton,&#8221; pointing to the
+glass door of the refreshment-room, &#8220;whose name is Jack Hobson, and
+young Emmanuel Topp, junior partner in a great beer firm, whom you may
+behold now at his fifth bowl of tea and his seventh muffin&#8212;are
+teetotallers&#8212;&#8212;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Teetotallers!&#8221; I could not help exclaiming. &#8220;Lord bless me! that is
+certainly about the last thing I should have taken you for, either of
+you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; he replied with some slight confusion, &#8220;at least, we <em>were
+total</em> teetotallers, though I admit we can now only claim the character
+of partial abstainers. The fact is, when, about a fortnight ago, we were
+discussing the plan of our projected visit to the great Paris
+Exhibition, Topp suggested that while in France we should do as the
+French do, to which Jack Hobson assented, remarking that the French knew
+nothing about tea, and that a Frenchman&#8217;s tea would be sure to prove an
+Englishman&#8217;s poison. So we resolved to suspend the pledge during our
+visit to France.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was on the second day after our arrival in Paris. We were dining in
+a private cabinet at D&eacute;sir&eacute; Beaurain&#8217;s, one of the leading restaurants
+on the fashionable side of the Montmartre&#8212;Italiens Boulevard. Our
+dinner was what an Irishman might call a most &#8216;illigant&#8217; affair. We had
+sipped several bottles of Sauterne, and tasted a few of Tavel, and we
+were just topping the entertainment with a solitary bottle of champagne,
+when I became suddenly aware of the presence of another party in the
+room&#8212;a <em>fourth man</em>&#8212;who sat him down at our table, and helped himself
+liberally to our liquor. From what I ascertained afterward from Jack<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>
+Hobson and Emmanuel Topp, the intruder&#8217;s presence became revealed to
+them also, either about the same time or a little later. What was he
+like? I cannot tell. His figure and face remained indistinct
+throughout&#8212;phantom-like. His features seemed endowed with a stronge
+weird mobility that would defyingly elude the fixing grasp of our eager
+eyes. Now, and to my two companions, he would look marvellously like me;
+then, to me, he would stalk and rave about in the likeness of Jack
+Hobson; again, he would seem the counterfeit of Emmanuel Topp; then he
+would look like all the three of us put together; then like neither of
+us, nor like anybody else. Oh, sir, it was a woful thing to be haunted
+by this phantom apparition. Yet the strangest part of the affair was
+that neither of us seemed to feel a whit surprised at the dread
+presence; that we quietly and uncomplainingly let him drink our wine,
+and actually give orders for more; that we never objected, in fact, to
+any of his sayings and doings. What seemed also strange was that the
+waiter, while yet receiving and executing his orders, was evidently
+pretending to ignore his presence. But then, as I dare say you know as
+well as I do, French waiters are <em>such</em> actors!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, to resume, there he was, this fourth man, seated at our table and
+feasting at our expense. And the pranks that he would play us&#8212;they were
+truly stupendous. He began his little game by ordering in half-a-dozen
+of champagne. And when the waiter seemed slightly doubtful and
+hesitating about executing the order, Topp, forsooth, must put in his
+oar, and indorse the command, actually pretending that <em>I</em>, who am now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>
+speaking to you, and who am the very last man in the world likely to
+dream of such a preposterous thing, had given the order, and that I was
+a jolly old brick, and the best of boon companions. Surprise at this
+barefaced assertion kept me mute, and so, of course, the champagne was
+brought in, and I thought the best thing to do under the circumstances
+was to have my share of it at least; and so I had&#8212;my fair share; but,
+bless you, it was nothing to what that fourth man drank of it. In fact,
+the amount of liquor <em>he</em> would swill on this and on the many subsequent
+occasions he intruded his presence upon us, was a caution.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We paid our little bill without grumbling, though the presence of the
+fourth man at our table had added rather heavily to the <em>addition</em>, as
+they call bills at French restaurants.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We sallied forth into the street to get a whiff of fresh air. <em>He</em>, the
+demon, pertinaciously stuck to us; he familiarly linked his arm through
+mine, and, suggesting coffee as rather a good thing to take after
+dinner, took us over to the Caf&eacute; du Cardinal, where he, however, took
+none of the Arabian beverage himself (there being only three cups placed
+for us, as I distinctly saw), but drank an interminable succession of
+<em>chasse-caf&eacute;</em>, utterly regardless of the divisional lines of the cognac
+<em>carafon</em>. Part of these he would take neat, another portion he would
+burn over sugar, gloating glaringly over the bluish flame, while gleams
+of demoniac delight would flit across his ever-changing features. Jack
+Hobson and Topp, I am sorry to say, joined him with a will in this
+double-distilled debauch; and when I attempted to remonstrate with them,
+they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> brazenly asserted that <em>I</em>, who am now speaking to you, who have
+always, publicly and privately, declared brandy to be the worst of evil
+spirits, had taken more of it, to my own cheek, as they slangily
+expressed it, than the two of them together; and the waiter, who had
+evidently been bribed by them, boldly maintained that <em>le vieux
+monsieur</em>, as he had the impudence to call me, had swallowed <em>plus de
+trois carafons de fine</em>; whereupon the fourth man, stepping up to him,
+punched his head, which served him right. Now you will hardly believe me
+when I tell you that at that very instant Topp forced me back into my
+chair, while Jack Hobson pinioned my arms from behind, and the waiter
+had the unblushing effrontery to stamp and rave at me like a maniac,
+demanding satisfaction or compensation at my hands for the unprovoked
+assault committed upon him by <em>me, coram populo</em>!&#8212;by <em>me</em>, who, I beg
+to assure you, am the most peaceable man living, and am actually famed
+for the mildness of my disposition and the sweetness and suavity of my
+temper. And, would you believe it? everybody present, waiters and
+guests, and my own two bosom-friends, joined in the conspiracy against
+me, and I actually had to give the wretch of a waiter ten francs as a
+plaster for his broken pate, and a salve for his wounded honor! Where
+was the real culprit all this time, you ask me&#8212;the fourth man? Why, he
+quietly stood by grinning, and they all and every one of them pretended
+not to see him, though Topp and Jack Hobson next morning confessed to me
+that they certainly had an indistinct consciousness of the presence
+throughout of this miserable intruder.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>
+&#8220;How we finished that night I remember not; nor could Jack Hobson or
+Emmanuel Topp. All we could conscientiously stand by, if we were
+questioned, is that we awoke next morning&#8212;the three of us&#8212;with some
+slight swimming in our heads, and a hazy recollection of a gorgeous
+dream of brilliant lights and sounds of music and revelry, and bright
+visions of groves and grottoes, and dancing houris (or hussies, as moral
+Jack Hobson calls the poor things), and a hot supper at a certain place
+in the Passage des Princes, of which I think the name is Peter&#8217;s.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will not tire your courteous patience by a detailed narrative of our
+experiences day after day, during our fortnight&#8217;s stay in Paris. Suffice
+it to tell you that from that time forward to yesterday, when we left,
+the <em>fourth man</em>, as we, by mutual consent, agreed to call the phantom
+apparition, came in regularly to our dinner; with the dessert or a
+little after; that he would constantly suggest a fresh supply of C&ocirc;te
+St. Jacques, Moulin-&agrave;-Vent, Beaune, Chambertin, Roederer Carte Blanche,
+and a variety of other, generally rather more than less expensive,
+wines&#8212;and that he somehow would manage to make us have them, too.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then he would sally forth with us to the caf&eacute;, where he would indulge
+in irritating chaff of the waiters, and in slighting comments upon the
+great French nation in general, and the Parisians in particular, and
+upon their institutions and manners and customs.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He would insist upon singing the Marseillaise; he would speak
+disparagingly of the Emperor, whom he would irreverently call Lambert;
+he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> would pass cutting and unsavory remarks upon the glorious system of
+the night-carts; he would call down the judgment of Heaven upon the
+devoted head of poor Mr. Haussmann; he would go up to some unhappy
+sergent-de-ville, who might, however unwittingly, excite his ire, and
+tell him a bit of his mind in English, with sarcastic allusions to his
+cocket-hat and his toasting-fork, and polite inquiries after the health
+of <em>ce cher</em> Monsieur Lambert, or the whereabouts of <em>cet excellent</em>
+Monsieur Godinot. The worst of the matter was that I suppose for the
+reason that man is an imitative animal, a sort of <em>&#960;&#953;&#952;&#951;&#954;&#959;&#962; &#956;&#965;&#969;&#961;&#959;&#962;</em>, or
+Monboddian monkey minus the tail&#8212;my two companions were, somehow,
+always sure to join the wretch in his evil behavior, and to go on
+just as bad as he did. No wonder, then, that we got into no end of
+rows, and it is a marvel to me now, how ever we have managed to get
+off with a whole skin to our bodies.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He would insist upon taking us to Mabille, the Closerie des Lilas, and
+the Ch&acirc;teaurouge, where he would indulge in the maddest pranks and
+antics, and somehow lead us to join in the wildest dances, and make us
+lift our legs as high as the highest lifter among the <em>habitu&eacute;s</em>, male
+or female.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One night, at about half-past two in the morning (<em>Hibernic&egrave;</em>), he had
+the cool assurance to drag us along with him to the then closed entrance
+to the Passage des Princes, where he frantically shook the gate, and
+insisted to the frightened concierge, who came running up in his
+night-shirt, that Peter&#8217;s must and ought to be open still, as <em>we</em> had
+not had our supper yet; and Topp and Jack Hobson, forsooth, must join in
+the row.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> I have no distinct recollection of whether it was our phantom
+guest or either of my companions that madly strove to detain the hastily
+retreating form of the concierge by a desperate clutch at the tail of
+his shirt; I only remember that the garment gave way in the struggle,
+and that the unhappy functionary was reduced nearly altogether to the
+primitive buff costume of the father of man in Paradise ere he had put
+his teeth into that unlucky apple of which, the pips keep so
+inconveniently sticking in poor humanity&#8217;s gizzard to the present day.
+And what I remember also to my cost is, that the sergent-de-ville, whom
+the bereaved man&#8217;s shouts of distress brought to the scene, fastened
+upon <em>me</em>, the most inoffensive of mortals, for a compensation fine of
+twenty francs, as if <em>I</em> had been the culprit. And deuced glad we were,
+I assure you, to get off without more serious damage to our pocket and
+reputation than this, and a copious volley of <em>sacr&eacute;s ivrognes Anglais</em>,
+fired at us by the wretched concierge and his friend of the police, who,
+I am quite sure, went halves with him in the compensation. Ah! they are
+a lawless set, these French.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;On another occasion we three went to the Exhibition, where we visited
+one of our colonial departments, in company with several English
+friends, and some French gentlemen appointed on the wine jury. We went
+to taste a few samples of colonial wines. <em>He</em> was not with us <em>then</em>.
+Barely, however, had we uncorked a poor dozen bottles, which turned out
+rather good for colonial, though a little raw and slightly uneducated,
+when <em>who</em> should stalk in but our fourth man, as jaunty and
+unconcerned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> as ever. Well, <em>he</em> fell to tasting, and he soon grew
+eloquent in praise of the colonial juice, which he declared would, in
+another twenty years&#8217; time, be fit to compete successfully with the best
+French vintages. Of course, the French gentlemen with us could not stand
+<em>this</em>; they spoke slightingly of the British colonial, and one of them
+even went so far as to call it rotgut. I cannot say whether it was the
+spirit of the uncompromising opinion thus pronounced, or the coarsely
+indelicate way in which the judgment of our French friend was expressed,
+that riled our phantom guest&#8212;enough, it brought him down in full force
+upon the offender and his countrymen, with most fluent French
+vituperation and an unconscionable amount of bad jokes and worse puns,
+finishing up with a general address to them as members of the
+<em>disgusting</em> jury, instead of jury of <em>d&eacute;gustation</em>. Now, this I should
+not have minded so much; for, I must confess, I felt rather nettled at
+the national conceit and prejudice of these French. But the wretch, in
+the impetuous utterance of his invective, must somehow&#8212;though I was not
+aware of it at the time&#8212;have mimicked my gestures and imitated the very
+tones and accent of my voice so closely as to deceive even some of my
+English companions: or how else to account for the fact of their calling
+me a noisy brawler and a pestilent nuisance? <em>me</em>, the gentlest and
+mildest-spoken of mortals!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Before our departure from London we had calculated our probable
+expenses on a most liberal scale, and we had made comfortable provision
+accordingly for a few weeks&#8217; stay in Paris. But with the additional
+heavy burden of the franking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> of so copious an imbiber as our fourth man
+thus unexpectedly thrown on our shoulders, it was no great wonder that
+we should find our resources go much faster than we had anticipated; so
+we had already been forcedly led to bethink ourselves of shortening our
+intended stay in the French capital when a fresh exploit of the phantom
+fourth, climaxing all his past misdeeds, brought matters to a crisis.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was the day before yesterday, the 4th of September. We had been
+dining at Marigny, and dancing at Mabille. Our eccentric guest had come
+in, as usual, with the champagne, and had of course, after dinner, taken
+us over to the enchanted gardens. We were all very jolly. <em>He</em> suggested
+supper at the Cascades, in the Bois de Boulogne. We chartered a <em>fiacre</em>
+to take us there and back. We supped rather copiously. <em>He</em> somehow made
+our coachman drunk, and took upon himself to drive us home. Need I tell
+you that he upset us in the Avenue de l&#8217;Imp&eacute;ratrice, and that we had to
+walk it, and pretty fast too? It was a mercy there were no bones broken.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, as we were walking along, just barely recovering from the shock
+of the accident, he suddenly took some new whim into his confounded
+noddle. Nothing would do for him but he must drag us along with him to
+the great entrance of the Elys&eacute;e Napol&eacute;on (which erst was, and maybe is
+soon likely to be once more, the Elys&eacute;e Bourbon), where he had the
+brazen impudence to claim admittance, as the Emperor, he pretended, had
+been graciously pleased to offer us the splendid hospitality of that
+renowned mansion. What<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> further happened here, neither I nor either of
+my friends can tell. Our recollections from this period till next
+morning are doubtful and indistinct. All we can state for certain is,
+that yesterday morning we awoke, the three of us, in a most wretched
+state, in a strange, nasty place. We learn soon after from a gentleman
+in a cocked hat, who came to visit us on business, that the imperial
+hospitality which we had claimed last night had indeed been extended to
+us&#8212;only in the <em>violon</em>, instead of the Elys&eacute;e. Our phantom guest was
+gone: he would alway, somehow sneak away in the morning, when there was
+nothing left for him to drink&#8212;the guzzling villain!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The gentleman in the cocked-hat pressingly invited us to pay a visit to
+the Commissaire du Quartier. That formidable functionary received us
+with the customary French-polished veneer of urbanity which, as a rule,
+constitutes the <em>suaviter in modo</em> of the higher class of Gallic
+officials. He read us a severe lecture, however, upon the alleged
+impropriety of our conduct; and when I ventured to protest that it was
+not to us the blame ought to be imputed, but to the <em>quatri&egrave;me</em>, he
+mistook my meaning, and, ere I could explain myself, he cut me short
+with a polite remark that the French used the cardinal instead of the
+ordinal numbers in stating the days of the month, with the exception of
+the first, and that he had had too much trouble with our countrymen (he
+took us for Yankees!) on the 4th of July, to be disposed to look with an
+over-lenient eye upon the vagaries we had chosen to commit on the 4th of
+September, which he supposed was another great national day with us. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>
+would, however, let us off this time with a simple reprimand, upon
+payment of one hundred francs, compensation for damage done to the
+coach&#8212;drunken cabby having turned up, of course, to testify against us.
+Well, we paid the money, and handed the worthy magistrate twenty francs
+besides, for the benefit of the poor, by way of acknowledgment for the
+imperial hospitality we had enjoyed. We were then allowed to depart in
+peace.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, you&#8217;ll hardly believe it, I dare say, but it is the truth
+notwithstanding, that we three, who have been fast friends for years,
+actually began to quarrel among ourselves now, mutually imputing to one
+another the blame of all our misadventures and misfortunes since our
+arrival in Paris, while yet we clearly knew and felt, each and every of
+us, that it was all the doings of that phantom fourth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One thing, however, we all agreed to do&#8212;to leave Paris by the first
+train.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To fortify ourselves for the coming journey, we went to indulge in the
+luxury of a farewell breakfast at D&eacute;sir&eacute; Beaurain&#8217;s. Of course we
+emptied a few bottles to our reconciliation. I do not exactly remember
+how many, but this I <em>do</em> remember, that our irrepressible incubus
+walked in again, and took his place in the midst of us rather sooner
+even than he had been wont to do; and he never left us from that time to
+the moment of our landing at Dover harbor, when he took his, I hope and
+trust final, departure with a ghastly grin.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I dare say you must have thought us a most noisy and obstreperous lot:
+well, with my hand on my heart, I can assure you, on my conscience,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>
+that a quieter and milder set of fellows than us three you are not
+likely to find on this or the other side the Channel. But for that
+mysterious phantom fourth&#8212;&#8212;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Here the whistle sounded, and the guard came up to us with a hurried,
+&#8220;Now then, gents, take your seats, please; train is off in half a
+minnit!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What can have become of Topp and Jack Hobson?&#8221; muttered my new friend,
+looking around him with eager scrutiny. &#8220;I should not wonder if they
+were still refreshing.&#8221; And he started off in the direction of the
+refreshment-room.</p>
+
+<p>I took my seat. Immediately after the train whirled off. I cannot say
+whether the three were left behind; all I know is that I did not see
+them get out at London Bridge.</p>
+
+<p>Remembering, however, that the appalling secret of the supernatural
+visitation which had thus harassed my three fellow-travellers had been
+confided to me under the impression that I might be likely to find a
+solution of the mystery, I have ever since deeply pondered thereon.</p>
+
+<p>Shallow thinkers, and sneerers uncharitably given, may, from a
+consideration of the times, places, and circumstances at and under which
+the abnormal phenomena here recited were stated to have been observed,
+be led to attribute them simply to the promptings and imaginings of
+brains overheated by excessive indulgence in spirituous liquors. But I,
+striving to be mindful always of the great scriptural injunction to
+judge not, lest we be judged, and opportunely remembering my friend
+O&#8217;Kweene&#8217;s learned dissertation above alluded to, feel disposed to
+pronounce the apparition of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> phantom of the fourth man, and all the
+sayings, doings, and demeanings of the same, to have been simply so many
+visible and palpable outward manifestations of the inner consciousness
+of the souls of the three, and more notably of that of the elderly
+senior of the party, in a succession of vino-alcoholic trances.</p>
+
+<p>My friend O&#8217;Kweene is, of course, welcome to such credit as may attach
+to this attempted solution of mine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182-184" id="Page_182-184">[182&#8211;184]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="back"><a href="#contents"><small>Back to Contents</small></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>
+<a name="spirit" id="spirit"></a>THE SPIRIT&#8217;S WHISPER.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">YES, I have been haunted!&#8212;haunted so fearfully that for some little
+time I thought myself insane. I was no raving maniac; I mixed in society
+as heretofore, although perhaps a trifle more grave and taciturn than
+usual; I pursued my daily avocations; I employed myself even on literary
+work. To all appearance I was one of the sanest of the sane; and yet all
+the while I considered myself the victim of such strange delusions that,
+in my own mind, I fancied my senses&#8212;and one sense in particular&#8212;so far
+erratic and beyond my own control that I was, in real truth, a madman.
+How far I was then insane it must be for others, who hear my story, to
+decide. My hallucinations have long since left me, and, at all events, I
+am now as sane as I suppose most men are.</p>
+
+<p>My first attack came on one afternoon when, being in a listless and an
+idle mood, I had risen from my work and was amusing myself with
+speculating at my window on the different personages who were passing
+before me. At that time I occupied apartments in the Brompton Road.
+Perhaps, there is no thoroughfare in London where the ordinary
+passengers are of so varied a description or high life and low life
+mingle in so perpetual a medley. South-Kensington carriages there jostle
+costermongers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>&#8217; carts; the clerk in the public office, returning to his
+suburban dwelling, brushes the laborer coming from his work on the
+never-ending modern constructions in the new district; and the ladies of
+some of the surrounding squares flaunt the most gigantic of <em>chignons</em>,
+and the most exuberant of motley dresses, before the envying eyes of the
+ragged girls with their vegetable-baskets.</p>
+
+<p>There was, as usual, plenty of material for observation and conjecture
+in the passengers, and their characters or destinations, from my window
+on that day. Yet I was not in the right cue for the thorough enjoyment
+of my favorite amusement. I was in a rather melancholy mood. Somehow or
+other, I don&#8217;t know why, my memory had reverted to a pretty woman whom I
+had not seen for many years. She had been my first love, and I had loved
+her with a boyish passion as genuine as it was intense. I thought my
+heart would have broken, and I certainly talked seriously of dying, when
+she formed an attachment to an ill-conditioned, handsome young
+adventurer, and, on her family objecting to such an alliance, eloped
+with him. I had never seen the fellow, against whom, however, I
+cherished a hatred almost as intense as my passion for the infatuated
+girl who had flown from her home for his sake. We had heard of her being
+on the Continent with her husband, and learned that the man&#8217;s shifty
+life had eventually taken him to the East. For some years nothing more
+had been heard of the poor girl. It was a melancholy history, and its
+memory ill-disposed me for amusement.</p>
+
+<p>A sigh was probably just escaping my lips with the half-articulated
+words, &#8220;Poor Julia!&#8221; when my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> eyes fell on a man passing before my
+window. There was nothing particularly striking about him. He was tall,
+with fine features, and a long, fair beard, contrasting somewhat with
+his bronzed complexion. I had seen many of our officers on their return
+from the Crimea look much the same. Still, the man&#8217;s aspect gave me a
+shuddering feeling, I didn&#8217;t know why. At the same moment, a whispering,
+low voice uttered aloud in my ear the words, &#8220;It is he!&#8221; I turned,
+startled; there was no one near me, no one in the room. There was no
+fancy in the sound; I had heard the words with painful distinctness. I
+ran to the door, opened it&#8212;not a sound on the staircase, not a sound in
+the whole house&#8212;nothing but the hum from the street. I came back and
+sat down. It was no use reasoning with myself; I had the ineffaceable
+conviction that I had heard the voice. Then first the idea crossed my
+mind that I might be the victim of hallucinations. Yes, it must have
+been so, for now I recalled to mind that the voice had been that of my
+poor lost Julia; and at the moment I heard it I had been dreaming of
+her. I questioned my own state of health. I was well; at least I had
+been so, I felt fully assured, up to that moment. Now a feeling of
+chilliness and numbness and faintness had crept over me, a cold sweat
+was on my forehead. I tried to shake off this feeling by bringing back
+my thoughts to some other subject. But, involuntarily as it were, I
+again uttered the words, &#8220;Poor Julia!&#8221; aloud. At the same time a deep
+and heavy sigh, almost a groan, was distinctly audible close by me. I
+sprang up; I was alone&#8212;quite alone. It was, once more, an
+hallucination.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>
+By degrees the first painful impression wore away. Some days had passed,
+and I had begun to forget my singular delusion. When my thoughts aid
+revert to it, the recollection was dismissed as that of a ridiculous
+fancy. One afternoon I was in the Strand, coming from Charing Cross,
+when I was once more overcome by that peculiar feeling of cold and
+numbness which I had before experienced. The day was warm and bright and
+genial, and yet I positively shivered. I had scarce time to interrogate
+my own strange sensations when a man went by me rapidly. How was it that
+I recognized him at once as the individual who had only passed my window
+so casually on that morning of the hallucination? I don&#8217;t know, and yet
+I was aware that this man was the tall, fair passer-by of the Brompton
+Road. At the same moment the voice I had previously heard whispered
+distinctly in my ear the words, &#8220;Follow him!&#8221; I stood stupefied. The
+usual throngs of indifferent persons were hurrying past me in that
+crowded thoroughfare, but I felt convinced that not one of these had
+spoken to me. I remained transfixed for a moment. I was bent on a matter
+of business in the contrary direction to the individual I had remarked,
+and so, although with unsteady step, I endeavored to proceed on my way.
+Again that voice said, still more emphatically, in my ear, &#8220;Follow him!&#8221;
+I stopped involuntarily. And a third time, &#8220;Follow him!&#8221; I told myself
+that the sound was a delusion, a cheat of my senses, and yet I could not
+resist the spell. I turned to follow. Quickening my pace, I soon came up
+with the tall, fair man, and, unremarked by him, I followed him. Whither
+was this foolish pursuit to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> lead me? It was useless to ask myself the
+question&#8212;I was impelled to follow.</p>
+
+<p>I was not destined to go very far, however. Before long the object of my
+absurd chase entered a well-known insurance-office. I stopped at the
+door of the establishment. I had no business within, why should I
+continue to follow? Had I not already been making a sad fool of myself
+by my ridiculous conduct? These were my thoughts as I stood heated by my
+quick walk. Yes, heated; and yet, once more, came the sudden chill. Once
+more that same low but now awful voice spoke in my ear: &#8220;Go in!&#8221; it
+said. I endeavored to resist the spell, and yet I felt that resistance
+was in vain. Fortunately, as it seemed to me, the thought crossed my
+mind that an old acquaintance was a clerk in that same insurance-office.
+I had not seen the fellow for a great length of time, and I never had
+been very intimate with him. But here was a pretext; and so I went in
+and inquired for Clement Stanley. My acquaintance came forward. He was
+very busy, he said. I invented, on the spur of the moment, some excuse
+of the most frivolous and absurd nature, as far as I can recollect, for
+my intrusion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By the way,&#8221; I said, as I turned to take my leave, although my question
+was &#8220;by the way&#8221; of nothing at all, &#8220;who was that tall, fair man who
+just now entered the office?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, that fellow?&#8221; was the indifferent reply; &#8220;a Captain Campbell, or
+Canton, or some such name; I forget what. He is gone in before the
+board&#8212;insured his wife&#8217;s life&#8212;and she is dead; comes for a settlement,
+I suppose.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing more to be gained, and so I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> left the office. As soon
+as I came without into the scorching sunlight, again the same feeling of
+cold, again the same voice&#8212;&#8220;Wait!&#8221; Was I going mad? More and more the
+conviction forced itself upon me that I was decidedly a monomaniac
+already. I felt my pulse. It was agitated and yet not feverish. I was
+determined not to give way to this absurd hallucination; and yet, so far
+was I out of my senses, that my will was no longer my own. Resolved as I
+was to go, I listened to the dictates of that voice and waited. What was
+it to me that this Campbell or Canton had insured his wife&#8217;s life, that
+she was dead, and that he wanted a settlement of his claim? Obviously
+nothing; and I yet waited.</p>
+
+<p>So strong was the spell on me that I had no longer any count of time. I
+had no consciousness whether the period was long or short that I stood
+there near the door, heedless of all the throng that passed, gazing on
+vacancy. The fiercest of policemen might have told me to &#8220;move on,&#8221; and
+I should not have stirred, spite of all the terrors of the &#8220;station.&#8221;
+The individual came forth. He paid no heed to me. Why should he? What
+was I to him? This time I needed no warning voice to bid me follow. I
+was a madman, and I could not resist the impulses of my madness. It was
+thus, at least I reasoned with myself. I followed into Regent Street.
+The object of my insensate observation lingered, and looked around as if
+in expectation. Presently a fine-looking woman, somewhat extravagantly
+dressed, and obviously not a lady, advanced toward him on the pavement.
+At the sight of her he quickened his step, and joined her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> rapidly. I
+shuddered again, but this time a sort of dread was mingled with that
+strange shivering. I knew what was coming, and it came. Again that voice
+in my ear. &#8220;Look and remember!&#8221; it said. I passed the man and woman as
+they stopped at their first meeting!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is all right, George?&#8221; said the female.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right, my girl,&#8221; was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>I looked. An evil smile, as if of wicked triumph, was on <a name="man" id="man"></a><ins class="translit" title="original has the the">the</ins> man&#8217;s face,
+I thought. And on the woman&#8217;s? I looked at her, and I remembered. I
+could not be mistaken. Spite of her change in manner, dress, and
+appearance, it was Mary Simms. This woman some years before, when she
+was still very young, had been a sort of humble companion to my mother.
+A simple-minded, honest girl, we thought her. Sometimes I had fancied
+that she had paid me, in a sly way, a marked attention. I had been
+foolish enough to be flattered by her stealthy glances and her sighs.
+But I had treated these little demonstrations of partiality as due only
+to a silly girlish fancy. Mary Simms, however, had come to grief in our
+household. She had been detected in the abstraction of sundry jewels and
+petty ornaments. The morning after discovery she had left the house, and
+we had heard of her no more. As these recollections passed rapidly
+through my mind I looked behind me. The couple had turned back. I turned
+to follow again; and spite of carriages and cabs, and shouts and oaths
+of drivers, I took the middle of the street in order to pass the man and
+woman at a little distance unobserved. No; I was not mistaken. The woman
+was Mary Simms, though without any trace<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> of all her former
+simple-minded airs; Mary Simms, no longer in her humble attire, but
+flaunting in all the finery of overdone fashion. She wore an air of
+reckless joyousness in her face; and yet, spite of that, I pitied her.
+It was clear she had fallen on the evil ways of bettered
+fortune&#8212;bettered, alas! for the worse.</p>
+
+<p>I had an excuse now, in my own mind, for my continued pursuit, without
+deeming myself an utter madman&#8212;the excuse of curiosity to know the
+destiny of one with whom I had been formerly familiar, and in whom I had
+taken an interest. Presently the game I was hunting down stopped at the
+door of the Grand Caf&eacute;. After a little discussion they entered. It was a
+public place of entertainment; there was no reason why I should not
+enter also. I found my way to the first floor. They were already seated
+at a table, Mary holding the <em>carte</em> in her hand. They were about to
+dine. Why should not I dine there too? There was but one little
+objection,&#8212;I had an engagement to dinner. But the strange impulse which
+overpowered me, and seemed leading me on step by step, spite of myself,
+quickly overruled all the dictates of propriety toward my intended
+hosts. Could I not send a prettily devised apology? I glided past the
+couple, with my head averted, seeking a table, and I was unobserved by
+my old acquaintance. I was too agitated to eat, but I made a semblance,
+and little heeded the air of surprise and almost disgust on the
+bewildered face of the waiter as he bore away the barely touched dishes.
+I was in a very fever of impatience and doubt what next to do. They
+still sat on, in evident enjoyment of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> meal and their constant
+draughts of sparkling wine. My impatience was becoming almost unbearable
+when the man at last rose. The woman seemed to have uttered some
+expostulation, for he turned at the door and said somewhat harshly
+aloud, &#8220;Nonsense; only one game and I shall be back. The waiter will
+give you a paper&#8212;a magazine&#8212;something to while away the time.&#8221; And he
+left the room for the billiard-table, as I surmised.</p>
+
+<p>Now was my opportunity. After a little hesitation, I rose, and planted
+myself abruptly on the vacant seat before the woman.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mary,&#8221; I said.</p>
+
+<p>She started, with a little exclamation of alarm, and dropped the paper
+she had held. She knew me at once.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Master John!&#8221; she exclaimed, using the familiar term still given me
+when I was long past boyhood; and then, after a lengthened gaze, she
+turned away her head. I was embarrassed at first how to address her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mary,&#8221; I said at last, &#8220;I am grieved to see you thus.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why should you be grieved for me?&#8221; she retorted, looking at me sharply,
+and speaking in a tone of impatient anger. &#8220;I am happy as I am.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t believe you,&#8221; I replied.</p>
+
+<p>She again turned away her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mary,&#8221; I pursued, &#8220;can you doubt, that, spite of all, I have still a
+strong interest in the companion of my youth?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She looked at me almost mournfully, but did not speak. At that moment I
+probably grew pale; for suddenly that chilly fit seized me again, and
+my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> forehead became clammy. That voice sounded again in my ear: &#8220;Speak
+of him!&#8221; were the words it uttered. Mary gazed on me with surprise, and
+yet I was assured that <em>she</em> had not heard that voice, so plain to me.
+She evidently mistook the nature of my visible emotion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;O Master John!&#8221; she stammered, with tears gathering in her eyes,
+reverting again to that name of bygone times, &#8220;if you had loved me
+then&#8212;if you had consoled my true affection with one word of hope, one
+look of loving-kindness&#8212;if you had not spurned and crushed me, I should
+not have been what I am now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I was about to make some answer to this burst of unforgotten passion,
+when the voice came again: &#8220;Speak of him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You have loved others since,&#8221; I remarked, with a coldness which seemed
+cruel to myself. &#8220;You love <em>him</em> now.&#8221; And I nodded my head toward the
+door by which the man had disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do I?&#8221; she said, with a bitter smile. &#8220;Perhaps; who knows?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And yet no good can come to you from a connection with that man,&#8221; I
+pursued.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why not? He adores me, and he is free,&#8221; was her answer, given with a
+little triumphant air.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; I said, &#8220;I know he is free: he has lately lost his wife. He has
+made good his claim to the sum for which he insured her life.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mary grew deadly pale. &#8220;How did you learn this? what do you know of
+him?&#8221; she stammered.</p>
+
+<p>I had no reply to give. She scanned my face anxiously for some time;
+then in a low voice she added, &#8220;What do you suspect?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>I was still silent, and only looked at her fixedly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You do not speak,&#8221; she pursued nervously. &#8220;Why do you not speak? Ah,
+you know more than you would say! Master John, Master John, you might
+set my tortured mind at rest, and clear or confirm those doubts which
+<em>will</em> come into my poor head, spite of myself. Speak out&#8212;O, do speak
+out!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not here; it is impossible,&#8221; I replied, looking around. The room as the
+hour advanced, was becoming more thronged with guests, and the full
+tables gave a pretext for my reticence, when in truth I had nothing to
+say.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will you come and see me&#8212;will you?&#8221; she asked with earnest entreaty.</p>
+
+<p>I nodded my head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you a pocketbook? I will write you my address; and you will
+come&#8212;yes, I am sure you will come!&#8221; she said in an agitated way.</p>
+
+<p>I handed her my pocketbook and pencil; she wrote rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Between the hours of three and five,&#8221; she whispered, looking uneasily
+at the door; &#8220;<em>he</em> is sure not to be at home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I rose; Mary held out her hand to me, then withdrew it hastily with an
+air of shame, and the tears sprang into her eyes again. I left the room
+hurriedly, and met her companion on the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>That same evening, in the solitude of my own room, I pondered over the
+little event of the day. I had calmed down from my state of excitement.
+The living apparition of Mary Simms occupied my mind almost to the
+exclusion of the terrors of the ghostly voice which had haunted me, and
+my own fears of coming insanity. In truth, what was that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> man to me?
+Nothing. What did his doings matter to such a perfect stranger as
+myself? Nothing. His connection with Mary Simms was our only link; and
+in what should that affect me? Nothing again. I debated with myself
+whether it were not foolish of me to comply with my youthful companion&#8217;s
+request to visit her; whether it were not imprudent in me to take any
+further interest in the lost woman; whether there were not even danger
+in seeking to penetrate mysteries which were no concern of mine. The
+resolution to which I came pleased me, and I said aloud, &#8220;No, I will not
+go!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At the same moment came again the voice like an awful echo to my
+words&#8212;&#8220;Go!&#8221; It came so suddenly and so imperatively, almost without any
+previous warning of the usual shudder, that the shock was more than I
+could bear. I believe I fainted; I know I found myself, when I came to
+consciousness, in my arm-chair, cold and numb, and my candles had almost
+burned down into their sockets.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning I was really ill. A sort of low fever seemed to have
+prostrated me, and I would have willingly seized so valid a reason for
+disobeying, at least for that day&#8212;for some days, perhaps&#8212;the
+injunction of that ghostly voice. But all that morning it never left me.
+My fearful chilly fit was of constant recurrence, and the words &#8220;Go! go!
+go!&#8221; were murmured so perpetually in my ears&#8212;the sound was one of such
+urgent entreaty&#8212;that all force of will gave way completely. Had I
+remained in that lone room, I should have gone wholly mad. As yet, to my
+own feelings, I was but partially out of my senses.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>
+I dressed hastily; and, I scarce know how&#8212;by no effort of my own will,
+it seemed to me&#8212;I was in the open air. The address of Mary Simms was in
+a street not far from my own suburb. Without any power of reasoning, I
+found myself before the door of the house. I knocked, and asked a
+slipshod girl who opened the door to me for &#8220;Miss Simms.&#8221; She knew no
+such person, held a brief shrill colloquy with some female in the
+back-parlor, and, on coming back, was about to shut the door in my face,
+when a voice from above&#8212;the voice of her I sought&#8212;called down the
+stairs, &#8220;Let the gentleman come up!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I was allowed to pass. In the front drawing-room I found Mary Simms.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They do not know me under that name,&#8221; she said with a mournful smile,
+and again extended, then withdrew, her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sit down,&#8221; she went on to say, after a nervous pause. &#8220;I am alone now;
+told I adjure you, if you have still one latent feeling of old kindness
+for me, explain your words of yesterday to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I muttered something to the effect that I had no explanation to give. No
+words could be truer; I had not the slightest conception what to say.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I am sure you have; you must, you will,&#8221; pursued Mary excitedly;
+&#8220;you have some knowledge of that matter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What matter?&#8221; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, the insurance,&#8221; she replied impatiently. &#8220;You know well what I
+mean. My mind has been distracted about it. Spite of myself, terrible
+suspicions have forced themselves on me. No; I don&#8217;t mean that,&#8221; she
+cried, suddenly checking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> herself and changing her tone; &#8220;don&#8217;t heed
+what I said; it was madness in me to say what I did. But do, do, do tell
+me all you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The request was a difficult one to comply with, for I knew nothing. It
+is impossible to say what might have been the end of this strange
+interview, in which I began to feel myself an unwilling impostor; but
+suddenly Mary started.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The noise of the latchkey in the lock!&#8221; she cried, alarmed; &#8220;He has
+returned; he must not see you; you must come another time. Here, here,
+be quick! I&#8217;ll manage him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And before I could utter another word she had pushed me into the back
+drawing-room and closed the door. A man&#8217;s step on the stairs; then
+voices. The man was begging Mary to come out with him, as the day was so
+fine. She excused herself; he would hear no refusal. At last she
+appeared to consent, on condition that the man would assist at her
+toilet. There was a little laughter, almost hysterical on the part of
+Mary, whose voice evidently quivered with trepidation.</p>
+
+<p>Presently both mounted the upper stairs. Then the thought stuck me that
+I had left my hat in the front room&#8212;a sufficient cause for the woman&#8217;s
+alarm. I opened the door cautiously, seized my hat, and was about to
+steal down the stairs, when I was again spellbound by that numb cold.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Stay!&#8221; said the voice. I staggered back to the other room with my hat,
+and closed the door.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the couple came down. Mary was probably relieved by
+discovering that my hat was no longer there, and surmised that I had
+departed; for I heard her laughing as they went down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> the lower flight.
+Then I heard them leave the house.</p>
+
+<p>I was alone in that back drawing-room. Why? what did I want there? I was
+soon to learn. I felt the chill invisible presence near me; and the
+voice said, &#8220;Search!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The room belonged to the common representative class of back
+drawing-rooms in &#8220;apartments&#8221; of the better kind. The only one
+unfamiliar piece of furniture was an old Indian cabinet; and my eye
+naturally fell on that. As I stood and looked at it with a strange
+unaccountable feeling of fascination, again came the voice&#8212;&#8220;Search!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I shuddered and obeyed. The cabinet was firmly locked; there was no
+power of opening it except by burglarious infraction; but still the
+voice said, &#8220;Search!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A thought suddenly struck me, and I turned the cabinet from its position
+against the wall. Behind, the woodwork had rotted, and in many portions
+fallen away, so that the inner drawers were visible. What could my
+ghostly monitor mean&#8212;that I should open those drawers? I would not do
+such a deed of petty treachery. I turned defiantly, and addressing
+myself to the invisible as if it were a living creature by my side, I
+cried, &#8220;I must not, will not, do such an act of baseness.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The voice replied, &#8220;Search!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I might have known that, in my state of what I deemed insanity,
+resistance was in vain. I grasped the most accessible drawer from
+behind, and pulled it toward me. Uppermost within it lay letters: they
+were addressed to &#8220;Captain Cameron,&#8221;&#8212;&#8220;Captain George Cameron.&#8221; That
+name!&#8212;the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> name of Julia&#8217;s husband, the man with whom she had eloped;
+for it was he who was the object of my pursuit.</p>
+
+<p>My shuddering fit became so strong that I could scarce hold the papers;
+and &#8220;Search!&#8221; was repeated in my ear.</p>
+
+<p>Below the letters lay a small book in a limp black cover. I opened this
+book with trembling hand; it was filled with manuscript&#8212;Julia&#8217;s
+well-known handwriting.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Read!&#8221; muttered the voice. I read. There were long entries by poor
+Julia of her daily life; complaints of her husband&#8217;s unkindness,
+neglect, then cruelty. I turned to the last pages: her hand had grown
+very feeble now, and she was very ill. &#8220;George seems kinder now,&#8221; she
+wrote; &#8220;he brings me all my medicines with his own hand.&#8221; Later on: &#8220;I
+am dying; I know I am dying: he has poisoned me. I saw him last night
+through the curtains pour something in my cup; I saw it in his evil eye.
+I would not drink; I will drink no more; but I feel that I must die.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>These were the last words. Below were written, in a man&#8217;s bold hand, the
+words &#8220;Poor fool!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This sudden revelation of poor Julia&#8217;s death and dying thoughts unnerved
+me quite. I grew colder in my whole frame than ever.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Take it!&#8221; said her voice. I took the book, pushed back the cabinet into
+its place against the wall, and, leaving that fearful room, stole down
+the stairs with trembling limbs, and left the house with all the
+feelings of a guilty thief.</p>
+
+<p>For some days I perused my poor lost Julia&#8217;s diary again and again. The
+whole revelation of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> her sad life and sudden death led but to one
+conclusion,&#8212;she had died of poison by the hands of her unworthy
+husband. He had insured her life, and then&#8212;&#8212;</p>
+
+<p>It seemed evident to me that Mary Simms had vaguely shared suspicions of
+the same foul deed. On my own mind came conviction. But what could I do
+next? how bring this evil man to justice? what proof would be deemed to
+exist in those writings? I was bewildered, weak, irresolute. Like
+Hamlet, I shrank back and temporized. But I was not feigning madness; my
+madness seemed but all too real for me. During all this period the
+wailing of that wretched voice in my ear was almost incessant. O, I must
+have been mad!</p>
+
+<p>I wandered about restlessly, like the haunted thing I had become. One
+day I had come unconsciously and without purpose into Oxford Street. My
+troubled thoughts were suddenly broken in upon by the solicitations of a
+beggar. With a heart hardened against begging impostors, and under the
+influence of the shock rudely given to my absorbing dreams, I answered
+more hardly than was my wont. The man heaved a heavy sigh, and sobbed
+forth, &#8220;Then Heaven help me!&#8221; I caught sight of him before he turned
+away. He was a ghastly object, with fever in his hollow eyes and sunken
+cheeks, and fever on his dry, chapped lips. But I knew, or fancied I
+knew, the tricks of the trade, and I was obdurate. Why, I asked myself,
+should the cold shudder come over me at such a moment? But it was so
+strong on me as to make me shake all over. It came&#8212;that maddening
+voice. &#8220;Succor!&#8221; it said now. I had become so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> accustomed already to
+address the ghostly voice that I cried aloud, &#8220;Why, Julia, why?&#8221; I saw
+people laughing in my face at this strange cry, and I turned in the
+direction in which the beggar had gone. I just caught sight of him as he
+was tottering down a street toward Soho. I determined to have pity for
+this once, and followed the poor man. He led me on through I know not
+what streets. His steps was hurried now. In one street I lost sight of
+him; but I felt convinced he must have turned into a dingy court. I made
+inquiries, but for a time received only rude jeering answers from the
+rough men and women whom I questioned. At last a little girl informed me
+that I must mean the strange man who lodged in the garret of a house she
+pointed out to me. It was an old dilapidated building, and I had much
+repugnance on entering it. But again I was no master of my will. I
+mounted some creaking stairs to the top of the house, until I could go
+no further. A shattered door was open; I entered a wretched garret; the
+object of my search lay now on a bundle of rags on the bare floor. He
+opened his wild eyes as I approached.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have come to succor,&#8221; I said, using unconsciously the word of the
+voice; &#8220;what ails you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ails me?&#8221; gasped the man; &#8220;hunger, starvation, fever.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I was horrified. Hurrying to the top of the stairs, I shouted till I had
+roused the attention of an old woman. I gave her money to bring me food
+and brandy, promising her a recompense for her trouble.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you no friends?&#8221; I asked the wretched man as I returned.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>
+&#8220;None,&#8221; he said feebly. Then as the fever rose in his eyes and even
+flushed his pallid face, he said excitedly, &#8220;I had a master once&#8212;one I
+perilled my soul for. He knows I am dying; but, spite of all my letters,
+he will not come. He wants me dead, he wants me dead&#8212;and his wish is
+coming to pass now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Cannot I find him&#8212;bring him here?&#8221; I asked.</p>
+
+<p>The man stared at me, shook his head, and at last, as if collecting his
+faculties with much exertion, muttered, &#8220;Yes; it is a last hope; perhaps
+you may, and I can be revenged on him at least. Yes revenged. I have
+threatened him already.&#8221; And the fellow laughed a wild laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Control yourself,&#8221; I urged, kneeling by his side; &#8220;give me his
+name&#8212;his address.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Captain George Cameron,&#8221; he gasped, and then fell back.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Captain George Cameron!&#8221; I cried. &#8220;Speak! what of him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But the man&#8217;s senses seemed gone; he only muttered incoherently. The old
+woman returned with the food and spirits. I had found one honest
+creature in that foul region. I gave her money&#8212;provide her more if she
+would bring a doctor. She departed on her new errand. I raised the man&#8217;s
+head, moistened his lips with the brandy, and then poured some of the
+spirit down his throat. He gulped at it eagerly, and opened his eyes;
+but he still raved incoherently, &#8220;I did not do it, it was he. He made me
+buy the poison; he dared not risk the danger himself, the coward! I knew
+what he meant to do with it, and yet I did not speak; I was her murderer
+too. Poor Mrs. Cameron! poor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> Mrs. Cameron! do you forgive?&#8212;can you
+forgive?&#8221; And the man screamed aloud and stretched out his arms as if to
+fright away a phantom.</p>
+
+<p>I had drunk in every word, and knew the meaning of those broken accents
+well. Could I have found at last the means of bringing justice on the
+murderer&#8217;s head? But the man was raving in a delirium, and I was obliged
+to hold him with all my strength. A step on the stairs. Could it be the
+medical man I had sent for? That would be indeed a blessing. A man
+entered&#8212;it was Cameron!</p>
+
+<p>He came in jauntily, with the words, &#8220;How now, Saunders, you rascal!
+What more do you want to get out of me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He started at the sight of a stranger.</p>
+
+<p>I rose from my kneeling posture like an accusing spirit. I struggled for
+calm; but passion beyond my control mastered me, and was I not a madman?
+I seized him by the throat, with the words, &#8220;Murderer! poisoner! where
+is Julia?&#8221; He shook me off violently.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And who the devil are you, sir?&#8221; he cried.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That murdered woman&#8217;s cousin!&#8221; I rushed at him again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Lying hound!&#8221; he shouted, and grappled me. His strength was far beyond
+mine. He had his hand on my throat; a crimson darkness was in my eyes; I
+could not see, I could not hear; there was a torrent of sound pouring in
+my ears. Suddenly his grasp relaxed. When I recovered my sight, I saw
+the murderer struggling with the fever-stricken man, who had risen from
+the floor, and seized him from behind. This unexpected diversion saved
+my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> life; but the ex-groom was soon thrown back on the ground.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Captain George Cameron,&#8221; I cried, &#8220;kill me, but you will only heap
+another murder on your head!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He advanced on me with something glittering in his hand. Without a word
+he came and stabbed at me; but at the same moment I darted at him a
+heavy blow. What followed was too confused for clear remembrance. I
+saw&#8212;no, I will say I fancied that I saw&#8212;the dim form of Julia Staunton
+standing between me and her vile husband. Did he see the vision too? I
+cannot say. He reeled back, and fell heavily to the floor. Maybe it was
+only my blow that felled him. Then came confusion&#8212;a dream of a crowd of
+people&#8212;policemen&#8212;muttered accusations. I had fainted from the wound in
+my arm.</p>
+
+<p>Captain George Cameron was arrested. Saunders recovered, and lived long
+enough to be the principal witness on his trial. The murderer was found
+guilty. Poor Julia&#8217;s diary, too, which I had abstracted, told fearfully
+against him. But he contrived to escape the gallows; he had managed to
+conceal poison on his person, and he was found dead in his cell. Mary
+Simms I never saw again. I once received a little scrawl, &#8220;I am at peace
+now, Master John. God bless you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I have had no more hallucinations since that time; the voice has never
+come again. I found out poor Julia&#8217;s grave, and, as I stood and wept by
+its side, the cold shudder came over me for the last time. Who shall
+tell me whether I was once really mad, or whether I was not?
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206-208" id="Page_206-208">[206&#8211;208]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="back"><a href="#contents"><small>Back to Contents</small></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>
+<a name="story" id="story"></a>DOCTOR FEVERSHAM&#8217;S STORY.</h2>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 8px;">
+<img src="images/quote.png" width="8" height="7" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="cap">I HAVE made a point all my life,&#8221; said the doctor, &#8220;of believing
+nothing of the kind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Much ghost-talk by firelight had been going on in the library at
+Fordwick Chase, when Doctor Feversham made this remark.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As much as to say,&#8221; observed Amy Fordwick, &#8220;that you are afraid to
+tackle the subject, because you pique yourself on being strong-minded,
+and are afraid of being convinced against your will.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not precisely, young lady. A man convinced against his will is in a
+different state of mind from mine in matters like these. But it is true
+that cases in which the supernatural element appears at first sight to
+enter are so numerous in my profession, that I prefer accepting only the
+solutions of science, so far as they go, to entering on any wild
+speculations which it would require more time than I should care to
+devote to them to trace to their origin.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But without entering fully into the why and wherefore, how can you be
+sure that the proper treatment is observed in the numerous cases of
+mental hallucination which must come under your notice?&#8221; inquired
+Latimer Fordwick, who was studying for the Bar.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>
+&#8220;I content myself, my young friend, with following the rules laid down
+for such cases, and I generally find them successful,&#8221; answered the old
+Doctor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then you admit that cases have occurred within your knowledge of which
+the easiest apparent solution could be one which involved a belief in
+supernatural agencies?&#8221; persisted Latimer, who was rather prolix and
+pedantic in his talk.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I did not say so,&#8221; said the Doctor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But of course he meant us to infer it,&#8221; said Amy. &#8220;Now, my dear old
+Doctor, do lay aside professional dignity, and give us one good
+ghost-story out of your personal experience. I believe you have been
+dying to tell one for the last hour, if you would only confess it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I would rather not help to fill that pretty little head with idle
+fancies, dear child,&#8221; answered the old man, looking fondly at Amy, who
+was his especial pet and darling.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense! You know I am even painfully unimaginative and
+matter-of-fact; and as for idle fancies, is it an idle fancy to think
+you like to please me?&#8221; said Amy coaxingly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, after all, you have been frightening each other with so many
+thrilling tales for the last hour or two, that I don&#8217;t suppose I should
+do much harm by telling you a circumstance which happened to me when I
+was a young man, and has always rather puzzled me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A murmur of approval ran round the party. All disposed themselves to
+listen; and Doctor Feversham, after a prefatory pinch of snuff, began.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In my youth I resided for some time with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> family in the north of
+England, in the double capacity of secretary and physician. While I was
+going through the hospitals of Paris I became acquainted with my
+employer, whom I will call Sir James Collingham, under rather peculiar
+circumstances, which have nothing to do with my story. He had an only
+daughter, who was about sixteen when I first entered the family, and it
+was on her account that Sir James wished to have some person with a
+competent knowledge of medicine and physiology as one of his household.
+Miss Collingham was subject to fits of a very peculiar kind, which threw
+her into a sort of trance, lasting from half an hour to three or even
+four days, according to the severity of the visitation. During these
+attacks she occasionally displayed that extraordinary phenomenon which
+goes by the name of clairvoyance. She saw scenes and persons who were
+far distant, and described them with wonderful accuracy. Though quite
+unconscious of all outward things, and apparently in a state of the
+deepest insensibility, she would address remarks to those present which
+bore reference to the thoughts then occupying their minds, though they
+had given them no outward expression; and her remarks showed an insight
+into matters which had perhaps been carefully kept secret, which might
+truly be termed preternatural. Under these circumstances, Sir James was
+very unwilling to bring her into contact with strangers when it could
+possibly be avoided; and the events which first brought us together,
+having also led to my treating Miss Collingham rather successfully in a
+severe attack of her malady, induced her father to offer me a position<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>
+in his household which, as a young, friendless man, I was very willing
+to accept.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Collingham-Westmore was a very ancient house of great extent, and but
+indifferently kept in repair. The country surrounding it is of great
+natural beauty, thinly inhabited, and, especially at the time I speak
+of, before railways had penetrated so far north, somewhat lonely and
+inaccessible. A group of small houses clustered round the village church
+of Westmorton, distant about three miles from the mansion of the
+Collingham family; and a solitary posting-house, on what was then the
+great north road, could be reached by a horseman in about an hour,
+though the only practicable road for carriages was at least fifteen
+miles from the highway to Collingham-Westmore. Wild and lovely in the
+eyes of an admirer of nature were the hills and &#8216;cloughs&#8217; among which I
+pursued my botanical studies for many a long, silent summer day. My
+occupations at the mansion&#8212;everybody called it the mansion, and I must
+do so from force of habit, though it sounds rather like a house-agent&#8217;s
+advertisement&#8212;were few and light; the society was not particularly to
+my taste, and the fine old library only attracted me on rainy days, of
+which, truth to say, we had our full share.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The Collingham family circle comprised a maiden aunt of Sir James, Miss
+Patricia, a stern and awful specimen of the female sex in its fossil
+state; her ward, Miss Henderson, who, having long passed her pupilage,
+remained at Collingham-Westmore in the capacity of gouvernante and
+companion to the young heiress; the heiress aforesaid, and myself. A
+priest&#8212;did I say that the Collinghams<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> still professed the old
+religion?&#8212;came on Sundays and holydays to celebrate mass in the gloomy
+old chapel; but neighbors there were none, and only about half-a-dozen
+times during the four years I was an inmate of the mansion were
+strangers introduced into the family party.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How dreadfully dull it must have been!&#8221; exclaimed Amy sympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It <em>was</em> dull,&#8221; answered the Doctor. &#8220;Even with my naturally cheerful
+disposition, and the course of study with which I methodically filled up
+all my leisure hours except those devoted to out-of-door exercise, the
+gloom of the old mansion weighed upon me till I sometimes felt that I
+must give up my situation at all risks, and return to the world, though
+it were to struggle with poverty and friendlessness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There was no lack of dismal legends and superstitions connected with
+the mansion, and every trifling circumstance that occurred was twisted
+into an omen or presage, whether of good or evil, by the highly wrought
+fancy of Miss Patricia. These absurdities, together with the past
+grandeur of their house, and the former glories of their religion,
+formed the staple subjects of conversation when the family was
+assembled; and as I became more intimately acquainted with the state of
+my patient, I felt convinced that the atmosphere of gloomy superstition
+in which she had been reared had fostered, even if it had not altogether
+been the cause of, her morbid mental and bodily condition.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Among the many legends connected with the mansion, one seemed to have a
+peculiar fascination for Miss Collingham, perhaps because it was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
+most ghastly and repulsive. One wing of the house was held to be haunted
+by the spirit of an ancestress of the family, who appeared in the shape
+of a tall woman, with one hand folded in her white robe and the other
+pointing upward. It was said, that in a room at the end of the haunted
+wing this lady had been foully murdered by her jealous husband. The
+window of the apartment overhung the wild wooded side of one of the
+&#8216;cloughs&#8217; common in the country; and tradition averred that the victim
+was thrown from this window by her murderer. As she caught hold of the
+sill in a last frantic struggle for life, he severed her hand at the
+wrist, and the mutilated body fell, with one fearful shriek, into the
+depth below. Since then, a white shadowy form has forever been sitting
+at the fatal window, or wandering along the deserted passages of the
+haunted wing with the bleeding stump folded in her robe; and in moments
+of danger or approaching death to any member of the Collingham family,
+the same long, wild shriek rises slowly from the wooded cliff and peals
+through the mansion; while to different individuals of the house, a pale
+hand has now and then been visible, laid on themselves or some other of
+the family, a never-failing omen of danger or death.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I need not tell you how false and foolish all this dreary superstition
+appeared to me; and I exerted all my powers of persuasion to induce Miss
+Patricia to dwell less on these and similar themes in the presence of
+Miss Collingham. But there seemed to be something in the very air of the
+gloomy old mansion which fostered such delusions;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> for when I spoke to
+Father O&#8217;Connor the priest, and urged on him the pernicious effect which
+was thus produced on my patient&#8217;s mind, I found him as fully imbued with
+the spirit of credulity as the most hysterical housemaid of them all. He
+solemnly declared to me that he had himself repeatedly seen the pale
+lady sitting at the fatal window, when on his way to and from his home
+beyond the hills; and moreover, that on the death of Lady Collingham,
+which occurred at her daughter&#8217;s birth, he had heard the long, shrill
+death-scream echo through the mansion while engaged in the last offices
+of the Church by the bedside of the dying lady.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So I found it impossible to fight single-handed against these adverse
+influences, and could only endeavor to divert the mind of my patient
+into more healthy channels of thought. In this I succeeded perfectly.
+She became an enthusiastic botanist, and our rambles in search of the
+rare and lovely specimens which were to be found among the woods and
+moors surrounding her dwelling did more for her health, both of body and
+mind, than all the medical skill I could bring to bear on her melancholy
+case.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Four years had elapsed since I first took up my abode at
+Collingham-Westmore. Miss Collingham had grown from a sickly child into
+a singularly graceful young woman, full of bright intelligence, eager
+for information, and with scarcely an outward trace remaining of her
+former fragile health. Still those mysterious swoons occasionally
+visited her, forming an insurmountable obstacle to her mingling in
+general society, which she was in all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> other respects so well fitted to
+adorn. They occurred without any warning or apparent cause; one moment
+she would be engaged in animated conversation, and the next, white and
+rigid as a statue, she would fall back in her chair insensible to all
+outward objects, but rapt and carried away into a world of her own,
+whose visions she would sometimes describe in glowing language, although
+she retained no recollection whatever of them when she returned, as
+suddenly and at as uncertain a period, to her normal condition. On one
+of these occasions we were sitting, after dinner, in a large apartment
+called the summer dining-room. Fruit and wine were on the table, and the
+last red beams of the setting sun lighted up the distant woods, which
+were in the first flush of their autumn glory. I turned to remark on the
+beautiful effect of light to Miss Collingham, and at the very moment I
+did so she fell back in one of her strange swoons. But instead of the
+death-like air which her features usually assumed, a lovely smile
+lighted them up, and an expression of ecstasy made her beauty appear for
+the moment almost superhuman. Slowly she raised her right hand, and
+pointed in the direction of the setting sun. &#8216;He is coming,&#8217; she said in
+soft, clear tones; &#8216;life and light are coming with him,&#8212;life and light
+and liberty!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Her hand fell gently by her side; the rapt expression faded from her
+countenance, and the usual death-like blank overspread it. This trance
+passed away like others, and by midnight the house was profoundly still.
+Soon after that hour a vociferous peal at the great hall-bell roused
+most of the inmates from sleep. My rooms were in a distant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> quarter of
+the house, and a door opposite to that of my bedroom led to the haunted
+wing, but was always kept locked. I started up on hearing a second ring,
+and looked out, in hopes of seeing a servant pass, and ascertaining the
+cause of this unusual disturbance. I saw no one, and after listening for
+a while to the opening of the hall-door, and the sound of distant
+voices, I made up my mind that I should be sent for if wanted, and
+re-entered my room. As I was closing the door, I was rather startled to
+see a tall object, of grayish-white color and indistinct form, issue
+from the gallery whose door, as I said before, had always been locked in
+my recollection. For a moment I felt as though rooted to the spot, and a
+strange sensation crept over me. The next, all trace of the appearance
+had vanished, and I persuaded myself that what I had seen must have been
+some effect of light from the open door of my room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The cause of the nightly disturbance appeared at breakfast on the
+following morning in the shape of a remarkably handsome young man, who
+was introduced by Sir James as his nephew, Don Luis de Cabral, the son
+of an only sister long dead, who had married a Spaniard of high rank.
+Don Luis showed but little trace of his southern parentage. If I may so
+express it, all the depth and warmth of coloring in that portion of his
+blood which he inherited from his Spanish ancestors came out in the
+raven-black hair and large lustrous dark eyes, which impressed you at
+once with their uncommon beauty. For the rest, he was a fine well-grown
+young man, no darker in complexion than an Englishman might well be, and
+with a careless, happy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> boyishness of manner, which won immediately on
+the regard of strangers, and rendered his presence in the house like
+that of a perpetual sunbeam. We all wondered, after a little while, what
+we had done before Luis came among us. He was as a son to Sir James;
+Miss Patricia softened to this new and pleasing interest in her
+colorless existence as I could not have believed it was in her
+fossilized nature to do; Miss Henderson became animated, almost young,
+under the reviving influence of the youth and joyousness of our new
+inmate; and I own that I speedily attached myself with a warm and
+affectionate regard to the happy, unselfish nature that seemed to
+brighten all who came near it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But the most remarkable effect of the presence of Don Luis de Cabral
+among us was visible in Miss Collingham. &#8216;Love at first sight,&#8217; often
+considered as a mere phrase, was, in the case of these two young
+creatures, an unmistakable reality. From the moment of their first
+meeting, the cousins were mutually drawn toward each other; and seeing
+the bright and wonderful change wrought by the presence of Don Luis in
+Blanche Collingham, I could not but remember, with the interest that
+attaches to a curious psychological phenomenon, the words she uttered in
+her trance on the eve of his arrival. &#8216;Life, light, and liberty,&#8217;
+indeed, appeared given to all that was best and brightest in her nature.
+Her health improved visibly, and her beauty, always touching, became
+radiant in its full development. My duties toward her were now merely
+nominal; and when, about two months later, Sir James announced to me her
+approaching marriage, and confessed that it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> with this object he had
+invited Don Luis to come and make the acquaintance of his English
+relations, the strong opinions I entertained against the marriage of
+first cousins, and also on the especial inadvisability of any project of
+marriage in the case of Miss Collingham, could not prevent my hearty
+rejoicing in the fair prospect of happiness in which two persons who
+deeply interested me were indulging.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Winter set in early and severely that year among our northern hills,
+and with a view to Blanche&#8217;s removal from its withering influence, which
+I always considered prejudicial to her, the preparations for the
+marriage were hurried on, and the ceremony was fixed to take place about
+the middle of December. The travelling-carriage which was to convey the
+young couple on their way southward was to arrive at the nearest
+railway-station&#8212;then more than thirty miles distant&#8212;a week before the
+marriage; and as some important portions of the trousseau, together with
+a valuable package of jewels intended by Don Luis as presents for his
+bride, were expected at the same time, the young man announced his
+intention of riding across the hills to &#8212;&#8212;, in order to superintend
+the conveyance of the carriage and its contents along the rough mountain
+roads that it must traverse.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We were all sitting around the great fireplace in the winter parlor on
+the evening before his departure. Miss <a name="miss" id="miss"></a><ins class="translit" title="original has Collingwood">Collingham</ins> had been languid and
+depressed throughout the day, and often adverted to the long wintry ride
+he was to undertake in a strain of apprehension at which Don Luis
+laughed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> gayly. To divert her mind, he recounted various adventures
+which had befallen him in foreign lands, with a vigorous simplicity of
+description which enchained her attention and interested us all.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Suddenly, so sitting, Miss Collingham leaned forward, and in a changed,
+eager voice exclaimed, &#8216;Luis, take away your hand from your throat!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We looked. Luis&#8217; hands were lying one over the other on his knee in a
+careless attitude that was habitual to him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Take it away, I say! Oh, take it away!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p><a name="started" id="started"></a><ins class="translit" title="original omitted open quote">&#8220;Miss</ins> Collingham started to her feet as she uttered these words almost
+in a shriek, and then fell back rigid and senseless, her outstretched
+hand still pointing to her betrothed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The fit was a severe one, but by morning it had yielded to remedies,
+and Luis set off early on his ride, to make the most of the short
+daylight, and intending to return with the carriage on the morrow. All
+that day Miss Collingham remained in a half-conscious state. It was a
+dreary day of gloom, with a piercing north wind, and toward evening the
+snow began to fall in those close, compact flakes which forebode a heavy
+storm. We were glad to think that Luis must have reached his destination
+before it began; but when the next morning dawned on a wide expanse of
+snow, and the air was still thick with fast-falling flakes, it was
+feared that the state of the roads would preclude all hope of the
+arrival of the carriage on that day.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My patient took no heed of the untoward state of the weather. She was
+still in a drowsy condition,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> very unlike that which usually succeeded
+her attacks, and Miss Henderson, who had watched by her through the
+night, told me she spoke more than once in a strange, excited manner, as
+though carrying on a conversation with some one whom she appeared to see
+by her bedside. As the good lady, however, could give but a very
+imperfect and incoherent account of what had passed, I was left in some
+doubt as to whether Miss Collingham had seen more or Miss Henderson less
+than there really was to be seen, as I had before had reason to believe
+that she was not a very vigilant nurse.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So the hours went on, and night closed in. Sir James began to feel some
+uneasiness at the non-appearance, not only of Don Luis, but also of the
+priest, who was to have arrived at Collingham-Westmore on that day.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;On questioning some of the servants who had been out of the house, the
+absence of Father O&#8217;Connor at least was satisfactorily accounted for:
+they all declared that it would be quite impossible for those best
+acquainted with the hills to find their way across them in the blinding
+drifts which had never ceased throughout the day. We concluded that
+Father O&#8217;Connor and Don Luis were alike storm-stayed, and had no remedy
+but patience.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Late in the evening&#8212;it must have been near midnight&#8212;I was in Miss
+Collingham&#8217;s dressing-room with Miss Patricia, who intended to watch by
+her through the night. We were talking by the fire, of the snow-storm
+which still continued, and of the hindrance it might prove to the
+marriage&#8212;the day fixed for which was now less than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> a week
+distant&#8212;when we heard a voice in the adjoining room, where we imagined
+the object of our care to be sleeping. We went in. Miss Collingham was
+sitting up in bed, her eyes wide open, in one of her rigid fits. She was
+speaking rapidly in a low tone, unlike her usual voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;You cannot get through all that snow,&#8217; she said. &#8216;Get help; there are
+men not far off with spades. Oh, be careful! You are off the road! Stop,
+stop! that is the way to Armstrong&#8217;s Clough. Does not the postboy know
+the road? He is bewildered. I tell you it is madness to go on. See, one
+of the horses has fallen; he kicks&#8212;he will hit you! Oh, how dark it is!
+And the snow covers your lantern, and you cannot see the edge. Now the
+horse is up again, but he cannot go on. Do not beat him, Luis; it is not
+his fault, poor beast; the snow is too thick, and you are on rough
+ground. Now he rears&#8212;he backs&#8212;the other one backs also&#8212;the wheel of
+the carriage is over the edge&#8212;ah!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The scream with which these wild, hurried words ended seemed to be
+taken up and echoed from a distance. Miss Patricia stared at me with a
+ghastly white face of horror, and I felt my blood curdle as that long,
+shrill, unearthly shriek pealed through the silent passages. It grew
+louder and nearer, and seemed to sweep through the room, dying away in
+the opposite direction. Miss Patricia fell forward without a word in a
+dead faint.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I looked at Miss Collingham; she had not moved, or shown any sign of
+hearing or heeding that awful sound. In a few seconds the room was
+filled with terrified women, roused from their sleep by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> the weird cry
+which rang through the house. Miss Patricia was conveyed by some of them
+to her own room, where, after much difficulty, we restored her to
+consciousness. Her first act was to grasp me by the arm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Mr. Feversham, for the love of the Holy Virgin do not leave me! I have
+seen that which I cannot look upon and live.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I soothed her as best I might, and at last persuaded her to allow me to
+leave her with her own maid in order to visit my other patient,
+promising to return shortly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I found no change whatever in Miss Collingham. Sir James was in the
+room trying to establish some degree of calmness and order among the
+terrified women. We succeeded in persuading most of them to take a
+restorative and return to bed, and leaving two of the most
+self-possessed to watch beside Miss Collingham, who was still completely
+insensible, we went together to Miss Patricia&#8217;s room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Brother, I have seen her!&#8217; she exclaimed on Sir James&#8217; entrance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Seen who, my dear Patricia?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;The pale lady&#8212;the spectre of our house,&#8217; she replied, shuddering from
+head to foot. &#8216;She passed through the room, her hand upraised, and the
+blood-spots on her garment. Oh, James! my time is come, and Father
+O&#8217;Connor is not here.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sir James did not attempt to combat his sister&#8217;s superstitious terrors,
+but appeared, on the contrary, almost as deeply impressed as herself,
+and questioned her closely about the apparition. Her answers led to some
+mention of the strange vision<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> which Miss Collingham was describing in
+her trance just before the scream was heard. At Sir James&#8217; request I put
+down in writing, as nearly as I could remember, all she had said, and so
+great was the impression it made on my mind that I believe I recalled
+her very words. Knowing all we did of her abnormal condition while in a
+state of trance, it was impossible not to fear that she might have been
+describing a scene that was actually occurring at the time; and Sir
+James determined to send out a party, as soon as daylight came, on the
+road by which Don Luis must arrive.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The morning dawned brightly, with a keen frost, and several men were
+sent off along the road to &#8212;&#8212; with the first rays of light.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Some hours afterward Father O&#8217;Connor arrived, having made his way with
+considerable difficulty across the hill. Miss Patricia claimed his first
+attention, for my unhappy charge remained senseless and motionless as
+ever.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;After a long conference, he came to me with grave looks.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;She is at the window this day,&#8217; he said, shaking his head sorrowfully,
+when I had told him my share of the last night&#8217;s singular experiences.
+&#8216;The pale lady is there; I saw her as I came by the bridge as plainly as
+now I see you. We shall have evil tidings of that poor lad before
+nightfall, or I am strangely mistaken.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Evil tidings indeed they were that reached us on the return of some of
+the exploring-party. They were first attracted from following as nearly
+as they could the line of road, blocked as it was with drifts of snow by
+hearing the howling of a dog at some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> little distance, in the direction
+of the precipitous ravine which went by the name of &#8216;Armstrong&#8217;s
+Clough.&#8217; Following the sound, they came upon traces of wheels in the
+hill-side, where no carriage could have gone had it not been for the
+deep snow which concealed and smoothed away the inequalities of the
+ground. These marks were traced here and there till they led to the
+verge of the precipice, where a struggle had evidently taken place, and
+masses of snow had been dislodged and fallen into the ravine.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Looking below, the only thing they could see in the waste of snow was a
+little dog, who was known to be in the habit of running with the
+post-horses from &#8212;&#8212;, which was scraping wildly in the snow and filling
+the air with its dismal howlings. A considerable circuit had to be made
+before the bottom of the clough could be reached, and then the whole
+tragedy was revealed. There lay the broken carriage, the dead horses,
+and two stiffened corpses under the snow, that had drifted over and
+around them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I need not pursue the melancholy story; I was an old fool for telling
+it to you,&#8221; said the Doctor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But Miss Collingham&#8212;what became of her?&#8221; asked an eager listener.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, she did not recover,&#8221; answered the Doctor with a slight trembling
+in his voice. &#8220;It was a sad matter altogether; and within a short time
+she lay beside her betrothed in the family vault below the chapel. Sir
+James broke up his establishment and went abroad, and I never saw any of
+the family again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And what did you do, Doctor?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>
+&#8220;I went to London, to seek my fortune as best I might; and I hope you
+may all prosper as well, my young friends.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And is it all really true?&#8221; asked Amy, who had listened with breathless
+attention.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That is the worst of it; it really is,&#8221; said the Doctor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227-228" id="Page_227-228">[227&#8211;228]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<p class="back"><a href="#contents"><small>Back to Contents</small></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>
+<a name="secret" id="secret"></a>THE SECRET OF THE TWO PLASTER CASTS.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">YEARS before the accession of her Majesty Queen Victoria, and yet at not
+so remote a date as to be utterly beyond the period to which the
+reminiscences of our middle-aged readers extend, it happened that two
+English gentlemen sat at table on a summer&#8217;s evening, after dinner,
+quietly sipping their wine and engaged in desultory conversation. They
+were both men known to fame. One of them was a sculptor whose statues
+adorned the palaces of princes, and whose chiselled busts were the pride
+of half the nobility of his nation; the other was no less renowned as an
+anatomist and surgeon. The age of the anatomist might have been guessed
+at fifty, but the guess would have erred on the side of youth by at
+least ten years. That of the sculptor could scarcely be more than
+five-and-thirty. A bust of the anatomist, so admirably executed as to
+present, although in stone, the perfect similitude of life and flesh,
+stood upon a pedestal opposite to the table at which sat the pair, and
+at once explained at least one connecting-link of companionship between
+them. The anatomist was exhibiting for the criticism of his friend a
+rare gem which he had just drawn from his cabinet: it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> a crucifix
+magnificently carved in ivory, and incased in a setting of pure gold.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The carving, my dear sir,&#8221; observed Mr. Fiddyes, the sculptor, &#8220;is
+indeed, as you say, exquisite. The muscles are admirably made out, the
+flesh well modelled, wonderfully so for the size and material; and
+yet&#8212;by the bye, on this point you must know more than I&#8212;the more I
+think upon the matter, the more I regard the artistic conception as
+utterly false and wrong.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You speak in a riddle,&#8221; replied Dr. Carnell; &#8220;but pray go on, and
+explain.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is a fancy I first had in my student-days,&#8221; replied Fiddyes.
+&#8220;Conventionality, not to say a most proper and becoming reverence,
+prevents people by no means ignorant from considering the point. But
+once think upon it, and you at least, of all men, must at once perceive
+how utterly impossible it would be for a victim nailed upon a cross by
+hands and feet to preserve the position invariably displayed in figures
+of the Crucifixion. Those who so portray it fail in what should be their
+most awful and agonizing effect. Think for one moment, and imagine, if
+you can, what would be the attitude of a man, living or dead, under this
+frightful torture.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You startle me,&#8221; returned the great surgeon, &#8220;not only by the truth of
+your remarks, but by their obviousness. It is strange indeed that such a
+matter should have so long been overlooked. The more I think upon it the
+more the bare idea of actual crucifixion seems to horrify me, though
+heaven knows I am accustomed enough to scenes of suffering. How would
+you represent such a terrible agony?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indeed I cannot tell,&#8221; replied the sculptor; &#8220;to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> guess would be almost
+vain. The fearful strain upon the muscles, their utter helplessness and
+inactivity, the frightful swellings, the effect of weight upon the
+racked and tortured sinews, appal me too much even for speculation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But this,&#8221; replied the surgeon, &#8220;one might think a matter of
+importance, not only to art, but, higher still, to religion itself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Maybe so,&#8221; returned the sculptor. &#8220;But perhaps the appeal to the senses
+through a true representation might be too horrible for either the one
+or the other.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Still,&#8221; persisted the surgeon, &#8220;I should like&#8212;say for
+curiosity&#8212;though I am weak enough to believe even in my own motive as a
+higher one&#8212;to ascertain the effect from actual observation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So should I, could it be done, and of course without pain to the
+object, which, as a condition, seems to present at the outset an
+impossibility.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps not,&#8221; mused the anatomist; &#8220;I think I have a notion. Stay&#8212;we
+may contrive this matter. I will tell you my plan, and it will be
+strange indeed if we two cannot manage to carry it out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The discourse here, owing to the rapt attention of both speakers,
+assumed a low and earnest tone, but had perhaps better be narrated by a
+relation of the events to which it gave rise. Suffice it to say that the
+Sovereign was more than once mentioned during its progress, and in a
+manner which plainly told that the two speakers each possessed
+sufficient influence to obtain the assistance of royalty, and that such
+assistance would be required in their scheme.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>
+<a name="shades" id="shades"></a><ins class="translit" title="original had open quote">The</ins> shades of evening deepened while the two were still conversing. And
+leaving this scene, let us cast one hurried glimpse at another taking
+place contemporaneously.</p>
+
+<p>Between Pimlico and Chelsea, and across a canal of which the bed has
+since been used for the railway terminating at Victoria Station, there
+was at the time of which we speak a rude timber footway, long since
+replaced by a more substantial and convenient erection, but then known
+as the Wooden Bridge. It was named shortly afterward Cutthroat Bridge,
+and for this reason.</p>
+
+<p>While Mr. Fiddyes and Dr. Carnell were discoursing over their wine, as
+we have already seen, one Peter Starke, a drunken Chelsea pensioner, was
+murdering his wife upon the spot we have last indicated. The coincidence
+was curious.</p>
+
+<hr class="hr2" />
+
+<p>In those days the punishment of criminals followed closely upon their
+conviction. The Chelsea pensioner whom we have mentioned was found
+guilty one Friday and sentenced to die on the following Monday. He was a
+sad scoundrel, impenitent to the last, glorying in the deeds of
+slaughter which he had witnessed and acted during the series of
+campaigns which had ended just previously at Waterloo. He was a tall,
+well-built fellow enough, of middle age, for his class was not then, as
+now, composed chiefly of veterans, but comprised many young men, just
+sufficiently disabled to be unfit for service. Peter Starke, although
+but slightly wounded, had nearly completed his term of service, and had
+obtained his pension and presentment to Chelsea Hospital. With his life
+we have but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> little to do, save as regards its close, which we shall
+shortly endeavor to describe far more veraciously, and at some greater
+length than set forth in the brief account which satisfied the public of
+his own day, and which, as embodied in the columns of the few journals
+then appearing, ran thus:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>&#8220;On Monday last Peter Starke was executed at Newgate for the
+murder at the Wooden Bridge, Chelsea, with four others for
+various offences. After he had been hanging only for a few
+minutes a respite arrived, but although he was promptly cut
+down, life was pronounced to be extinct. His body was buried
+within the prison walls.&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p class="noi">Thus far history. But the conciseness of history far more frequently
+embodies falsehood than truth. <a name="perhaps" id="perhaps"></a><ins class="translit" title="original has Ferhaps">Perhaps</ins> the following narration may
+approach more nearly to the facts.</p>
+
+<p>A room within the prison had been, upon that special occasion and by
+high authority, allotted to the use of Dr. Carnell and Mr. Fiddyes, the
+famous sculptor, for the purpose of certain investigations connected
+with art and science. In that room Mr. Fiddyes, while wretched Peter
+Starke was yet swinging between heaven and earth, was busily engaged in
+arranging a variety of implements and materials, consisting of a large
+quantity of plaster-of-Paris, two large pails of water, some tubs, and
+other necessaries of the moulder&#8217;s art. The room contained a large deal
+table, and a wooden cross, not neatly planed and squared at the angles,
+but of thick, narrow, rudely-sawn oaken plank, fixed by strong, heavy
+nails. And while Mr. Fiddyes was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> thus occupied, the executioner
+entered, bearing upon his shoulders the body of the wretched Peter,
+which he flung heavily upon the table.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are sure he is dead?&#8221; asked Mr. Fiddyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dead as a herring,&#8221; replied the other. &#8220;And yet just as warm and limp
+as if he had only fainted.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then go to work at once,&#8221; replied the sculptor, as turning his back
+upon the hangman, he resumed his occupation.</p>
+
+<p>The &#8220;work&#8221; was soon done. Peter was stripped and nailed upon the timber,
+which was instantly propped against the wall.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As fine a one as ever I see,&#8221; exclaimed the executioner, as he regarded
+the defunct murderer with an expression of admiration, as if at his own
+handiwork, in having abruptly demolished such a magnificent animal.
+&#8220;Drops a good bit for&#8217;ard, though. Shall I tie him up round the waist,
+sir?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Certainly not,&#8221; returned the sculptor. &#8220;Just rub him well over with
+this oil, especially his head, and then you can go. Dr. Carnell will
+settle with you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right, sir.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The fellow did as ordered, and retired without another word; leaving
+this strange couple, the living and the dead, in that dismal chamber.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fiddyes was a man of strong nerve in such matters. He had been too
+much accustomed to taking posthumous casts to trouble himself with any
+sentiment of repugnance at his approaching task of taking what is called
+a &#8220;piece-mould&#8221; from a body. He emptied a number of bags of the white
+powdery plaster-of-Paris into one of the larger vessels,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> poured into it
+a pail of water, and was carefully stirring up the mass, when a sound of
+dropping arrested his ear.</p>
+
+<p><em>Drip, drip.</em></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s something leaking,&#8221; he muttered, as he took a second pail, and
+emptying it, again stirred the composition.</p>
+
+<p><em>Drip, drip, drip.</em></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s strange,&#8221; he soliloquized, half aloud. &#8220;There is no more water,
+and yet&#8212;&#8212;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The sound was heard again.</p>
+
+<p>He gazed at the ceiling; there was no sign of damp. He turned his eyes
+to the body, and something suddenly caused him a violent start. The
+murderer was bleeding.</p>
+
+<p>The sculptor, spite of his command over himself, turned pale. At that
+moment the head of Starke moved&#8212;clearly moved. It raised itself
+convulsively for a single moment; its eyes rolled, and it <a name="vent" id="vent"></a><ins class="translit" title="original has gavevent">gave vent</ins> to a
+subdued moan of intense agony. Mr. Fiddyes fell fainting on the floor as
+Dr. Carnell entered. It needed but a glance to tell the doctor what had
+happened, even had not Peter just then given vent to another low cry.
+The surgeon&#8217;s measures were soon taken. Locking the door, he bore a
+chair to the wall which supported the body of the malefactor. He drew
+from his pocket a case of glittering instruments, and with one of these,
+so small and delicate that it scarcely seemed larger than a needle, he
+rapidly, but dexterously and firmly, touched Peter just at the back of
+the neck. There was no wound larger than the head of a small pin, and
+yet the head fell instantly as though the heart had been pierced. The
+doctor had divided<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> the spinal cord, and Peter Starke was dead indeed.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes sufficed to recall the sculptor to his senses. He at first
+gazed wildly upon the still suspended body, so painfully recalled to
+life by the rough venesection of the hangman and the subsequent friction
+of anointing his body to prevent the adhesion of the plaster.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You need not fear now,&#8221; said Dr. Carnell; &#8220;I assure you he is dead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But he <em>was</em> alive, surely!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only for a moment, and even that scarcely to be called life&#8212;mere
+muscular contraction, my dear sir, mere muscular contraction.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The sculptor resumed his labor. The body was girt at various
+circumferences with fine twine, to be afterward withdrawn through a
+thick coating of plaster, so as to separate the various pieces of the
+mould, which was at last completed; and after this Dr. Carnell skilfully
+flayed the body, to enable a second mould to be taken of the entire
+figure, showing every muscle of the outer layer.</p>
+
+<p>The two moulds were thus taken. It is difficult to conceive more ghastly
+appearances than they presented. For sculptor&#8217;s work they were utterly
+useless; for no artist except the most daring of realists would have
+ventured to indicate the horrors which they presented. Fiddyes refused
+to receive them. Dr. Carnell, hard and cruel as he was, for kindness&#8217;
+sake, in his profession, was a gentle, genial father of a family of
+daughters. He received the casts, and at once consigned them to a
+garret, to which he forbade access. His youngest daughter, one
+unfortunate day, during her father&#8217;s absence,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> was impelled by feminine
+curiosity&#8212;perhaps a little increased by the prohibition&#8212;to enter the
+mysterious chamber.</p>
+
+<p>Whether she imagined in the pallid figure upon the cross a celestial
+rebuke for her disobedience, or whether she was overcome by the mere
+mortal horror of one or both of those dreadful casts, can now never be
+known. But this is true: she became a maniac.</p>
+
+<p>The writer of this has more than once seen (as, no doubt, have many
+others) the plaster effigies of Peter Starke, after their removal from
+Dr. Carnell&#8217;s to a famous studio near the Regent&#8217;s Park. It was there
+that he heard whispered the strange story of their origin. Sculptor and
+surgeon are now both long since dead, and it is no longer necessary to
+keep <em>the secret of the two plaster casts</em>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238-240" id="Page_238-240">[238&#8211;240]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="back"><a href="#contents"><small>Back to Contents</small></a></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>
+<a name="what" id="what"></a>WHAT WAS IT?</h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap">IT is, I confess, with considerable diffidence that I approached the
+strange narrative which I am about to relate. The events which I purpose
+detailing are of so extraordinary a character that I am quite prepared
+to meet with an unusual amount of incredulity and scorn. I accept all
+such beforehand. I have, I trust, the literary courage to face unbelief.
+I have, after mature consideration, resolved to narrate, in as simple
+and straightforward a manner as I can compass, some facts that passed
+under my observation, in the month of July last, and which, in the
+annals of the mysteries of physical science, are wholly unparalleled.</p>
+
+<p>I live at No. &#8212; Twenty-sixth Street, in New York. The house is in some
+respects a curious one. It has enjoyed for the last two years the
+reputation of being haunted. The house is very spacious. A hall of noble
+size leads to a large spiral staircase winding through its centre, while
+the various apartments are of imposing dimensions. It was built some
+fifteen or twenty years since by Mr. A&#8212;&#8212;, the well-known New York
+merchant, who five years ago threw the commercial world into convulsions
+by a stupendous bank fraud. Mr. A&#8212;&#8212;, as every one knows, escaped to
+Europe, and died not long after, of a broken heart. Almost immediately
+after the news of his decease reached this country and was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> verified,
+the report spread in Twenty-sixth Street that No. &#8212; was haunted. Legal
+measures had dispossessed the widow of its former owner, and it was
+inhabited merely by a care-taker and his wife, placed there by the
+house-agent into whose hands it had passed for purposes of renting or
+sale. These people declared that they were troubled with unnatural
+noises. Doors were opened without any visible agency. The remnants of
+furniture scattered through the various rooms were, during the night,
+piled one upon the other by unknown hands. Invisible feet passed up and
+down the stairs in broad daylight, accompanied by the rustle of unseen
+silk dresses, and the gliding of viewless hands along the massive
+balusters. The care-taker and his wife declared they would live there no
+longer. The house-agent laughed, dismissed them, and put others in their
+place. The noises and supernatural manifestations continued. The
+neighborhood caught up the story, and the house remained untenanted for
+three years. Several persons negotiated for it; but, somehow, always
+before the bargain was closed they heard the unpleasant rumors and
+declined to treat any further.</p>
+
+<p>It was in this state of things that my landlady, who at that time kept a
+boarding-house in Bleecker Street, and who wished to move farther up
+town, conceived the bold idea of renting No. &#8212; Twenty-sixth Street.
+Happening to have in her house rather a plucky and philosophical set of
+boarders, she laid her scheme before us, stating candidly everything she
+had heard respecting the ghostly qualities of the establishment to which
+she wished to remove us. With the exception of two timid persons&#8212;a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>
+sea-captain and a returned Californian, who immediately gave notice that
+they would leave&#8212;all of Mrs. Moffat&#8217;s guests declared that they would
+accompany her in her incursion into the abode of spirits.</p>
+
+<p>Our removal was effected in the month of May, and we were charmed with
+our new residence.</p>
+
+<p>Of course we had no sooner established ourselves at No. &#8212; than we began
+to expect the ghosts. We absolutely awaited their advent with eagerness.
+Our dinner conversation was supernatural. I found myself a person of
+immense importance, it having leaked out that I was tolerably well
+versed in the history of supernaturalism, and had once written a story
+the foundation of which was a ghost. If a table or wainscot panel
+happened to warp when we were assembled in the large drawing-room, there
+was an instant silence, and every one was prepared for an immediate
+clanking of chains and a spectral form.</p>
+
+<p>After a month of psychological excitement, it was with the utmost
+dissatisfaction that we were forced to acknowledge that nothing in the
+remotest degree approaching the supernatural had manifested itself.</p>
+
+<p>Things were in this state when an incident took place so awful and
+inexplicable in its character that my reason fairly reels at the bare
+memory of the occurrence. It was the tenth of July. After dinner was
+over I repaired, with my friend Dr. Hammond, to the garden to smoke my
+evening pipe. Independent of certain mental sympathies which existed
+between the doctor and myself, we were linked together by a vice. We
+both smoked opium. We knew each other&#8217;s secret and respected it. We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>
+enjoyed together that wonderful expansion of thought, that marvellous
+intensifying of the perceptive faculties, that boundless feeling of
+existence when we seem to have points of contact with the whole
+universe&#8212;in short, that unimaginable spiritual bliss, which I would not
+surrender for a throne, and which I hope you, reader, will never&#8212;never
+taste.</p>
+
+<p>On the evening in question, the tenth of July, the doctor and myself
+drifted into an unusually metaphysical mood. We lit our large
+meerschaums, filled with fine Turkish tobacco, in the core of which
+burned a little black nut of opium, that, like the nut in the fairy
+tale, held within its narrow limits wonders beyond the reach of kings;
+we paced to and fro, conversing. A strange perversity dominated the
+currents of our thoughts. They would not flow through the sun-lit
+channels into which we strove to divert them. For some unaccountable
+reason, they constantly diverged into dark and lonesome beds, where a
+continual gloom brooded. It was in vain that, after our old fashion, we
+flung ourselves on the shores of the East, and talked of its gay
+bazaars, of the splendors of the time of Haroun, of harems and golden
+palaces. Black afreets continually arose from the depths of our talk,
+and expanded, like the one the fisherman released from the copper
+vessel, until they blotted everything bright from our vision.
+Insensibly, we yielded to the occult force that swayed us, and indulged
+in gloomy speculation. We had talked some time upon the proneness of the
+human mind to mysticism, and the almost universal love of the terrible,
+when Hammond suddenly said to me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> &#8220;What do you consider to be the
+greatest element of terror?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The question puzzled me. That many things were terrible, I knew. But it
+now struck me, for the first time, that there must be one great and
+ruling embodiment of fear&#8212;a King of Terrors, to which all others must
+succumb. What might it be? To what train of circumstances would it owe
+its existence?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I confess, Hammond,&#8221; I replied to my friend, &#8220;I never considered the
+subject before. That there must be one Something more terrible than any
+other thing, I feel. I cannot attempt, however, even the most vague
+definition.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am somewhat like you, Harry,&#8221; he answered. &#8220;I feel my capacity to
+experience a terror greater than anything yet conceived by the human
+mind&#8212;something combining in fearful and unnatural amalgamation hitherto
+supposed incompatible elements. The calling of the voices in Brockden
+Brown&#8217;s novel of &#8216;Wieland&#8217; is awful; so is the picture of the Dweller on
+the Threshold, in Bulwer&#8217;s &#8216;Zanoni;&#8217; but,&#8221; he added, shaking his head
+gloomily, &#8220;there is something more horrible still than these.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look here, Hammond,&#8221; I rejoined, &#8220;let us drop this kind of talk, for
+Heaven&#8217;s sake! We shall suffer for it, depend on it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know what&#8217;s the matter with me to-night,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;but my
+brain is running upon all sorts of weird and awful thoughts. I feel as
+if I could write a story like Hoffman, to-night, if I were only master
+of a literary style.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, if we are going to be Hoffmanesque in our talk, I&#8217;m off to bed.
+Opium and nightmares<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> should never be brought together. How sultry it
+is! Good-night, Hammond.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good-night, Harry. Pleasant dreams to you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To you, gloomy wretch, afreets, ghouls, and enchanters.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We parted, and each sought his respective chamber. I undressed quickly
+and got into bed, taking with me, according to my usual custom, a book
+over which I generally read myself to sleep. I opened the volume as soon
+as I had laid my head upon the pillow, and instantly flung it to the
+other side of the room. It was Goudon&#8217;s &#8220;History of Monsters,&#8221;&#8212;a
+curious French work, which I had lately imported from Paris, but which,
+in the state of mind I had then reached, was anything but an agreeable
+companion. I resolved to go to sleep at once; so, turning down my gas
+until nothing but a little blue point of light glimmered on the top of
+the tube, I composed myself to rest.</p>
+
+<p>The room was in total darkness. The atom of gas that still remained
+alight did not illuminate a distance of three inches round the burner. I
+desperately drew my arm across my eyes, as if to shut out even the
+darkness and tried to think of nothing. It was in vain. The confounded
+themes touched on by Hammond in the garden kept obtruding themselves on
+my brain. I battled against them. I erected ramparts of would-be
+blankness of intellect to keep them out. They still crowded upon me.
+While I was lying still as a corpse, hoping that by a perfect physical
+inaction I should hasten mental repose, an awful incident occurred. A
+Something dropped, as it seemed, from the ceiling, plumb upon my chest,
+and the next instant I felt two bony<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> hands encircling my throat,
+endeavoring to choke me.</p>
+
+<p>I am no coward, and am possessed of considerable physical strength. The
+suddenness of the attack, instead of stunning me, strung every nerve to
+its highest tension. My body acted from instinct, before my brain had
+time to realize the terrors of my position. In an instant I wound two
+muscular arms around the creature, and squeezed it, with all the
+strength of despair, against my chest. In a few seconds the bony hands
+that had fastened on my throat loosened their hold, and I was free to
+breathe once more. Then commenced a struggle of awful intensity.
+Immersed in the most profound darkness, totally ignorant of the nature
+of the Thing by which I was so suddenly attacked, finding my grasp
+slipping every moment, by reason, it seemed to me, of the entire
+nakedness of my assailant, bitten with sharp teeth in the shoulder,
+neck, and chest, having every moment to protect my throat against a pair
+of sinewy, agile hands, which my utmost efforts could not confine&#8212;these
+were a combination of circumstances to combat which required all the
+strength, skill, and courage that I possessed.</p>
+
+<p>At last, after a silent, deadly, exhausting struggle, I got my assailant
+under by a series of incredible efforts of strength. Once pinned, with
+my knee on what I made out to be its chest, I knew that I was victor. I
+rested for a moment to breathe. I heard the creature beneath me panting
+in the darkness, and felt the violent throbbing of a heart. It was
+apparently as exhausted as I was; that was one comfort. At this moment I
+remembered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> that I usually placed under my pillow, before going to bed,
+a large yellow silk pocket-handkerchief. I felt for it instantly; it was
+there. In a few seconds more I had, after a fashion, pinioned the
+creature&#8217;s arms.</p>
+
+<p>I now felt tolerably secure. There was nothing more to be done but to
+turn on the gas, and, having first seen what my midnight assailant was
+like, arouse the household. I will confess to being actuated by a
+certain pride in not giving the alarm before; I wished to make the
+capture alone and unaided.</p>
+
+<p>Never losing my hold for an instant, I slipped from the bed to the
+floor, dragging my captive with me. I had but a few steps to make to
+reach the gas-burner; these I made with the greatest caution, holding
+the creature in a grip like a vice. At last I got within arm&#8217;s length of
+the tiny speck of blue light which told me where the gas-burner lay.
+Quick as lightning I released my grasp with one hand and let on the full
+flood of light. Then I turned to look at my captive.</p>
+
+<p>I cannot even attempt to give any definition of my sensations the
+instant after I turned on the gas. I suppose I must have shrieked with
+terror, for in less than a minute afterward my room was crowded with the
+inmates of the house. I shudder now as I think of that awful moment. <em>I
+saw nothing!</em> Yes; I had one arm firmly clasped round a breathing,
+panting, corporeal shape, my other hand gripped with all its strength a
+throat as warm, and apparently fleshly, as my own; and yet, with this
+living substance in my grasp, with its body pressed against my own, and
+all in the bright glare of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> large jet of gas, I absolutely beheld
+nothing! Not even an outline&#8212;a vapor!</p>
+
+<p>I do not, even at this hour, realize the situation in which I found
+myself. I cannot recall the astounding incident thoroughly. Imagination
+in vain tries to compass the awful paradox.</p>
+
+<p>It breathed. I felt its warm breath upon my cheek. It struggled
+fiercely. It had hands. They clutched me. Its skin was smooth, like my
+own. There it lay, pressed close up against me, solid as stone&#8212;and yet
+utterly invisible!</p>
+
+<p>I wonder that I did not faint or go mad on the instant. Some wonderful
+instinct must have sustained me; for absolutely, in place of loosening
+my hold on the terrible Enigma, I seemed to gain an additional strength
+in my moment of horror, and tightened my grasp with such wonderful force
+that I felt the creature shivering with agony.</p>
+
+<p>Just then Hammond entered my room at the head of the household. As soon
+as he beheld my face&#8212;which, I suppose, must have been an awful sight to
+look at&#8212;he hastened forward, crying, &#8220;Great Heaven, what has happened?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hammond! Hammond!&#8221; I cried, &#8220;come here. Oh, this is awful! I have been
+attacked in bed by something or other, which I have hold of; but I can&#8217;t
+see it&#8212;I can&#8217;t see it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Hammond, doubtless struck by the unfeigned horror expressed in my
+countenance, made one or two steps forward with an anxious yet puzzled
+expression. A very audible titter burst from the remainder of my
+visitors. This suppressed laughter made me furious. To laugh at a human
+being in my position! It was the worst species of cruelty.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> <em>Now</em>, I can
+understand why the appearance of a man struggling violently, as it would
+seem, with an airy nothing, and calling for assistance against a vision,
+should have appeared ludicrous. <em>Then</em>, so great was my <a name="are" id="are"></a><ins class="translit" title="original has rage are against">rage against</ins> the
+mocking crowd that had I the power I would have stricken them dead where
+they stood.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hammond! Hammond!&#8221; I cried again, despairingly, &#8220;for God&#8217;s sake come to
+me. I can hold the&#8212;the thing but a short while longer. It is
+overpowering me. Help me! Help me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Harry,&#8221; whispered Hammond, approaching me, &#8220;you have been smoking too
+much opium.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I swear to you, Hammond, that this is no vision,&#8221; I answered, in the
+same low tone. &#8220;Don&#8217;t you see how it shakes my whole frame with its
+struggles? If you don&#8217;t believe me convince yourself. Feel it&#8212;touch
+it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Hammond advanced and laid his hand in the spot I indicated. A wild cry
+of horror burst from him. He had felt it!</p>
+
+<p>In a moment he had discovered somewhere in my room a long piece of cord,
+and was the next instant winding it and knotting it about the body of
+the unseen being that I clasped in my arms.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Harry,&#8221; he said, in a hoarse, agitated voice, for, though he preserved
+his presence of mind, he was deeply moved, &#8220;Harry, it&#8217;s all safe now.
+You may let go, old fellow, if you&#8217;re tired. The Thing can&#8217;t move.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I was utterly exhausted, and I gladly loosed my hold.</p>
+
+<div class="figc" style="width: 349px;">
+<img src="images/illus-2.jpg" width="349" height="600" alt="" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&#8220;BOTH OF US&#8212;CONQUERING OUR FEARFUL REPUGNANCE TO TOUCH
+THE INVISIBLE CREATURE&#8212;LIFTED IT FROM THE GROUND, MANACLED AS IT WAS,
+AND TOOK IT TO MY BED.&#8221;</span><br />
+<span class="illus"><a href="images/illus-2l.jpg">View larger image</a></span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Hammond stood holding the ends of the cord, that bound the Invisible,
+twisted round his hand,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>
+while before him, self-supporting as it were, he beheld a rope laced and
+interlaced, and stretching tightly around a vacant space. I never saw a
+man look so thoroughly stricken with awe. Nevertheless his face
+expressed all the courage and determination which I knew him to possess.
+His lips, although white, were set firmly, and one could perceive at a
+glance that, although stricken with fear, he was not daunted.</p>
+
+<p>The confusion that ensued among the guests of the house who were
+witnesses of this extraordinary scene between Hammond and myself&#8212;who
+beheld the pantomime of binding this struggling Something&#8212;who beheld me
+almost sinking from physical exhaustion when my task of jailer was
+over&#8212;the confusion and terror that took possession of the bystanders,
+when they saw all this, was beyond description. The weaker ones fled
+from the apartment. The few who remained clustered near the door and
+could not be induced to approach Hammond and his Charge. Still
+incredulity broke out through their terror. They had not the courage to
+satisfy themselves, and yet they doubted. It was in vain that I begged
+of some of the men to come near and convince themselves by touch of the
+existence in that room of a living being which was invisible. They were
+incredulous, but did not dare to undeceive themselves. How could a
+solid, living, breathing body be invisible, they asked. My reply was
+this. I gave a sign to Hammond, and both of us&#8212;conquering our fearful
+repugnance to touch the invisible creature&#8212;lifted it from the ground,
+manacled as it was, and took it to my bed. Its weight was about that of
+a boy of fourteen.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>
+&#8220;Now, my friends,&#8221; I said, as Hammond and myself held the creature
+suspended over the bed, &#8220;I can give you self-evident proof that here is
+a solid, ponderable body, which, nevertheless, you cannot see. Be good
+enough to watch the surface of the bed attentively.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I was astonished at my own courage in treating this strange event so
+calmly; but I had recovered from my first terror, and felt a sort of
+scientific pride in the affair, which dominated every other feeling.</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of the bystanders were immediately fixed on my bed. At a given
+signal Hammond and I let the creature fall. There was the dull sound of
+a heavy body alighting on a soft mass. The timbers of the bed creaked. A
+deep impression marked itself distinctly on the pillow, and on the bed
+itself. The crowd who witnessed this gave a low cry, and rushed from the
+room. Hammond and I were left alone with our Mystery.</p>
+
+<p>We remained silent for some time, listening to the low irregular
+breathing of the creature on the bed and watching the rustle of the
+bed-clothes as it impotently struggled to free itself from confinement.
+Then Hammond spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Harry, this is awful.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ay, awful.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But not unaccountable.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not unaccountable! What do you mean? Such a thing has never occurred
+since the birth of the world. I know not what to think, Hammond. God
+grant that I am not mad and that this is not an insane fantasy!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let us reason a little, Harry. Here is a solid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> body which we touch but
+which we cannot see. The fact is so unusual that it strikes us with
+terror. Is there no parallel, though, for such a phenomenon? Take a
+piece of pure glass. It is tangible and transparent. A certain chemical
+coarseness is all that prevents its being so entirely transparent as to
+be totally invisible. It is not <em>theoretically impossible</em>, mind you, to
+make a glass which shall not reflect a single ray of light&#8212;a glass so
+pure and homogeneous in its atoms that the rays from the sun will pass
+through it as they do through the air, refracted but not reflected. We
+do not see the air, and yet we feel it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all very well, Hammond, but these are inanimate substances.
+Glass does not breathe, air does not breathe. This thing has a heart
+that palpitates&#8212;a will that moves it&#8212;lungs that play, and inspire and
+respire.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You forget the phenomena of which we have so often heard of late,&#8221;
+answered the doctor gravely. &#8220;At the meetings called &#8216;spirit circles,&#8217;
+invisible hands have been thrust into the hands of those persons round
+the table&#8212;warm, fleshly hands that seemed to pulsate with mortal life.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What? Do you think, then, that this thing is&#8212;&#8212;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know what it is,&#8221; was the solemn reply; &#8220;but please the gods I
+will, with your assistance, thoroughly investigate it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We watched together, smoking many pipes, all night long, by the bedside
+of the unearthly being that tossed and panted until it was apparently
+wearied out. Then we learned by the low, regular breathing that it
+slept.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>
+The next morning the house was all astir. The boarders congregated on
+the landing outside my room, and Hammond and myself were lions. We had
+to answer a thousand questions as to the state of our extraordinary
+prisoner, for as yet not one person in the house except ourselves could
+be induced to set foot in the apartment.</p>
+
+<p>The creature was awake. This was evidenced by the convulsive manner in
+which the bed-clothes were moved in its efforts to escape. There was
+something truly terrible in beholding, as it were, those second-hand
+indications of the terrible writhings and agonized struggles for liberty
+which themselves were invisible.</p>
+
+<p>Hammond and myself had racked our brains during the long night to
+discover some means by which we might realize the shape and general
+appearance of the Enigma. As well as we could make out by passing our
+hands over the creature&#8217;s form, its outlines and lineaments were human.
+There was a mouth; a round, smooth head without hair; a nose, which,
+however, was little elevated above the cheeks; and its hands and feet
+felt like those of a boy. At first we thought of placing the being on a
+smooth surface and tracing its outlines with chalk, as shoemakers trace
+the outline of the foot. This plan was given up as being of no value.
+Such an outline would give not the slightest idea of its conformation.</p>
+
+<p>A happy thought struck me. We would take a cast of it in
+plaster-of-Paris. This would give us the solid figure, and satisfy all
+our wishes. But how to do it. The movements of the creature would
+disturb the setting of the plastic covering,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> and distort the mould.
+Another thought. Why not give it chloroform? It had respiratory
+organs&#8212;that was evident by its breathing. Once reduced to a state of
+insensibility, we could do with it what we would. Doctor X&#8212;&#8212; was sent
+for; and after the worthy physician had recovered from the first shock
+of amazement, he proceeded to administer the chloroform. In three
+minutes afterward we were enabled to remove the fetters from the
+creature&#8217;s body, and a modeller was busily engaged in covering the
+invisible form with the moist clay. In five minutes more we had a mould,
+and before evening a rough fac-simile of the Mystery. It was shaped like
+a man&#8212;distorted, uncouth, and horrible, but still a man. It was small,
+not over four feet and some inches in height, and its limbs revealed a
+muscular development that was unparalleled. Its face surpassed in
+hideousness anything I had ever seen. Gustave Dor&eacute;, or Callot, or Tony
+Johannot, never conceived anything so horrible. There is a face in one
+of the latter&#8217;s illustrations to <em>Un Voyage o&ugrave; il vous plaira</em>, which
+somewhat approaches the countenance of this creature, but does not equal
+it. It was the physiognomy of what I should fancy a ghoul might be. It
+looked as if it was capable of feeding on human flesh.</p>
+
+<p>Having satisfied our curiosity, and bound every one in the house to
+secrecy, it became a question what was to be done with our Enigma? It
+was impossible that we should keep such a horror in our house; it was
+equally impossible that such an awful being should be let loose upon the
+world. I confess that I would have gladly voted for the creature&#8217;s
+destruction. But who would shoulder the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> responsibility? Who would
+undertake the execution of this horrible semblance to a human being? Day
+after day this question was deliberated gravely. The boarders all left
+the house. Mrs. Moffat was in despair, and threatened Hammond and myself
+with all sorts of legal penalties if we did not remove the Horror. Our
+answer was, &#8220;We will go if you like, but we decline taking this creature
+with us. Remove it yourself if you please. It appeared in your house. On
+you the responsibility rests.&#8221; To this there was, of course, no answer.
+Mrs. Moffat could not obtain for love or money a person who would even
+approach the Mystery.</p>
+
+<p>At last it died. Hammond and I found it cold and stiff one morning in
+the bed. The heart had ceased to beat, the lungs to inspire. We hastened
+to bury it in the garden. It was a strange funeral, the dropping of that
+viewless corpse into the damp hole. The cast of its form I gave to
+Doctor X&#8212;&#8212;, who keeps it in his museum in Tenth Street.</p>
+
+<p>As I am on the eve of a long journey from which I may not return, I have
+drawn up this narrative of an event the most singular that has ever come
+to my knowledge.</p>
+
+<div class="tn">
+
+<p class="center"><big><b>Transcriber&#8217;s Note:</b></big></p>
+
+<p class="noi">The words peckett (page 11), stronge (page 170) and Boulevart(s)
+(pages 59 and 80), the use of both L&#8217;Estrange and l&#8217;Estrange, and
+variations in hyphenated words have been retained as in the
+original book.</p>
+
+<ul>
+<li>Page &nbsp; 21 &nbsp; &#8220;Derybshire&#8221; changed to &#8220;<a href="#derby">Derbyshire</a>&#8221;</li>
+
+<li>Page &nbsp; 22 &nbsp; &#8220;felt their hair&#8221; changed to &#8220;felt <a href="#hair">the</a> hair&#8221;</li>
+
+<li>Page &nbsp; 46 &nbsp; &#8220;Come baack to&#8221; changed to &#8220;Come <a href="#back">back</a> to&#8221;</li>
+
+<li>Page &nbsp; 48 &nbsp; Added &#8220; before <a href="#dear">Dear Mr. Westcar</a></li>
+
+<li>Page &nbsp; 61 &nbsp; &#8220;sufficiently start ling&#8221; changed to
+      &#8220;sufficiently <a href="#startling">startling</a>&#8221;</li>
+
+<li>Page &nbsp; 84 &nbsp; Changed &#8220; to &#8216; before <a href="#and">And what other</a></li>
+
+<li>Page  95 &nbsp; Removed &nbsp; &#8220; before <a href="#together">together with</a></li>
+
+<li>Page 115 &nbsp; &#8220;dangerous conditon&#8221; changed to &#8220;dangerous <a href="#condition">condition</a>&#8221;</li>
+
+<li>Page 120 &nbsp; &#8220;keeeping the matter&#8221; changed to &#8220;<a href="#keeping">keeping</a> the matter&#8221;</li>
+
+<li>Page 123 &nbsp; Added &#8221; after <a href="#new">new stalls, Gen&#8217;ral).</a></li>
+
+<li>Page 127 &nbsp; &#8220;beyond each&#8221; changed to &#8220;beyond <a href="#reach">reach</a>&#8221;</li>
+
+<li>Page 138 &nbsp; &#8220;tradionally imputed&#8221; changed to &#8220;<a href="#traditionally">traditionally</a> imputed&#8221;</li>
+
+<li>Page 152 &nbsp; &#8220;by which pedestrains&#8221; changed to &#8220;by which <a href="#pedestrians">pedestrians</a>&#8221;</li>
+
+<li>Page 164 &nbsp; &#8220;buy the joint of you&#8221; changed to &#8220;buy the joint <a href="#off">off</a> you&#8221;</li>
+
+<li>Page 191 &nbsp; &#8220;was on the the man&#8217;s&#8221; changed to &#8220;was on <a href="#man">the</a> man&#8217;s&#8221;</li>
+
+<li>Page 219 &nbsp; &#8220;Miss Collingwood had been languid&#8221; changed to
+      &#8220;Miss <a href="#miss">Collingham</a> had been languid&#8221;</li>
+
+<li>Page 220 &nbsp; Added &#8220; before <a href="#started">Miss Collingham</a> started</li>
+
+<li>Page 232 &nbsp; Removed &#8220; before <a href="#shades">The shades of evening</a></li>
+
+<li>Page 233 &nbsp; &#8220;Ferhaps the following&#8221; changed to
+      &#8220;<a href="#perhaps">Perhaps</a> the following&#8221;</li>
+
+<li>Page 235 &nbsp; &#8220;it gavevent to&#8221; changed to &#8220;it <a href="#vent">gave vent</a> to&#8221;</li>
+
+<li>Page 250 &nbsp; &#8220;my rage are against&#8221; changed to &#8220;<a href="#are">my rage against</a>&#8221;</li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Stable for Nightmares, by 
+J. Sheridan Le Fanu and Charles Young and and Others
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Stable for Nightmares, by
+J. Sheridan Le Fanu and Charles Young and and Others
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Stable for Nightmares
+       or Weird Tales
+
+Author: J. Sheridan Le Fanu
+        Charles Young
+        and Others
+
+Release Date: August 28, 2008 [EBook #26451]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A STABLE FOR NIGHTMARES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Jacqueline Jeremy and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    A STABLE FOR NIGHTMARES
+
+    [Illustration: A STABLE FOR NIGHTMARES]
+
+    A STABLE FOR NIGHTMARES
+
+    OR
+
+    WEIRD TALES
+
+    BY
+
+    J. SHERIDAN LE FANU
+    AUTHOR OF "UNCLE SILAS," "HOUSE BY THE CHURCHYARD,"
+
+    SIR CHARLES YOUNG, BART.
+
+    AND OTHERS
+
+    Illustrated
+
+    NEW YORK NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY
+    156 FIFTH AVENUE
+    1896
+
+
+    Copyright, 1896,
+    by
+    NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+    TABLE OF CONTENTS
+
+                                                    PAGE
+
+    DICKON THE DEVIL,                                  9
+
+    A DEBT OF HONOR,                                  27
+
+    DEVEREUX'S DREAM,                                 59
+
+    CATHERINE'S QUEST,                                89
+
+    HAUNTED,                                         115
+
+    PICHON AND SONS, OF THE CROIX ROUSSE,            135
+
+    THE PHANTOM FOURTH,                              163
+
+    THE SPIRIT'S WHISPER,                            185
+
+    DR. FEVERSHAM'S STORY,                           209
+
+    THE SECRET OF THE TWO PLASTER CASTS,             229
+
+    WHAT WAS IT?                                     241
+
+
+
+
+DICKON THE DEVIL.
+
+
+About thirty years ago I was selected by two rich old maids to visit a
+property in that part of Lancashire which lies near the famous forest of
+Pendle, with which Mr. Ainsworth's "Lancashire Witches" has made us so
+pleasantly familiar. My business was to make partition of a small
+property, including a house and demesne to which they had, a long time
+before, succeeded as coheiresses.
+
+The last forty miles of my journey I was obliged to post, chiefly by
+cross-roads, little known, and less frequented, and presenting scenery
+often extremely interesting and pretty. The picturesqueness of the
+landscape was enhanced by the season, the beginning of September, at
+which I was travelling.
+
+I had never been in this part of the world before; I am told it is now a
+great deal less wild, and, consequently, less beautiful.
+
+At the inn where I had stopped for a relay of horses and some
+dinner--for it was then past five o'clock--I found the host, a hale old
+fellow of five-and-sixty, as he told me, a man of easy and garrulous
+benevolence, willing to accommodate his guests with any amount of talk,
+which the slightest tap sufficed to set flowing, on any subject you
+pleased.
+
+I was curious to learn something about Barwyke, which was the name of
+the demesne and house I was going to. As there was no inn within some
+miles of it, I had written to the steward to put me up there, the best
+way he could, for a night.
+
+The host of the "Three Nuns," which was the sign under which he
+entertained wayfarers, had not a great deal to tell. It was twenty
+years, or more, since old Squire Bowes died, and no one had lived in the
+Hall ever since, except the gardener and his wife.
+
+"Tom Wyndsour will be as old a man as myself; but he's a bit taller, and
+not so much in flesh, quite," said the fat innkeeper.
+
+"But there were stories about the house," I repeated, "that, they said,
+prevented tenants from coming into it?"
+
+"Old wives' tales; many years ago, that will be, sir; I forget 'em; I
+forget 'em all. Oh yes, there always will be, when a house is left so;
+foolish folk will always be talkin'; but I han't heard a word about it
+this twenty year."
+
+It was vain trying to pump him; the old landlord of the "Three Nuns,"
+for some reason, did not choose to tell tales of Barwyke Hall, if he
+really did, as I suspected, remember them.
+
+I paid my reckoning, and resumed my journey, well pleased with the good
+cheer of that old-world inn, but a little disappointed.
+
+We had been driving for more than an hour, when we began to cross a wild
+common; and I knew that, this passed, a quarter of an hour would bring
+me to the door of Barwyke Hall.
+
+The peat and furze were pretty soon left behind; we were again in the
+wooded scenery that I enjoyed so much, so entirely natural and pretty,
+and so little disturbed by traffic of any kind. I was looking from the
+chaise-window, and soon detected the object of which, for some time, my
+eye had been in search. Barwyke Hall was a large, quaint house, of that
+cage-work fashion known as "black-and-white," in which the bars and
+angles of an oak framework contrast, black as ebony, with the white
+plaster that overspreads the masonry built into its interstices. This
+steep-roofed Elizabethan house stood in the midst of park-like grounds
+of no great extent, but rendered imposing by the noble stature of the
+old trees that now cast their lengthening shadows eastward over the
+sward, from the declining sun.
+
+The park-wall was gray with age, and in many places laden with ivy. In
+deep gray shadow, that contrasted with the dim fires of evening
+reflected on the foliage above it, in a gentle hollow, stretched a lake
+that looked cold and black, and seemed, as it were, to skulk from
+observation with a guilty knowledge.
+
+I had forgot that there was a lake at Barwyke; but the moment this
+caught my eye, like the cold polish of a snake in the shadow, my
+instinct seemed to recognize something dangerous, and I knew that the
+lake was connected, I could not remember how, with the story I had heard
+of this place in my boyhood.
+
+I drove up a grass-grown avenue, under the boughs of these noble trees,
+whose foliage, dyed in autumnal red and yellow, returned the beams of
+the western sun gorgeously.
+
+We drew up at the door. I got out, and had a good look at the front of
+the house; it was a large and melancholy mansion, with signs of long
+neglect upon it; great wooden shutters, in the old fashion, were barred,
+outside, across the windows; grass, and even nettles, were growing thick
+on the courtyard, and a thin moss streaked the timber beams; the plaster
+was discolored by time and weather, and bore great russet and yellow
+stains. The gloom was increased by several grand old trees that crowded
+close about the house.
+
+I mounted the steps, and looked round; the dark lake lay near me now, a
+little to the left. It was not large; it may have covered some ten or
+twelve acres; but it added to the melancholy of the scene. Near the
+centre of it was a small island, with two old ash-trees, leaning toward
+each other, their pensive images reflected in the stirless water. The
+only cheery influence of this scene of antiquity, solitude, and neglect
+was that the house and landscape were warmed with the ruddy western
+beams. I knocked, and my summons resounded hollow and ungenial in my
+ear; and the bell, from far away, returned a deep-mouthed and surly
+ring, as if it resented being roused from a score years' slumber.
+
+A light-limbed, jolly-looking old fellow, in a barracan jacket and
+gaiters, with a smirk of welcome, and a very sharp, red nose, that
+seemed to promise good cheer, opened the door with a promptitude that
+indicated a hospitable expectation of my arrival.
+
+There was but little light in the hall, and that little lost itself in
+darkness in the background. It was very spacious and lofty, with a
+gallery running round it, which, when the door was open, was visible at
+two or three points. Almost in the dark my new acquaintance led me
+across this wide hall into the room destined for my reception. It was
+spacious, and wainscoted up to the ceiling. The furniture of this
+capacious chamber was old-fashioned and clumsy. There were curtains
+still to the windows, and a piece of Turkey carpet lay upon the floor;
+those windows were two in number, looking out, through the trunks of the
+trees close to the house, upon the lake. It needed all the fire, and all
+the pleasant associations of my entertainer's red nose, to light up this
+melancholy chamber. A door at its farther end admitted to the room that
+was prepared for my sleeping apartment. It was wainscoted, like the
+other. It had a four-post bed, with heavy tapestry curtains, and in
+other respects was furnished in the same old-world and ponderous style
+as the other room. Its window, like those of that apartment, looked out
+upon the lake.
+
+Sombre and sad as these rooms were, they were yet scrupulously clean. I
+had nothing to complain of; but the effect was rather dispiriting.
+Having given some directions about supper--a pleasant incident to look
+forward to--and made a rapid toilet, I called on my friend with the
+gaiters and red nose (Tom Wyndsour), whose occupation was that of a
+"bailiff," or under-steward, of the property, to accompany me, as we had
+still an hour or so of sun and twilight, in a walk over the grounds.
+
+It was a sweet autumn evening, and my guide, a hardy old fellow, strode
+at a pace that tasked me to keep up with.
+
+Among clumps of trees at the northern boundary of the demesne we lighted
+upon the little antique parish church. I was looking down upon it, from
+an eminence, and the park-wall interposed; but a little way down was a
+stile affording access to the road, and by this we approached the iron
+gate of the churchyard. I saw the church door open; the sexton was
+replacing his pick, shovel, and spade, with which he had just been
+digging a grave in the churchyard, in their little repository under the
+stone stair of the tower. He was a polite, shrewd little hunchback, who
+was very happy to show me over the church. Among the monuments was one
+that interested me; it was erected to commemorate the very Squire Bowes
+from whom my two old maids had inherited the house and estate of
+Barwyke. It spoke of him in terms of grandiloquent eulogy, and informed
+the Christian reader that he had died, in the bosom of the Church of
+England, at the age of seventy-one.
+
+I read this inscription by the parting beams of the setting sun, which
+disappeared behind the horizon just as we passed out from under the
+porch.
+
+"Twenty years since the Squire died," said I, reflecting, as I loitered
+still in the churchyard.
+
+"Ay, sir; 'twill be twenty year the ninth o' last month."
+
+"And a very good old gentleman?"
+
+"Good-natured enough, and an easy gentleman he was, sir; I don't think
+while he lived he ever hurt a fly," acquiesced Tom Wyndsour. "It ain't
+always easy sayin' what's in 'em, though, and what they may take or turn
+to afterward; and some o' them sort, I think, goes mad."
+
+"You don't think he was out of his mind?" I asked.
+
+"He? La! no; not he, sir; a bit lazy, mayhap, like other old fellows;
+but a knew devilish well what he was about."
+
+Tom Wyndsour's account was a little enigmatical; but, like old Squire
+Bowes, I was "a bit lazy" that evening, and asked no more questions
+about him.
+
+We got over the stile upon the narrow road that skirts the churchyard.
+It is overhung by elms more than a hundred years old, and in the
+twilight, which now prevailed, was growing very dark. As side-by-side we
+walked along this road, hemmed in by two loose stone-like walls,
+something running toward us in a zig-zag line passed us at a wild pace,
+with a sound like a frightened laugh or a shudder, and I saw, as it
+passed, that it was a human figure. I may confess, now, that I was a
+little startled. The dress of this figure was, in part, white: I know I
+mistook it at first for a white horse coming down the road at a gallop.
+Tom Wyndsour turned about and looked after the retreating figure.
+
+"He'll be on his travels to-night," he said, in a low tone. "Easy served
+with a bed, _that_ lad be; six foot o' dry peat or heath, or a nook in a
+dry ditch. That lad hasn't slept once in a house this twenty year, and
+never will while grass grows."
+
+"Is he mad?" I asked.
+
+"Something that way, sir; he's an idiot, an awpy; we call him 'Dickon
+the devil,' because the devil's almost the only word that's ever in his
+mouth."
+
+It struck me that this idiot was in some way connected with the story of
+old Squire Bowes.
+
+"Queer things are told of him, I dare say?" I suggested.
+
+"More or less, sir; more or less. Queer stories, some."
+
+"Twenty years since he slept in a house? That's about the time the
+Squire died," I continued.
+
+"So it will be, sir; not very long after."
+
+"You must tell me all about that, Tom, to-night, when I can hear it
+comfortably, after supper."
+
+Tom did not seem to like my invitation; and looking straight before him
+as we trudged on, he said:
+
+"You see, sir, the house has been quiet, and nout's been troubling folk
+inside the walls or out, all round the woods of Barwyke, this ten year,
+or more; and my old woman, down there, is clear against talking about
+such matters, and thinks it best--and so do I--to let sleepin' dogs be."
+
+He dropped his voice toward the close of the sentence, and nodded
+significantly.
+
+We soon reached a point where he unlocked a wicket in the park wall, by
+which we entered the grounds of Barwyke once more.
+
+The twilight deepening over the landscape, the huge and solemn trees,
+and the distant outline of the haunted house, exercised a sombre
+influence on me, which, together with the fatigue of a day of travel,
+and the brisk walk we had had, disinclined me to interrupt the silence
+in which my companion now indulged.
+
+A certain air of comparative comfort, on our arrival, in great measure
+dissipated the gloom that was stealing over me. Although it was by no
+means a cold night, I was very glad to see some wood blazing in the
+grate; and a pair of candles aiding the light of the fire, made the room
+look cheerful. A small table, with a very white cloth, and preparations
+for supper, was also a very agreeable object.
+
+I should have liked very well, under these influences, to have listened
+to Tom Wyndsour's story; but after supper I grew too sleepy to attempt
+to lead him to the subject; and after yawning for a time, I found there
+was no use in contending against my drowsiness, so I betook myself to my
+bedroom, and by ten o'clock was fast asleep.
+
+What interruption I experienced that night I shall tell you presently.
+It was not much, but it was very odd.
+
+By next night I had completed my work at Barwyke. From early morning
+till then I was so incessantly occupied and hard-worked, that I had no
+time to think over the singular occurrence to which I have just
+referred. Behold me, however, at length once more seated at my little
+supper-table, having ended a comfortable meal. It had been a sultry day,
+and I had thrown one of the large windows up as high as it would go. I
+was sitting near it, with my brandy and water at my elbow, looking out
+into the dark. There was no moon, and the trees that are grouped about
+the house make the darkness round it supernaturally profound on such
+nights.
+
+"Tom," said I, so soon as the jug of hot punch I had supplied him with
+began to exercise its genial and communicative influence; "you must tell
+me who beside your wife and you and myself slept in the house last
+night."
+
+Tom, sitting near the door, set down his tumbler, and looked at me
+askance, while you might count seven, without speaking a word.
+
+"Who else slept in the house?" he repeated, very deliberately. "Not a
+living soul, sir;" and he looked hard at me, still evidently expecting
+something more.
+
+"That _is_ very odd," I said, returning his stare, and feeling really a
+little odd. "You are sure _you_ were not in my room last night?"
+
+"Not till I came to call you, sir, this morning; I can make oath of
+that."
+
+"Well," said I, "there was some one there, _I_ can make oath of that. I
+was so tired I could not make up my mind to get up; but I was waked by a
+sound that I thought was some one flinging down the two tin boxes in
+which my papers were locked up violently on the floor. I heard a slow
+step on the ground, and there was light in the room, although I
+remembered having put out my candle. I thought it must have been you,
+who had come in for my clothes, and upset the boxes by accident. Whoever
+it was, he went out, and the light with him. I was about to settle
+again, when, the curtain being a little open at the foot of the bed, I
+saw a light on the wall opposite; such as a candle from outside would
+cast if the door were very cautiously opening. I started up in the bed,
+drew the side curtain, and saw that the door _was_ opening, and
+admitting light from outside. It is close, you know, to the head of the
+bed. A hand was holding on the edge of the door and pushing it open; not
+a bit like yours; a very singular hand. Let me look at yours."
+
+He extended it for my inspection.
+
+"Oh no; there's nothing wrong with your hand. This was differently
+shaped; fatter; and the middle finger was stunted, and shorter than the
+rest, looking as if it had once been broken, and the nail was crooked
+like a claw. I called out, "Who's there?" and the light and the hand
+were withdrawn, and I saw and heard no more of my visitor."
+
+"So sure as you're a living man, that was him!" exclaimed Tom Wyndsour,
+his very nose growing pale, and his eyes almost starting out of his
+head.
+
+"Who?" I asked.
+
+"Old Squire Bowes; 'twas _his_ hand you saw; the Lord a' mercy on us!"
+answered Tom. "The broken finger, and the nail bent like a hoop. Well
+for you, sir, he didn't come back when you called, that time. You came
+here about them Miss Dymock's business, and he never meant they should
+have a foot o' ground in Barwyke; and he was making a will to give it
+away quite different, when death took him short. He never was uncivil to
+no one; but he couldn't abide them ladies. My mind misgave me when I
+heard 'twas about their business you were coming; and now you see how it
+is; he'll be at his old tricks again!"
+
+With some pressure, and a little more punch, I induced Tom Wyndsour to
+explain his mysterious allusions by recounting the occurrences which
+followed the old Squire's death.
+
+"Squire Bowes, of Barwyke, died without making a will, as you know,"
+said Tom. "And all the folk round were sorry; that is to say, sir, as
+sorry as folk will be for an old man that has seen a long tale of years,
+and has no right to grumble that death has knocked an hour too soon at
+his door. The Squire was well liked; he was never in a passion, or said
+a hard word; and he would not hurt a fly; and that made what happened
+after his decease the more surprising.
+
+"The first thing these ladies did, when they got the property, was to
+buy stock for the park.
+
+"It was not wise, in any case, to graze the land on their own account.
+But they little knew all they had to contend with.
+
+"Before long something went wrong with the cattle; first one, and then
+another, took sick and died, and so on, till the loss began to grow
+heavy. Then, queer stories, little by little, began to be told. It was
+said, first by one, then by another, that Squire Bowes was seen, about
+evening time, walking, just as he used to do when he was alive, among
+the old trees, leaning on his stick; and, sometimes, when he came up
+with the cattle, he would stop and lay his hand kindly like on the back
+of one of them; and that one was sure to fall sick next day, and die
+soon after.
+
+"No one ever met him in the park, or in the woods, or ever saw him,
+except a good distance off. But they knew his gait and his figure well,
+and the clothes he used to wear; and they could tell the beast he laid
+his hand on by its color--white, dun, or black; and that beast was sure
+to sicken and die. The neighbors grew shy of taking the path over the
+park; and no one liked to walk in the woods, or come inside the bounds
+of Barwyke; and the cattle went on sickening and dying, as before.
+
+"At that time there was one Thomas Pyke; he had been a groom to the old
+Squire; and he was in care of the place, and was the only one that used
+to sleep in the house.
+
+"Tom was vexed, hearing these stories; which he did not believe the half
+on 'em; and more especial as he could not get man or boy to herd the
+cattle; all being afeared. So he wrote to Matlock, in Derbyshire, for
+his brother, Richard Pyke, a clever lad, and one that knew nout o' the
+story of the old Squire walking.
+
+"Dick came; and the cattle was better; folk said they could still see
+the old Squire, sometimes, walking, as before, in openings of the wood,
+with his stick in his hand; but he was shy of coming nigh the cattle,
+whatever his reason might be, since Dickon Pyke came; and he used to
+stand a long bit off, looking at them, with no more stir in him than a
+trunk o' one of the old trees, for an hour at a time, till the shape
+melted away, little by little, like the smoke of a fire that burns out.
+
+"Tom Pyke and his brother Dickon, being the only living souls in the
+house, lay in the big bed in the servants' room, the house being fast
+barred and locked, one night in November.
+
+"Tom was lying next the wall, and, he told me, as wide awake as ever he
+was at noonday. His brother Dickon lay outside, and was sound asleep.
+
+"Well, as Tom lay thinking, with his eyes turned toward the door, it
+opens slowly, and who should come in but old Squire Bowes, his face
+lookin' as dead as he was in his coffin.
+
+"Tom's very breath left his body; he could not take his eyes off him;
+and he felt the hair rising up on his head.
+
+"The Squire came to the side of the bed, and put his arms under Dickon,
+and lifted the boy--in a dead sleep all the time--and carried him out
+so, at the door.
+
+"Such was the appearance, to Tom Pyke's eyes, and he was ready to swear
+to it, anywhere.
+
+"When this happened, the light, wherever it came from, all on a sudden
+went out, and Tom could not see his own hand before him.
+
+"More dead than alive, he lay till daylight.
+
+"Sure enough his brother Dickon was gone. No sign of him could he
+discover about the house; and with some trouble he got a couple of the
+neighbors to help him to search the woods and grounds. Not a sign of him
+anywhere.
+
+"At last one of them thought of the island in the lake; the little boat
+was moored to the old post at the water's edge. In they got, though with
+small hope of finding him there. Find him, nevertheless, they did,
+sitting under the big ash-tree, quite out of his wits; and to all their
+questions he answered nothing but one cry--'Bowes, the devil! See him;
+see him; Bowes, the devil!' An idiot they found him; and so he will be
+till God sets all things right. No one could ever get him to sleep under
+roof-tree more. He wanders from house to house while daylight lasts; and
+no one cares to lock the harmless creature in the workhouse. And folk
+would rather not meet him after nightfall, for they think where he is
+there may be worse things near."
+
+A silence followed Tom's story. He and I were alone in that large room;
+I was sitting near the open window, looking into the dark night air. I
+fancied I saw something white move across it; and I heard a sound like
+low talking, that swelled into a discordant shriek--"Hoo-oo-oo! Bowes,
+the devil! Over your shoulder. Hoo-oo-oo! ha! ha! ha!" I started up, and
+saw, by the light of the candle with which Tom strode to the window, the
+wild eyes and blighted face of the idiot, as, with a sudden change of
+mood, he drew off, whispering and tittering to himself, and holding up
+his long fingers, and looking at them as if they were lighted at the
+tips like a "hand of glory."
+
+Tom pulled down the window. The story and its epilogue were over. I
+confessed I was rather glad when I heard the sound of the horses' hoofs
+on the courtyard, a few minutes later; and still gladder when, having
+bidden Tom a kind farewell, I had left the neglected house of Barwyke a
+mile behind me.
+
+
+
+
+A DEBT OF HONOR.
+
+A GHOST STORY.
+
+
+Hush! what was that cry, so low but yet so piercing, so strange but yet
+so sorrowful? It was not the marmot upon the side of the Righi--it was
+not the heron down by the lake; no, it was distinctively human. Hush!
+there it is again--from the churchyard which I have just left!
+
+Not ten minutes have elapsed since I was sitting on the low wall of the
+churchyard of Weggis, watching the calm glories of the moonlight
+illuminating with silver splendor the lake of Lucerne; and I am certain
+there was no one within the inclosure but myself.
+
+I am mistaken, surely. What a silence there is upon the night! Not a
+breath of air now to break up into a thousand brilliant ripples the long
+reflection of the August moon, or to stir the foliage of the chestnuts;
+not a voice in the village; no splash of oar upon the lake. All life
+seems at perfect rest, and the solemn stillness that reigns about the
+topmost glaciers of S. Gothard has spread its mantle over the warmer
+world below.
+
+I must not linger; as it is, I shall have to wake up the porter to let
+me into the hotel. I hurry on.
+
+Not ten paces, though. Again I hear the cry. This time it sounds to me
+like the long, sad sob of a wearied and broken heart. Without staying to
+reason with myself, I quickly retrace my steps.
+
+I stumble about among the iron crosses and the graves, and displace in
+my confusion wreaths of immortelles and fresher flowers. A huge
+mausoleum stands between me and the wall upon which I had been sitting
+not a quarter of an hour ago. The mausoleum casts a deep shadow upon the
+side nearest to me. Ah! something is stirring there. I strain my
+eyes--the figure of a man passes slowly out of the shade, and silently
+occupies my place upon the wall. It must have been his lips that gave
+out that miserable sound.
+
+What shall I do? Compassion and curiosity are strong. The man whose
+heart can be rent so sorely ought not to be allowed to linger here with
+his despair. He is gazing, as I did, upon the lake. I mark his
+profile--clear-cut and symmetrical; I catch the lustre of large eyes.
+The face, as I can see it, seems very still and placid. I may be
+mistaken; he may merely be a wanderer like myself; perhaps he heard the
+three strange cries, and has also come to seek the cause. I feel
+impelled to speak to him.
+
+I pass from the path by the church to the east side of the mausoleum,
+and so come toward him, the moon full upon his features. Great heaven!
+how pale his face is!
+
+"Good-evening, sir. I thought myself alone here, and wondered that no
+other travellers had found their way to this lovely spot. Charming, is
+it not?"
+
+For a moment he says nothing, but his eyes are full upon me. At last he
+replies:
+
+"It is charming, as you say, Mr. Reginald Westcar."
+
+"You know me?" I exclaim, in astonishment.
+
+"Pardon me, I can scarcely claim a personal acquaintance. But yours is
+the only English name entered to-day in the Livre des Etrangers."
+
+"You are staying at the Hotel de la Concorde, then?"
+
+An inclination of the head is all the answer vouchsafed.
+
+"May I ask," I continue, "whether you heard just now a very strange cry
+repeated three times?"
+
+A pause. The lustrous eyes seem to search me through and through--I can
+hardly bear their gaze. Then he replies.
+
+"I fancy I heard the echoes of some such sounds as you describe."
+
+The _echoes_! Is this, then, the man who gave utterance to those cries
+of woe! is it possible? The face seems so passionless; but the pallor of
+those features bears witness to some terrible agony within.
+
+"I thought some one must be in distress," I rejoin, hastily; "and I
+hurried back to see if I could be of any service."
+
+"Very good of you," he answers, coldly; "but surely such a place as this
+is not unaccustomed to the voice of sorrow."
+
+"No doubt. My impulse was a mistaken one."
+
+"But kindly meant. You will not sleep less soundly for acting on that
+impulse, Reginald Westcar."
+
+He rises as he speaks. He throws his cloak round him, and stands
+motionless. I take the hint. My mysterious countryman wishes to be
+alone. Some one that he has loved and lost lies buried here.
+
+"Good-night, sir," I say, as I move in the direction of the little
+chapel at the gate. "Neither of us will sleep the less soundly for
+thinking of the perfect repose that reigns around this place."
+
+"What do you mean?" he asks.
+
+"The dead," I reply, as I stretch my hand toward the graves. "Do you not
+remember the lines in 'King Lear'?
+
+    "'After life's fitful fever he sleeps well.'"
+
+"But _you_ have never died, Reginald Westcar. You know nothing of the
+sleep of death."
+
+For the third time he speaks my name almost familiarly, and--I know not
+why--a shudder passes through me. I have no time, in my turn, to ask him
+what he means; for he strides silently away into the shadow of the
+church, and I, with a strange sense of oppression upon me, returned to
+my hotel.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The events which I have just related passed in vivid recollection
+through my mind as I travelled northward one cold November day in the
+year 185--. About six months previously I had taken my degree at Oxford,
+and had since been enjoying a trip upon the continent; and on my return
+to London I found a letter awaiting me from my lawyers, informing me
+somewhat to my astonishment, that I had succeeded to a small estate in
+Cumberland. I must tell you exactly how this came about. My mother was a
+Miss Ringwood, and she was the youngest of three children: the eldest
+was Aldina, the second was Geoffrey, and the third (my mother) Alice.
+Their mother (who had been a widow since my mother's birth) lived at
+this little place in Cumberland, and which was known as The Shallows;
+she died shortly after my mother's marriage with my father, Captain
+Westcar. My aunt Aldina and my uncle Geoffrey--the one at that time aged
+twenty-eight, and the other twenty-six--continued to reside at The
+Shallows. My father and mother had to go to India, where I was born, and
+where, when quite a child, I was left an orphan. A few months after my
+mother's marriage my aunt disappeared; a few weeks after that event, and
+my uncle Geoffrey dropped down dead, as he was playing at cards with Mr.
+Maryon, the proprietor of a neighboring mansion known as The Mere. A
+fortnight after my uncle's death, my aunt Aldina returned to The
+Shallows, and never left it again till she was carried out in her coffin
+to her grave in the churchyard. Ever since her return from her
+mysterious disappearance she maintained an impenetrable reserve. As a
+schoolboy I visited her twice or thrice, but these visits depressed my
+youthful spirits to such an extent, that as I grew older I excused
+myself from accepting my aunt's not very pressing invitations; and at
+the time I am now speaking of I had not seen her for eight or ten years.
+I was rather surprised, therefore, when she bequeathed me The Shallows,
+which, as the surviving child, she inherited under her mother's
+marriage settlement.
+
+But The Shallows had always exercised a grim influence over me, and the
+knowledge that I was now going to it as my home oppressed me. The road
+seemed unusually dark, cold, and lonely. At last I passed the lodge, and
+two hundred yards more brought me to the porch. Very soon the door was
+opened by an elderly female, whom I well remembered as having been my
+aunt's housekeeper and cook. I had pleasant recollections of her, and
+was glad to see her. To tell the truth, I had not anticipated my visit
+to my newly acquired property with any great degree of enthusiasm; but a
+very tolerable dinner had an inspiriting effect, and I was pleased to
+learn that there was a bin of old Madeira in the cellar. Naturally I
+soon grew cheerful, and consequently talkative; and summoned Mrs. Balk
+for a little gossip. The substance of what I gathered from her rather
+diffusive conversation was as follows:
+
+My aunt had resided at The Shallows ever since the death of my uncle
+Geoffrey, but she had maintained a silent and reserved habit; and Mrs.
+Balk was of opinion that she had had some great misfortune. She had
+persistently refused all intercourse with the people at The Mere. Squire
+Maryon, himself a cold and taciturn man, had once or twice showed a
+disposition to be friendly, but she had sternly repulsed all such
+overtures. Mrs. Balk was of opinion that Miss Ringwood was not "quite
+right," as she expressed it, on some topics; especially did she seem
+impressed with the idea that The Mere ought to belong to her. It
+appeared that the Ringwoods and Maryons were distant connections; that
+The Mere belonged in former times to a certain Sir Henry Benet; that he
+was a bachelor, and that Squire Maryon's father and old Mr. Ringwood
+were cousins of his, and that there was some doubt as to which was the
+real heir; that Sir Henry, who disliked old Maryon, had frequently said
+he had set any chance of dispute at rest, by bequeathing the Mere
+property by will to Mr. Ringwood, my mother's father; that, on his
+death, no such will could be found; and the family lawyers agreed that
+Mr. Maryon was the legal inheritor, and my uncle Geoffrey and his
+sisters must be content to take the Shallows, or nothing at all. Mr.
+Maryon was comparatively rich, and the Ringwoods poor, consequently they
+were advised not to enter upon a costly lawsuit. My aunt Aldina
+maintained to the last that Sir Henry had made a will, and that Mr.
+Maryon knew it, but had destroyed or suppressed the document. I did not
+gather from Mrs. Balk's narrative that Miss Ringwood had any foundation
+for her belief, and I dismissed the notion at once as baseless.
+
+"And my uncle Geoffrey died of apoplexy, you say, Mrs. Balk?"
+
+"_I_ don't say so, sir, no more did Miss Ringwood; but _they_ said so."
+
+"Whom do you mean by _they_?"
+
+"The people at The Mere--the young doctor, a friend of Squire Maryon's,
+who was brought over from York, and the rest; he fell heavily from his
+chair, and his head struck against the fender."
+
+"Playing at cards with Mr. Maryon, I think you said."
+
+"Yes, sir; he was too fond of cards, I believe, was Mr. Geoffrey."
+
+"Is Mr. Maryon seen much in the county--is he hospitable?"
+
+"Well, sir, he goes up to London a good deal, and has some friends down
+from town occasionally; but he does not seem to care much about the
+people in the neighborhood."
+
+"He has some children, Mrs. Balk?"
+
+"Only one daughter, sir; a sweet pretty thing she is. Her mother died
+when Miss Agnes was born."
+
+"You have no idea, Mrs. Balk, what my aunt Aldina's great misfortune
+was?"
+
+"Well, sir, I can't help thinking it must have been a love affair. She
+always hated men so much."
+
+"Then why did she leave The Shallows to me, Mrs. Balk?"
+
+"Ah, you are laughing, sir. No doubt she considered that The Mere ought
+to belong to you, as the heir of the Ringwoods, and she placed you here,
+as near as might be to the place."
+
+"In hopes that I might marry Miss Maryon, eh, Mrs. Balk?"
+
+"You are laughing again, sir. I don't imagine she thought so much of
+that, as of the possibility of your discovering something about the
+missing will."
+
+I bade the communicative Mrs. Balk good night and retired to my
+bedroom--a low, wide, sombre, oak-panelled chamber. I must confess that
+family stories had no great interest for me, living apart from them at
+school and college as I had done; and as I undressed I thought more of
+the probabilities of sport the eight hundred acres of wild shooting
+belonging to The Shallows would afford me, than of the supposed will my
+poor aunt had evidently worried herself about so much. Thoroughly tired
+after my long journey, I soon fell fast asleep amid the deep shadows of
+the huge four-poster I mentally resolved to chop up into firewood at an
+early date, and substitute for it a more modern iron bedstead.
+
+How long I had been asleep I do not know, but I suddenly started up, the
+echo of a long, sad cry ringing in my ears.
+
+I listened eagerly--sensitive to the slightest sound--painfully
+sensitive as one is only in the deep silence of the night.
+
+I heard the old-fashioned clock I had noticed on the stairs strike
+three. The reverberation seemed to last a long time, then all was silent
+again. "A dream," I muttered to myself, as I lay down upon the pillow;
+"Madeira is a heating wine. But what can I have been dreaming of?"
+
+Sleep seemed to have gone altogether, and the busy mind wandered among
+the continental scenes I had lately visited. By and by I found myself in
+memory once more within the Weggis churchyard. I was satisfied; I had
+traced my dream to the cries that I had heard there. I turned round to
+sleep again. Perhaps I fell into a doze--I cannot say; but again I
+started up at the repetition, as it seemed outside my window, of that
+cry of sadness and despair. I hastily drew aside the heavy curtains of
+my bed--at that moment the room seemed to be illuminated with a dim,
+unearthly light--and I saw, gradually growing into human shape, the
+figure of a woman. I recognized in it my aunt, Miss Ringwood.
+Horror-struck, I gazed at the apparition; it advanced a little--the lips
+moved--I heard it distinctly say:
+
+"_Reginald Westcar, The Mere belongs to you. Compel John Maryon to pay
+the debt of honor!_"
+
+I fell back senseless.
+
+When next I returned to consciousness, it was when I was called in the
+morning; the shutters were opened, and I saw the red light of the
+dawning winter sun.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There is a strange sympathy between the night and the mind. All one's
+troubles represent themselves as increased a hundredfold if one wakes in
+the night, and begins to think about them. A muscular pain becomes the
+certainty of an incurable internal disease; and a headache suggests
+incipient softening of the brain. But all these horrors are dissipated
+with the morning light, and the after-glow of a cold bath turns them
+into jokes. So it was with me on the morning after my arrival at The
+Shallows. I accounted most satisfactorily for all that had occurred, or
+seemed to have occurred, during the night; and resolved that, though the
+old Madeira was uncommonly good, I must be careful in future not to
+drink more than a couple of glasses after dinner. I need scarcely say
+that I said nothing to Mrs. Balk of my bad dreams, and shortly after
+breakfast I took my gun, and went out in search of such game as I might
+chance to meet with. At three o'clock I sent the keeper home, as his
+capacious pockets were pretty well filled, telling him that I thought I
+knew the country, and should stroll back leisurely. The gray gloom of
+the November evening was spreading over the sky as I came upon a small
+plantation which I believed belonged to me. I struck straight across it;
+emerging from its shadows, I found myself by a small stream and some
+marshy land; on the other side another small plantation. A snipe got up,
+I fired, and tailored it. I marked the bird into this other plantation,
+and followed. Up got a covey of partridges--bang, bang--one down by the
+side of an oak. I was about to enter this covert, when a lady and
+gentleman emerged, and, struck with the unpleasant thought that I was
+possibly trespassing, I at once went forward to apologize.
+
+Before I could say a word, the gentleman addressed me.
+
+"May I ask, sir, if I have given you permission to shoot over my
+preserves?"
+
+"I beg to express my great regret, sir," I replied, as I lifted my hat
+in acknowledgment of the lady's presence, "that I should have trespassed
+upon your land. I can only plead, as my excuse, that I fully believed I
+was still upon the manor belonging to The Shallows."
+
+"Gentlemen who go out shooting ought to know the limits of their
+estates," he answered harshly; "the boundaries of The Shallows are well
+defined, nor is the area they contain so very extensive. You have no
+right upon this side the stream, sir; oblige me by returning."
+
+I merely bowed, for I was nettled by his tone, and as I turned away I
+noticed that the young lady whispered to him.
+
+"One moment, sir," he said, "my daughter suggests the possibility of
+your being the new owner of The Shallows. May I ask if this is so?"
+
+It had not occurred to me before, but I understood in a moment to whom I
+had been speaking, and I replied:
+
+"Yes, Mr. Maryon--my name is Westcar."
+
+Such was my introduction to Mr. and Miss Maryon. The proprietor of The
+Mere appeared to be a gentleman, but his manners were cold and reserved,
+and a careful observer might have remarked a perpetual restlessness in
+the eyes, as if they were physically incapable of regarding the same
+object for more than a moment. He was about sixty years of age,
+apparently; and though he now and again made an effort to carry himself
+upright, the head and shoulders soon drooped again, as if the weight of
+years, and, it might be, the memory of the past, were a heavy load to
+carry. Of Miss Maryon it is sufficient to say that she was nineteen or
+twenty, and it did not need a second glance to satisfy me that her
+beauty was of no ordinary kind.
+
+I must hurry over the records of the next few weeks. I became a frequent
+visitor at The Mere. Mr. Maryon's manner never became cordial, but he
+did not seem displeased to see me; and as to Agnes,--well, she certainly
+was not displeased either.
+
+I think it was on Christmas Day that I suddenly discovered that I was
+desperately in love. Miss Maryon had been for two or three days confined
+to her room by a bad cold, and I found myself in a great state of
+anxiety to see her again. I am sorry to say that my thoughts wandered a
+good deal when I was at church upon that festival, and I could not help
+thinking what ample room there was for a bridal procession up the
+spacious aisle. Suddenly my eyes rested upon a mural tablet, inscribed,
+"To the memory of Aldina Ringwood." Then with a cold thrill there came
+back upon me what I had almost forgotten, the dream, or whatever it was,
+that had occurred on that first night at The Shallows; and those strange
+words--"The Mere belongs to you. Compel John Maryon to pay the debt of
+honor!" Nothing but the remembrance of Agnes' sweet face availed for the
+time to banish the vision, the statement, and the bidding.
+
+Miss Maryon was soon down-stairs again. Did I flatter myself too much in
+thinking that she was as glad to see me as I was to see her? No--I felt
+sure that I did not. Then I began to reflect seriously upon my position.
+My fortune was small, quite enough for me, but not enough for two; and
+as she was heiress of The Mere and a comfortable rent-roll of some six
+or eight thousand a year, was it not natural that Mr. Maryon expected
+her to make what is called a "good match"? Still, I could not conceal
+from myself the fact, that he evinced no objection whatever to my
+frequent visits at his house, nor to my taking walks with his daughter
+when he was unable to accompany us.
+
+One bright, frosty day I had been down to the lake with Miss Maryon, and
+had enjoyed the privilege of teaching her to skate; and on returning to
+the house, we met Mr. Maryon upon the terrace, He walked with us to the
+conservatory; we went in to examine the plants, and he remained outside,
+pacing up and down the terrace. Both Agnes and myself were strangely
+silent; perhaps my tongue had found an eloquence upon the ice which was
+well met by a shy thoughtfulness upon her part. But there was a lovely
+color upon her cheeks, and I experienced a very considerable and unusual
+fluttering about my heart. It happened as we were standing at the door
+of the conservatory, both of us silently looking away from the flowers
+upon the frosty view, that our eyes lighted at the same time upon Mr.
+Maryon. He, too, was apparently regarding the prospect, when suddenly he
+paused and staggered back, as if something unexpected met his gaze.
+
+"Oh, poor papa! I hope he is not going to have one of his fits!"
+exclaimed Agnes.
+
+"Fits! Is he subject to such attacks?" I inquired.
+
+"Not ordinary fits," she answered hurriedly; "I hardly know how to
+explain them. They come upon him occasionally, and generally at this
+period of the year."
+
+"Shall we go to him?" I suggested.
+
+"No; you cannot help him; and he cannot bear that they should be
+noticed."
+
+We both watched him. His arms were stretched up above his head, and
+again he recoiled a step or two. I sought for an explanation in Agnes'
+face.
+
+"A stranger!" she exclaimed. "Who can it be?"
+
+I looked toward Mr. Maryon. A tall figure of a man had come from the
+farther side of the house; he wore a large, loose coat and a kind of
+military cap upon his head.
+
+"Doubtless you are surprised to see me, John," we heard the new-comer
+say, in a confident voice, "but I am not the devil, man, that you should
+greet me with such a peculiar attitude." He held out his hand, and
+continued, "Come, don't let the warmth of old fellowship be all on one
+side, this wintry day."
+
+We could see that Mr. Maryon took the proffered right hand with his left
+for an instant, then seemed to shrink away, but exchanged no word of
+this greeting.
+
+"I don't understand this," said Agnes, and we both hurried forward. The
+stranger, seeing Agnes approach, lifted his cap.
+
+"Ah, your daughter, John, no doubt. I see the likeness to her lamented
+mother. Pray introduce me."
+
+Mr. Maryon's usually pallid features had assumed a still paler hue, and
+he said in a low voice:
+
+"Colonel Bludyer--my daughter." Agnes barely bowed.
+
+"Charmed to renew your acquaintance, Miss Maryon. When last I saw you,
+you were quite a baby; but your father and I are very old friends--are
+we not, John?"
+
+Mr. Maryon vaguely nodded his head.
+
+"Well, John, you have often pressed your hospitality upon me, but till
+now I have never had an opportunity of availing myself of your kind
+offers; so I have brought my bag, and intend at last to give you the
+pleasure of my company for a few days."
+
+I certainly should have thought that a man of Mr. Maryon's disposition
+would have resented such conduct as this, or, at all events, have given
+this self-invited guest a chilling welcome. Mr. Maryon, however, in a
+confused and somewhat stammering tone, said that he was glad Colonel
+Bludyer had come at last, and bade his daughter go and make the
+necessary arrangements. Agnes, in silent astonishment, entered the
+house, and then Mr. Maryon turned to me hastily and bade me good-by. In
+a by no means comfortable frame of mind I returned to The Shallows.
+
+The sudden advent of this miscellaneous colonel was naturally somewhat
+irritating to me. Not only did I regard the man as an intolerable bore,
+but I could not help fancying that he was something more than an old
+friend of Mr. Maryon's; in fact, I was led to judge, by Mr. Maryon's
+strange conduct, that this Bludyer had some power over him which might
+be exercised to the detriment of the Maryon family, and I was convinced
+there was some mystery it was my business to penetrate.
+
+The following day I went up to The Mere to see if Miss Maryon was
+desirous of renewing her skating lesson. I found the party in the
+billiard-room, Agnes marking for her father and the Colonel. Mr. Maryon,
+whom I knew to be an exceptionally good player, seemed incapable of
+making a decent stroke; the Colonel, on the other hand, could evidently
+give a professional fifteen, and beat him easily. We all went down to
+the lake together. I had no chance of any quiet conversation with Agnes;
+the Colonel was perpetually beside us.
+
+I returned home disgusted. For two whole days I did not go near The
+Mere. On the third day I went up, hoping that the horrid Colonel would
+be gone. It was beginning to snow when I left The Shallows at about two
+o'clock in the afternoon, and Mrs. Balk foretold a heavy storm, and bade
+me not be late returning.
+
+The black winter darkness in the sky deepened as I approached The Mere.
+I was ushered again into the billiard-room. Agnes was marking, as upon
+the previous occasion, but two days had worked a sad difference in her
+face. Mr. Maryon hardly noticed my entrance; he was flushed, and playing
+eagerly; the Colonel was boisterous, declaring that John had never
+played better twenty years ago. I relieved Agnes of the duty of marking.
+The snow fell in a thick layer upon the skylight, and the Colonel became
+seriously anxious about my return home. As I did not think he was the
+proper person to give me hints, I resolutely remained where I was,
+encouraged in my behavior by the few words I gained from Agnes, and by
+the looks of entreaty she gave me. I had always considered Mr. Maryon to
+be an abstemious man, but he drank a good deal of brandy and soda during
+the long game of seven hundred up, and when he succeeded in beating the
+Colonel by forty-three, he was in roaring spirits, and insisted upon my
+staying to dinner. Need I say that I accepted the invitation?
+
+I made such toilet as I could in a most unattainable chamber that was
+allotted to me, and hurried back to the drawing-room in the hope that I
+might get a few private words with Agnes. I was not disappointed. She,
+too, had hurried down, and in a few words I learned that this
+abominable Bludyer was paying her his coarse attentions, and with,
+apparently, the full consent of Mr. Maryon. My indignation was
+unbounded. Was it possible that Mr. Maryon intended to sacrifice this
+fair creature to that repulsive man?
+
+Mr. Maryon had appeared in excellent spirits when dinner began, and the
+first glass or two of champagne made him merrier than I thought it
+possible for him to be. But by the time the dessert was on the table he
+had grown silent and thoughtful; nor did he respond to the warm
+eulogiums the Colonel passed upon the magnum of claret which was set
+before us.
+
+After dinner we sat in the library. The Colonel left the room to fetch
+some cigars he had been loudly extolling. Then Agnes had an opportunity
+of whispering to me.
+
+"Look at papa--see how strangely he sits--his hands clenching the arms
+of the chair, his eyes fixed upon the blazing coals! How old he seems to
+be to-night! His terrible fits are coming on--he is always like this
+toward the end of January!" The Colonel's return put an end to any
+further confidential talk.
+
+When we separated for the night, I felt that my going to bed would be
+purposeless. I felt most painfully wide awake. I threw myself down upon
+my bed, and worried myself by trying to imagine what secret there could
+be between Maryon and Bludyer--for that a secret of some kind existed, I
+felt certain. I tossed about till I heard the stroke of one. A dreadful
+restlessness had come upon me. It seemed as if the solemn night-side of
+life was busy waking now, but the silence and solitude of my antique
+chamber became too much for me. I rose from my bed, and paced up and
+down the room. I raked up the dying embers of the fire, and drew an
+arm-chair to the hearth. I fell into a doze. By and by I woke up
+suddenly, and I was conscious of stealthy footsteps in the passage. My
+sense of hearing became painfully acute. I heard the footsteps
+retreating down the corridor, until they were lost in the distance. I
+cautiously opened the door, and, shading the candle with my hand, looked
+out--there was nothing to be seen; but I felt that I could not remain
+quietly in my room, and, closing the door behind me, I went out in
+search of I knew not what.
+
+The sitting-rooms and bedrooms in ordinary use at The Mere were in the
+modern part of the house; but there was an old Elizabethan wing which I
+had often longed to explore, and in this strange ramble of mine I soon
+had reason to be satisfied that I was well within it. At the end of an
+oak-panelled narrow passage a door stood open, and I entered a low,
+sombre apartment fitted with furniture in the style of two hundred years
+ago. There was something awfully ghostly about the look of this room. A
+great four-post bedstead, with heavy hangings, stood in a deep recess; a
+round oak table and two high-backed chairs were in the centre of the
+room. Suddenly, as I gazed on these things, I heard stealthy footsteps
+in the passage, and saw a dim light advancing. Acting on a sudden
+impulse, I extinguished my candle and withdrew into the shadow of the
+recess, watching eagerly. The footsteps came nearer. My heart seemed to
+stand still with expectation. They paused outside the door, for a
+moment really--for an age it seemed to me. Then, to my astonishment, I
+saw Mr. Maryon enter. He carried a small night-lamp in his hand. Another
+glance satisfied me that he was walking in his sleep. He came straight
+to the round table, and set down the lamp. He seated himself in one of
+the high-backed chairs, his vacant eyes staring at the chair opposite;
+then his lips began to move quickly, as if he were addressing some one.
+Then he rose, went to the bureau, and seemed to take something from it;
+then he sat down again. What a strange action of his hands! At first I
+could not understand it; then it flashed upon me that in this dream of
+his he must be shuffling cards. Yes, he began to deal; then he was
+playing with his adversary--his lips moving anxiously at times.
+
+A look of terrible eagerness came over the sleepwalker's countenance.
+With nimble fingers he dealt the cards, and played. Suddenly with a
+sweep of his hand he seemed to fling the pack into the fireplace,
+started from his seat, grappled with his unseen adversary, raised his
+powerful right hand, and struck a tremendous blow. Hush! more footsteps
+along the passage! Am I deceived? From my concealment I watch for what
+is to follow. Colonel Bludyer comes in, half dressed, but wide awake.
+
+"You maniac!" I hear him mutter: "I expected you were given to such
+tricks as these. Lucky for you no eyes but mine have seen your abject
+folly. Come back to your room."
+
+Mr. Maryon is still gazing, his arms lifted wildly above his head, upon
+the imagined foe whom he had felled to the ground. The Colonel touches
+him on the shoulder, and leads him away, leaving the lamp. My reasoning
+faculties had fully returned to me. I held a clue to the secret, and for
+Agnes' sake it must be followed up. I took the lamp away, and placed it
+on a table where the chamber candlesticks stood, relit my own candle,
+and found my way back to my bedroom.
+
+The next morning, when I came down to breakfast, I found Colonel Bludyer
+warming himself satisfactorily at the blazing fire. I learned from him
+that our host was far from well, and that Miss Maryon was in attendance
+upon her father; that the Colonel was charged with all kinds of
+apologies to me, and good wishes for my safe return home across the
+snow. I thanked him for the delivery of the message, while I felt
+perfectly convinced that he had never been charged with it. However that
+might be, I never saw Mr. Maryon that morning; and I started back to The
+Shallows through the snow.
+
+For the next two or three days the weather was very wild, but I
+contrived to get up to The Mere, and ask after Mr. Maryon. Better, I was
+told, but unable to see any one. Miss Maryon, too, was fatigued with
+nursing her father. So there was nothing to do but to trudge home again.
+
+"_Reginald Westcar, The Mere is yours. Compel John Maryon to pay the
+debt of honor!_"
+
+Again and again these words forced themselves upon me, as I listlessly
+gazed out upon the white landscape. The strange scene that I had
+witnessed on that memorable night I passed beneath Mr. Maryon's roof had
+brought them back to my memory with redoubled force, and I began to
+think that the apparition I had seen--or dreamed of--on my first night
+at The Shallows had more of truth in it than I had been willing to
+believe.
+
+Three more days passed away, and a carter-boy from The Mere brought me a
+note. It was Agnes' handwriting. It said:
+
+"DEAR MR. WESTCAR: Pray come up here, if you possibly can. I cannot
+understand what is the matter with papa; and he wishes me to do a
+dreadful thing. Do come. I feel that I have no friend but you. I am
+obliged to send this note privately."
+
+I need scarcely say that five minutes afterward I was plunging through
+the snow toward The Mere. It was already late on that dark February
+evening as I gained the shrubbery; and as I was pondering upon the best
+method of securing admittance, I became aware that the figure of a man
+was hurrying on some yards in front of me. At first I thought it must be
+one of the gardeners, but all of a sudden I stood still, and my blood
+seemed to freeze with horror, as I remarked that the figure in front of
+me _left no trace of footmarks on the snow_! My brain reeled for a
+moment, and I thought I should have fallen; but I recovered my nerves,
+and when I looked before me again, it had disappeared. I pressed on
+eagerly. I arrived at the front door--it was wide open; and I passed
+through the hall to the library. I heard Agnes' voice.
+
+"No, no, papa. You must not force me to this! I cannot--will not--marry
+Colonel Bludyer!"
+
+"You _must_," answered Mr. Maryon, in a hoarse voice; "you _must_ marry
+him, and save your father from something worse than disgrace!"
+
+Not feeling disposed to play the eavesdropper, I entered the room. Mr.
+Maryon was standing at the fireplace. Agnes was crouching on the ground
+at his feet. I saw at once that it was no use for me to dissemble the
+reason of my visit, and, without a word of greeting, I said:
+
+"Miss Maryon, I have come, in obedience to your summons. If I can
+prevent any misfortune from falling upon you I am ready to help you,
+with my life. You have guessed that I love you. If my love is returned I
+am prepared to dispute my claim with any man."
+
+Agnes, with a cry of joy, rose from her knees, and rushed toward me. Ah!
+how strong I felt as I held her in my arms!
+
+"I have my answer," I continued. "Mr. Maryon, I have reason to believe
+that your daughter is in fear of the future you have forecast for her. I
+ask you to regard those fears, and to give her to me, to love and
+cherish as my wife."
+
+Mr. Maryon covered his face with his hands; and I could hear him murmur,
+"Too late--too late!"
+
+"No, not too late," I echoed. "What is this Bludyer to you, that you
+should sacrifice your daughter to a man whose very look proclaims him a
+villain? Nothing can compel you to such a deed--not even a _debt of
+honor_!"
+
+What it was impelled me to say these last words I know not, but they had
+an extraordinary effect upon Mr. Maryon. He started toward me, then
+checked himself; his face was livid, his eyeballs glaring, and he threw
+up his arms in the strange manner I had already witnessed.
+
+"What is all this?" exclaimed a harsh voice behind me. "Mr. Westcar
+insulting Miss Maryon and her father! it is time for me to interfere."
+And Colonel Bludyer approached me menacingly. All his jovial manner and
+fulsome courtesy was gone; and in his flushed face and insolent look the
+savage rascal was revealed.
+
+"You will interfere at your peril," I replied. "I am a younger man than
+you are, and my strength has not been weakened by drink and dissipation.
+Take care."
+
+The villain drew himself up to his full height; and, though he must have
+been at least some sixty years of age, I felt assured that I should meet
+no ordinary adversary if a personal struggle should ensue. Agnes
+fainted, and I laid her on a sofa.
+
+"Miss Maryon wants air," said the Colonel, in a calmer voice. "Excuse
+me, Mr. Maryon, if I open a window." He tore open the shutters, and
+threw up the sash. "And now, Mr. Westcar, unless you are prepared to be
+sensible, and make your exit by the door, I shall be under the
+unpleasant necessity of throwing you out of the window."
+
+The ruffian advanced toward me as he spoke. Suddenly he paused. His jaw
+dropped; his hair seemed literally to stand on end; his white lips
+quivered; he shook, as with an ague; his whole form appeared to shrink.
+I stared in amazement at the awful change. A strange thrill shot through
+me, as I heard a quiet voice say:
+
+"Richard Bludyer, your grave is waiting for you. Go."
+
+The figure of a man passed between me and him. The wretched man shrank
+back, and, with a wild cry, leaped from the window he had opened.
+
+All this time Mr. Maryon was standing like a lifeless statue.
+
+In helpless wonder I gazed at the figure before me. I saw clearly the
+features in profile, and, swift as lightning, my memory was carried back
+to the unforgotten scene in the churchyard upon the Lake of Lucerne, and
+I recognized the white face of the young man with whom I there had
+spoken.
+
+"John Maryon," said the voice, "this is the night upon which, a quarter
+of a century ago, you killed me. It is your last night on earth. You
+must go through the tragedy again."
+
+Mr. Maryon, still statue-like, beckoned to the figure, and opened a
+half-concealed door which led into his study. The strange but opportune
+visitant seemed to motion to me with a gesture of his hand, which I felt
+I must obey, and I followed in this weird procession. From the study we
+mounted by a private staircase to a large, well-furnished bed-chamber.
+Here we paused. Mr. Maryon looked tremblingly at the stranger, and said,
+in a low, stammering voice:
+
+"This is my room. In this room, on this night, twenty-five years ago,
+you told me that you were certain Sir Henry Benet's will was in
+existence, and that you had made up your mind to dispute my possession
+to this property. You had discovered letters from Sir Henry to your
+father which gave you a clue to the spot where that will might be found.
+You, Geoffrey Ringwood, of generous and extravagant nature, offered to
+find the will in my presence. It was late at night, as now; all the
+household slept. I accepted your invitation, and followed you."
+
+Mr. Maryon ceased; he seemed physically unable to continue. The terrible
+stranger, in his low, echoing voice, replied:
+
+"Go on; confess all."
+
+"You and I, Geoffrey, had been what the world calls friends. We had been
+much in London together; we were both passionately fond of cards. We had
+a common acquaintance, Richard Bludyer. He was present on the 2d of
+February, when I lost a large sum of money to you at _ecarte_. He hinted
+to me that you might possibly use these sums in instituting a lawsuit
+against me for the recovery of this estate. Your intimation that you
+knew of the existence of the will alarmed me, as it had become necessary
+for me to remain owner of The Mere. As I have said, I accepted your
+invitation, and followed you to Sir Henry Benet's room; and now I follow
+you again."
+
+As he said these words, Geoffrey Ringwood, or his ghost, passed silently
+by Mr. Maryon, and led the way into the corridor. At the end of the
+corridor all three paused outside an oak door which I remembered well. A
+gesture from the leader made Mr. Maryon continue:
+
+"On this threshold you told me suddenly that Bludyer was a villain, and
+had betrayed your sister Aldina; that she had fled with him that night;
+that he could never marry her, as you had reason to know he had a wife
+alive. You made me swear to help you in your vengeance against him. We
+entered the room, as we enter it now."
+
+Our leader had opened the door of the room, and we were in the same
+chamber I had wandered to when I had slept at The Mere. The figure of
+Geoffrey Ringwood paused at the round table, and looked again at Mr.
+Maryon, who proceeded:
+
+"You went straight to the fifth panel from the fireplace, and then
+touched a spring, and the panel opened. You said that the will giving
+this property to your father and his heirs was to be found there. I was
+convinced that you spoke the truth, but, suddenly remembering your love
+of gambling, I suggested that we should play for it. You accepted at
+once. We searched among the papers, and found the will. We placed the
+will upon the table, and began to play. We agreed that we would play up
+to ten thousand pounds. Your luck was marvellous. In two hours the limit
+was reached. I owed you ten thousand pounds, and had lost The Mere. You
+laughed, and said, 'Well, John, you have had a fair chance. At ten
+o'clock this morning I shall expect you to pay me _your debt of honor_.'
+I rose; the devil of despair strong upon me. With one hand I swept the
+cards from the table into the fire, and with the other seized you by the
+throat, and dealt you a blow upon the temple. You fell dead upon the
+floor."
+
+Need I say that as I heard this fearful narrative, I recognized the
+actions of the sleep-walker, and understood them all?
+
+"To the end!" said the hollow voice. "Confess to the end!"
+
+"The doctor who examined your body gave his opinion, at the inquest,
+that you had died of apoplexy, caused by strong cerebral excitement. My
+evidence was to the effect that I believed you had lost a very large sum
+of money to Captain Bludyer, and that you had told me you were utterly
+unable to pay it. The jury found their verdict accordingly, and I was
+left in undisturbed possession of The Mere. But the memory of my crime
+haunted me as only such memories can haunt a criminal, and I became a
+morose and miserable man. One thing bound me to life--my daughter. When
+Reginald Westcar appeared upon the scene I thought that the debt of
+honor would be satisfied if he married Agnes. Then Bludyer reappeared,
+and he told me that he knew that I had killed you. He threatened to
+revive the story, to exhume your body, and to say that Aldina Ringwood
+had told him all about the will. I could purchase his silence only by
+giving him my daughter, the heiress of The Mere. To this I consented."
+
+As he said these last words, Mr. Maryon sunk heavily into the chair.
+
+The figure of Geoffrey Ringwood placed one ghostly hand upon his left
+temple, and then passed silently out of the room. I started up, and
+followed the phantom along the corridor--down the staircase--out at the
+front door, which still stood open--across the snow-covered lawn--into
+the plantation; and then it disappeared as strangely as I first had seen
+it; and, hardly knowing whether I was mad or dreaming, I found my way
+back to The Shallows.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For some weeks I was ill with brain-fever. When I recovered I was told
+that terrible things had happened at The Mere. Mr. Maryon had been
+found dead in Sir Henry Benet's room--an effusion of blood upon the
+brain, the doctors said--and the body of Colonel Bludyer had been
+discovered in the snow in an old disused gravel-pit not far from the
+house.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A year afterward I married Agnes Maryon; and, if all that I had seen and
+heard upon that 3d of February was not merely the invention of a fevered
+brain, the debt of honor was at last discharged, for I, the nephew of
+the murdered Geoffrey Ringwood, became the owner of The Mere.
+
+
+
+
+DEVEREUX'S DREAM.
+
+
+I give you this story only at second-hand; but you have it in
+substance--and he wasted few words over it--as Paul Devereux told it me.
+
+It was not the only queer story he could have told about himself if he
+had chosen, by a good many, I should say. Paul's life had been an
+eminently unconventional one: the man's face certified to that--hard,
+bronzed, war-worn, seamed and scarred with strange battle-marks--the
+face of a man who had dared and done most things.
+
+It was not his custom to speak much of what he had done, however.
+Probably only because he and I were little likely to meet again that he
+told me this I am free to tell you now.
+
+We had come across one another for the first time for years that
+afternoon on the Italian Boulevart. Paul had landed a couple of weeks
+previously at Marseilles from a long yacht-cruise in southern waters,
+the monotony of which we heard had been agreeably diversified by a
+little pirate-hunting and slaver-chasing--the evil tongues called it
+piracy and slave-running; and certainly Devereux was quite equal to
+either _metier_; and he was about starting on a promising little
+filibustering expedition across the Atlantic, where the chances were he
+would be shot, and the certainty was that he would be starved. So
+perhaps he felt inclined to be a trifle more communicative than usual,
+as we sat late that night over a blazing pyre of logs and in a cloud of
+Cavendish. At all events he was, and after this fashion.
+
+I forget now exactly how the subject was led up to. Expression of some
+philosophic incredulity on my part regarding certain matters, followed
+by a ten-minutes' silence on his side pregnant with unwonted words to
+come--that was it, perhaps. At last he said, more to himself, it seemed,
+than to me:
+
+"'Such stuff as dreams are made of.' Well, who knows? You're a Sadducee,
+Bertie; you call this sort of thing, politely, indigestion. Perhaps
+you're right. But yet I had a queer dream once."
+
+"Not unlikely," I assented.
+
+"You're wrong; I never dream, as a rule. But, as I say, I had a queer
+dream once; and queer because it came literally true three years
+afterward."
+
+"Queer indeed, Paul."
+
+"Happens to be true. What's queerer still, my dream was the means of my
+finding a man I owed a long score, and a heavy one, and of my paying him
+in full."
+
+"Bad for the payee!" I thought.
+
+Paul's face had grown terribly eloquent as he spoke those last words. On
+a sudden the expression of it changed--another memory was stirring in
+him. Wonderfully tender the fierce eyes grew; wonderfully tender the
+faint, sad smile, that was like sunshine on storm-scathed granite. That
+smile transfigured the man before me.
+
+"Ah, poor child--poor Lucille!" I heard him mutter.
+
+That was it, was it? So I let him be. Presently he lifted his head. If
+he had let himself get the least thing out of hand for a moment, he had
+got back his self-mastery the next.
+
+"I'll tell you that queer story, Bertie, if you like," he said.
+
+The proposition was flatteringly unusual, but the voice was quite his
+own.
+
+"Somehow I'd sooner talk than think about--_her_," he went on after a
+pause.
+
+I nodded. He might talk about this, you see, but _I_ couldn't. He began
+with a question--an odd one:
+
+"Did you ever hear I'd been married?"
+
+Paul Devereux and a wife had always seemed and been to me a most
+unheard-of conjunction. So I laconically said:
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, I was once, years ago. She was my wife--that child--for a week.
+And then----"
+
+I easily filled up the pause; but, as it happened, I filled it up
+wrongly; for he added:
+
+"And then she was murdered."
+
+I was not unused to our Paul's stony style of talk; but this last
+sentence was sufficiently startling.
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"Murdered--in her sleep. They never found the man who did it either,
+though I had Durbec and all the Rue de Jerusalem at work. But I forgave
+them that, for I found the man myself, and killed him."
+
+He was filling his pipe again as he told me this, and he perhaps rammed
+the Cavendish in a little tighter, but that was all. The thing was a
+matter of course; I knew my Paul, well enough to know that. Of course he
+killed him.
+
+"Mind you," he continued, kindling the black _brule-gueule_ the
+while--"mind you, I'd never seen this man before, never known of his
+existence, except in a way that--however, it was this way."
+
+He let his grizzled head drop back on the cushions of his chair, and his
+eyes seemed to see the queer story he was telling enacted once more
+before him in the red hollows of the fire.
+
+"As I said, it was years ago. I was waiting here in Paris for some
+fellows who were to join me in a campaign we'd arranged against the
+African big game. I never was more fit for anything of that sort than I
+was then. I only tell you this to show you that the thing can't be
+accounted for by my nerves having been out of order at all.
+
+"Well: I was dining alone that day, at the Cafe Anglais. It was late
+when I sat down to my dinner in the little salon as usual. Only two
+other men were still lingering over theirs. All the time they stayed
+they bored me so persistently with some confounded story of a murder
+they were discussing, that I was once or twice more than half-inclined
+to tell them so. At last, though, they went away.
+
+"But their talk kept buzzing abominably in my head. When the waiter
+brought me the evening paper, the first thing that caught my eye was a
+circumstantial account of the _probable_ way the fellow did his murder.
+I say probable, for they never caught him; and, as you will see
+directly, they could only suppose how it occurred.
+
+"It seemed that a well-known Paris banker, who was ascertained beyond
+doubt to have left one station alive and well, and with a couple of
+hundred thousand francs in a leathern _sac_ under his seat, arrived at
+the next station the train stopped at with his throat cut and _minus_
+all his money, except a few bank-notes to no great amount, which the
+assassin had been wise enough to leave behind him. The train was a night
+express on one of the southern lines; the banker travelled quite alone,
+in a first-class carriage; and the murder must have taken place between
+midnight and 1 A.M. next morning. The newspapers supposed--rightly
+enough, I think--that the murderer must have entered the carriage _from
+without_, stabbed his victim in his sleep--there were no signs of any
+struggle--opened the _sac_, taken what he wanted, and retreated, loot
+and all, by the way he came. I fully indorsed my particular writer's
+opinion that the murderer was an uncommonly cool and clever individual,
+especially as I fancy he got clear off and was never afterward laid
+hands on.
+
+"When I had done that I thought I had done with the affair altogether.
+Not at all. I was regularly ridden with this confounded murder. You see
+the banker was rather a swell; everybody knew him: and that, of course,
+made it so shocking. So everybody kept talking about him: they were
+talking about him at the Opera, and over the _baccarat_ and _bouillotte_
+at La Topaze's later. To escape him I went to bed and smoked myself to
+sleep. And then a queer thing came to pass: I had a dream--I who never
+dream; and this is what I dreamed:
+
+"I saw a wide, rich country that I knew. A starless night hung over it
+like a pall. I saw a narrow track running through it, straight, both
+ways, for leagues. Something sped along this track with a hurtling rush
+and roar. This something that at first had looked like a red-eyed devil,
+with dark sides full of dim fire, resolved itself, as I watched it,
+presently, into a more conventional night express-train. It flew along,
+though, as no express-train ever travelled yet; for all that, I was able
+to keep it quite easily in view. I could count the carriages as they
+whirled by. One--two--three--four--five--six; but I could only see
+distinctly into one. Into that one with perfect distinctness. Into that
+one I seemed forced to look.
+
+"It was the fourth carriage. Two people were in it. They sat in opposite
+corners; both were sleeping. The one who sat facing forward was a
+woman--a girl, rather. I could see that; but I couldn't see her face.
+The blind was drawn across the lamp in the roof, and the light was very
+dim; moreover, this girl lay back in the shadow. Yet I seemed to know
+her, and I knew that her face was very fair. She wore a cloak that
+shrouded her form completely, yet her form was familiar to me.
+
+"The figure opposite to her was a man's. Strangely familiar to me too
+this figure was. But, as he slept, his head had sunk upon his breast,
+and the shadow cast upon his face by the low-drawn travelling-cap he
+wore hid it from me. Yet if I had seemed to know the girl's face, I was
+certain I knew the man's. But as I could see, so I could remember,
+neither. And there was an absolute torture in this which I can't explain
+to you,--in this inability, and in my inability to wake them from their
+sleep.
+
+"From the first I had been conscious of a desire to do that. This desire
+grew stronger every second. I tried to call to them, and my tongue
+wouldn't move. I tried to spring toward them, to thrust out my arms and
+touch them, and my limbs were paralyzed. And then I tried to shut my
+eyes to what I _knew_ must happen, and my eyes were held open and
+dragged to look on in spite of me. And I saw this:
+
+"I saw the door of the carriage where these two sleepers, whose sleep
+was so horribly sound, were sitting--I saw this door open, and out of
+the thick darkness another face look in.
+
+"The light, as I have said, was very dim, but I could see his face as
+plainly as I can see yours. A large yellow face it was, like a wax mask.
+The lips were full, and lustful and cruel. The eyes were little eyes of
+an evil gray. Thin yellow streaks marked the absence of the eyebrows;
+thin yellow hair showed itself under a huge fur travelling-cap. The
+whole face seemed to grow slowly into absolute distinctness as I looked,
+by the sort of devilish light that it, as it were, radiated. I had
+chanced upon a good many damnable visages before then; but there was a
+cold fiendishness about this one such as I had seen on no man's face,
+alive or dead, till then.
+
+"The next moment the man this face belonged to was standing in the
+carriage, that seemed to plunge and sway more furiously, as though to
+waken them that still slept on. He wore a long fur travelling-robe, girt
+about the waist with a fur girdle. Abnormally tall and broad as he was,
+he looked in this dress gigantic. Yet there was a marvellous cat-like
+lightness and agility about all his movements.
+
+"He bent over the girl lying there helpless in her sleep. I don't make
+rash bargains as a rule, but I felt I would have given years of my life
+for five minutes of my lost freedom of limb just then. I tell you the
+torture was infernal.
+
+"The assassin--I knew he was an assassin--bent awhile, gloatingly, over
+the girl. His great yellow hands were both bare, and on the forefinger
+of the right hand I could see some great stone blazing like an evil eye.
+In that right hand there gleamed something else. I saw him draw it
+slowly from his sleeve, and, as he drew it, turn round and look at the
+other sleeper with an infernal triumphant malignity and hate the Devil
+himself might have envied. But the man he looked at slept heavily on.
+And then--God! I feel the agony I felt in my dream then now!--then I saw
+the great yellow hand, with the great evil eye upon it, lifted
+murderously, and the bright steel it held shimmer as the assassin turned
+again and bent his yellow face down closer to that other face hidden
+from me in the shadow--the girl's face, that I knew was so fair.
+
+"How can I tell this?... The blade flashed and fell.... There was the
+sound of a heavy sigh stifled under a heavy hand....
+
+"Then the huge form of the assassin was reared erect, and the bloated
+yellow face seemed to laugh silently, while the hand that held the
+steel pointed at the sleeping man in diabolical menace.
+
+"And so the huge form and the bloated yellow face seemed to fade away
+while I watched.
+
+"The express rushed and roared through the blinding darkness without;
+the sleeping man slept on still; till suddenly a strong light fell full
+upon him, and he woke.
+
+"And then I saw why I had been so certain that I knew him. For as he
+lifted his head, I saw his face in the strong light.
+
+"_And the face was my own face; and the sleeper was myself!_"
+
+Paul Devereux made a pause in his queer story here. Except when he had
+spoken of the girl, he had spoken in his usual cool, hard way. The pipe
+he had been smoking all the time was smoked out. He took time to fill
+another before he went on. I said never a word, for I guessed who the
+sleeping girl was.
+
+"Well," Paul remarked presently, "that was a devilish queer dream,
+wasn't it? You'll account for it by telling me I'd been so pestered with
+the story of the banker's murder that I naturally had nightmare;
+perhaps, too, that my digestion was out of order. Call it a nightmare,
+call it dyspepsia, if you like. I _don't_, because---- But you'll see
+why I don't directly.
+
+"At the same moment that my dream-self awoke in my dream, my actual self
+woke in reality, and with the same ghastly horror.
+
+"I say the _same_ horror, for neither then nor afterward could I
+separate my one self from my other self. They seemed identical; so that
+this queer dream made a more lasting impression upon me than you'd
+think. However, in the life I led that sort of thing couldn't last very
+long. Before I came back from Africa I had utterly forgotten all about
+it. Before I left Paris, though, and while it was quite fresh in my
+memory, I sketched the big murderer just as I had seen him in my dream.
+The great yellow face, the great broad frame in the fur travelling-robe,
+the great hand with the great evil eye upon it--everything, carefully
+and minutely, as though I had been going to paint a portrait that I
+wanted to make lifelike. I think at the time I had some such intention.
+If I had, I never fulfilled it. But I made the sketch, as I say,
+carefully; and then I forgot all about it.
+
+"Time passed--three years nearly. I was wintering in the south of France
+that year. There it was that I met her--Lucille. Old D'Avray, her
+father, and I had met before in Algeria. He was dying now. He left the
+child on his death-bed to me. The end was I married her.
+
+"Poor little thing! I think I might have made her happy--who knows? She
+used to tell me often she was happy with me. Poor little thing!
+
+"Well, we were to come straight to London. That was Lucille's notion.
+She wanted to go to my London first--nowhere else. Now I would rather
+have gone anywhere else; but, naturally, I let the child have her way.
+She seemed nervously eager about it, I remembered afterward; seemed to
+have a nervous objection to every other place I proposed. But I saw or
+suspected nothing to make me question her very closely, or the reasons
+for her preference for our grimy old Pandemonium. What could I suspect?
+Not the truth. If I only had! If I had only guessed what it was that
+made her, as she said, long to be safe there already. Safe? What had she
+to fear with me? Ah, what indeed!
+
+"So we started on our journey to England. It was a cold, dark night,
+early in March. We reached Lyons somewhere about seven. I should have
+stayed there that night but for Lucille. She entreated me so earnestly
+and with such strange vehemence to go on by the night-mail to Paris,
+that at last, to satisfy her, I consented; though it struck me
+unpleasantly at the time that I had let her travel too long already, and
+that this feverishness was the consequence of over-fatigue. But she
+became pacified at once when I told her it should be as she wanted; and
+declared she should sleep perfectly well in the carriage with me beside
+her. She should feel quite safe then, she said.
+
+"Safe! Where safer? you might ask. Nowhere, I believe. Alone with
+me--surely nowhere safer. The Paris express was a short train that
+night; but I managed to secure a compartment for ourselves. I left
+Lucille in her corner there while I went across to the _buffet_ to fill
+a flask. I was gone barely five minutes; but when I came back the change
+in the child's face fairly startled me. I had seen it last with the
+smile it always wore for me on it, looking so childishly happy in the
+lamp-light. Now it was all gray-pale and distorted; and the great blue
+eyes told me directly with what.
+
+"Fear--sudden, terrible fear--I thought. But _fear_? Fear of what? I
+asked her. She clung close to me half-sobbing awhile before she could
+answer; and then she told me--nothing. There was nothing the matter;
+only she had felt a pain--a cruel pain--at her heart; and it had
+frightened her. Yes, that was it; it had frightened her, but it had
+passed; and she was well, quite well again now.
+
+"All this time her eyes seemed to be telling me another story; but I
+said nothing; she was obviously too excited already. I did my best to
+soothe her, and I succeeded. She told me she felt quite well once more
+before we started. No, she had rather, much rather go on to Paris, as I
+had promised her she should. She should sleep all the way, if no one
+came into the carriage to disturb her. No one could come in? Then
+nothing could be better.
+
+"And so it was that she and I started that night by the Paris mail.
+
+"I made her up a bed of rugs and wraps upon the cushions; but she had
+rather rest her head upon my shoulder, she said, and feel my arm about
+her; nothing could hurt her then. Ah, strange how she harped on that.
+
+"She lay there, then, as she loved best--with her head resting on my
+shoulder, not sleeping much or soundly; uneasily, with sudden waking
+starts, and with glances round her; till I would speak to her. And then
+she would look up into my face and smile; and so drop into that uneasy
+sleep again. And I would think she was over-tired, that was all; and
+reproach myself with having let her come on. And three or four hours
+passed like this; and then we had got as far as Dijon.
+
+"But the child was fairly worn out now; and she offered no opposition
+when I asked her to let me pillow her head on something softer than my
+shoulder. So I folded, a great thick shawl she was too well cloaked to
+need, and she made that her pillow.
+
+"We were rushing full swing through the wild, dark night, when she
+lifted up her face and bade me kiss her and bid her sleep well. And I
+put my arm round her, and kissed the child's loving lips--for the last
+time while she lived. Then I flung myself on the seat opposite her; and,
+watching her till she slept soundly and peacefully, slept at last myself
+also. I had drawn the blind across the lamp in the roof, and the light
+in the carriage was very dim.
+
+"How long I slept I don't know; it couldn't have been more than an hour
+and a half, because the express was slackening speed for its first halt
+beyond Dijon. I had slept heavily I knew; but I woke with a sudden,
+sharp sense of danger that made me broad awake, and strung every nerve
+in a moment. The sort of feeling you have when you wake on a prairie,
+where you have come across 'Indian sign;' on outpost-duty, when your
+_feldwebel_ plucks gently at your cloak. You know what I mean.
+
+"I was on my feet at once. As I said, the light in the carriage was very
+dim, and the shadow was deepest where Lucille lay. I looked there
+instinctively. She must have moved in her sleep, for her face was turned
+away from me; and the cloak I had put so carefully about her had partly
+fallen off. But she slept on still. Only soundly, very soundly; she
+scarcely seemed to breathe. And--_did_ she breathe?
+
+"A ghastly fear ran through my blood, and froze it. I understood why I
+had wakened. In my nostrils was an awful odor that I knew well enough. I
+bent over her; I touched her. Her face was very cold; her eyes glared
+glassily at me; my hands were wet with something. My hands were wet with
+blood--her blood!
+
+"I tore away the blind from the lamp, and then I could see that my wife
+of a week lay there stabbed straight to the heart--dead--dead beyond
+doubting; murdered in her sleep."
+
+Devereux's stern, low voice shook ever so little as he spoke those last
+words; and we both sat very silent after them for a good while. Only
+when he could trust his utterance again he went on.
+
+"A curious piece of devilry, wasn't it? That child--whom had she ever
+harmed? Who could hate her like this? I remember I thought that, in a
+dull, confused sort of way, when I found myself alone in that carriage
+with her lying dead on the cushions before me. _Alone_ with her--you
+understand? It was confusing.
+
+"I pass over what immediately followed. The express came duly to a halt;
+and then I called people to me, and--and the Paris express went on
+without that particular carriage.
+
+"The inquiry began before some local authority next day. Very little
+came of it. What could come of it, unless they had convicted _me_ of the
+murder of this child I would have given my own life to save?
+
+"They might have done that at home; but they knew better here, and
+didn't. They couldn't find me the actual assassin, however; though I
+believe they did their best. All they found was his weapon, which he
+most purposely have left behind. I asked for this, and got it. It gave
+their police no clue; and it gave me none. But I had a fancy for it.
+
+"It was a plain, double-edged, admirably-tempered dagger--a very
+workmanlike article indeed. On the cross hilt of it I swore one day that
+I would live thenceforth for one thing alone--the discovery of the
+murderer of old D'Avray's child, whom I had promised him to care for
+before all. When I had found this man, whoever he was, I also swore that
+I would kill him. Kill him myself, you understand; without any of the
+law's delay or uncertainty, without troubling _bourreau_ or hangman.
+Kill him as he had killed her--to do this was what I meant to live for.
+There was war to the knife between him and me.
+
+"I started, of course, under one heavy disadvantage. He knew me,
+probably, whereas I didn't know him at all. When he found that his
+amiable intention of fixing the crime on me had been frustrated, it
+must, I imagined, have occurred to him that the said crime might
+eventually be fixed by me on him. And he had proved himself to be a
+person who didn't stick at trifles. It behooved me, therefore, to go to
+work cautiously. But I hadn't fought Indians for nothing; and I _was_
+very cautious. I waited quiet till I got a clue. It was a curious one;
+and I got it in this way. It struck me one day, suddenly, that I had
+heard of a murder precisely similar to this already. I could not at
+first call the thing to mind; but presently I remembered--my dream. And
+then I asked myself this: _Had not this murder been done before my eyes
+three years ago?_
+
+"I came to the conclusion that the circumstances of the murder in my
+dream were absolutely identical with the circumstances of the actual
+crime. Yes; the girl whose face in that dream I had never been able to
+see was Lucille. Yes; the assassin whose face I had seen so plainly in
+that dream was the real assassin. In short, I believe that the murder
+had been _rehearsed_ before me three years previous to its actual
+committal.
+
+"Now this sounds rather wild. Yet I came to this conviction quite coolly
+and deliberately. It _was_ a conviction. Assuming it to be true, the
+odds against me grew shorter directly; _for I had the portrait of the
+man I wanted drawn by myself the day after I had seen him in my dream_.
+And the original of that portrait was a man not to be easily mistaken,
+supposing him to exist at all. The day I came across that sketch of him
+in that old forgotten sketch-book of mine, I was as sure he did exist as
+that I was alive myself. What I had to do was to find this man, and then
+I never doubted I should find the man I wanted. You see how the odds had
+shortened. If he knew me I knew him now, and he had no notion that I did
+know him. It was a good deal fairer fight between us.
+
+"I fought it out alone. My story was hardly one the Rue de Jerusalem
+would have acted upon; and, besides, I wanted no interference. So, with
+the portrait before me, I sat down and began to consider who this man
+was, and why he had murdered that child. The big, burly frame, the heavy
+yellow face, the sandy-yellow hair, the physiognomy generally, was
+Teutonic. My man I put down as a North German. Now there were, and are
+probably, plenty of men who would have no objection whatever to put a
+knife into me, if they got the chance; but this man, whom I had never
+met, could have had no such quarrel as theirs with me. His quarrel with
+me must have been, then, Lucille. Yes, that was it--Lucille. I began to
+see clearly: a thwarted, devilish passion--a cool, infernal revenge. The
+child had feared something of this sort; had perhaps seen him that
+night. This explained her nervous terror, her nervous anxiety to stop
+nowhere, to travel on. In that carriage of that express-train, alone
+with me--where could she be safer? This accounted, too, for her anxiety
+to reach England. He would not dare follow her there, she had thought,
+or, at least, could not without my noticing him. And then she would have
+told me. She had not told me before evidently because she had feared for
+_me_ too, in a quarrel with this man. She must, innocent child as she
+was, have had some instinctive knowledge of what he was capable.... Ay,
+a cool, infernal revenge, indeed. To kill her; to fix the murder on me.
+That dagger he had left behind.... The apparent impossibility of any
+one's entering the carriage as he must have entered it at all, to say
+nothing of the almost absolute impossibility of his doing so without
+disturbing either of us,--you see it might have gone hard with me if a
+British jury had had to decide on the case.
+
+"Well, to cut this as short as may be, I made up my mind that the man I
+wanted was a North German; that he had conceived a hideous passion for
+Lucille before I knew her; that she had shrunk from it and him so
+unmistakably, that he knew he had no chance; that my taking her away as
+my wife, to which he might have been a witness, drove him to as hideous
+a revenge; that, hearing we were going to England, and seeing that we
+were likely to stop nowhere on the way, and so give him a chance of
+doing what he had made up his mind to do, he had decided to do what he
+had done as he had done it,--counting on finding us asleep as he had
+found us, or on his strength if it came to a fight between him and me;
+but coolly reckless enough to brave everything in any case. And the
+devil aiding, he had in great part and only too well succeeded. He was
+now either so far satisfied that, if I made no move against him--and
+how, he might think, could I?--he, feeling himself all safe, would let
+me be; or, on the other hand, he did not feel safe, and was not
+satisfied, and was arranging for my being disposed of by and by. I
+considered the latter frame of mind as his most probable one; I went to
+work cautiously, as I say. I ascertained that Lucille had made no
+mention of any obnoxious _pretendant_ at any time; I didn't expect to
+find she had, her terror of the man was too intense. But this man must
+have met her somewhere--where?
+
+"When old D'Avray came home to die, his daughter was just leaving her
+Paris _pensionnat_. All through his last illness he had seen no visitor
+but me, and Lucille had never quitted him. Besides, I had been there all
+the time. I presumed, then, that this man and she had met in Paris; and
+I believe they were only likely to have met at one of the half-dozen
+houses where the child would now and again be asked. I got a list of
+all these. One name only struck me; it happened to be a German
+name--Steinmetz. I wondered if Monsieur Steinmetz was my man. In the
+mean time, who was he? I had no trouble in finding that out: Monsieur
+Steinmetz was a German banker of good standing and repute, reasonably
+well off, and recently left a widower. Personally? _Dame_, personally
+Monsieur Steinmetz was a great man and a fat, with a big face and blond
+hair, and the appearance of what he really was--a _bon vivant_ and a
+_bon enfant_ yet _n'avait jamais fait de mal a personne--allez!_--All,
+yes; in effect, Madame had died about a year ago, and Monsieur had been
+inconsolable for a long time. He had changed his residence now, and
+inhabited a house in one of the new streets off the Champs Elysees.
+
+"From another source I discovered that in the lifetime of Madame
+Steinmetz Lucille was frequently at the house. She had ceased to come
+there about the date of the commencement of Madame's sudden illness. I
+got this information by degrees, while I lay _perdu_ in an old haunt of
+mine in the Pays Latin yonder; for I had always had an idea that I
+should find the man I wanted in Paris. When I had got it, I thought I
+should like to see Monsieur Steinmetz, the agreeable banker. One night I
+strolled up as far as his new residence in the street off the Champs
+Elysees. Monsieur Steinmetz lived on the first-floor. There was a
+brilliant light there: Monsieur Steinmetz was entertaining friends, it
+seemed.
+
+"It was a fine night; I established myself out of sight under the
+doorway of an unfinished house opposite, and waited. I don't know why;
+perhaps I fancied that when his friends were gone, the fineness of the
+night might induce Monsieur Steinmetz to take a stroll, and that then I
+should be able to gratify my curiosity. You see, I knew that if he were
+my man, I should know him directly. I waited a good while: shadows
+crossed the lighted blinds; once a big, broad shadow appeared there,
+that made me fancy I mightn't have been waiting for nothing after all,
+somehow. Presently Monsieur Steinmetz's guests departed, and in a little
+while after there appeared on the little balcony of Monsieur Steinmetz's
+apartment _the man I wanted_. There was a moon that night, and the cold
+white light fell on the great yellow face, with the full lustful lips,
+and the full cruel chin, just as I had seen the light fall on it in my
+dream. It was the same face, Bertie; the same face, the same man. I
+couldn't be mistaken. I had no doubt; I _knew_ that the assassin of my
+wife, of that tender, innocent, helpless child, stood there, twenty
+yards from me, on that balcony.
+
+"I had got myself pretty well in hand; and it was as well. I never
+moved. The face I knew turned presently toward the spot where I stood
+hidden,--the face I had seen in my dream, beyond all doubting. The evil
+gray eyes glanced carelessly into the shadow, and up and down the quiet
+street; and then Monsieur Steinmetz, humming an air, got inside the
+window again, and closed it after him. Once more the great burly shadow
+that had at first told me I should not wait in that dark doorway in vain
+crossed the blinds; and then it disappeared. I saw my man no more that
+night; but I had seen enough. I knew who he was now, and where to find
+him.
+
+"As I walked along home I thought what I would do. I quite meant to kill
+Monsieur Steinmetz; but I also meant to have no _demeles_ with an
+Imperial Procureur and the Cour d'Assizes for doing so. I didn't want to
+murder him, either. I thought I would wait a little for the chance of a
+suitable opportunity for settling my business satisfactorily. And I did
+wait. I turned this delay to account, and got together a case of
+circumstantial evidence against my man that, though perhaps it might
+have broken down in a law-court, would have been alone amply sufficient
+for me.
+
+"The reason why Lucille's visits to the banker's house ceased was, it
+appeared, because Madame Steinmetz had conceived all at once a jealous
+dislike to her. How far this was owing to Lucille herself I could well
+understand; but I could understand Madame's jealousy equally well.
+Madame's illness, strangely sudden, dated from the cessation of
+Lucille's visits. Was it hard to find a _cause_ for that illness--a
+cause for the wife's subsequent suspected death? I thought not. Then had
+followed Lucille's departure from Paris. The child's anxiety for her
+father hid her _other fear_ from his eyes and mine; but that fear must
+have been on her then. With us she forgot it in time; yet it or another
+reason had always prevented all mention of what had occasioned it. She
+became my wife. At that very time I easily ascertained that Steinmetz
+was absent from Paris; less easily, but indubitably, that he had, at all
+events, been as far south as Lyons. At Lyons it must have been that
+Lucille first discovered he was dogging us. Hence her alarm, which I had
+remembered, and her anxiety to proceed on our journey without stopping
+for the night, as I had previously arranged. The morning after the
+murder Steinmetz reappeared in Paris. From the hour at which he was seen
+at the _gare_, it was certain that he had travelled by the night express
+train in which Lucille and I had started from Lyons; and he wore that
+morning a travelling-coat of fur in all respects similar to the one I
+remembered so well.
+
+"If I had ever had any doubt of my man after actually seeing him, I
+should probably have convinced myself that he was my man by the general
+tendency of these facts, which I got at slowly and one by one. But I had
+no need of such evidence; and of course no case, even with such
+evidence, for a court of law. However, courts of law I had never
+intended to trouble in the matter.
+
+"The opportunity I was waiting was some time before it offered. Monsieur
+Steinmetz was a man of regular habits, I found--from his first-floor in
+the street off the Champs Elysees, every morning at eleven, to the
+Bourse; thence to his bureau hard by till four; from his bureau to his
+cafe, where he read papers and played dominoes till six; and then home
+slowly by the Boulevarts. He might consider himself tolerably safe from
+me while he led this sort of life, even supposing he was aware he was
+incurring any danger. I don't think he troubled much about that; till
+one night, when, over the count of the beloved domino-points, his eyes
+met mine fixed right upon him. I had arranged this little surprise to
+see how it would affect him.
+
+"Perhaps my gaze may have expressed something more than the mere
+distraction I intended; but I noticed--though a more indifferent
+observer might easily have failed to notice--how the great yellow face,
+expanded in childish interest in the childish game, seemed suddenly to
+grow gray and harden; how the fat smile became a cruel baring of sharp
+white teeth; how the fat chin squared itself. The man knew me, and
+scented danger.
+
+"A moment's reflection convinced Monsieur Steinmetz, though, that it
+could be by no means so certain that I knew him; five minutes'
+observation of me more than half satisfied him that I did not. Yet what
+did I want there? What was I doing in Paris? This might concern him
+nearly, he must have thought.
+
+"I kept my own face in order, and watched his. It wasn't an easy one to
+read; but you see I had studied it closely, and in a way he couldn't
+have dreamed of. Monsieur Steinmetz was outwardly his wonted self, but
+inwardly not quite comfortable when he rose; and I saw the evil eye
+gleam on his great yellow finger as he took out his purse to pay the
+_garcon_, just as I had seen it when that finger pointed at _myself_ in
+my dream. I felt curious sensations, Bertie, as I sat there and looked
+abstractedly at Monsieur Steinmetz. I wondered how long it would be
+before----But my time hadn't come yet. He went out without another
+glance at me. I saw his huge form on the other side of the street when I
+left the cafe in my turn. This I had expected. Monsieur Steinmetz was
+naturally curious. It was hardly possible that I could know him; but it
+was quite certain that he ought to know all about me. So, when I moved
+on, he moved on; in short, Monsieur Steinmetz dogged me up one street
+and down another, till he finally dogged me home to my hiding-place in
+the Pays Latin. He did it very well, too--much better than you would
+have expected from so apparently unwieldy a _mouchard_. But I
+_remembered_ how lightly he could move.
+
+"Next day I had, of course, disappeared from my old quarters, and gone
+no one knew where. I suppose Monsieur Steinmetz didn't like this fact
+when he heard of it. It might have seemed suspicious. Suppose I _had_
+recognized him? In that case I had evidently a little game of my own,
+and was as evidently desirous to keep it dark. He was a cool hand; but I
+fancy my man began to get a little uneasy. He took some trouble to find
+me again. After a while I permitted him to do that. Once found, he
+seemed determined that I should not be lost sight of again for want of
+watching. I permitted that, too; it helped play my game, and I wanted to
+bring it to an end. To which intent, Monsieur Steinmetz got to hear from
+sources best known to himself as much of my plans as should bring him to
+the state I wanted. That was a murderous state. I wanted to get him to
+think that I was dangerous enough to be worth putting out of the way. I
+presume he was aware there were, or would be, weak joints in his armor,
+impenetrable as it seemed; and he preferred not risking the ordeal of
+legal battle if he could help it. At all events, he elected at last to
+rid himself of a person who might be dangerous, and was troublesome, by
+the shortest and the simplest means.
+
+"I say so because when, believing my man was ripe for this, I left Paris
+about midday for a certain secluded little spot on the sea-coast, I saw
+one of Monsieur Steinmetz's employees on the platform; and because,
+two days after my arrival in my secluded spot, I met Monsieur Steinmetz
+in person, newly arrived also. Now this was exactly what I had intended
+and anticipated. Monsieur Steinmetz had come down there to put me out of
+his way, if he could. He passed me, leisurely strolling in the opposite
+direction, humming his favorite _aria_, bigger and yellower than ever,
+the evil eye fiery on his finger. His own eyes shot me as evil fire; but
+he said nothing.... I saw he was ripe, though.... My time was close at
+hand.
+
+"It came. Monsieur Steinmetz and I met once more in the very place where
+I, knowing my ground, had intended we should meet. It was a dip in the
+cliffs like a hollowed palm, and just there the cliff jutted out a good
+bit, with a sheer fall on to the rocks below. It was a gray afternoon,
+at the end of summer. The wind was rising fast; there was a thunder of
+heavy waves already.
+
+"I think he had been dogging me; but I hadn't chosen to let him get up
+to me till now. We were quite out of sight when he had reached the level
+bottom of the dip, where I had halted--quite out of sight, and quite
+alone. To do him justice, he came on steadily enough. His face was liker
+the sketch I had made of it, liker the face I had seen in my dream, than
+it had ever looked before. Evidently he had made up his mind.... At
+last, then!... Well, I had been waiting long!... He was close beside me.
+
+"'_Ah! bon jour, cher Monsieur Steinmetz._'
+
+"'So?' he said, his little eyes contracting like a cobra's. 'Ah!
+Monsieur knows my name?'
+
+"'Among other things about you--yes.'
+
+"'So!' The yellow face was turning grayer and harder every minute--liker
+and liker to my likeness of it. 'And what other things? Has it never
+appeared to you that this you do, have been doing--this meddling, may be
+dangerous, _hein_?'
+
+"He had changed his tone, as he had changed the person in which he
+addressed me. Yes, he had certainly made up his mind. And his big right
+hand was hidden inside his waistcoat, so that I could not see the evil
+eye I knew was on his finger.
+
+"'Dangerous?' he repeated slowly.
+
+"'Possibly.'
+
+"'Ay, surely; I shall crush you!'
+
+"'Try.'
+
+"'In good time; wait. You plot against me. Take care; I am strong; I
+warn you. There must be an end of this, you understand, or----'
+
+"He nodded his big head significantly.
+
+"'You are right,' I told him; 'there must be an end. It is coming.'
+
+"'So?'
+
+"'Yes; I know you. You know me now.'
+
+"'I know you. What do you want?'
+
+"'To kill you.'
+
+"'So?'
+
+"'Yes; as you killed her.'
+
+"'As I killed her? That is it, then? You know that?'
+
+"'I know that.'
+
+"'Well, it is true. I killed her. Now you can guess what I am going to
+do to you--to you, curse you!--whom she loved.'
+
+[Illustration: "THE GREAT YELLOW FACE LOOKED SILENTLY UP AT ME; AND
+THEN--THEN IT DISAPPEARED."]
+
+"The very face I had seen in my dream now, Bertie, the very face! There
+was something besides the evil eye that gleamed in his right hand when
+he drew it from his breast. Once more he spoke.
+
+"'Yes, I killed her. I meant worse for you. You escaped that; but you
+will not escape me now. Fool! were you mad to do this? Did not I hate
+you enough? And I would have let you be. Ah, die, then, if you will have
+it so!'
+
+"His heavy right arm swung high as he spoke, and I saw the sharp steel
+gleam as it turned to fall. And I twisted from his grip, and caught the
+falling arm, and bent it till the dagger dropped to the ground. And
+then, for a fierce, desperate, devilish minute, I had him in my clutch,
+dragging him nearer the smooth, slippery edge. He was no match for me at
+this I knew, and he knew; but he held me with the hold of his despair,
+and I could not loose myself. Both of us together, he meant; but not I.
+Yet I only freed myself just as he rolled exhausted, but clutching at
+the tough, short bushes wildly, toward the brink, and partly over it....
+Only the hold of his hands between him and his death. And I knelt above
+him, with the knife in my hand that was stained with _her_ blood.
+
+"The great yellow face, ashen now in its mortal agony, looked silently
+up at me--for three or four awful seconds; and then--then it
+disappeared.
+
+"Bah!" Paul concluded, "that was the end of it."
+
+
+
+
+CATHERINE'S QUEST.
+
+
+Imagine to yourself an old, rambling, red-brick house, with odd corners
+and gables here and there, all bound and clasped together with ivy, and
+you have Craymoor Grange. It was built long before Queen Elizabeth's
+time, and that illustrious monarch is said to have slept in it in one of
+her royal progresses--as where has she not slept?
+
+There still remain some remnants of bygone ages, although it has been
+much modernized and added to in later days. Among these are the
+brewhouse and laundry--formerly, it is said, dining-hall and ball-room.
+The latter of these is chiefly remarkable for an immense arched window,
+such as you see in churches, with five lights.
+
+When we came to the Grange this window had been partially blocked up,
+and in front of it, up to one-third of its height, was a wooden dais, or
+platform, on which stood a cumbrous mangle, left there, I suppose, by
+the last tenants of the house.
+
+Of these last tenants we knew very little, for it was so long since it
+had been inhabited that the oldest authority in the village could not
+remember it.
+
+There were, however, some half-defaced monuments in the village church
+of Craymoor, bearing the figures and escutcheons of knights and dames of
+"the old family," as the villagers said; but the inscriptions were worn
+and almost illegible, and for some time we none of us took the pains to
+decipher them.
+
+We first came to Craymoor Grange in the summer of 1849, my husband
+having discovered the place in one of his rambles, and taken a fancy to
+it. At first I certainly thought we could never make it our home, it was
+so dilapidated and tumble-down; but by the time winter came on we had
+had several repairs done and alterations made, and the rooms really
+became quite presentable.
+
+As our family was small we confined ourselves chiefly to the newest part
+of the house, leaving the older rooms to the mice, dust, and darkness.
+We made use of two of the old rooms, however, one as a servants' bedroom
+and the other as an extra spare chamber, in case of many visitors. For
+myself, though I hope I am neither nervous nor superstitious, I confess
+that I would rather sleep in "our wing," as we called the part of the
+house we inhabited, than in any of the old rooms.
+
+When Catherine l'Estrange came to us, however, during our first
+Christmas at Craymoor, I found that she was troubled with no such
+fancies, but declared that she delighted in queer old rooms, with
+raftered ceilings and deep window-seats, such as ours, and begged to be
+allowed to occupy the spare chamber. This I readily acceded to, as we
+had several visitors, and needed all the available rooms.
+
+As my story has principally to do with Catherine l'Estrange, I suppose I
+ought to speak more fully about her. She was an old school-friend of my
+daughter Ella, and at the time of which I am speaking was just
+one-and-twenty, and the merriest girl I ever knew. She had stayed with
+us once or twice before we came to the Grange, but we then knew no other
+particulars concerning her family, than that her father had been an
+Indian officer, and that he and her mother had both died in India when
+she was about six years old, leaving her to the care of an aunt living
+in England.
+
+I now, after a long, and I fear a tedious, preamble, come to my story.
+
+On the eve of the new year of 1850, Catherine had a very bad sore
+throat, and was obliged, though sorely against her inclination, to stay
+in bed all day, and forego our small evening gayety.
+
+At about 6 o'clock P.M., Ella took her some tea, and fearing she would
+be dull, offered to stay with her during the evening. This, however,
+Catherine would not hear of. "You go and entertain your company," said
+she laughingly, "and leave me to my own devices; I feel very lazy, and I
+dare say I shall go to sleep." As she had not slept much on the
+preceding night, Ella thought it was the best thing she could do; so she
+went out by the door leading on to the corridor, first placing the
+night-lamp on a table behind the door opening on to the laundry, so that
+it might not shine in her face.
+
+She did not again visit Catherine's room until reminded to do so by my
+son George, at about half-past ten. She then rapped at the door, and
+receiving no answer, opened it softly, and approached the bed. Catherine
+lay quite still, and Ella imagined her to be asleep. She therefore
+returned to the drawing-room without disturbing her.
+
+As it was New Year's eve, we stayed up "to see the old year out and the
+new year in," and at a few minutes to twelve we all gathered round the
+open window on the stairs to hear the chimes ring out from the village
+church.
+
+We were all listening breathlessly as the hall-clock struck twelve, when
+a piercing cry suddenly echoed through the house, causing us all to
+start in alarm. I knew that it could only proceed from Catherine's room,
+for the servants were all assembled at the window beneath us, listening,
+like ourselves, for the chimes. Thither therefore I flew, followed by
+Ella, and we found poor Catherine in a truly pitiable state.
+
+She was deadly pale, in an agony of terror, and the perspiration stood
+in large drops upon her forehead. It was some time before we could
+succeed at all in composing her, and her first words were to implore us
+to take her into another room.
+
+She was too weak to stand, so we wrapped her in blankets, and carried
+her into Ella's bedroom. I noticed that as she was taken through the
+laundry she shuddered, and put her hands before her eyes. When she was
+laid on Ella's bed she grew calmer, and apologized for the trouble she
+had caused, saying that she had had a dreadful dream.
+
+With this explanation we were fain to be content, though I thought it
+hardly accounted for her excessive terror. I had observed, however, that
+any allusion to what had passed caused her to tremble and turn pale
+again, and I thought it best to refrain from exciting her further.
+
+When morning came I found Catherine almost her usual self again; but I
+persuaded her to remain in bed until the evening, as her cold was not
+much better. Ella's curiosity to hear the dream which had so much
+excited her friend could now no longer be restrained; but whenever she
+asked to hear it, Catherine said, "Not now; another time, perhaps, I may
+tell you."
+
+When she came down to dinner in the evening, we noticed that she was
+peculiarly silent, and we endeavored to rally her into her usual
+spirits, but in vain. She tried to laugh and to appear merry, poor
+child; but there was evidently something on her mind.
+
+At last, as we all sat round the fire after dinner, she spoke. She
+addressed herself to my husband, but the tone of her voice caused us all
+to listen.
+
+"Mr. Fanshawe, I have something to ask of you," said she, and then
+paused.
+
+"Ask on," said Mr. Fanshawe.
+
+"I know that you will think the request I am going to make a peculiar
+one; but I have a particular reason for making it," continued she. "It
+is that you will have the wooden dais in front of the laundry window
+removed."
+
+Mr. Fanshawe certainly was taken aback, as were we all. When he had
+mastered his bewilderment, and assured himself that he had heard
+aright--
+
+"It is, indeed, a strange request, my dear Catherine," said he; "what
+can be your reason for asking such a thing?"
+
+"If you will only have it done, and not question me, you will understand
+my reason," answered Catherine.
+
+Mr. Fanshawe demurred, however, thinking it some foolish whim, and at
+last Catherine said:
+
+"I must tell you why I wish it done, then: I am sure we shall discover
+something underneath."
+
+At this we all looked at one another in extreme bewilderment.
+
+"Discover something underneath? No doubt we should--cobwebs, probably,
+and dust and spiders," answered Mr. Fanshawe, much amused.
+
+But Catherine was not to be laughed down.
+
+"Only do as I wish," said she beseechingly, "and you will see. If you
+find nothing underneath the dais but cobwebs and dust, then you may
+laugh at me as much as you like." And I saw that she was serious, for
+tears were actually gathering in her eyes. Of course we were all very
+anxious to know what Catherine expected to find, and how she came to
+suspect that there was anything to be found; but she would not say, and
+begged us all not to question her.
+
+And now George took upon himself to interfere.
+
+"Let us do as Catherine wishes, father," said he; "the dais spoils the
+laundry, and would be much better away."
+
+"Well, well," said Mr. Fanshawe, "do as you like, only I shall expect my
+share of the treasure that is found.--And now," added he, "you must have
+a glass of wine to warm you, Catherine, for you look sadly pale, child."
+
+Here the conversation changed, though we often alluded to the subject
+again during the evening.
+
+The next morning the first thing in all our thoughts was Catherine's
+singular request.
+
+I think Mr. Fanshawe had hoped she would have forgotten it, but such
+was not the case; on the contrary, she enlisted George's services the
+first thing after breakfast to carry out her design, and they left the
+room together, accompanied by Ella.
+
+It was a snowy morning, and Mr. Fanshawe was obliged to be away from
+home all day on business, so I was quite at a loss how to entertain my
+numerous guests successfully. Happily for me, however, the mystery
+attendant on the removal of the dais in the laundry charmed them all;
+and I have to thank Catherine for contributing to their amusement much
+better than I could possibly have done.
+
+Not long after the disappearance of Catherine, Ella, and George, a
+message was sent to us in the drawing-room requesting our presence in
+the laundry; and on all flocking there with more or less eagerness, we
+found a fire burning on the old-fashioned hearth and chairs arranged
+round it.
+
+It appeared that with the help of Sam, our factotum, who was a kind of
+Jack-of-all-trades, George had succeeded in loosening the planks of the
+dais, which, although strongly put together, were rotten and worm-eaten,
+and that we were now summoned to be witnesses of its removal. We found
+Catherine trembling with a strange eagerness, and her face quite pale
+with excitement. This was shared by Ella and George; and, judging by the
+important expression on their faces, I fancied they were let further
+into the secret than any one else.
+
+We all sat down in the chairs placed for our accommodation, and the wild
+whistling of the wind in the huge chimney, together with the sheets of
+snow which darkened the window-panes, enhanced the mystery of the whole
+affair, while George and his coadjutor worked lustily on.
+
+At length, after a great deal of panting and puffing, George was heard
+to exclaim, "Now for the tug of war!" and there followed a minute's
+pause, and then a crash as the loosened planks were torn asunder, and a
+cloud of dust enveloped both workmen and spectators.
+
+Involuntarily we all started forward, and a moment of the direst
+confusion ensued, during which the boys of our party greatly endangered
+their limbs among the broken boards.
+
+"By George!" exclaimed my son at last--in his eagerness invoking his
+patron saint--as he stumbled upon something, "there is something here
+and no mistake;" and, hastily clearing away the rubbish and clinging
+cobwebs, he disclosed to view what proved on examination to be an
+immense oaken chest, about four feet in height, heavily carved, and
+ornamented with brass mouldings corroded with age and damp.
+
+Here was a piece of excitement indeed; never in my most imaginative
+moments had I thought of anything so mysterious as this. The most
+sceptical among us grew interested.
+
+"Oh, do open it!" cried Ella, when the first exclamations of surprise
+were over.
+
+"Easier to say than to do, miss," replied Sam, exerting his Herculean
+strength in vain. With the aid of a hammer and the kitchen-poker,
+however, he at last succeeded in forcing it open. We all pressed forward
+eagerly to peer inside. There was something in it certainly, but we none
+of us could determine what, until Sam, who was the boldest of us all,
+thrust in his hand and brought forth--something which caused the bravest
+to start with horror, while poor Catherine sank down, white and
+trembling, upon the littered floor. It was a bone, to which adhered
+fragments of decaying silk.
+
+The consternation and conjectures which followed can be better imagined
+than described. Seeing the effects of the discovery upon Catherine, and
+indeed upon all, I bade Sam replace it in the chest, which George closed
+again, to be left until Mr. Fanshawe came home and could investigate the
+matter.
+
+The rest of the day I passed in attending to Catherine, who seemed much
+shocked and overcome by what she had seen, and in trying to divert my
+guests' thoughts from the subject, and dispel the gloom which had
+gathered over all. In this I succeeded only partially, and never did I
+welcome my husband's return more gladly than on that evening.
+
+On his arrival I would not let him be disturbed by the relation of what
+had happened until he had finished his dinner, and it was not till we
+were gathered as usual round the fire that George related the whole
+story to him.
+
+When he ended the two gentlemen left the room together, in order that
+Mr. Fanshawe might verify by his own eyes what he would hardly believe.
+
+They were some time gone, and on their return I noticed that my husband
+held in his hand an old piece of soiled parchment, with mouldy seals
+affixed to it.
+
+"We certainly have discovered much more than I thought for, Catherine,"
+said he, "and possibly more than you thought for either." Here he paused
+for her to reply, but she did not.
+
+"The bones are most probably those of some animal," added he--I fancied
+I could detect a certain anxiety in his tone that belied what he said;
+"but in order to quell the active imaginations which I can see are
+running away with some of you"--here he looked round with a smile--"I
+will send for Dr. Driscoll to come and examine them to-morrow. I have
+also found a piece of parchment in the chest," he added; "but I have not
+yet looked at its contents."
+
+"Before you do that, Mr. Fanshawe, and before you send for the surgeon,"
+interrupted Catherine suddenly in a clear voice, "I think I can tell you
+all about the bones found in the chest, and how I guessed them to be
+there."
+
+"I should certainly be very glad to be told," my husband admitted, much
+surprised; "though how you can possibly know, I cannot surmise."
+
+"Listen, and I will tell you," answered Catherine; and feeling very glad
+that our curiosity was at last to be gratified, we all "pricked up our
+ears," as George would say, to listen.
+
+I here transcribe Catherine's story word for word, as my son George
+subsequently wrote it down from her dictation.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"You all remember," she began, "my alarming you on New Year's eve at
+midnight, and that I told you I was disturbed by a dreadful dream.
+
+"I said so because I thought you would make fun of me if I called it a
+vision; and yet it was much more like a vision, for I seemed to see it
+waking, and it was more vivid and consecutive than any dream I ever had.
+
+"Before I try to describe it, I want you all to understand that I seemed
+intuitively to comprehend what I saw, and to recognize all the figures
+which appeared before me, and their relation to one another, though I am
+sure I never beheld them before in my life.
+
+"When Ella left me that night, I lay propped up with pillows, staring
+idly at the strange shadows thrown by the hidden lamp across the laundry
+ceiling and over the floor. As I looked it seemed to me that a change
+came over the room--a most unaccountable change.
+
+"Instead of the blocked-up window, the rusty mangle, and the dais at the
+farther end, I saw the window clear and distinct from top to bottom, and
+in front of a deep window-seat at its base stood an oaken chest, exactly
+corresponding to the one discovered this morning. The room seemed
+brilliantly lighted, and everything was clearly and distinctly visible;
+and not only was it changed, but also peopled.
+
+"Many figures passed up and down; brocaded silks swept the floor, and
+old-world forms of men in strange costumes bowed in courtly style to the
+dames by their side. Among all these figures I noticed only one couple
+particularly, and I knew them to be bride and bridegroom. The man was
+tall and broad, with dark hair and eyes, and a sensual and cruel face.
+He seemed, however, to be quite enslaved by the woman by his side, whom
+I hardly even now like to think of, there was something to me so
+repellent in her presence.
+
+"She was tall and of middle age, and would have been handsome were it
+not for a sinister expression in her dark flashing eyes, which was
+enhanced by the black eyebrows which met over them.
+
+"She reminded me irresistibly of the effigy on the stone monument in
+Craymoor church, which Ella and I named "the wicked woman."
+
+"As I gazed on the strange scene before me I presently became aware of
+three other figures which I had not noticed before. They were standing
+in a small arched doorway in one corner of the room (where the servants'
+bedroom now is) furtively watching the gay company. One was a pale,
+careworn woman, apparently of about five-and-thirty, still beautiful,
+though haggard and mournful-looking, with blue eyes and a fair
+complexion.
+
+"Her hands rested on the shoulders of two children, one a boy and the
+other a girl, of about ten and eleven years of age respectively. They
+much resembled their mother, and, like her, they were meanly dressed,
+though no poverty of attire could hide the nobility of their aspect. I
+noticed that the mother's eyes rested chiefly on the face of the tall
+stately man before mentioned, who seemed unaware or careless of her
+presence; and instinctively I knew him to be the father of her children
+and the blighter of her life.
+
+"As I looked and beheld all this, the lights vanished, the company
+disappeared, and the room became dark and deserted. No, not quite
+deserted, for I presently distinguished, seated on the window-seat by
+the old oaken chest, the fair woman and her children again.
+
+"The moonlight now streamed through the window upon the woman's face,
+making it appear more ghastly and haggard than before. In her long thin
+fingers she was holding up to the light a necklace of large pearls,
+curiously interwoven in a diamond pattern, and on this the children's
+eyes were fixed.
+
+"She then hung it on the girl's fair neck, who hid it in her bosom. Both
+children then twined their arms round their mother and kissed her
+repeatedly, while her head sank lower and lower, and the paleness of
+death overspread her features.
+
+"This scene faded away as the other had done, and I saw the fair woman
+no more.
+
+"Then it seemed to me that many figures passed and repassed before the
+window--the wicked woman (as I shall call her to distinguish her),
+accompanied by a boy the image of herself, whom I knew to be her son. He
+was apparently older than the fair-haired children, who also passed to
+and fro, attired as servants, and generally employed in some menial
+work.
+
+"At last the wicked woman's son, with haughty gestures, ordered the
+other boy to pick up something that lay on the ground, and when he
+refused, he raised his cane as though to strike him. Before he could do
+so, however, the boy flew at him, and they engaged in a fierce struggle.
+
+"In the midst of this the wicked woman, whom I had learned to dread,
+came forward and separated them; after which she pointed imperiously to
+the door, and signed to the younger boy to go out.
+
+"He obeyed her mandate, but first threw his arms round his sister in a
+last embrace, and she detached the pearl necklace from off her neck and
+gave it to him. He then went out, waving a last adieu to her, and I saw
+him no more.
+
+"Confused images seemed to crowd before me after this, and I remember
+nothing clearly until I beheld an infirm and tottering figure led away
+through the arched doorway, in whom I recognized the tall and stately
+man I had first seen in company with the wicked woman, but who was now
+an old man, apparently being supported to his bed to die. As he passed
+out he laid one trembling hand upon the head of the fair girl, now a
+blooming woman, and a softer shade came over his face. This the wicked
+woman noted, and she marked her disapproval by a vindictive frown.
+
+"She also was older-looking, but age had in no degree softened her
+features; on the contrary, they appeared to me to wear a harsher
+expression than before.
+
+"In the next scene which came before me, the wicked woman's son was
+evidently making love to the girl. Both were standing by the old
+window-seat, but her face was resolutely turned away from him, and when
+she at last looked at him it was with an expression of uncontrollable
+horror and dislike.
+
+"Again this scene changed as those before it had done; the young man was
+gone, and only the light of a grated lantern illumined the room, or
+rather made darkness visible. The wicked woman was the only occupant of
+the laundry; she was kneeling by the oaken chest, trying to raise the
+heavy lid. In her left hand she held a piece of parchment, with large
+red seals pendent from it. I knew it to be the old man's will which she
+was hiding, thus defrauding the just claimants of their rights.
+
+"Her hands trembled, and her whole appearance denoted guilty
+trepidation. At length, however, the lid was raised, but just as she was
+about to replace the parchment in the chest, a figure glided silently
+from a dark corner of the window-seat and confronted her. It was the
+fair girl, pale, resolute, and extending her hand to claim the will.
+
+"After the first guilty start, which caused her to drop the parchment
+into the chest, the wicked woman hurriedly tried to close the lid. Her
+efforts were frustrated, however, by the girl, who leaned with all her
+force upon it, keeping it back, and still held out her hand as before.
+
+"There followed a pause, which seemed to me very long, but which could
+in reality have only lasted a minute.
+
+"It was broken by the wicked woman, who, hastily casting a glance behind
+her into the gloom of the darkened chamber, then seized the girl by the
+arm and dragged her with all her force into the chest. It was but the
+work of a moment, for the woman was much the more powerful of the two,
+and the poor victim was too much taken by surprise to make much
+resistance. I saw one despairing look in her face as her murderess
+flashed the lantern before it with a hideous gleam of triumph.
+
+"Then the lid was pressed down upon her, and I saw no more, only I felt
+an unutterable terror, and tried in vain to scream.
+
+"This was not all the vision, however, for before I had mastered my
+terror the scene was superseded by another.
+
+"This time it was twilight, and the wicked woman and her son were
+together. The son seemed to be talking eagerly, and grew more and more
+excited, while the mother stood still and erect, with a malicious smile
+upon her lips. Presently she moved toward the chest with a fell purpose
+in her eyes, unlocked it with a key which hung from her girdle, raised
+the lid and disclosed the contents.
+
+"I understood it all now: the son was asking for the girl whom he had
+loved, and whom on his return home he missed, and the wicked woman,
+enraged at hearing for the first time that he had loved her, was
+determined to have her revenge.
+
+"He should see her again.
+
+"On beholding the dread contents of the chest, the man staggered back
+horrified; then, doubtless comprehending the case, he turned suddenly
+upon the murderess, and threw his arm around her, and there ensued a
+struggle terrible to witness.
+
+"Her proud triumphant glance of malice was now succeeded by one of
+abject fear, and, as his strength began to gain the mastery, of despair.
+
+"His iron frame heaved for a moment with the violence of his efforts,
+the next he had forced her down into the chest upon the mouldering body
+of her victim. I saw her eyes light up with the terror of death for one
+second, and then her screams were stifled forever beneath the massive
+lid.
+
+"The horror of this scene was too much for me; I found voice to scream
+at last, and I suppose it was my cry which alarmed you all."
+
+When Catherine ceased speaking there was a profound silence for a
+minute, which Mr. Fanshawe was the first to break as he said with a
+peculiar intonation in his voice, "It is very strange, very
+unaccountable," reechoing all our thoughts.
+
+Now it happened that Mr. Fleet, our family lawyer, was among our guests
+that Christmas-time, and since the discovery of the chest and bones had
+taken a great interest in the whole affair. He now questioned and
+cross-questioned Catherine, and seemed quite satisfied with the result.
+
+"This would have made a fine case," said he, "if only it had been a
+question of the right of succession, for any lawyer to make out; but
+unfortunately the events are too long past to have any bearing upon the
+present." (There Mr. Fleet was wrong, though we none of us knew it at
+the time.)
+
+We now all launched forth into conjectures and opinions, during which
+Catherine lay still and weary upon the sofa. I saw this, and thought it
+quite time to put an end to the day's adventures by suggesting a
+retirement for the night, and we were soon all dispersed to dream of the
+mysterious vision and discovery.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I think we were none of us sorry when morning dawned without any further
+tragedy (by _us_, I mean the female part of the establishment).
+
+When I came down to breakfast I found Mr. Fleet very active on the
+subject of the night before.
+
+"A surgeon ought to be immediately sent for to pronounce an opinion on
+the contents of the chest," he said; and Dr. Driscoll presently came,
+and after examining the bones minutely, decided that they were, as we
+thought, those of two females, who might have been from one to two
+hundred years dead.
+
+Mr. Fleet next offered to decipher the will, for such he imagined the
+parchment to be, and he and Mr. Fanshawe were closeted together for some
+time.
+
+When they at last appeared again, they looked much interested and
+excited, and led me away to inform me of the result of their
+examination.
+
+They told me that the document had proved to be a will, but that there
+was a circumstance connected with it which greatly added to the mystery
+of the whole business. This was the mention of the name of L'Estrange. I
+was, of course, as much surprised as they, and heard the will read with
+great interest.
+
+I cannot remember the technical terms in which it was expressed. Mr.
+Fleet read me the translation he had made, for the original was in old
+English; but it was to this effect:
+
+It purported to be the will of Reginald, Viscount St. Aubyn, in which he
+bequeathed all his inheritance to his lawful son Francis St.
+Aubyn--commonly known by the name of Francis l'Estrange--and to his
+heirs forever. It was signed Reginald, Viscount St. Aubyn, and the
+witnesses were John Murray and Phoebe Brett, who in the old copy had
+each affixed their mark.
+
+Mr. Fleet affirmed that it was a perfectly legal document, but this was
+not all it contained.
+
+There was an appendix which our lawyer translated as follows:
+
+"In order to avoid all disputes and doubts which might otherwise arise,
+I do hereby declare that my lawful wife was Editha, youngest daughter of
+Francis l'Estrange, Baronet, and that the register of our marriage may
+be seen in the church of St. Andrew, Haslet. By this marriage we had two
+children, a son Francis, and a daughter Catherine, commonly called
+Francis and Catherine l'Estrange. And I hereby declare that Agatha
+Thornhaugh was not legally married to me as she imagined, my lawful wife
+being alive at the time; neither do I leave to her son by her first
+husband, Ralph Thornhaugh, any part or share in my inheritance."
+
+Both the will and the writing at the foot of it were dated the 14th of
+May, 1668.
+
+This accumulation of mysteries caused me for a time to feel quite
+bewildered and unable to think, but Mr. Fleet was in his element.
+
+"Here is a case worth entering into," said he, and he further went on to
+state that he had no doubt that the L'Estranges mentioned in the will
+were our Catherine's ancestors, the Christian names being similar
+rendering it more than probable. She was most likely a direct descendant
+of Francis l'Estrange, the heir mentioned in the will, who was no doubt
+also the fair-haired boy Catherine had seen in her vision.
+
+The bones were those of his sister, the murdered Catherine l'Estrange,
+and of her murderess Agatha Thornhaugh, herself immured by her own son;
+but the matter ought not to rest on mere surmise, and the first place to
+go to for corroborating evidence was Craymoor church.
+
+The rapidity with which Mr. Fleet came to his conclusions increased my
+bewilderment, and I was at a loss to know what evidence he expected to
+gain from Craymoor church. He reminded me, however, of Catherine's
+statement that "the wicked woman" of her vision resembled the effigy on
+the monument there.
+
+Thither, then, the lawyer repaired, accompanied by Mr. Fanshawe and
+George. It was thought best to keep the sequel of the story from
+Catherine and the others until it was explained more fully, as Mr. Fleet
+boldly affirmed it should be. I awaited anxiously the result of their
+researches, and they exceeded I think even our good investigator's
+hopes.
+
+Not only had they deciphered the inscription round the old monument, but
+with leave from the clergyman and the assistance of the sexton they had
+disinterred the coffin and found it to be filled with stones.
+
+I am aware that this was rather an illegal proceeding, but as Mr. Fleet
+was only acting _en amateur_ and not professionally, he did not stick at
+trifles.
+
+The inscription was in Latin, and stated that the tomb was erected in
+memory of Agatha, wife of Reginald, Viscount St. Aubyn, who was buried
+beneath, and who died on the 31st day of December, 1649--exactly two
+hundred years before the day on which Catherine had seen the vision.
+
+I could not help thinking it shocking that the villagers had for two
+centuries been worshipping in the presence of a perpetual lie, but Mr.
+Fleet thought only of the grand corroboration of his "case." He applied
+to Mr. Fanshawe to take the next step, namely, to write to Catherine's
+aunt and only living relative, to tell her the whole story, and beg
+her to assist in elucidating matters by giving all the information she
+could respecting the L'Estrange family.
+
+This was done, and we anxiously awaited the answer. Meantime, all my
+guests were clamorous to hear the contents of the will, and I had to
+appease them as best I could, by promising that they should know all
+soon.
+
+In a few days, old Miss l'Estrange's answer came. She said her brother,
+father, and grandfather had all served in India, and that she believed
+her great-grandfather, who was a Francis l'Estrange, to have passed most
+of his life abroad, there having been a cloud over his early youth. What
+this was, however, she could not say. She affirmed that the L'Estranges
+had in old times resided in ----shire; and she further stated that her
+father's family had consisted of herself and her brother, whose only
+child Catherine was.
+
+This was certainly not much information, but it was enough for our
+purpose. We no longer remained in doubt as to the truth of Mr. Fleet's
+version of the story, and when he himself told it to all our
+family-party one evening, every one agreed that he had certainly
+succeeded in making out a very clever case.
+
+As for Catherine, on being told that the figures she had beheld in the
+vision were thought to be those of her ancestors, she was not so much
+surprised as I expected, but said that she had had a presentiment all
+along that the tragedies she had witnessed were in some way connected
+with her own family.
+
+I must not forget to say that on ascertaining that the parish church of
+Haslet was still standing, we searched the register, and another link of
+evidence was made clear by the finding of the looked-for entry.
+
+There remains little more to be told. The charge of the old will was
+committed to Mr. Fleet, and Catherine's story has been carefully laid up
+among the archives of our family. I say advisedly of _our_ family, for
+the line of the L'Estranges, alias St. Aubyns, has been united to ours
+by the marriage of Catherine to my son George, which took place in 1850.
+
+I who write this am an old woman now, but I still live with my son and
+daughter-in-law.
+
+George has bought Craymoor Grange, thus rendering justice after the
+lapse of two centuries, and restoring the inheritance of her fathers to
+the rightful owner.
+
+I have but one more incident to relate, and I have done. A short time
+ago, old Miss l'Estrange died, bequeathing all her worldly possessions
+to Catherine. Among these were some old family relics. Catherine was
+looking over them as George unpacked them, and she presently came to a
+miniature of a young and beautiful girl with fair hair and blue eyes,
+and a wistful expression, and with it a necklace of pearls strung in a
+diamond pattern. On seeing these she became suddenly grave, and handing
+them to me, said: "They are the same; the young girl, and the pearl
+necklace I told you of." No more was said at the time, for the children
+were present, and we had always avoided alluding to the horrible family
+tragedy before them; but if we had still retained any doubt about its
+truth--which we had not--this would have set it at rest.
+
+If you were to visit Craymoor Grange now, you would find no old laundry.
+The part of the house containing it has been pulled down, and children
+play and chickens peckett on the ground where it once stood.
+
+The oaken chest has also long since been destroyed.
+
+
+
+
+HAUNTED.
+
+
+Some few years ago one of those great national conventions which draw
+together all ages and conditions of the sovereign people of America was
+held in Charleston, South Carolina.
+
+Colonel Demarion, one of the State Representatives, had attended that
+great national convention; and, after an exciting week, was returning
+home, having a long and difficult journey before him.
+
+A pair of magnificent horses, attached to a light buggy, flew merrily
+enough over a rough-country for a while; but toward evening stormy
+weather reduced the roads to a dangerous condition, and compelled the
+Colonel to relinquish his purpose of reaching home that night, and to
+stop at a small wayside tavern, whose interior, illuminated by blazing
+wood-fires, spread a glowing halo among the dripping trees as he
+approached it, and gave promise of warmth and shelter at least.
+
+Drawing up to this modest dwelling, Colonel Demarion saw through its
+uncurtained windows that there was no lack of company within. Beneath
+the trees, too, an entanglement of rustic vehicles, giving forth red
+gleams from every dripping angle, told him that beasts as well as men
+were cared for. At the open door appeared the form of a man, who, at the
+sound of wheels, but not seeing in the outside darkness whom he
+addressed, called out, "'Tain't no earthly use a-stoppin' here."
+
+Caring more for his chattels than for himself, the Colonel paid no
+further regard to this address than to call loudly for the landlord.
+
+At the tone of authority, the man in outline more civilly announced
+himself to be the host; yet so far from inviting the traveller to
+alight, insisted that the house was "as full as it could pack;" but that
+there was a place a little farther down the road where the gentleman
+would be certain to find excellent accommodation.
+
+"What stables have you here?" demanded the traveller, giving no more
+heed to this than to the former announcement; but bidding his servant to
+alight, and preparing to do so himself.
+
+"Stables!" repeated the baffled host, shading his eyes so as to
+scrutinize the newcomer, "_stables_, Cap'n?"
+
+"Yes, _stables_. I want you to take care of my horses; _I_ can take care
+of myself. Some shelter for cattle you must have by the look of these
+traps," pointing to the wagons. "I don't want my horses to be kept
+standing out in this storm, you know."
+
+"No, Major. Why no, cert'n'y; Marion's ain't over a mile, and----"
+
+"Conf--!" muttered the Colonel; "but it's over the _river_, which I
+don't intend to ford to-night under any consideration."
+
+So saying, the Colonel leaped to the ground, directing his servant to
+cover the horses and then get out his valise; while the host, thus
+defeated, assumed the best grace he could to say that he would see what
+could be done "for the _horses_."
+
+"I am a soldier, my man," added the Colonel in a milder tone, as he
+stamped his cold feet on the porch and shook off the rain from his
+travelling-gear; "I am used to rough fare and a hard couch: all we want
+is shelter. A corner of the floor will suffice for me and my rug; a
+private room I can dispense with at such times as these."
+
+The landlord seemed no less relieved at this assurance than mollified by
+the explanation of a traveller whom he now saw was of a very different
+stamp from those who usually frequented the tavern. "For the matter of
+_stables_, his were newly put up, and first-rate," he said; and
+"cert'n'y the Gen'ral was welcome to a seat by the fire while 'twas
+a-storming so fierce."
+
+Colonel Demarion gave orders to his servant regarding the horses, while
+the landlord, kicking at what seemed to be a bundle of sacking down
+behind the door, shouted--"Jo! Ho, Jo! Wake up, you sleepy-headed
+nigger! Be alive, boy, and show this gentleman's horses to the stables."
+Upon a repetition of which charges a tall, gaunt, dusky figure lifted
+itself from out of the dark corner, and grew taller and more gaunt as it
+stretched itself into waking with a grin which was the most visible part
+of it, by reason of two long rows of ivory gleaming in the red glare.
+The hard words had fallen as harmless on Jo's ear-drum as the kicks upon
+his impassive frame. To do Jo's master justice, the kicks were not
+vicious kicks, and the rough language was but an intimation that
+dispatch was needed. Very much of the spaniel's nature had Jo; and as he
+rolled along the passage to fetch a lantern, his mouth expanded into a
+still broader grin at the honor of attending so stately a gentleman.
+Quick, like his master, too, was Jo to discriminate between "real
+gentlefolks" and the "white trash" whose rough-coated, rope-harnessed
+mules were the general occupants of his stables.
+
+"Splendid pair, sir," said the now conciliating landlord. "Shove some o'
+them mules out into the shed, Jo (which your horses 'll feel more to hum
+in my new stalls, Gen'ral)."
+
+Again cautioning his man Plato not to leave them one moment, Colonel
+Demarion turned to enter the house.
+
+"You'll find a rough crowd in here, sir," said the host, as he paused on
+the threshold; "but a good fire, anyhow. 'Tain't many of these loafers
+as understand this convention business--I _pre_sume, Gen'ral, you've
+attended the convention--they all on 'em _thinks_ they does, tho'. Fact
+most on 'em thinks they'd orter be on the committee theirselves. Good
+many on 'em is from Char'ston to-day, but is in the same fix as yerself,
+Gen'ral--can't get across the river to-night."
+
+"I see, I see," cried the statesman, with a gesture toward the
+sitting-room. "Now what have you got in your larder, Mr. Landlord? and
+send some supper out to my servant; he must make a bed of the
+carriage-mats to-night."
+
+The landlord introduced his guest into a room filled chiefly with that
+shiftless and noxious element of Southern society known as "mean
+whites." Pipes and drinks, and excited arguments, engaged these people
+as they stood or sat in groups. The host addressed those who were
+gathered round the log-fire, and they opened a way for the new-comer,
+some few, with republican freedom, inviting him to be seated, the rest
+giving one furtive glance, and then, in antipathy born of envy, skulking
+away.
+
+The furniture of this comfortless apartment consisted of sloppy,
+much-jagged deal tables, dirty whittled benches, and a few uncouth
+chairs. The walls were dirty with accumulated tobacco stains, and so
+moist and filthy was the floor, that the sound only of scraping seats
+and heavy footsteps told that it was of boards and not bare earth.
+
+Seated with his back toward the majority of the crowd, and shielded by
+his newspaper, Colonel Demarion sat awhile unobserved; but was presently
+recognized by a man from his own immediate neighborhood, when the
+information was quickly whispered about that no less a person than their
+distinguished Congressman was among them.
+
+This piece of news speedily found its way to the ears of the landlord,
+to whom Colonel Demarion was known by name only, and forthwith he
+reappeared to overwhelm the representative of his State with apologies
+for the uncourteous reception which had been given him, and to express
+his now very sincere regrets that the house offered no suitable
+accommodation for the gentleman. Satisfied as to the safety of his
+chattels, the Colonel generously dismissed the idea of having anything
+either to resent or to forgive; and assured the worthy host that he
+would accept of no exclusive indulgences.
+
+In spite of which the landlord bustled about to bring in a separate
+table, on which he spread a clean coarse cloth, and a savory supper of
+broiled ham, hot corncakes, and coffee; every few minutes stopping to
+renew his apologies, and even appearing to grow confidentially
+communicative regarding his domestic economies; until the hungry
+traveller cut him short with "Don't say another word about it, my
+friend; you have not a spare sleeping-room, and that is enough. Find me
+a corner--a clean corner"--looking round upon the most unclean corners
+of that room--"perhaps up-stairs somewhere, and----"
+
+"Ah! _upsta'rs_, Gen'ral. Now, that's jest what I had in my mind to ax
+you. Fact is ther' _is_ a spar' room upsta'rs, as comfortable a room as
+the best of folks can wish; but----"
+
+"But it's crammed with sleeping folks, so there's an end of it," cried
+the senator, thoroughly bored.
+
+"No, sir, ain't no person in it; and ther' ain't no person likely to be
+in it 'cept 'tis _yerself_, Colonel Demarion. Leastways----"
+
+After a good deal of hesitation and embarrassment, the host, in
+mysterious whispers, imparted the startling fact that this most
+desirable sleeping room was _haunted_; that the injury he had sustained
+in consequence had compelled him to fasten it up altogether; that he had
+come to be very suspicious of admitting strangers, and had limited his
+custom of late to what the bar could supply, keeping the matter hushed
+up in the hope that it might be the sooner forgotten by the neighbors;
+but that in the case of Colonel Demarion he had now made bold to mention
+it; "as I can't but think, sir," he urged, "you'd find it prefer'ble to
+sleepin' on the floor or sittin' up all night along ov these loafers.
+Fer if 'tis any deceivin' trick got up in the house, maybe they won't
+try it on, sir, to a gentleman of your reputation."
+
+Colonel Demarion became interested in the landlord's confidences, but
+could only gather in further explanation that for some time past all
+travellers who had occupied that room had "made off in the middle of the
+night, never showin' their faces at the inn again;" that on endeavoring
+to arrest one or more in their nocturnal flight, they--all more or less
+terrified--had insisted on escaping without a moment's delay, assigning
+no other reason than that they had seen a ghost. "Not that folks seem to
+get much harm by it, Colonel--not by the way they makes off without
+paying a cent of money!"
+
+Great indeed was the satisfaction evinced by the victim of unpaid bills
+on the Colonel's declaring that the haunted chamber was the very room
+for him. "If to be turned out of my bed at midnight is all I have to
+fear, we will see who comes off master in my case. So, Mr. Landlord, let
+the chamber be got ready directly, and have a good fire built there at
+once."
+
+The exultant host hurried away to confide the great news to Jo, and with
+him to make the necessary preparations. "Come what will, Jo, Colonel
+Demarion ain't the man to make off without paying down good money for
+his accommodations."
+
+In reasonable time, Colonel Demarion was beckoned out of the public
+room, and conducted up-stairs by the landlord, who, after receiving a
+cheerful "good-night," paused on the landing to hear his guest bolt and
+bar the door within, and then push a piece of furniture against it.
+"Ah," murmured the host, as a sort of misgiving came over him, "if a
+apparishum has a mind to come thar, 'tain't all the bolts and bars in
+South Carolina as 'll kip'en away."
+
+But the Colonel's precaution of securing his door, as also that of
+placing his revolvers in readiness, had not the slightest reference to
+the reputed ghost. Spiritual disturbances of such kind he feared not.
+Spirits _tangible_ were already producing ominous demonstrations in the
+rooms below, nor was it possible to conjecture what troubles these might
+evolve. Glad enough to escape from the noisy company, he took a survey
+of his evil-reputed chamber. The only light was that of the roaring,
+crackling, blazing wood-fire, and no other was needed. And what
+storm-benighted traveller, when fierce winds and rains are lashing
+around his lodging, can withstand the cheering influences of a glorious
+log-fire? especially if, as in that wooden tenement, that fire be of
+abundant pine-knots. It rivals the glare of gas and the glow of a
+furnace; it charms away the mustiness and fustiness of years, and causes
+all that is dull and dead around to laugh and dance in its bright light.
+
+By the illumination of just such a fire, Colonel Demarion observed that
+the apartment offered nothing worthier of remark than that the furniture
+was superior to anything that might be expected in a small wayside
+tavern. In truth, the landlord had expended a considerable sum in
+fitting up this, his finest chamber, and had therefore sufficient reason
+to bemoan its unprofitableness.
+
+Having satisfied himself as to his apparent security, the senator
+thought no more of spirits palpable or impalpable; but to the far graver
+issues of the convention his thoughts reverted. It was yet early; he
+lighted a cigar, and in full appreciation of his retirement, took out
+his note-book and plunged into the affairs of state. Now and then he was
+recalled to the circumstances of his situation by the swaggering tread
+of unsteady feet about the house, or when the boisterous shouts below
+raged above the outside storm; but even then he only glanced up from his
+papers to congratulate himself upon his agreeable seclusion.
+
+Thus he sat for above an hour, then he heaped fresh logs upon the
+hearth, looked again to his revolvers, and retired to rest.
+
+The house-clock was striking twelve as the Colonel awoke. He awoke
+suddenly from a sound sleep, flashing, as it were, into full
+consciousness, his mind and memory clear, all his faculties invigorated,
+his ideas undisturbed, but with a perfect conviction that he was not
+alone.
+
+He lifted his head. A man was standing a few feet from the bed, and
+between it and the fire, which was still burning, and burning brightly
+enough to display every object in the room, and to define the outline of
+the intruder clearly. His dress also and his features were plainly
+distinguishable: the dress was a travelling-costume, in fashion somewhat
+out of date; the features wore a mournful and distressed expression--the
+eyes were fixed upon the Colonel. The right arm hung down, and the hand,
+partially concealed, might, for aught the Colonel knew, be grasping one
+of his own revolvers; the left arm was folded against the waist. The man
+seemed about to advance still closer to the bed, and returned the
+occupant's gaze with a fixed stare.
+
+"Stand, or I'll fire!" cried the Colonel, taking in all this at a
+glance, and starting up in his bed, revolver in hand.
+
+The man remained still.
+
+"What is your business here?" demanded the statesman, thinking he was
+addressing one of the roughs from below.
+
+The man was silent.
+
+"Leave this room, if you value your life," shouted the indignant
+soldier, pointing his revolver.
+
+The man was motionless.
+
+"RETIRE! or by heaven I'll send a bullet through you!"
+
+But the man moved not an inch.
+
+The Colonel fired. The bullet lodged in the breast of the stranger, but
+he started not. The soldier leaped to the floor and fired again. The
+shot entered the heart, pierced the body, and lodged in the wall beyond;
+and the Colonel beheld the hole where the bullet had entered, and the
+firelight glimmering through it. And yet the intruder stirred not.
+Astounded, the Colonel dropped his revolver, and stood face to face
+before the unmoved man.
+
+"Colonel Demarion," spake the deep solemn voice of the perforated
+stranger, "in vain you shoot me--I am dead already."
+
+The soldier, with all his bravery, gasped, spellbound. The firelight
+gleamed through the hole in the body, and the eyes of the shooter were
+riveted there.
+
+"Fear nothing," spake the mournful presence; "I seek but to divulge my
+wrongs. Until my death shall be avenged my unquiet spirit lingers here.
+Listen."
+
+Speechless, motionless was the statesman; and the mournful apparition
+thus slowly and distinctly continued:
+
+"Four years ago I travelled with one I trusted. We lodged here. That
+night my comrade murdered me. He plunged a dagger into my heart while I
+slept. He covered the wound with a plaster. He feigned to mourn my
+death. He told the people here I had died of heart complaint; that I had
+long been ailing. I had gold and treasures. With my treasure secreted
+beneath his garments he paraded mock grief at my grave. Then he
+departed. In distant parts he sought to forget his crime; but his stolen
+gold brought him only the curse of an evil conscience. Rest and peace
+are not for him. He now prepares to leave his native land forever. Under
+an assumed name that man is this night in Charleston. In a few hours he
+will sail for Europe. Colonel Demarion, you must prevent it. Justice and
+humanity demand that a murderer roam not at large, nor squander more of
+the wealth that is by right my children's."
+
+The spirit paused. To the extraordinary revelation the Colonel had
+listened in rapt astonishment. He gazed at the presence, at the
+firelight glimmering through it--through the very place where a human
+heart would be--and he felt that he was indeed in the presence of a
+supernatural being. He thought of the landlord's story; but while
+earnestly desiring to sift the truth of the mystery, words refused to
+come to his aid.
+
+"Do you hesitate?" said the mournful spirit. "Will _you_ also flee, when
+my orphan children cry for retribution?" Seeming to anticipate the will
+of the Colonel, "I await your promise, senator," he said. "There is no
+time to lose."
+
+With a mighty effort, the South Carolinian said, "I promise. What would
+you have me do?"
+
+In the same terse, solemn manner, the ghostly visitor gave the real and
+assumed names of the murderer, described his person and dress at the
+present time, described a certain curious ring he was then wearing,
+together with other distinguishing characteristics: all being carefully
+noted down by Colonel Demarion, who, by degrees, recovered his
+self-possession, and pledged himself to use every endeavor to bring the
+murderer to justice.
+
+Then, with a portentous wave of the hand, "It is well," said the
+apparition. "Not until the spirit of my murderer shall be separated from
+the mortal clay can _my_ spirit rest in peace." And vanished.
+
+Half-past six in the morning was the appointed time for the steamer to
+leave Charleston; and the Colonel lost not a moment in preparing to
+depart. As he hurried down the stairs he encountered the landlord,
+who--his eyes rolling in terror--made an attempt to speak. Unheeding,
+except to demand his carriage, the Colonel pushed past him, and effected
+a quick escape toward the back premises, shouting lustily for "Jo" and
+"Plato," and for his carriage to be got ready immediately. A few minutes
+more, and the bewildered host was recalled to the terrible truth by the
+noise of the carriage dashing through the yard and away down the road;
+and it was some miles nearer Charleston before the unfortunate man
+ceased to peer after it in the darkness--as if by so doing he could
+recover damages--and bemoan to Jo the utter ruin of his house and
+hopes.
+
+Thirty miles of hard driving had to be accomplished in little more than
+five hours. No great achievement under favorable circumstances; but the
+horses were only half refreshed from their yesterday's journey, and
+though the storm was over, the roads were in a worse condition than
+ever.
+
+Colonel Demarion resolved to be true to his promise; and fired by a
+curiosity to investigate the extraordinary communication which had been
+revealed to him, urged on his horses, and reached the wharf at
+Charleston just as the steamer was being loosed from her moorings.
+
+He hailed her. "Stop her! Business with the captain! STOP HER!"
+
+Her machinery was already in motion; her iron lungs were puffing forth
+dense clouds of smoke and steam; and as the Colonel shouted--the crowd
+around, from sheer delight in shouting, echoing his "Stop her! stop
+her!"--the voices on land were confounded with the voices of the
+sailors, the rattling of chains, and the haulings of ropes.
+
+Among the passengers standing to wave farewells to their friends on the
+wharf were some who recognised Colonel Demarion, and drew the captain's
+attention toward him; and as he continued vehemently to gesticulate,
+that officer, from his post of observation, demanded the nature of the
+business which should require the ship's detention. Already the steamer
+was clear of the wharf. In another minute she might be beyond reach of
+the voice; therefore, failing by gestures and entreaties to convince the
+captain of the importance of his errand, Colonel Demarion, in
+desperation, cried at the top of his voice, "A murderer on board! For
+God's sake, STOP!" He wished to have made this startling declaration in
+private, but not a moment was to be lost; and the excitement around him
+was intense.
+
+In the midst of the confusion another cry of "Man overboard!" might have
+been heard in a distant part of the ship, had not the attention of the
+crowd been fastened on the Colonel. Such a cry was, however, uttered,
+offering a still more urgent motive for stopping; and the steamer being
+again made fast, Colonel Demarion was received on board.
+
+"Let not a soul leave the vessel!" was his first and prompt suggestion;
+and the order being issued he drew the captain aside, and concisely
+explained his grave commission. The captain thereupon conducted him to
+his private room, and summoned the steward, before whom the details were
+given, and the description of the murderer was read over. The steward,
+after considering attentively, seemed inclined to associate the
+description with that of a passenger whose remarkably dejected
+appearance had already attracted his observation. In such a grave
+business it was, however, necessary to proceed with the utmost caution,
+and the "passenger-book" was produced. Upon reference to its pages, the
+three gentlemen were totally dismayed by the discovery that the name of
+this same dejected individual was that under which, according to the
+apparition, the murderer had engaged his passage.
+
+"I am here to charge that man with murder," said Colonel Demarion. "He
+must be arrested."
+
+Horrified as the captain was at this astounding declaration, yet, on
+account of the singular and unusual mode by which the Colonel had become
+possessed of the facts, and the impossibility of proving the charge, he
+hesitated in consenting to the arrest of a passenger. The steward
+proposed that they should repair to the saloons and deck, and while
+conversing with one or another of the passengers, mention--as it were
+casually--in the hearing of the suspected party his own proper name, and
+observe the effect produced on him. To this they agreed, and without
+loss of time joined the passengers, assigning some feasible cause for a
+short delay of the ship.
+
+The saloon was nearly empty, and while the steward went below, the other
+two repaired to the deck, where they observed a crowd gathered seaward,
+apparently watching something over the ship's side.
+
+During the few minutes which had detained the captain in this
+necessarily hurried business, a boat had been lowered, and some sailors
+had put off in her to rescue the person who was supposed to have fallen
+overboard; and it was only now, on joining the crowd, that the captain
+learned the particulars of the accident. "Who was it?" "What was he
+like?" they exclaimed simultaneously. That a man had fallen overboard
+was all that could be ascertained. Some one had seen him run across the
+deck, looking wildly about him. A splash in the water had soon afterward
+attracted attention to the spot, and a body had since been seen
+struggling on the surface. The waves were rough after the storm, and
+thick with seaweed, and the sailors had as yet missed the body. The two
+gentlemen took their post among the watchers, and kept their eyes
+intently upon the waves, and upon the sailors battling against them. Ere
+long they see the body rise again to the surface. Floated on a powerful
+wave, they can for the few moments breathlessly scrutinize it. The color
+of the dress is observed. A face of agony upturned displays a peculiar
+contour of forehead; the hair, the beard; and now he struggles--an arm
+is thrown up, and a remarkable ring catches the Colonel's eye. "Great
+heavens! The whole description tallies!" The sailors pull hard for the
+spot, the next stroke and they will rescue----
+
+A monster shark is quicker than they. The sea is tinged with blood. The
+man is no more!
+
+Shocked and silent, Colonel Demarion and the captain quitted the deck
+and resummoned the steward, who had, but without success, visited the
+berths and various parts of the ship for the individual in question.
+Every hole and corner was now, by the captain's order carefully
+searched, but in vain; and as no further information concerning the
+missing party could be obtained, and the steward persisted in his
+statement regarding his general appearance, they proceeded to examine
+his effects. In these he was identified beyond a doubt. Papers and
+relics proved not only his guilt but his remorse; remorse which, as the
+apparition had said, permitted him no peace in his wanderings.
+
+Those startling words, "A murderer on board!" had doubtless struck fresh
+terror to his heart and, unable to face the accusation, he had thus
+terminated his wretched existence.
+
+Colonel Demarion revisited the little tavern, and on several occasions
+occupied the haunted chamber; but never again had he the honor of
+receiving a midnight commission from a ghostly visitor, and never again
+had the landlord to bemoan the flight of a non-paying customer.
+
+
+
+
+PICHON & SONS, OF THE CROIX ROUSSE.
+
+
+Giraudier, _pharmacien, premiere classe_, is the legend, recorded in
+huge, ill-proportioned letters, which directs the attention of the
+stranger to the most prosperous-looking shop in the grand _place_ of La
+Croix Rousse, a well-known suburb of the beautiful city of Lyons, which
+has its share of the shabby gentility and poor pretence common to the
+suburban commerce of great towns.
+
+Giraudier is not only _pharmacien_ but _proprietaire_, though not by
+inheritance; his possession of one of the prettiest and most prolific of
+the small vineyards in the beautiful suburb, and a charming inconvenient
+house, with low ceilings, liliputian bedrooms, and a profusion of
+_persiennes_, _jalousies_, and _contrevents_, comes by purchase. This
+enviable little _terre_ was sold by the Nation, when that terrible
+abstraction transacted the public business of France; and it was bought
+very cheaply by the strong-minded father of the Giraudier of the
+present, who was not disturbed by the evil reputation which the place
+had gained, at a time the peasants of France, having been bullied into a
+renunciation of religion, eagerly cherished superstition. The Giraudier
+of the present cherishes the particular superstition in question
+affectionately; it reminds him of an uncommonly good bargain made in his
+favor, which is always a pleasant association of ideas, especially to a
+Frenchman, still more especially to a Lyonnais; and it attracts
+strangers to his _pharmacie_, and leads to transactions in _Grand
+Chartreuse_ and _Creme de Roses_, ensuing naturally on the narration of
+the history of Pichon & Sons. Giraudier is not of aristocratic
+principles and sympathies; on the contrary, he has decided republican
+leanings, and considers _Le Progres_ a masterpiece of journalistic
+literature; but, as he says simply and strongly, "it is not because a
+man is a marquis that one is not to keep faith with him; a bad action is
+not good because it harms a good-for-nothing of a noble; the more when
+that good-for-nothing is no longer a noble, but _pour rire_." At the
+easy price of acquiescence in these sentiments, the stranger hears one
+of the most authentic, best-remembered, most popular of the many
+traditions of the bad old times "before General Bonaparte," as
+Giraudier, who has no sympathy with any later designation of _le grand
+homme_, calls the Emperor, whose statue one can perceive--a speck in the
+distance--from the threshold of the _pharmacie_.
+
+The Marquis de Senanges, in the days of the triumph of the great
+Revolution, was fortunate enough to be out of France, and wise enough to
+remain away from that country, though he persisted, long after the old
+_regime_ was as dead as the Ptolemies, in believing it merely suspended,
+and the Revolution a lamentable accident of vulgar complexion, but
+happily temporary duration. The Marquis de Senanges, who affected the
+_style regence_, and was the politest of infidels and the most refined
+of voluptuaries, got on indifferently in inappreciative foreign parts;
+but the members of his family--his brother and sisters, two of whom were
+guillotined, while the third escaped to Savoy and found refuge there in
+a convent of her order--got on exceedingly ill in France. If the
+_ci-devant_ Marquis had had plenty of money to expend in such feeble
+imitations of his accustomed pleasures as were to be had out of Paris,
+he would not have been much affected by the fate of his relatives. But
+money became exceedingly scarce; the Marquis had actually beheld many of
+his peers reduced to the necessity of earning the despicable but
+indispensable article after many ludicrous fashions. And the duration of
+this absurd upsetting of law, order, privilege, and property began to
+assume unexpected and very unpleasant proportions.
+
+The Chateau de Senanges, with its surrounding lands, was confiscated to
+the Nation, during the third year of the "emigration" of the Marquis de
+Senanges; and the greater part of the estate was purchased by a thrifty,
+industrious, and rich _avocat_, named Prosper Alix, a widower with an
+only daughter. Prosper Alix enjoyed the esteem of the entire
+neighborhood. First, he was rich; secondly, he was of a taciturn
+disposition, and of a neutral tint in politics. He had done well under
+the old _regime_ and, he was doing well under the new--thank God, or the
+Supreme Being, or the First Cause, or the goddess Reason herself, for
+all;--he would have invoked Dagon, Moloch, or Kali, quite as readily as
+the Saints and the Madonna, who has gone so utterly out of fashion of
+late. Nobody was afraid to speak out before Prosper Alix; he was not a
+spy; and though a cold-hearted man, except in the instance of his only
+daughter, he never harmed anybody.
+
+Very likely it was because he was the last person in the vicinity whom
+anybody would have suspected of being applied to by the dispossessed
+family, that the son of the Marquis' brother, a young man of promise, of
+courage, of intellect, and of morals of decidedly a higher calibre than
+those actually and traditionally imputed to the family, sought the aid
+of the new possessor of the Chateau de Senanges, which had changed its
+old title for that of the Maison Alix. The father of M. Paul de Senanges
+had perished in the September massacres; his mother had been guillotined
+at Lyons; and he--who had been saved by the interposition of a young
+comrade, whose father had, in the wonderful rotations of the wheel of
+Fate, acquired authority in the place where he had once esteemed the
+notice of the nephew of the Marquis a crowning honor for his son--had
+passed through the common vicissitudes of that dreadful time, which
+would take a volume for their recital in each individual instance.
+
+Paul de Senanges was a handsome young fellow, frank, high-spirited, and
+of a brisk and happy temperament; which, however, modified by the many
+misfortunes he had undergone, was not permanently changed. He had plenty
+of capacity for enjoyment in him still; and as his position was very
+isolated, and his mind had become enlightened on social and political
+matters to an extent in which the men of his family would have
+discovered utter degradation and the women diabolical possession, he
+would not have been very unhappy if, under the new condition of things,
+he could have lived in his native country and gained an honest
+livelihood. But he could not do that, he was too thoroughly "suspect;"
+the antecedents of his family were too powerful against him: his only
+chance would have been to have gone into the popular camp as an extreme,
+violent partisan, to have out-Heroded the revolutionary Herods; and that
+Paul de Senanges was too honest to do. So he was reduced to being
+thankful that he had escaped with his life, and to watching for an
+opportunity of leaving France and gaining some country where the reign
+of liberty, fraternity, and equality was not quite so oppressive.
+
+The long-looked-for opportunity at length offered itself, and Paul de
+Senanges was instructed by his uncle the Marquis that he must contrive
+to reach Marseilles, whence he should be transported to Spain--in which
+country the illustrious emigrant was then residing--by a certain named
+date. His uncle's communication arrived safely, and the plan proposed
+seemed a secure and eligible one. Only in two respects was it calculated
+to make Paul de Senanges thoughtful. The first was, that his uncle
+should take any interest in the matter of his safety; the second, what
+could be the nature of a certain deposit which the Marquis's letter
+directed him to procure, if possible, from the Chateau de Senanges. The
+fact of this injunction explained, in some measure, the first of the two
+difficulties. It was plain that whatever were the contents of this
+packet which he was to seek for, according to the indications marked on
+a ground-plan drawn by his uncle and enclosed in the letter, the Marquis
+wanted them, and could not procure them except by the agency of his
+nephew. That the Marquis should venture to direct Paul de Senanges to
+put himself in communication with Prosper Alix, would have been
+surprising to any one acquainted only with the external and generally
+understood features of the character of the new proprietor of the
+Chateau de Senanges. But a few people knew Prosper Alix thoroughly, and
+the Marquis was one of the number; he was keen enough to know in theory
+that, in the case of a man with only one weakness, that is likely to be
+a very weak weakness indeed, and to apply the theory to the _avocat_.
+The beautiful, pious, and aristocratic mother of Paul de Senanges--a
+lady to whose superiority the Marquis had rendered the distinguished
+testimony of his dislike, not hesitating to avow that she was "much too
+good for _his_ taste"--had been very fond of, and very kind to, the
+motherless daughter of Prosper Alix, and he held her memory in reverence
+which he accorded to nothing beside, human or divine, and taught his
+daughter the matchless worth of the friend she had lost. The Marquis
+knew this, and though he had little sympathy with the sentiment, he
+believed he might use it in the present instance to his own profit, with
+safety. The event proved that he was right. Private negotiations, with
+the manner of whose transaction we are not concerned, passed between the
+_avocat_ and the _ci-devant_ Marquis; and the young man, then leading a
+life in which skulking had a large share, in the vicinity of Dijon, was
+instructed to present himself at the Maison Alix, under the designation
+of Henri Glaire, and in the character of an artist in house-decoration.
+The circumstances of his life in childhood and boyhood had led to his
+being almost safe from recognition as a man at Lyons; and, indeed, all
+the people on the _ci-devant_ visiting-list of the chateau had been
+pretty nearly killed off, in the noble and patriotic ardor of the
+revolutionary times.
+
+The ancient Chateau de Senanges was proudly placed near the summit of
+the "Holy Hill," and had suffered terrible depredations when the church
+at Fourvieres was sacked, and the shrine desecrated with that ingenious
+impiety which is characteristic of the French; but it still retained
+somewhat of its former heavy grandeur. The chateau was much too large
+for the needs, tastes, or ambition of its present owner, who was too
+wise, if even he had been of an ostentatious disposition, not to have
+sedulously resisted its promptings. The jealousy of the nation of
+brothers was easily excited, and departure from simplicity and frugality
+was apt to be commented upon by domiciliary visits, and the eager
+imposition of fanciful fines. That portion of the vast building occupied
+by Prosper Alix and the _citoyenne_ Berthe, his daughter, presented an
+appearance of well-to-do comfort and modest ease, which contrasted with
+the grandiose proportions and the elaborate decorations of the wide
+corridors, huge flat staircases, and lofty panelled apartments. The
+_avocat_ and his daughter lived quietly in the old place, hoping, after
+a general fashion, for better times, but not finding the present very
+bad; the father becoming day by day more pleasant with his bargain, the
+daughter growing fonder of the great house, and the noble _bocages_, of
+the scrappy little vineyards, struggling for existence on the sunny
+hill-side, and the place where the famous shrine had been. They had
+done it much damage; they had parted its riches among them; the once
+ever-open doors were shut, and the worn flags were untrodden; but
+nothing could degrade it, nothing could destroy what had been, in the
+mind of Berthe Alix, who was as devout as her father was unconcernedly
+unbelieving. Berthe was wonderfully well educated for a Frenchwoman of
+that period, and surprisingly handsome for a Frenchwoman of any. Not too
+tall to offend the taste of her compatriots, and not too short to be
+dignified and graceful, she had a symmetrical figure, and a small,
+well-poised head, whose profuse, shining, silken dark-brown hair she
+wore as nature intended, in a shower of curls, never touched by the hand
+of the coiffeur,--curls which clustered over her brow, and fell far down
+on her shapely neck. Her features were fine; the eyes very dark, and the
+mouth very red; the complexion clear and rather pale, and the style of
+the face and its expression lofty. When Berthe Alix was a child, people
+were accustomed to say she was pretty and refined enough to belong to
+the aristocracy; nobody would have dared to say so now, prettiness and
+refinement, together with all the other virtues admitted to a place on
+the patriotic roll, having become national property.
+
+Berthe loved her father dearly. She was deeply impressed with the sense
+of her supreme importance to him, and fully comprehended that he would
+be influenced by and through her when all other persuasion or argument
+would be unavailing. When Prosper Alix wished and intended to do
+anything rather mean or selfish, he did it without letting Berthe know;
+and when he wished to leave undone something which he knew his daughter
+would decide ought to be done, he carefully concealed from her the
+existence of the dilemma. Nevertheless, this system did not prevent the
+father and daughter being very good and even confidential friends.
+Prosper Alix loved his daughter immeasurably, and respected her more
+than he respected any one in the world. With regard to her persevering
+religiousness, when such things were not only out of fashion and date,
+but illegal as well, he was very tolerant. Of course it was weak, and an
+absurdity; but every woman, even his beautiful, incomparable Berthe, was
+weak and absurd on some point or other; and, after all, he had come to
+the conclusion that the safest weakness with which a woman can be
+afflicted is that romantic and ridiculous _faiblesse_ called piety. So
+these two lived a happy life together, Berthe's share of it being very
+secluded, and were wonderfully little troubled by the turbulence with
+which society was making its tumultuous way to the virtuous serenity of
+republican perfection.
+
+The communication announcing the project of the _ci-devant_ Marquis for
+the secure exportation of his nephew, and containing the skilful appeal
+before mentioned, grievously disturbed the tranquillity of Prosper, and
+was precisely one of those incidents which he would especially have
+liked to conceal from his daughter. But he could not do so; the appeal
+was too cleverly made; and utter indifference to it, utter neglect of
+the letter, which naturally suggested itself as the easiest means of
+getting rid of a difficulty, would have involved an act of direct and
+uncompromising dishonesty to which Prosper, though of sufficiently
+elastic conscience within the limit of professional gains, could not
+contemplate. The Chateau de Senanges was indeed his own lawful property;
+his without prejudice to the former owners, dispossessed by no act of
+his. But the _ci-devant_ Marquis--confiding in him to an extent which
+was quite astonishing, except on the _pis-aller_ theory, which is so
+unflattering as to be seldom accepted--announced to him the existence of
+a certain packet, hidden in the chateau, acknowledging its value, and
+urging the need of its safe transmission. This was not his property. He
+heartily wished he had never learned its existence, but wishing that was
+clearly of no use; then he wished the nephew of the _ci-devant_ might
+come soon, and take himself and the hidden wealth away with all possible
+speed. This latter was a more realizable desire, and Prosper settled his
+mind with it, communicated the interesting but decidedly dangerous
+secret to Berthe, received her warm sanction, and transmitted to the
+Marquis, by the appointed means, an assurance that his wishes should be
+punctually carried out. The absence of an interdiction of his visit
+before a certain date was to be the signal to M. Paul de Senanges that
+he was to proceed to act upon his uncle's instructions; he waited the
+proper time, the reassuring silence was maintained unbroken, and he
+ultimately set forth on his journey, and accomplished it in safety.
+
+Preparations had been made at the Maison Alix for the reception of M.
+Glaire, and his supposed occupation had been announced. The apartments
+were decorated in a heavy, gloomy style, and those of the _citoyenne_ in
+particular (they had been occupied by a lady who had once been
+designated as _feue Madame la Marquise_, but who was referred to now as
+_la mere du ci-devant_) were much in need of renovation. The alcove, for
+instance, was all that was least gay and most far from simple. The
+_citoyenne_ would have all that changed. On the morning of the day of
+the expected arrival, Berthe said to her father:
+
+"It would seem as if the Marquis did not know the exact spot in which
+the packet is deposited. M. Paul's assumed character implies the
+necessity for a search."
+
+M. Henri Glaire arrived at the Maison Alix, was fraternally received,
+and made acquainted with the sphere of his operations. The young man had
+a good deal of both ability and taste in the line he had assumed, and
+the part was not difficult to play. Some days were judiciously allowed
+to pass before the real object of the masquerade was pursued, and during
+that time cordial relations established themselves between the _avocat_
+and his guest. The young man was handsome, elegant, engaging, with all
+the external advantages, and devoid of the vices, errors, and hopeless
+infatuated unscrupulousness, of his class; he had naturally quick
+intelligence, and some real knowledge and comprehension of life had been
+knocked into him by the hard-hitting blows of Fate. His face was like
+his mother's, Prosper Alix thought, and his mind and tastes were of the
+very pattern which, in theory, Berthe approved. Berthe, a very
+unconventional French girl--who thought the new era of purity, love,
+virtue, and disinterestedness ought to do away with marriage by barter
+as one of its most notable reforms, and had been disenchanted by
+discovering that the abolition of marriage altogether suited the taste
+of the incorruptible Republic better--might like, might even love, this
+young man. She saw so few men, and had no fancy for patriots; she would
+certainly be obstinate about it if she did chance to love him. This
+would be a nice state of affairs. This would be a pleasant consequence
+of the confiding request of the _ci-devant_. Prosper wished with all his
+heart for the arrival of the concerted signal, which should tell Henri
+Glaire that he might fulfil the purpose of his sojourn at the Maison
+Alix, and set forth for Marseilles.
+
+But the signal did not come, and the days--long, beautiful, sunny,
+soothing summer-days--went on. The painting of the panels of the
+_citoyenne's_ apartment, which she vacated for that purpose, progressed
+slowly; and M. Paul de Senanges, guided by the ground-plan, and aided by
+Berthe, had discovered the spot in which the jewels of price, almost the
+last remnants of the princely wealth of the Senanges, had been hidden by
+the _femme-de-chambre_ who had perished with her mistress, having
+confided a general statement of the fact to a priest, for transmission
+to the Marquis. This spot had been ingeniously chosen. The
+sleeping-apartment of the late Marquis was extensive, lofty, and
+provided with an alcove of sufficiently large dimensions to have formed
+in itself a handsome room. This space, containing a splendid but gloomy
+bed, on an estrade, and hung with rich faded brocade, was divided from
+the general extent of the apartment by a low railing of black oak,
+elaborately carved, opening in the centre, and with a flat wide bar
+along the top, covered with crimson velvet. The curtains were contrived
+to hang from the ceiling, and, when let down inside the screen of
+railing, they matched the draperies which closed before the great stone
+balcony at the opposite end of the room. Since the _avocat's_ daughter
+had occupied this palatial chamber, the curtains of the alcove had never
+been drawn, and she had substituted for them a high folding screen of
+black-and-gold Japanese pattern, also a relic of the grand old times,
+which stood about six feet on the outside of the rails that shut in her
+bed. The floor was of shining oak, testifying to the conscientious and
+successful labors of successive generations of _frotteurs_; and on the
+spot where the railing of the alcove opened by a pretty quaint device
+sundering the intertwined arms of a pair of very chubby cherubs, a
+square space in the floor was also richly carved.
+
+The seekers soon reached the end of their search. A little effort
+removed the square of carved oak, and underneath they found a casket,
+evidently of old workmanship, richly wrought in silver, much tarnished
+but quite intact. It was agreed that this precious deposit should be
+replaced, and the carved square laid down over it, until the signal for
+his departure should reach Paul. The little baggage which under any
+circumstances he could have ventured to allow himself in the dangerous
+journey he was to undertake, must be reduced, so as to admit of his
+carrying the casket without exciting suspicion.
+
+The finding of the hidden treasure was not the first joint discovery
+made by the daughter of the _avocat_ and the son of the _ci-devant_. The
+cogitations of Prosper Alix were very wise, very reasonable; but they
+were a little tardy. Before he had admitted the possibility of mischief,
+the mischief was done. Each had found out that the love of the other was
+indispensable to the happiness of life; and they had exchanged
+confidences, assurances, protestations, and promises, as freely, as
+fervently, and as hopefully, as if no such thing as a Republic, one and
+indivisible, with a keen scent and an unappeasable thirst for the blood
+of aristocrats, existed. They forgot all about "Liberty, Fraternity, and
+Equality"--these egotistical, narrow-minded young people;--they also
+forgot the characteristic alternative to those unparalleled
+blessings--"Death." But Prosper Alix did not forget any of these things;
+and his consternation, his provision of suffering for his beloved
+daughter, were terrible, when she told him, with a simple noble
+frankness which the _grandes dames_ of the dead-and-gone time of great
+ladies had rarely had a chance of exhibiting, that she loved M. Paul de
+Senanges, and intended to marry him when the better times should come.
+Perhaps she meant when that alternative of _death_ should be struck off
+the sacred formula;--of course she meant to marry him with the sanction
+of her father, which she made no doubt she should receive.
+
+Prosper Alix was in pitiable perplexity. He could not bear to terrify
+his daughter by a full explanation of the danger she was incurring; he
+could not bear to delude her with false hope. If this young man could be
+got away at once safely, there was not much likelihood that he would
+ever be able to return to France. Would Berthe pine for him, or would
+she forget him, and make a rational, sensible, rich, republican
+marriage, which would not imperil either her reputation for pure
+patriotism or her father's? The latter would be the very best thing that
+could possibly happen, and therefore it was decidedly unwise to
+calculate upon it; but, after all, it was possible; and Prosper had not
+the courage, in such a strait, to resist the hopeful promptings of a
+possibility. How ardently he regretted that he had complied with the
+prayer of the _ci-devant_! When would the signal for Mr. Paul's
+departure come?
+
+Prosper Alix had made many sacrifices, had exercised much self-control
+for his daughter's sake; but he had never sustained a more severe trial
+than this, never suffered more than he did now, under the strong
+necessity for hiding from her his absolute conviction of the
+impossibility of a happy result for this attachment, in that future to
+which the lovers looked so fearlessly. He could not even make his
+anxiety and apprehension known to Paul de Senanges; for he did not
+believe the young man had sufficient strength of will to conceal
+anything so important from the keen and determined observation of
+Berthe.
+
+The expected signal was not given, and the lovers were incautious. The
+seclusion of the Maison Alix had all the danger, as well as all the
+delight, of solitude, and Paul dropped his disguise too much and too
+often. The servants, few in number, were of the truest patriotic
+principles, and to some of them the denunciation of the _citoyen_, whom
+they condescended to serve because the sacred Revolution had not yet
+made them as rich as he, would have been a delightful duty, a
+sweet-smelling sacrifice to be laid on the altar of the country. They
+heard certain names and places mentioned; they perceived many things
+which led them to believe that Henri Glaire was not an industrial artist
+and pure patriot, worthy of respect, but a wretched _ci-devant_,
+resorting to the dignity of labor to make up for the righteous
+destruction of every other kind of dignity. One day a gardener, of less
+stoical virtue than his fellows, gave Prosper Alix a warning that the
+presence of a _ci-devant_ upon his premises was suspected, and that he
+might be certain a domiciliary visit, attended with dangerous results to
+himself, would soon take place. Of course the _avocat_ did not commit
+himself by any avowal to this lukewarm patriot; but he casually
+mentioned that Henri Glaire was about to take his leave. What was to be
+done? He must not leave the neighborhood without receiving the
+instructions he was awaiting; but he must leave the house, and be
+supposed to have gone quite away. Without any delay or hesitation,
+Prosper explained the facts to Berthe and her lover, and insisted on the
+necessity for an instant parting. Then the courage and the readiness of
+the girl told. There was no crying, and very little trembling; she was
+strong and helpful.
+
+"He must go to Pichon's, father," she said, "and remain there until the
+signal is given.--Pichon is a master-mason, Paul," she continued,
+turning to her lover, "and his wife was my nurse. They are avaricious
+people; but they are fond of me in their way, and they will shelter you
+faithfully enough, when they know that my father will pay them
+handsomely. You must go at once, unseen by the servants; they are at
+supper. Fetch your valise, and bring it to my room. We will put the
+casket in it, and such of your things as you must take out to make room
+for it, we can hide under the plank. My father will go with you to
+Pichon's, and we will communicate with you there as soon as it is safe."
+
+Paul followed her to the large gloomy room where the treasure lay, and
+they took the casket from its hiding-place. It was heavy, though not
+large, and an awkward thing to pack away among linen in a small valise.
+They managed it, however, and, the brief preparation completed, the
+moment of parting arrived. Firmly and eloquently, though in haste,
+Berthe assured Paul of her changeless love and faith, and promised him
+to wait for him for any length of time in France, if better days should
+be slow of coming, or to join him in some foreign land, if they were
+never to come. Her father was present, full of compassion and misgiving.
+At length he said:
+
+"Come, Paul, you must leave her; every moment is of importance."
+
+The young man and his betrothed were standing on the spot whence they
+had taken the casket; the carved rail with the heavy curtains might have
+been the outer sanctuary of an altar, and they bride and bridegroom
+before it, with earnest, loving faces, and clasped hands.
+
+"Farewell, Paul," said Berthe; "promise me once more, in this the moment
+of our parting, that you will come to me again, if you are alive, when
+the danger is past."
+
+"Whether I am living or dead, Berthe," said Paul de Senanges, strongly
+moved by some sudden inexplicable instinct, "I will come to you again."
+
+In a few more minutes, Prosper Alix and his guest, who carried, not
+without difficulty, the small but heavy leather valise, had disappeared
+in the distance, and Berthe was on her knees before the _prie-dieu_ of
+the _ci-devant_ Marquise, her face turned toward the "Holy Hill" of
+Fourvieres.
+
+Pichon, _maitre_, and his sons, _garcons-macons_, were well-to-do
+people, rather morose, exceedingly avaricious, and of taciturn
+dispositions; but they were not ill spoken of by their neighbors. They
+had amassed a good deal of money in their time, and were just then
+engaged on a very lucrative job. This was the construction of several of
+the steep descents, by means of stairs, straight and winding, cut in the
+face of the _coteaux_, by which pedestrians are enabled to descend into
+the town. Pichon _pere_ was a _proprietaire_ as well; his property was
+that which is now in the possession of Giraudier, _pharmacien, premiere
+classe_, and which was destined to attain a sinister celebrity during
+his proprietorship. One of the straightest and steepest of the stairways
+had been cut close to the _terre_ which the mason owned, and a massive
+wall, destined to bound the high-road at the foot of the declivity, was
+in course of construction.
+
+When Prosper Alix and Paul de Senanges reached the abode of Pichon, the
+master-mason, with his sons and workmen, had just completed their day's
+work, and were preparing to eat the supper served by the wife and
+mother, a tall, gaunt woman, who looked as if a more liberal scale of
+housekeeping would have done her good, but on whose features the stamp
+of that devouring and degrading avarice which is the commonest vice of
+the French peasantry, was set as plainly as on the hard faces of her
+husband and her sons. The _avocat_ explained his business and introduced
+his companion briefly, and awaited the reply of Pichon _pere_ without
+any appearance of inquietude.
+
+"You don't run any risk," he said; "at least, you don't run any risk
+which I cannot make it worth your while to incur. It is not the first
+time you have received a temporary guest on my recommendation. You know
+nothing about the citizen Glaire, except that he is recommended to you
+by me. I am responsible; you can, on occasion, make me so. The citizen
+may remain with you a short time; can hardly remain long. Say, citizen,
+is it agreed? I have no time to spare."
+
+It was agreed, and Prosper Alix departed, leaving M. Paul de Senanges,
+convinced that the right, indeed the only, thing had been done, and yet
+much troubled and depressed.
+
+Pichon _pere_ was a short, squat, powerfully built man, verging on
+sixty, whose thick, dark grizzled hair, sturdy limbs, and hard hands, on
+which the muscles showed like cords, spoke of endurance and strength; he
+was, indeed, noted in the neighborhood for those qualities. His sons
+resembled him slightly, and each other closely, as was natural, for they
+were twins. They were heavy, lumpish fellows, and they made but an
+ungracious return to the attempted civilities of the stranger, to whom
+the offer of their mother to show him his room was a decided relief. As
+he rose to follow the woman, Paul de Senanges lifted his small valise
+with difficulty from the floor, on which he had placed it on entering
+the house, and carried it out of the room in both his arms. The
+brothers followed these movements with curiosity, and, when the door
+closed behind their mother and the stranger, their eyes met.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Twenty-four hours had passed away, and nothing new had occurred at the
+Maison Alix. The servants had not expressed any curiosity respecting the
+departure of the citizen Glaire, no domiciliary visit had taken place,
+and Berthe and her father were discussing the propriety of Prosper's
+venturing, on the pretext of an excursion in another direction, a visit
+to the isolated and quiet dwelling of the master-mason. No signal had
+yet arrived. It was agreed that after the lapse of another day, if their
+tranquillity remained undisturbed, Prosper Alix should visit Paul de
+Senanges. Berthe, who was silent and preoccupied, retired to her own
+room early, and her father, who was uneasy and apprehensive, desperately
+anxious for the promised communication from the Marquis, was relieved by
+her absence.
+
+The moon was high in the dark sky, and her beams were flung across the
+polished oak floor of Berthe's bedroom, through the great window with
+the stone balcony, when the girl, who had gone to sleep with her lover's
+name upon her lips in prayer, awoke with a sudden start, and sat up in
+her bed. An unbearable dread was upon her; and yet she was unable to
+utter a cry, she was unable to make another movement. Had she heard a
+voice? No, no one had spoken, nor did she fancy that she heard any
+sound. But within her, somewhere inside her heaving bosom, something
+said, "Berthe!"
+
+And she listened, and knew what it was. And it spoke, and said:
+
+"I promised you that, living or dead, I would come to you again. And I
+have come to you; but not living."
+
+She was quite awake. Even in the agony of her fear she looked around,
+and tried to move her hands, to feel her dress and the bedclothes, and
+to fix her eyes on some familiar object, that she might satisfy herself,
+before this racing and beating, this whirling and yet icy chilliness of
+her blood should kill her outright, that she was really awake.
+
+"I have come to you; but not living."
+
+What an awful thing that voice speaking within her was! She tried to
+raise her head and to look toward the place where the moonbeams marked
+bright lines upon the polished floor, which lost themselves at the foot
+of the Japanese screen. She forced herself to this effort, and lifted
+her eyes, wild and haggard with fear, and there, the moonbeams at his
+feet, the tall black screen behind him, she saw Paul de Senanges. She
+saw him; she looked at him quite steadily; she rose, slowly, with a
+mechanical movement, and stood upright beside her bed, clasping her
+forehead with her hands, and gazing at him. He stood motionless, in the
+dress he had worn when he took leave of her, the light-colored
+riding-coat of the period, with a short cape, and a large white cravat
+tucked into the double breast. The white muslin was flecked, and the
+front of the riding-coat was deeply stained, with blood. He looked at
+her, and she took a step forward--another--then, with a desperate
+effort, she dashed open the railing and flung herself on her knees
+before him, with her arms stretched out as if to clasp him. But he was
+no longer there; the moonbeams fell clear and cold upon the polished
+floor, and lost themselves where Berthe lay, at the foot of the screen,
+her head upon the ground, and every sign of life gone from her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Where is the citizen Glaire?" asked Prosper Alix of the _citoyenne_
+Pichon, entering the house of the master-mason abruptly, and with a
+stern and threatening countenance. "I have a message for him; I must see
+him."
+
+"I know nothing about him," replied the _citoyenne_, without turning in
+his direction, or relaxing her culinary labors. "He went away from here
+the next morning, and I did not trouble myself to ask where; that is his
+affair."
+
+"He went away? Without letting me know! Be careful, _citoyenne_; this is
+a serious matter."
+
+"So they tell me," said the woman with a grin, which was not altogether
+free from pain and fear; "for you! A serious thing to have a _suspect_
+in your house, and palm him off on honest people. However, he went away
+peaceably enough when he knew we had found him out, and that we had no
+desire to go to prison, or worse, on his account, or yours."
+
+She was strangely insolent, this woman, and the listener felt his
+helplessness; he had brought the young man there with such secrecy, he
+had so carefully provided for the success of concealment.
+
+"Who carried his valise?" Prosper Alix asked her suddenly.
+
+"How should I know?" she replied; but her hands lost their steadiness,
+and she upset a stew-pan; "he carried it here, didn't he? and I suppose
+he carried it away again."
+
+Prosper Alix looked at her steadily--she shunned his gaze, but she
+showed no other sign of confusion; then horror and disgust of the woman
+came over him.
+
+"I must see Pichon," he said; "where is he?"
+
+"Where should he be but at the wall? he and the boys are working there,
+as always. The citizen can see them; but he will remember not to detain
+them; in a little quarter of an hour the soup will be ready."
+
+The citizen did see the master-mason and his sons, and after an
+interview of some duration he left the place in a state of violent
+agitation and complete discomfiture. The master-mason had addressed to
+him these words at parting:
+
+"I assert that the man went away at his own free will; but if you do not
+keep very quiet, I shall deny that he came here at all--you cannot prove
+he did--and I will denounce you for harboring a _suspect_ and
+_ci-devant_ under a false name. I know a De Senanges when I see him as
+well as you, citizen Alix; and, wishing M. Paul a good journey, I hope
+you will consider about this matter, for truly, my friend, I think you
+will sneeze in the sack before I shall."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"We must bear it, Berthe, my child," said Prosper Alix to his daughter
+many weeks later, when the fever had left her, and she was able to talk
+with her father of the mysterious and frightful events which had
+occurred. "We are utterly helpless. There is no proof, only the word of
+these wretches against mine, and certain destruction to me if I speak.
+We will go to Spain, and tell the Marquis all the truth, and never
+return, if you would rather not. But, for the rest, we must bear it."
+
+"Yes, my father," said Berthe submissively, "I know we must; but God
+need not, and I don't believe He will."
+
+The father and the daughter left France unmolested, and Berthe "bore it"
+as well as she could. When better times come they returned, Prosper Alix
+an old man, and Berthe a stern, silent, handsome woman, with whom no one
+associated any notions of love or marriage. But long before their return
+the traditions of the Croix Rousse were enriched by circumstances which
+led to that before-mentioned capital bargain made by the father of the
+Giraudier of the present. These circumstances were the violent death of
+Pichon and his two sons, who were killed by the fall of a portion of the
+great boundary-wall on the very day of its completion, and the
+discovery, close to its foundation, at the extremity of Pichon's
+_terre_, of the corpse of a young man attired in a light-colored
+riding-coat, who had been stabbed through the heart.
+
+Berthe Alix lived alone in the Chateau de Senanges, under its restored
+name, until she was a very old woman. She lived long enough to see the
+golden figure on the summit of the "Holy Hill," long enough to forget
+the bad old times, but not long enough to forget or cease to mourn the
+lover who had kept his promise, and come back to her; the lover who
+rested in the earth which once covered the bones of the martyrs, and who
+kept a place for her by his side. She has filled that place for many
+years. You may see it, when you look down from the second gallery of the
+bell-tower at Fourvieres, following the bend of the outstretched golden
+arm of Notre Dame.
+
+The chateau was pulled down some years ago, and there is no trace of its
+former existence among the vines.
+
+Good times, and bad times, and again good times have come for the Croix
+Rousse, for Lyons, and for France, since then; but the remembrance of
+the treachery of Pichon & Sons, and of the retribution which at once
+exposed and punished their crime, outlives all changes. And once, every
+year, on a certain summer night, three ghostly figures are seen, by any
+who have courage and patience to watch for them, gliding along by the
+foot of the boundary-wall, two of them carrying a dangling corpse, and
+the other, implements for mason's work and a small leather valise.
+Giraudier, _pharmacien_, has never seen these ghostly figures, but he
+describes them with much minuteness; and only the _esprits forts_ of the
+Croix Rousse deny that the ghosts of Pichon & Sons are not yet laid.
+
+
+
+
+THE PHANTOM FOURTH.
+
+
+They were three.
+
+It was in the cheap night-service train from Paris to Calais that I
+first met them.
+
+Railways, as a rule, are among the many things which they do _not_ order
+better in France, and the French Northern line is one of the worst
+managed in the world, barring none, not even the Italian _vie ferrate_.
+I make it a rule, therefore, to punish the directors of, and the
+shareholders in, that undertaking to the utmost within my limited
+ability, by spending as little money on their line as I can help.
+
+It was, then, in a third-class compartment of the train that I met the
+three.
+
+Three as hearty, jolly-looking Saxon faces, with stalwart frames to
+match, as one would be likely to meet in an hour's walk from the
+Regent's Park to the Mansion House.
+
+One of the three was dark, the other two were fair. The dark one was the
+senior of the party. He wore an incipient full beard, evidently in
+process of training, with a considerable amount of grizzle in it.
+
+The face of one of his companions was graced with a magnificent flowing
+beard. The third of the party, a fair-haired youth of some twenty-three
+or four summers, showed a scrupulously smooth-shaven face.
+
+They looked all three much flushed and slightly excited, and, I must
+say, they turned out the most boisterous set of fellows I ever met.
+
+They were clearly gentlemen, however, and men of education, with
+considerable linguistic acquirements; for they chatted and sang, and
+declaimed and "did orations" all the way from Paris to Calais, in a
+slightly bewildering variety of tongues.
+
+Their jollity had, perhaps, just a little over-tinge of the slap-bang
+jolly-dog style in it; but there was so much heartiness and good-nature
+in all they said and in all they did, that it was quite impossible for
+any of the other occupants of the carriage to vote them a nuisance; and
+even the sourest of the officials, whom they chaffed most unmercifully
+and unremittingly at every station on the line, took their punishment
+with a shrug and a grin. The only person, indeed, who rose against them
+in indignant protestation was the head-waiter at the Calais station
+refreshment-room, to whom they would persist in propounding puzzling
+problems, such as, for instance, "If you charge two shillings for
+one-and-a-half-ounce slice of breast of veal, how many fools will it
+take to buy the joint off you?"--and what _he_ got by the attempt to
+stop their chaff was a caution to any other sinner who might have felt
+similarly inclined.
+
+As for me, I could only give half my sense of hearing to their
+utterings, the other half being put under strict sequester at the time
+by my friend O'Kweene, the great Irish philosopher, who was delivering
+to me, for my own special behoof and benefit, a brilliant, albeit
+somewhat abstruse, dissertation on the "visible and palpable outward
+manifestations of the inner consciousness of the soul in a trance;"
+which occupied all the time from Paris to Calais, full eight hours, and
+which, to judge from my feelings at the time, would certainly afford
+matter for three heavy volumes of reading in bed, in cases of inveterate
+sleeplessness--a hint to enterprising publishers.
+
+My friend O'Kweene, who intended to stay a few days at Calais, took
+leave of me on the pier, and I went on board the steamer that was to
+carry us and the mail over to Dover.
+
+Here I found our trio of the railway-car, snugly ensconced under an
+extemporized awning, artfully constructed with railway-rugs and
+greatcoats, supported partly against the luggage, and partly upon
+several oars, purloined from the boats, and turned into tent-poles for
+the nonce--which made the skipper swear wofully when he found it out
+some time after.
+
+The three were even more cheery and boisterous on board than they had
+been on shore. From what I could make out in the dark, they were
+discussing the contents of divers bottles of liquor; I counted four dead
+men dropped quietly overboard by them in the course of the hour and a
+half we had to wait for the arrival of the mail-train, which was late,
+as usual on this line.
+
+At last we were off, about half-past two o'clock in the morning. It was
+a beautiful, clear, moonlit night, so clear, indeed, that we could see
+the Dover lights almost from Calais harbor. But we had considerably more
+than a capful of wind, and there was a turgent ground-swell on, which
+made our boat--double-engined, and as trim and tidy a craft as ever sped
+across the span from shore to shore--behave rather lively, with sportive
+indulgence in a brisk game of pitch-and-toss that proved anything but
+comfortable to most of the passengers.
+
+When we were steaming out of Calais harbor, our three friends, emerging
+from beneath their tent, struck up in chorus Campbell's noble song, "Ye
+Mariners of England," finishing up with a stave from "Rule, Britannia!"
+
+But, alas for them! however loudly their throats were shouting forth the
+sway proverbially held by Albion and her sons over the waves, on this
+occasion at least the said waves seemed determined upon ruling these
+particular three Britons with a rod of antimony; for barely a few
+seconds after the last vibrating echoes of the "Britons never, never,
+never shall be slaves!" had died away upon the wind, I beheld the three
+leaning lovingly together, in fast friendship linked, over the rail,
+conversing in deep ventriguttural accents with the denizens of Neptune's
+watery realm.
+
+We had one of the quickest passages on record--ninety-three minutes'
+steaming carried us across from shore to shore. When we were just on the
+point of landing, I heard the dark senior of the party mutter to his
+companions, in a hollow whisper and mysterious manner, "He is gone
+again;" to which the others, the bearded and the smooth-shaven,
+responded in the same way, with deep sighs of evident relief, "Ay,
+marry! so he is at last."
+
+This mysterious communication roused my curiosity. Who was the party
+that was said to be gone at last? Where had he come from? where had he
+been hiding, that _I_ had not seen him? and where was he gone to now? I
+determined to know; if but the opportunity would offer, to screw, by
+cunning questioning, the secret out of either of the three.
+
+Fate favored my design.
+
+For some inscrutable reason, known only to the company's officials, we
+cheap-trainers were not permitted to proceed on our journey to London
+along with the mail, but were left to kick our heels for some two hours
+at the Dover station.
+
+I went into the refreshment-room to look for my party; I had a notion I
+should find them where the Briton's unswerving and unerring instinct
+would be most likely to lead them. It turned out that I was right in my
+conjecture. There they were, seated round a table with huge bowls of
+steaming tea and monster piles of buttered toast and muffins spread on
+the festive board before them. Ay, indeed, there they were; but _quantum
+mutati ab illis_! how strangely changed from the noisy, rollicking set I
+had known them in the railway-car and on board the steamer, ere yet the
+demon of sea-sickness had claimed them for his own! How ghastly sober
+they looked now, to be sure! And how sternly and silently bent upon
+devoting themselves to the swilling of the Chinese shrub infusion and to
+the gorging of indigestible muffins. It was quite clear to me that it
+would have been worse than folly to venture upon addressing them while
+thus absorbed in absorbing. So I resolved to await a more favorable
+opening, and went out meanwhile to walk on the platform.
+
+A short time I was left in solitary possession of the promenade; then I
+became suddenly aware that another traveller was treading the same
+ground with me--it was the dark elderly leader of the three. I glanced
+at him as he passed me under one of the lamps. He looked pale and sad.
+The furrowed lines on his brow bespoke deliberation deep and pondering
+profound. All the infinite mirth of the preceding few hours had departed
+from him, leaving him but a wretched wreck of his former reckless self.
+
+"A fine night, sir," I said to break the ice--"for the season of the
+year," I added by way of a saving clause, to tone down the absoluteness
+of the assertion.
+
+He looked at me abstractedly, merely reechoing my own words, "A fine
+night, sir, for the season of the year."
+
+"Why look ye so sad now, who were erst so jolly?" I bluntly asked,
+determined to force him into conversation.
+
+"Ay, indeed, why so sad now?" he replied, looking me full in the face;
+then, suddenly clasping my arm with a spasmodic grip, he continued
+hurriedly, "I think I had best confide our secret to you. You seem a man
+of thought. I witnessed and admired the patient attention with which you
+listened to your friend's abstruse talk in the railway-car. Maybe you
+can find the solution of a mystery which defies the ponderings of our
+poor brains--mine and my two friends."
+
+Then he proceeded to pour into my attentive ear this gruesome tale of
+mystery:
+
+"We three--that is, myself, yon tall bearded Briton," pointing to the
+glass door of the refreshment-room, "whose name is Jack Hobson, and
+young Emmanuel Topp, junior partner in a great beer firm, whom you may
+behold now at his fifth bowl of tea and his seventh muffin--are
+teetotallers----"
+
+"Teetotallers!" I could not help exclaiming. "Lord bless me! that is
+certainly about the last thing I should have taken you for, either of
+you."
+
+"Well," he replied with some slight confusion, "at least, we _were
+total_ teetotallers, though I admit we can now only claim the character
+of partial abstainers. The fact is, when, about a fortnight ago, we were
+discussing the plan of our projected visit to the great Paris
+Exhibition, Topp suggested that while in France we should do as the
+French do, to which Jack Hobson assented, remarking that the French knew
+nothing about tea, and that a Frenchman's tea would be sure to prove an
+Englishman's poison. So we resolved to suspend the pledge during our
+visit to France.
+
+"It was on the second day after our arrival in Paris. We were dining in
+a private cabinet at Desire Beaurain's, one of the leading restaurants
+on the fashionable side of the Montmartre--Italiens Boulevard. Our
+dinner was what an Irishman might call a most 'illigant' affair. We had
+sipped several bottles of Sauterne, and tasted a few of Tavel, and we
+were just topping the entertainment with a solitary bottle of champagne,
+when I became suddenly aware of the presence of another party in the
+room--a _fourth man_--who sat him down at our table, and helped himself
+liberally to our liquor. From what I ascertained afterward from Jack
+Hobson and Emmanuel Topp, the intruder's presence became revealed to
+them also, either about the same time or a little later. What was he
+like? I cannot tell. His figure and face remained indistinct
+throughout--phantom-like. His features seemed endowed with a stronge
+weird mobility that would defyingly elude the fixing grasp of our eager
+eyes. Now, and to my two companions, he would look marvellously like me;
+then, to me, he would stalk and rave about in the likeness of Jack
+Hobson; again, he would seem the counterfeit of Emmanuel Topp; then he
+would look like all the three of us put together; then like neither of
+us, nor like anybody else. Oh, sir, it was a woful thing to be haunted
+by this phantom apparition. Yet the strangest part of the affair was
+that neither of us seemed to feel a whit surprised at the dread
+presence; that we quietly and uncomplainingly let him drink our wine,
+and actually give orders for more; that we never objected, in fact, to
+any of his sayings and doings. What seemed also strange was that the
+waiter, while yet receiving and executing his orders, was evidently
+pretending to ignore his presence. But then, as I dare say you know as
+well as I do, French waiters are _such_ actors!
+
+"Well, to resume, there he was, this fourth man, seated at our table and
+feasting at our expense. And the pranks that he would play us--they were
+truly stupendous. He began his little game by ordering in half-a-dozen
+of champagne. And when the waiter seemed slightly doubtful and
+hesitating about executing the order, Topp, forsooth, must put in his
+oar, and indorse the command, actually pretending that _I_, who am now
+speaking to you, and who am the very last man in the world likely to
+dream of such a preposterous thing, had given the order, and that I was
+a jolly old brick, and the best of boon companions. Surprise at this
+barefaced assertion kept me mute, and so, of course, the champagne was
+brought in, and I thought the best thing to do under the circumstances
+was to have my share of it at least; and so I had--my fair share; but,
+bless you, it was nothing to what that fourth man drank of it. In fact,
+the amount of liquor _he_ would swill on this and on the many subsequent
+occasions he intruded his presence upon us, was a caution.
+
+"We paid our little bill without grumbling, though the presence of the
+fourth man at our table had added rather heavily to the _addition_, as
+they call bills at French restaurants.
+
+"We sallied forth into the street to get a whiff of fresh air. _He_, the
+demon, pertinaciously stuck to us; he familiarly linked his arm through
+mine, and, suggesting coffee as rather a good thing to take after
+dinner, took us over to the Cafe du Cardinal, where he, however, took
+none of the Arabian beverage himself (there being only three cups placed
+for us, as I distinctly saw), but drank an interminable succession of
+_chasse-cafe_, utterly regardless of the divisional lines of the cognac
+_carafon_. Part of these he would take neat, another portion he would
+burn over sugar, gloating glaringly over the bluish flame, while gleams
+of demoniac delight would flit across his ever-changing features. Jack
+Hobson and Topp, I am sorry to say, joined him with a will in this
+double-distilled debauch; and when I attempted to remonstrate with them,
+they brazenly asserted that _I_, who am now speaking to you, who have
+always, publicly and privately, declared brandy to be the worst of evil
+spirits, had taken more of it, to my own cheek, as they slangily
+expressed it, than the two of them together; and the waiter, who had
+evidently been bribed by them, boldly maintained that _le vieux
+monsieur_, as he had the impudence to call me, had swallowed _plus de
+trois carafons de fine_; whereupon the fourth man, stepping up to him,
+punched his head, which served him right. Now you will hardly believe me
+when I tell you that at that very instant Topp forced me back into my
+chair, while Jack Hobson pinioned my arms from behind, and the waiter
+had the unblushing effrontery to stamp and rave at me like a maniac,
+demanding satisfaction or compensation at my hands for the unprovoked
+assault committed upon him by _me, coram populo_!--by _me_, who, I beg
+to assure you, am the most peaceable man living, and am actually famed
+for the mildness of my disposition and the sweetness and suavity of my
+temper. And, would you believe it? everybody present, waiters and
+guests, and my own two bosom-friends, joined in the conspiracy against
+me, and I actually had to give the wretch of a waiter ten francs as a
+plaster for his broken pate, and a salve for his wounded honor! Where
+was the real culprit all this time, you ask me--the fourth man? Why, he
+quietly stood by grinning, and they all and every one of them pretended
+not to see him, though Topp and Jack Hobson next morning confessed to me
+that they certainly had an indistinct consciousness of the presence
+throughout of this miserable intruder.
+
+"How we finished that night I remember not; nor could Jack Hobson or
+Emmanuel Topp. All we could conscientiously stand by, if we were
+questioned, is that we awoke next morning--the three of us--with some
+slight swimming in our heads, and a hazy recollection of a gorgeous
+dream of brilliant lights and sounds of music and revelry, and bright
+visions of groves and grottoes, and dancing houris (or hussies, as moral
+Jack Hobson calls the poor things), and a hot supper at a certain place
+in the Passage des Princes, of which I think the name is Peter's.
+
+"I will not tire your courteous patience by a detailed narrative of our
+experiences day after day, during our fortnight's stay in Paris. Suffice
+it to tell you that from that time forward to yesterday, when we left,
+the _fourth man_, as we, by mutual consent, agreed to call the phantom
+apparition, came in regularly to our dinner; with the dessert or a
+little after; that he would constantly suggest a fresh supply of Cote
+St. Jacques, Moulin-a-Vent, Beaune, Chambertin, Roederer Carte Blanche,
+and a variety of other, generally rather more than less expensive,
+wines--and that he somehow would manage to make us have them, too.
+
+"Then he would sally forth with us to the cafe, where he would indulge
+in irritating chaff of the waiters, and in slighting comments upon the
+great French nation in general, and the Parisians in particular, and
+upon their institutions and manners and customs.
+
+"He would insist upon singing the Marseillaise; he would speak
+disparagingly of the Emperor, whom he would irreverently call Lambert;
+he would pass cutting and unsavory remarks upon the glorious system of
+the night-carts; he would call down the judgment of Heaven upon the
+devoted head of poor Mr. Haussmann; he would go up to some unhappy
+sergent-de-ville, who might, however unwittingly, excite his ire, and
+tell him a bit of his mind in English, with sarcastic allusions to his
+cocket-hat and his toasting-fork, and polite inquiries after the health
+of _ce cher_ Monsieur Lambert, or the whereabouts of _cet excellent_
+Monsieur Godinot. The worst of the matter was that I suppose for the
+reason that man is an imitative animal, a sort of [Greek: pithekos
+myoros], or Monboddian monkey minus the tail--my two companions were,
+somehow, always sure to join the wretch in his evil behavior, and to go
+on just as bad as he did. No wonder, then, that we got into no end of
+rows, and it is a marvel to me now, how ever we have managed to get off
+with a whole skin to our bodies.
+
+"He would insist upon taking us to Mabille, the Closerie des Lilas, and
+the Chateaurouge, where he would indulge in the maddest pranks and
+antics, and somehow lead us to join in the wildest dances, and make us
+lift our legs as high as the highest lifter among the _habitues_, male
+or female.
+
+"One night, at about half-past two in the morning (_Hibernice_), he had
+the cool assurance to drag us along with him to the then closed entrance
+to the Passage des Princes, where he frantically shook the gate, and
+insisted to the frightened concierge, who came running up in his
+night-shirt, that Peter's must and ought to be open still, as _we_ had
+not had our supper yet; and Topp and Jack Hobson, forsooth, must join in
+the row. I have no distinct recollection of whether it was our phantom
+guest or either of my companions that madly strove to detain the hastily
+retreating form of the concierge by a desperate clutch at the tail of
+his shirt; I only remember that the garment gave way in the struggle,
+and that the unhappy functionary was reduced nearly altogether to the
+primitive buff costume of the father of man in Paradise ere he had put
+his teeth into that unlucky apple of which, the pips keep so
+inconveniently sticking in poor humanity's gizzard to the present day.
+And what I remember also to my cost is, that the sergent-de-ville, whom
+the bereaved man's shouts of distress brought to the scene, fastened
+upon _me_, the most inoffensive of mortals, for a compensation fine of
+twenty francs, as if _I_ had been the culprit. And deuced glad we were,
+I assure you, to get off without more serious damage to our pocket and
+reputation than this, and a copious volley of _sacres ivrognes Anglais_,
+fired at us by the wretched concierge and his friend of the police, who,
+I am quite sure, went halves with him in the compensation. Ah! they are
+a lawless set, these French.
+
+"On another occasion we three went to the Exhibition, where we visited
+one of our colonial departments, in company with several English
+friends, and some French gentlemen appointed on the wine jury. We went
+to taste a few samples of colonial wines. _He_ was not with us _then_.
+Barely, however, had we uncorked a poor dozen bottles, which turned out
+rather good for colonial, though a little raw and slightly uneducated,
+when _who_ should stalk in but our fourth man, as jaunty and
+unconcerned as ever. Well, _he_ fell to tasting, and he soon grew
+eloquent in praise of the colonial juice, which he declared would, in
+another twenty years' time, be fit to compete successfully with the best
+French vintages. Of course, the French gentlemen with us could not stand
+_this_; they spoke slightingly of the British colonial, and one of them
+even went so far as to call it rotgut. I cannot say whether it was the
+spirit of the uncompromising opinion thus pronounced, or the coarsely
+indelicate way in which the judgment of our French friend was expressed,
+that riled our phantom guest--enough, it brought him down in full force
+upon the offender and his countrymen, with most fluent French
+vituperation and an unconscionable amount of bad jokes and worse puns,
+finishing up with a general address to them as members of the
+_disgusting_ jury, instead of jury of _degustation_. Now, this I should
+not have minded so much; for, I must confess, I felt rather nettled at
+the national conceit and prejudice of these French. But the wretch, in
+the impetuous utterance of his invective, must somehow--though I was not
+aware of it at the time--have mimicked my gestures and imitated the very
+tones and accent of my voice so closely as to deceive even some of my
+English companions: or how else to account for the fact of their calling
+me a noisy brawler and a pestilent nuisance? _me_, the gentlest and
+mildest-spoken of mortals!
+
+"Before our departure from London we had calculated our probable
+expenses on a most liberal scale, and we had made comfortable provision
+accordingly for a few weeks' stay in Paris. But with the additional
+heavy burden of the franking of so copious an imbiber as our fourth man
+thus unexpectedly thrown on our shoulders, it was no great wonder that
+we should find our resources go much faster than we had anticipated; so
+we had already been forcedly led to bethink ourselves of shortening our
+intended stay in the French capital when a fresh exploit of the phantom
+fourth, climaxing all his past misdeeds, brought matters to a crisis.
+
+"It was the day before yesterday, the 4th of September. We had been
+dining at Marigny, and dancing at Mabille. Our eccentric guest had come
+in, as usual, with the champagne, and had of course, after dinner, taken
+us over to the enchanted gardens. We were all very jolly. _He_ suggested
+supper at the Cascades, in the Bois de Boulogne. We chartered a _fiacre_
+to take us there and back. We supped rather copiously. _He_ somehow made
+our coachman drunk, and took upon himself to drive us home. Need I tell
+you that he upset us in the Avenue de l'Imperatrice, and that we had to
+walk it, and pretty fast too? It was a mercy there were no bones broken.
+
+"Well, as we were walking along, just barely recovering from the shock
+of the accident, he suddenly took some new whim into his confounded
+noddle. Nothing would do for him but he must drag us along with him to
+the great entrance of the Elysee Napoleon (which erst was, and maybe is
+soon likely to be once more, the Elysee Bourbon), where he had the
+brazen impudence to claim admittance, as the Emperor, he pretended, had
+been graciously pleased to offer us the splendid hospitality of that
+renowned mansion. What further happened here, neither I nor either of
+my friends can tell. Our recollections from this period till next
+morning are doubtful and indistinct. All we can state for certain is,
+that yesterday morning we awoke, the three of us, in a most wretched
+state, in a strange, nasty place. We learn soon after from a gentleman
+in a cocked hat, who came to visit us on business, that the imperial
+hospitality which we had claimed last night had indeed been extended to
+us--only in the _violon_, instead of the Elysee. Our phantom guest was
+gone: he would alway, somehow sneak away in the morning, when there was
+nothing left for him to drink--the guzzling villain!
+
+"The gentleman in the cocked-hat pressingly invited us to pay a visit to
+the Commissaire du Quartier. That formidable functionary received us
+with the customary French-polished veneer of urbanity which, as a rule,
+constitutes the _suaviter in modo_ of the higher class of Gallic
+officials. He read us a severe lecture, however, upon the alleged
+impropriety of our conduct; and when I ventured to protest that it was
+not to us the blame ought to be imputed, but to the _quatrieme_, he
+mistook my meaning, and, ere I could explain myself, he cut me short
+with a polite remark that the French used the cardinal instead of the
+ordinal numbers in stating the days of the month, with the exception of
+the first, and that he had had too much trouble with our countrymen (he
+took us for Yankees!) on the 4th of July, to be disposed to look with an
+over-lenient eye upon the vagaries we had chosen to commit on the 4th of
+September, which he supposed was another great national day with us. He
+would, however, let us off this time with a simple reprimand, upon
+payment of one hundred francs, compensation for damage done to the
+coach--drunken cabby having turned up, of course, to testify against us.
+Well, we paid the money, and handed the worthy magistrate twenty francs
+besides, for the benefit of the poor, by way of acknowledgment for the
+imperial hospitality we had enjoyed. We were then allowed to depart in
+peace.
+
+"Now, you'll hardly believe it, I dare say, but it is the truth
+notwithstanding, that we three, who have been fast friends for years,
+actually began to quarrel among ourselves now, mutually imputing to one
+another the blame of all our misadventures and misfortunes since our
+arrival in Paris, while yet we clearly knew and felt, each and every of
+us, that it was all the doings of that phantom fourth.
+
+"One thing, however, we all agreed to do--to leave Paris by the first
+train.
+
+"To fortify ourselves for the coming journey, we went to indulge in the
+luxury of a farewell breakfast at Desire Beaurain's. Of course we
+emptied a few bottles to our reconciliation. I do not exactly remember
+how many, but this I _do_ remember, that our irrepressible incubus
+walked in again, and took his place in the midst of us rather sooner
+even than he had been wont to do; and he never left us from that time to
+the moment of our landing at Dover harbor, when he took his, I hope and
+trust final, departure with a ghastly grin.
+
+"I dare say you must have thought us a most noisy and obstreperous lot:
+well, with my hand on my heart, I can assure you, on my conscience,
+that a quieter and milder set of fellows than us three you are not
+likely to find on this or the other side the Channel. But for that
+mysterious phantom fourth----"
+
+Here the whistle sounded, and the guard came up to us with a hurried,
+"Now then, gents, take your seats, please; train is off in half a
+minnit!"
+
+"What can have become of Topp and Jack Hobson?" muttered my new friend,
+looking around him with eager scrutiny. "I should not wonder if they
+were still refreshing." And he started off in the direction of the
+refreshment-room.
+
+I took my seat. Immediately after the train whirled off. I cannot say
+whether the three were left behind; all I know is that I did not see
+them get out at London Bridge.
+
+Remembering, however, that the appalling secret of the supernatural
+visitation which had thus harassed my three fellow-travellers had been
+confided to me under the impression that I might be likely to find a
+solution of the mystery, I have ever since deeply pondered thereon.
+
+Shallow thinkers, and sneerers uncharitably given, may, from a
+consideration of the times, places, and circumstances at and under which
+the abnormal phenomena here recited were stated to have been observed,
+be led to attribute them simply to the promptings and imaginings of
+brains overheated by excessive indulgence in spirituous liquors. But I,
+striving to be mindful always of the great scriptural injunction to
+judge not, lest we be judged, and opportunely remembering my friend
+O'Kweene's learned dissertation above alluded to, feel disposed to
+pronounce the apparition of the phantom of the fourth man, and all the
+sayings, doings, and demeanings of the same, to have been simply so many
+visible and palpable outward manifestations of the inner consciousness
+of the souls of the three, and more notably of that of the elderly
+senior of the party, in a succession of vino-alcoholic trances.
+
+My friend O'Kweene is, of course, welcome to such credit as may attach
+to this attempted solution of mine.
+
+
+
+
+THE SPIRIT'S WHISPER.
+
+
+Yes, I have been haunted!--haunted so fearfully that for some little
+time I thought myself insane. I was no raving maniac; I mixed in society
+as heretofore, although perhaps a trifle more grave and taciturn than
+usual; I pursued my daily avocations; I employed myself even on literary
+work. To all appearance I was one of the sanest of the sane; and yet all
+the while I considered myself the victim of such strange delusions that,
+in my own mind, I fancied my senses--and one sense in particular--so far
+erratic and beyond my own control that I was, in real truth, a madman.
+How far I was then insane it must be for others, who hear my story, to
+decide. My hallucinations have long since left me, and, at all events, I
+am now as sane as I suppose most men are.
+
+My first attack came on one afternoon when, being in a listless and an
+idle mood, I had risen from my work and was amusing myself with
+speculating at my window on the different personages who were passing
+before me. At that time I occupied apartments in the Brompton Road.
+Perhaps, there is no thoroughfare in London where the ordinary
+passengers are of so varied a description or high life and low life
+mingle in so perpetual a medley. South-Kensington carriages there jostle
+costermongers' carts; the clerk in the public office, returning to his
+suburban dwelling, brushes the laborer coming from his work on the
+never-ending modern constructions in the new district; and the ladies of
+some of the surrounding squares flaunt the most gigantic of _chignons_,
+and the most exuberant of motley dresses, before the envying eyes of the
+ragged girls with their vegetable-baskets.
+
+There was, as usual, plenty of material for observation and conjecture
+in the passengers, and their characters or destinations, from my window
+on that day. Yet I was not in the right cue for the thorough enjoyment
+of my favorite amusement. I was in a rather melancholy mood. Somehow or
+other, I don't know why, my memory had reverted to a pretty woman whom I
+had not seen for many years. She had been my first love, and I had loved
+her with a boyish passion as genuine as it was intense. I thought my
+heart would have broken, and I certainly talked seriously of dying, when
+she formed an attachment to an ill-conditioned, handsome young
+adventurer, and, on her family objecting to such an alliance, eloped
+with him. I had never seen the fellow, against whom, however, I
+cherished a hatred almost as intense as my passion for the infatuated
+girl who had flown from her home for his sake. We had heard of her being
+on the Continent with her husband, and learned that the man's shifty
+life had eventually taken him to the East. For some years nothing more
+had been heard of the poor girl. It was a melancholy history, and its
+memory ill-disposed me for amusement.
+
+A sigh was probably just escaping my lips with the half-articulated
+words, "Poor Julia!" when my eyes fell on a man passing before my
+window. There was nothing particularly striking about him. He was tall,
+with fine features, and a long, fair beard, contrasting somewhat with
+his bronzed complexion. I had seen many of our officers on their return
+from the Crimea look much the same. Still, the man's aspect gave me a
+shuddering feeling, I didn't know why. At the same moment, a whispering,
+low voice uttered aloud in my ear the words, "It is he!" I turned,
+startled; there was no one near me, no one in the room. There was no
+fancy in the sound; I had heard the words with painful distinctness. I
+ran to the door, opened it--not a sound on the staircase, not a sound in
+the whole house--nothing but the hum from the street. I came back and
+sat down. It was no use reasoning with myself; I had the ineffaceable
+conviction that I had heard the voice. Then first the idea crossed my
+mind that I might be the victim of hallucinations. Yes, it must have
+been so, for now I recalled to mind that the voice had been that of my
+poor lost Julia; and at the moment I heard it I had been dreaming of
+her. I questioned my own state of health. I was well; at least I had
+been so, I felt fully assured, up to that moment. Now a feeling of
+chilliness and numbness and faintness had crept over me, a cold sweat
+was on my forehead. I tried to shake off this feeling by bringing back
+my thoughts to some other subject. But, involuntarily as it were, I
+again uttered the words, "Poor Julia!" aloud. At the same time a deep
+and heavy sigh, almost a groan, was distinctly audible close by me. I
+sprang up; I was alone--quite alone. It was, once more, an
+hallucination.
+
+By degrees the first painful impression wore away. Some days had passed,
+and I had begun to forget my singular delusion. When my thoughts aid
+revert to it, the recollection was dismissed as that of a ridiculous
+fancy. One afternoon I was in the Strand, coming from Charing Cross,
+when I was once more overcome by that peculiar feeling of cold and
+numbness which I had before experienced. The day was warm and bright and
+genial, and yet I positively shivered. I had scarce time to interrogate
+my own strange sensations when a man went by me rapidly. How was it that
+I recognized him at once as the individual who had only passed my window
+so casually on that morning of the hallucination? I don't know, and yet
+I was aware that this man was the tall, fair passer-by of the Brompton
+Road. At the same moment the voice I had previously heard whispered
+distinctly in my ear the words, "Follow him!" I stood stupefied. The
+usual throngs of indifferent persons were hurrying past me in that
+crowded thoroughfare, but I felt convinced that not one of these had
+spoken to me. I remained transfixed for a moment. I was bent on a matter
+of business in the contrary direction to the individual I had remarked,
+and so, although with unsteady step, I endeavored to proceed on my way.
+Again that voice said, still more emphatically, in my ear, "Follow him!"
+I stopped involuntarily. And a third time, "Follow him!" I told myself
+that the sound was a delusion, a cheat of my senses, and yet I could not
+resist the spell. I turned to follow. Quickening my pace, I soon came up
+with the tall, fair man, and, unremarked by him, I followed him. Whither
+was this foolish pursuit to lead me? It was useless to ask myself the
+question--I was impelled to follow.
+
+I was not destined to go very far, however. Before long the object of my
+absurd chase entered a well-known insurance-office. I stopped at the
+door of the establishment. I had no business within, why should I
+continue to follow? Had I not already been making a sad fool of myself
+by my ridiculous conduct? These were my thoughts as I stood heated by my
+quick walk. Yes, heated; and yet, once more, came the sudden chill. Once
+more that same low but now awful voice spoke in my ear: "Go in!" it
+said. I endeavored to resist the spell, and yet I felt that resistance
+was in vain. Fortunately, as it seemed to me, the thought crossed my
+mind that an old acquaintance was a clerk in that same insurance-office.
+I had not seen the fellow for a great length of time, and I never had
+been very intimate with him. But here was a pretext; and so I went in
+and inquired for Clement Stanley. My acquaintance came forward. He was
+very busy, he said. I invented, on the spur of the moment, some excuse
+of the most frivolous and absurd nature, as far as I can recollect, for
+my intrusion.
+
+"By the way," I said, as I turned to take my leave, although my question
+was "by the way" of nothing at all, "who was that tall, fair man who
+just now entered the office?"
+
+"Oh, that fellow?" was the indifferent reply; "a Captain Campbell, or
+Canton, or some such name; I forget what. He is gone in before the
+board--insured his wife's life--and she is dead; comes for a settlement,
+I suppose."
+
+There was nothing more to be gained, and so I left the office. As soon
+as I came without into the scorching sunlight, again the same feeling of
+cold, again the same voice--"Wait!" Was I going mad? More and more the
+conviction forced itself upon me that I was decidedly a monomaniac
+already. I felt my pulse. It was agitated and yet not feverish. I was
+determined not to give way to this absurd hallucination; and yet, so far
+was I out of my senses, that my will was no longer my own. Resolved as I
+was to go, I listened to the dictates of that voice and waited. What was
+it to me that this Campbell or Canton had insured his wife's life, that
+she was dead, and that he wanted a settlement of his claim? Obviously
+nothing; and I yet waited.
+
+So strong was the spell on me that I had no longer any count of time. I
+had no consciousness whether the period was long or short that I stood
+there near the door, heedless of all the throng that passed, gazing on
+vacancy. The fiercest of policemen might have told me to "move on," and
+I should not have stirred, spite of all the terrors of the "station."
+The individual came forth. He paid no heed to me. Why should he? What
+was I to him? This time I needed no warning voice to bid me follow. I
+was a madman, and I could not resist the impulses of my madness. It was
+thus, at least I reasoned with myself. I followed into Regent Street.
+The object of my insensate observation lingered, and looked around as if
+in expectation. Presently a fine-looking woman, somewhat extravagantly
+dressed, and obviously not a lady, advanced toward him on the pavement.
+At the sight of her he quickened his step, and joined her rapidly. I
+shuddered again, but this time a sort of dread was mingled with that
+strange shivering. I knew what was coming, and it came. Again that voice
+in my ear. "Look and remember!" it said. I passed the man and woman as
+they stopped at their first meeting!
+
+"Is all right, George?" said the female.
+
+"All right, my girl," was the reply.
+
+I looked. An evil smile, as if of wicked triumph, was on the man's face,
+I thought. And on the woman's? I looked at her, and I remembered. I
+could not be mistaken. Spite of her change in manner, dress, and
+appearance, it was Mary Simms. This woman some years before, when she
+was still very young, had been a sort of humble companion to my mother.
+A simple-minded, honest girl, we thought her. Sometimes I had fancied
+that she had paid me, in a sly way, a marked attention. I had been
+foolish enough to be flattered by her stealthy glances and her sighs.
+But I had treated these little demonstrations of partiality as due only
+to a silly girlish fancy. Mary Simms, however, had come to grief in our
+household. She had been detected in the abstraction of sundry jewels and
+petty ornaments. The morning after discovery she had left the house, and
+we had heard of her no more. As these recollections passed rapidly
+through my mind I looked behind me. The couple had turned back. I turned
+to follow again; and spite of carriages and cabs, and shouts and oaths
+of drivers, I took the middle of the street in order to pass the man and
+woman at a little distance unobserved. No; I was not mistaken. The woman
+was Mary Simms, though without any trace of all her former
+simple-minded airs; Mary Simms, no longer in her humble attire, but
+flaunting in all the finery of overdone fashion. She wore an air of
+reckless joyousness in her face; and yet, spite of that, I pitied her.
+It was clear she had fallen on the evil ways of bettered
+fortune--bettered, alas! for the worse.
+
+I had an excuse now, in my own mind, for my continued pursuit, without
+deeming myself an utter madman--the excuse of curiosity to know the
+destiny of one with whom I had been formerly familiar, and in whom I had
+taken an interest. Presently the game I was hunting down stopped at the
+door of the Grand Cafe. After a little discussion they entered. It was a
+public place of entertainment; there was no reason why I should not
+enter also. I found my way to the first floor. They were already seated
+at a table, Mary holding the _carte_ in her hand. They were about to
+dine. Why should not I dine there too? There was but one little
+objection,--I had an engagement to dinner. But the strange impulse which
+overpowered me, and seemed leading me on step by step, spite of myself,
+quickly overruled all the dictates of propriety toward my intended
+hosts. Could I not send a prettily devised apology? I glided past the
+couple, with my head averted, seeking a table, and I was unobserved by
+my old acquaintance. I was too agitated to eat, but I made a semblance,
+and little heeded the air of surprise and almost disgust on the
+bewildered face of the waiter as he bore away the barely touched dishes.
+I was in a very fever of impatience and doubt what next to do. They
+still sat on, in evident enjoyment of their meal and their constant
+draughts of sparkling wine. My impatience was becoming almost unbearable
+when the man at last rose. The woman seemed to have uttered some
+expostulation, for he turned at the door and said somewhat harshly
+aloud, "Nonsense; only one game and I shall be back. The waiter will
+give you a paper--a magazine--something to while away the time." And he
+left the room for the billiard-table, as I surmised.
+
+Now was my opportunity. After a little hesitation, I rose, and planted
+myself abruptly on the vacant seat before the woman.
+
+"Mary," I said.
+
+She started, with a little exclamation of alarm, and dropped the paper
+she had held. She knew me at once.
+
+"Master John!" she exclaimed, using the familiar term still given me
+when I was long past boyhood; and then, after a lengthened gaze, she
+turned away her head. I was embarrassed at first how to address her.
+
+"Mary," I said at last, "I am grieved to see you thus."
+
+"Why should you be grieved for me?" she retorted, looking at me sharply,
+and speaking in a tone of impatient anger. "I am happy as I am."
+
+"I don't believe you," I replied.
+
+She again turned away her head.
+
+"Mary," I pursued, "can you doubt, that, spite of all, I have still a
+strong interest in the companion of my youth?"
+
+She looked at me almost mournfully, but did not speak. At that moment I
+probably grew pale; for suddenly that chilly fit seized me again, and
+my forehead became clammy. That voice sounded again in my ear: "Speak
+of him!" were the words it uttered. Mary gazed on me with surprise, and
+yet I was assured that _she_ had not heard that voice, so plain to me.
+She evidently mistook the nature of my visible emotion.
+
+"O Master John!" she stammered, with tears gathering in her eyes,
+reverting again to that name of bygone times, "if you had loved me
+then--if you had consoled my true affection with one word of hope, one
+look of loving-kindness--if you had not spurned and crushed me, I should
+not have been what I am now."
+
+I was about to make some answer to this burst of unforgotten passion,
+when the voice came again: "Speak of him!"
+
+"You have loved others since," I remarked, with a coldness which seemed
+cruel to myself. "You love _him_ now." And I nodded my head toward the
+door by which the man had disappeared.
+
+"Do I?" she said, with a bitter smile. "Perhaps; who knows?"
+
+"And yet no good can come to you from a connection with that man," I
+pursued.
+
+"Why not? He adores me, and he is free," was her answer, given with a
+little triumphant air.
+
+"Yes," I said, "I know he is free: he has lately lost his wife. He has
+made good his claim to the sum for which he insured her life."
+
+Mary grew deadly pale. "How did you learn this? what do you know of
+him?" she stammered.
+
+I had no reply to give. She scanned my face anxiously for some time;
+then in a low voice she added, "What do you suspect?"
+
+I was still silent, and only looked at her fixedly.
+
+"You do not speak," she pursued nervously. "Why do you not speak? Ah,
+you know more than you would say! Master John, Master John, you might
+set my tortured mind at rest, and clear or confirm those doubts which
+_will_ come into my poor head, spite of myself. Speak out--O, do speak
+out!"
+
+"Not here; it is impossible," I replied, looking around. The room as the
+hour advanced, was becoming more thronged with guests, and the full
+tables gave a pretext for my reticence, when in truth I had nothing to
+say.
+
+"Will you come and see me--will you?" she asked with earnest entreaty.
+
+I nodded my head.
+
+"Have you a pocketbook? I will write you my address; and you will
+come--yes, I am sure you will come!" she said in an agitated way.
+
+I handed her my pocketbook and pencil; she wrote rapidly.
+
+"Between the hours of three and five," she whispered, looking uneasily
+at the door; "_he_ is sure not to be at home."
+
+I rose; Mary held out her hand to me, then withdrew it hastily with an
+air of shame, and the tears sprang into her eyes again. I left the room
+hurriedly, and met her companion on the stairs.
+
+That same evening, in the solitude of my own room, I pondered over the
+little event of the day. I had calmed down from my state of excitement.
+The living apparition of Mary Simms occupied my mind almost to the
+exclusion of the terrors of the ghostly voice which had haunted me, and
+my own fears of coming insanity. In truth, what was that man to me?
+Nothing. What did his doings matter to such a perfect stranger as
+myself? Nothing. His connection with Mary Simms was our only link; and
+in what should that affect me? Nothing again. I debated with myself
+whether it were not foolish of me to comply with my youthful companion's
+request to visit her; whether it were not imprudent in me to take any
+further interest in the lost woman; whether there were not even danger
+in seeking to penetrate mysteries which were no concern of mine. The
+resolution to which I came pleased me, and I said aloud, "No, I will not
+go!"
+
+At the same moment came again the voice like an awful echo to my
+words--"Go!" It came so suddenly and so imperatively, almost without any
+previous warning of the usual shudder, that the shock was more than I
+could bear. I believe I fainted; I know I found myself, when I came to
+consciousness, in my arm-chair, cold and numb, and my candles had almost
+burned down into their sockets.
+
+The next morning I was really ill. A sort of low fever seemed to have
+prostrated me, and I would have willingly seized so valid a reason for
+disobeying, at least for that day--for some days, perhaps--the
+injunction of that ghostly voice. But all that morning it never left me.
+My fearful chilly fit was of constant recurrence, and the words "Go! go!
+go!" were murmured so perpetually in my ears--the sound was one of such
+urgent entreaty--that all force of will gave way completely. Had I
+remained in that lone room, I should have gone wholly mad. As yet, to my
+own feelings, I was but partially out of my senses.
+
+I dressed hastily; and, I scarce know how--by no effort of my own will,
+it seemed to me--I was in the open air. The address of Mary Simms was in
+a street not far from my own suburb. Without any power of reasoning, I
+found myself before the door of the house. I knocked, and asked a
+slipshod girl who opened the door to me for "Miss Simms." She knew no
+such person, held a brief shrill colloquy with some female in the
+back-parlor, and, on coming back, was about to shut the door in my face,
+when a voice from above--the voice of her I sought--called down the
+stairs, "Let the gentleman come up!"
+
+I was allowed to pass. In the front drawing-room I found Mary Simms.
+
+"They do not know me under that name," she said with a mournful smile,
+and again extended, then withdrew, her hand.
+
+"Sit down," she went on to say, after a nervous pause. "I am alone now;
+told I adjure you, if you have still one latent feeling of old kindness
+for me, explain your words of yesterday to me."
+
+I muttered something to the effect that I had no explanation to give. No
+words could be truer; I had not the slightest conception what to say.
+
+"Yes, I am sure you have; you must, you will," pursued Mary excitedly;
+"you have some knowledge of that matter."
+
+"What matter?" I asked.
+
+"Why, the insurance," she replied impatiently. "You know well what I
+mean. My mind has been distracted about it. Spite of myself, terrible
+suspicions have forced themselves on me. No; I don't mean that," she
+cried, suddenly checking herself and changing her tone; "don't heed
+what I said; it was madness in me to say what I did. But do, do, do tell
+me all you know."
+
+The request was a difficult one to comply with, for I knew nothing. It
+is impossible to say what might have been the end of this strange
+interview, in which I began to feel myself an unwilling impostor; but
+suddenly Mary started.
+
+"The noise of the latchkey in the lock!" she cried, alarmed; "He has
+returned; he must not see you; you must come another time. Here, here,
+be quick! I'll manage him."
+
+And before I could utter another word she had pushed me into the back
+drawing-room and closed the door. A man's step on the stairs; then
+voices. The man was begging Mary to come out with him, as the day was so
+fine. She excused herself; he would hear no refusal. At last she
+appeared to consent, on condition that the man would assist at her
+toilet. There was a little laughter, almost hysterical on the part of
+Mary, whose voice evidently quivered with trepidation.
+
+Presently both mounted the upper stairs. Then the thought stuck me that
+I had left my hat in the front room--a sufficient cause for the woman's
+alarm. I opened the door cautiously, seized my hat, and was about to
+steal down the stairs, when I was again spellbound by that numb cold.
+
+"Stay!" said the voice. I staggered back to the other room with my hat,
+and closed the door.
+
+Presently the couple came down. Mary was probably relieved by
+discovering that my hat was no longer there, and surmised that I had
+departed; for I heard her laughing as they went down the lower flight.
+Then I heard them leave the house.
+
+I was alone in that back drawing-room. Why? what did I want there? I was
+soon to learn. I felt the chill invisible presence near me; and the
+voice said, "Search!"
+
+The room belonged to the common representative class of back
+drawing-rooms in "apartments" of the better kind. The only one
+unfamiliar piece of furniture was an old Indian cabinet; and my eye
+naturally fell on that. As I stood and looked at it with a strange
+unaccountable feeling of fascination, again came the voice--"Search!"
+
+I shuddered and obeyed. The cabinet was firmly locked; there was no
+power of opening it except by burglarious infraction; but still the
+voice said, "Search!"
+
+A thought suddenly struck me, and I turned the cabinet from its position
+against the wall. Behind, the woodwork had rotted, and in many portions
+fallen away, so that the inner drawers were visible. What could my
+ghostly monitor mean--that I should open those drawers? I would not do
+such a deed of petty treachery. I turned defiantly, and addressing
+myself to the invisible as if it were a living creature by my side, I
+cried, "I must not, will not, do such an act of baseness."
+
+The voice replied, "Search!"
+
+I might have known that, in my state of what I deemed insanity,
+resistance was in vain. I grasped the most accessible drawer from
+behind, and pulled it toward me. Uppermost within it lay letters: they
+were addressed to "Captain Cameron,"--"Captain George Cameron." That
+name!--the name of Julia's husband, the man with whom she had eloped;
+for it was he who was the object of my pursuit.
+
+My shuddering fit became so strong that I could scarce hold the papers;
+and "Search!" was repeated in my ear.
+
+Below the letters lay a small book in a limp black cover. I opened this
+book with trembling hand; it was filled with manuscript--Julia's
+well-known handwriting.
+
+"Read!" muttered the voice. I read. There were long entries by poor
+Julia of her daily life; complaints of her husband's unkindness,
+neglect, then cruelty. I turned to the last pages: her hand had grown
+very feeble now, and she was very ill. "George seems kinder now," she
+wrote; "he brings me all my medicines with his own hand." Later on: "I
+am dying; I know I am dying: he has poisoned me. I saw him last night
+through the curtains pour something in my cup; I saw it in his evil eye.
+I would not drink; I will drink no more; but I feel that I must die."
+
+These were the last words. Below were written, in a man's bold hand, the
+words "Poor fool!"
+
+This sudden revelation of poor Julia's death and dying thoughts unnerved
+me quite. I grew colder in my whole frame than ever.
+
+"Take it!" said her voice. I took the book, pushed back the cabinet into
+its place against the wall, and, leaving that fearful room, stole down
+the stairs with trembling limbs, and left the house with all the
+feelings of a guilty thief.
+
+For some days I perused my poor lost Julia's diary again and again. The
+whole revelation of her sad life and sudden death led but to one
+conclusion,--she had died of poison by the hands of her unworthy
+husband. He had insured her life, and then----
+
+It seemed evident to me that Mary Simms had vaguely shared suspicions of
+the same foul deed. On my own mind came conviction. But what could I do
+next? how bring this evil man to justice? what proof would be deemed to
+exist in those writings? I was bewildered, weak, irresolute. Like
+Hamlet, I shrank back and temporized. But I was not feigning madness; my
+madness seemed but all too real for me. During all this period the
+wailing of that wretched voice in my ear was almost incessant. O, I must
+have been mad!
+
+I wandered about restlessly, like the haunted thing I had become. One
+day I had come unconsciously and without purpose into Oxford Street. My
+troubled thoughts were suddenly broken in upon by the solicitations of a
+beggar. With a heart hardened against begging impostors, and under the
+influence of the shock rudely given to my absorbing dreams, I answered
+more hardly than was my wont. The man heaved a heavy sigh, and sobbed
+forth, "Then Heaven help me!" I caught sight of him before he turned
+away. He was a ghastly object, with fever in his hollow eyes and sunken
+cheeks, and fever on his dry, chapped lips. But I knew, or fancied I
+knew, the tricks of the trade, and I was obdurate. Why, I asked myself,
+should the cold shudder come over me at such a moment? But it was so
+strong on me as to make me shake all over. It came--that maddening
+voice. "Succor!" it said now. I had become so accustomed already to
+address the ghostly voice that I cried aloud, "Why, Julia, why?" I saw
+people laughing in my face at this strange cry, and I turned in the
+direction in which the beggar had gone. I just caught sight of him as he
+was tottering down a street toward Soho. I determined to have pity for
+this once, and followed the poor man. He led me on through I know not
+what streets. His steps was hurried now. In one street I lost sight of
+him; but I felt convinced he must have turned into a dingy court. I made
+inquiries, but for a time received only rude jeering answers from the
+rough men and women whom I questioned. At last a little girl informed me
+that I must mean the strange man who lodged in the garret of a house she
+pointed out to me. It was an old dilapidated building, and I had much
+repugnance on entering it. But again I was no master of my will. I
+mounted some creaking stairs to the top of the house, until I could go
+no further. A shattered door was open; I entered a wretched garret; the
+object of my search lay now on a bundle of rags on the bare floor. He
+opened his wild eyes as I approached.
+
+"I have come to succor," I said, using unconsciously the word of the
+voice; "what ails you?"
+
+"Ails me?" gasped the man; "hunger, starvation, fever."
+
+I was horrified. Hurrying to the top of the stairs, I shouted till I had
+roused the attention of an old woman. I gave her money to bring me food
+and brandy, promising her a recompense for her trouble.
+
+"Have you no friends?" I asked the wretched man as I returned.
+
+"None," he said feebly. Then as the fever rose in his eyes and even
+flushed his pallid face, he said excitedly, "I had a master once--one I
+perilled my soul for. He knows I am dying; but, spite of all my letters,
+he will not come. He wants me dead, he wants me dead--and his wish is
+coming to pass now."
+
+"Cannot I find him--bring him here?" I asked.
+
+The man stared at me, shook his head, and at last, as if collecting his
+faculties with much exertion, muttered, "Yes; it is a last hope; perhaps
+you may, and I can be revenged on him at least. Yes revenged. I have
+threatened him already." And the fellow laughed a wild laugh.
+
+"Control yourself," I urged, kneeling by his side; "give me his
+name--his address."
+
+"Captain George Cameron," he gasped, and then fell back.
+
+"Captain George Cameron!" I cried. "Speak! what of him?"
+
+But the man's senses seemed gone; he only muttered incoherently. The old
+woman returned with the food and spirits. I had found one honest
+creature in that foul region. I gave her money--provide her more if she
+would bring a doctor. She departed on her new errand. I raised the man's
+head, moistened his lips with the brandy, and then poured some of the
+spirit down his throat. He gulped at it eagerly, and opened his eyes;
+but he still raved incoherently, "I did not do it, it was he. He made me
+buy the poison; he dared not risk the danger himself, the coward! I knew
+what he meant to do with it, and yet I did not speak; I was her murderer
+too. Poor Mrs. Cameron! poor Mrs. Cameron! do you forgive?--can you
+forgive?" And the man screamed aloud and stretched out his arms as if to
+fright away a phantom.
+
+I had drunk in every word, and knew the meaning of those broken accents
+well. Could I have found at last the means of bringing justice on the
+murderer's head? But the man was raving in a delirium, and I was obliged
+to hold him with all my strength. A step on the stairs. Could it be the
+medical man I had sent for? That would be indeed a blessing. A man
+entered--it was Cameron!
+
+He came in jauntily, with the words, "How now, Saunders, you rascal!
+What more do you want to get out of me?"
+
+He started at the sight of a stranger.
+
+I rose from my kneeling posture like an accusing spirit. I struggled for
+calm; but passion beyond my control mastered me, and was I not a madman?
+I seized him by the throat, with the words, "Murderer! poisoner! where
+is Julia?" He shook me off violently.
+
+"And who the devil are you, sir?" he cried.
+
+"That murdered woman's cousin!" I rushed at him again.
+
+"Lying hound!" he shouted, and grappled me. His strength was far beyond
+mine. He had his hand on my throat; a crimson darkness was in my eyes; I
+could not see, I could not hear; there was a torrent of sound pouring in
+my ears. Suddenly his grasp relaxed. When I recovered my sight, I saw
+the murderer struggling with the fever-stricken man, who had risen from
+the floor, and seized him from behind. This unexpected diversion saved
+my life; but the ex-groom was soon thrown back on the ground.
+
+"Captain George Cameron," I cried, "kill me, but you will only heap
+another murder on your head!"
+
+He advanced on me with something glittering in his hand. Without a word
+he came and stabbed at me; but at the same moment I darted at him a
+heavy blow. What followed was too confused for clear remembrance. I
+saw--no, I will say I fancied that I saw--the dim form of Julia Staunton
+standing between me and her vile husband. Did he see the vision too? I
+cannot say. He reeled back, and fell heavily to the floor. Maybe it was
+only my blow that felled him. Then came confusion--a dream of a crowd of
+people--policemen--muttered accusations. I had fainted from the wound in
+my arm.
+
+Captain George Cameron was arrested. Saunders recovered, and lived long
+enough to be the principal witness on his trial. The murderer was found
+guilty. Poor Julia's diary, too, which I had abstracted, told fearfully
+against him. But he contrived to escape the gallows; he had managed to
+conceal poison on his person, and he was found dead in his cell. Mary
+Simms I never saw again. I once received a little scrawl, "I am at peace
+now, Master John. God bless you!"
+
+I have had no more hallucinations since that time; the voice has never
+come again. I found out poor Julia's grave, and, as I stood and wept by
+its side, the cold shudder came over me for the last time. Who shall
+tell me whether I was once really mad, or whether I was not?
+
+
+
+
+DOCTOR FEVERSHAM'S STORY.
+
+
+"I have made a point all my life," said the doctor, "of believing
+nothing of the kind."
+
+Much ghost-talk by firelight had been going on in the library at
+Fordwick Chase, when Doctor Feversham made this remark.
+
+"As much as to say," observed Amy Fordwick, "that you are afraid to
+tackle the subject, because you pique yourself on being strong-minded,
+and are afraid of being convinced against your will."
+
+"Not precisely, young lady. A man convinced against his will is in a
+different state of mind from mine in matters like these. But it is true
+that cases in which the supernatural element appears at first sight to
+enter are so numerous in my profession, that I prefer accepting only the
+solutions of science, so far as they go, to entering on any wild
+speculations which it would require more time than I should care to
+devote to them to trace to their origin."
+
+"But without entering fully into the why and wherefore, how can you be
+sure that the proper treatment is observed in the numerous cases of
+mental hallucination which must come under your notice?" inquired
+Latimer Fordwick, who was studying for the Bar.
+
+"I content myself, my young friend, with following the rules laid down
+for such cases, and I generally find them successful," answered the old
+Doctor.
+
+"Then you admit that cases have occurred within your knowledge of which
+the easiest apparent solution could be one which involved a belief in
+supernatural agencies?" persisted Latimer, who was rather prolix and
+pedantic in his talk.
+
+"I did not say so," said the Doctor.
+
+"But of course he meant us to infer it," said Amy. "Now, my dear old
+Doctor, do lay aside professional dignity, and give us one good
+ghost-story out of your personal experience. I believe you have been
+dying to tell one for the last hour, if you would only confess it."
+
+"I would rather not help to fill that pretty little head with idle
+fancies, dear child," answered the old man, looking fondly at Amy, who
+was his especial pet and darling.
+
+"Nonsense! You know I am even painfully unimaginative and
+matter-of-fact; and as for idle fancies, is it an idle fancy to think
+you like to please me?" said Amy coaxingly.
+
+"Well, after all, you have been frightening each other with so many
+thrilling tales for the last hour or two, that I don't suppose I should
+do much harm by telling you a circumstance which happened to me when I
+was a young man, and has always rather puzzled me."
+
+A murmur of approval ran round the party. All disposed themselves to
+listen; and Doctor Feversham, after a prefatory pinch of snuff, began.
+
+"In my youth I resided for some time with a family in the north of
+England, in the double capacity of secretary and physician. While I was
+going through the hospitals of Paris I became acquainted with my
+employer, whom I will call Sir James Collingham, under rather peculiar
+circumstances, which have nothing to do with my story. He had an only
+daughter, who was about sixteen when I first entered the family, and it
+was on her account that Sir James wished to have some person with a
+competent knowledge of medicine and physiology as one of his household.
+Miss Collingham was subject to fits of a very peculiar kind, which threw
+her into a sort of trance, lasting from half an hour to three or even
+four days, according to the severity of the visitation. During these
+attacks she occasionally displayed that extraordinary phenomenon which
+goes by the name of clairvoyance. She saw scenes and persons who were
+far distant, and described them with wonderful accuracy. Though quite
+unconscious of all outward things, and apparently in a state of the
+deepest insensibility, she would address remarks to those present which
+bore reference to the thoughts then occupying their minds, though they
+had given them no outward expression; and her remarks showed an insight
+into matters which had perhaps been carefully kept secret, which might
+truly be termed preternatural. Under these circumstances, Sir James was
+very unwilling to bring her into contact with strangers when it could
+possibly be avoided; and the events which first brought us together,
+having also led to my treating Miss Collingham rather successfully in a
+severe attack of her malady, induced her father to offer me a position
+in his household which, as a young, friendless man, I was very willing
+to accept.
+
+"Collingham-Westmore was a very ancient house of great extent, and but
+indifferently kept in repair. The country surrounding it is of great
+natural beauty, thinly inhabited, and, especially at the time I speak
+of, before railways had penetrated so far north, somewhat lonely and
+inaccessible. A group of small houses clustered round the village church
+of Westmorton, distant about three miles from the mansion of the
+Collingham family; and a solitary posting-house, on what was then the
+great north road, could be reached by a horseman in about an hour,
+though the only practicable road for carriages was at least fifteen
+miles from the highway to Collingham-Westmore. Wild and lovely in the
+eyes of an admirer of nature were the hills and 'cloughs' among which I
+pursued my botanical studies for many a long, silent summer day. My
+occupations at the mansion--everybody called it the mansion, and I must
+do so from force of habit, though it sounds rather like a house-agent's
+advertisement--were few and light; the society was not particularly to
+my taste, and the fine old library only attracted me on rainy days, of
+which, truth to say, we had our full share.
+
+"The Collingham family circle comprised a maiden aunt of Sir James, Miss
+Patricia, a stern and awful specimen of the female sex in its fossil
+state; her ward, Miss Henderson, who, having long passed her pupilage,
+remained at Collingham-Westmore in the capacity of gouvernante and
+companion to the young heiress; the heiress aforesaid, and myself. A
+priest--did I say that the Collinghams still professed the old
+religion?--came on Sundays and holydays to celebrate mass in the gloomy
+old chapel; but neighbors there were none, and only about half-a-dozen
+times during the four years I was an inmate of the mansion were
+strangers introduced into the family party."
+
+"How dreadfully dull it must have been!" exclaimed Amy sympathetically.
+
+"It _was_ dull," answered the Doctor. "Even with my naturally cheerful
+disposition, and the course of study with which I methodically filled up
+all my leisure hours except those devoted to out-of-door exercise, the
+gloom of the old mansion weighed upon me till I sometimes felt that I
+must give up my situation at all risks, and return to the world, though
+it were to struggle with poverty and friendlessness.
+
+"There was no lack of dismal legends and superstitions connected with
+the mansion, and every trifling circumstance that occurred was twisted
+into an omen or presage, whether of good or evil, by the highly wrought
+fancy of Miss Patricia. These absurdities, together with the past
+grandeur of their house, and the former glories of their religion,
+formed the staple subjects of conversation when the family was
+assembled; and as I became more intimately acquainted with the state of
+my patient, I felt convinced that the atmosphere of gloomy superstition
+in which she had been reared had fostered, even if it had not altogether
+been the cause of, her morbid mental and bodily condition.
+
+"Among the many legends connected with the mansion, one seemed to have a
+peculiar fascination for Miss Collingham, perhaps because it was the
+most ghastly and repulsive. One wing of the house was held to be haunted
+by the spirit of an ancestress of the family, who appeared in the shape
+of a tall woman, with one hand folded in her white robe and the other
+pointing upward. It was said, that in a room at the end of the haunted
+wing this lady had been foully murdered by her jealous husband. The
+window of the apartment overhung the wild wooded side of one of the
+'cloughs' common in the country; and tradition averred that the victim
+was thrown from this window by her murderer. As she caught hold of the
+sill in a last frantic struggle for life, he severed her hand at the
+wrist, and the mutilated body fell, with one fearful shriek, into the
+depth below. Since then, a white shadowy form has forever been sitting
+at the fatal window, or wandering along the deserted passages of the
+haunted wing with the bleeding stump folded in her robe; and in moments
+of danger or approaching death to any member of the Collingham family,
+the same long, wild shriek rises slowly from the wooded cliff and peals
+through the mansion; while to different individuals of the house, a pale
+hand has now and then been visible, laid on themselves or some other of
+the family, a never-failing omen of danger or death.
+
+"I need not tell you how false and foolish all this dreary superstition
+appeared to me; and I exerted all my powers of persuasion to induce Miss
+Patricia to dwell less on these and similar themes in the presence of
+Miss Collingham. But there seemed to be something in the very air of the
+gloomy old mansion which fostered such delusions; for when I spoke to
+Father O'Connor the priest, and urged on him the pernicious effect which
+was thus produced on my patient's mind, I found him as fully imbued with
+the spirit of credulity as the most hysterical housemaid of them all. He
+solemnly declared to me that he had himself repeatedly seen the pale
+lady sitting at the fatal window, when on his way to and from his home
+beyond the hills; and moreover, that on the death of Lady Collingham,
+which occurred at her daughter's birth, he had heard the long, shrill
+death-scream echo through the mansion while engaged in the last offices
+of the Church by the bedside of the dying lady.
+
+"So I found it impossible to fight single-handed against these adverse
+influences, and could only endeavor to divert the mind of my patient
+into more healthy channels of thought. In this I succeeded perfectly.
+She became an enthusiastic botanist, and our rambles in search of the
+rare and lovely specimens which were to be found among the woods and
+moors surrounding her dwelling did more for her health, both of body and
+mind, than all the medical skill I could bring to bear on her melancholy
+case.
+
+"Four years had elapsed since I first took up my abode at
+Collingham-Westmore. Miss Collingham had grown from a sickly child into
+a singularly graceful young woman, full of bright intelligence, eager
+for information, and with scarcely an outward trace remaining of her
+former fragile health. Still those mysterious swoons occasionally
+visited her, forming an insurmountable obstacle to her mingling in
+general society, which she was in all other respects so well fitted to
+adorn. They occurred without any warning or apparent cause; one moment
+she would be engaged in animated conversation, and the next, white and
+rigid as a statue, she would fall back in her chair insensible to all
+outward objects, but rapt and carried away into a world of her own,
+whose visions she would sometimes describe in glowing language, although
+she retained no recollection whatever of them when she returned, as
+suddenly and at as uncertain a period, to her normal condition. On one
+of these occasions we were sitting, after dinner, in a large apartment
+called the summer dining-room. Fruit and wine were on the table, and the
+last red beams of the setting sun lighted up the distant woods, which
+were in the first flush of their autumn glory. I turned to remark on the
+beautiful effect of light to Miss Collingham, and at the very moment I
+did so she fell back in one of her strange swoons. But instead of the
+death-like air which her features usually assumed, a lovely smile
+lighted them up, and an expression of ecstasy made her beauty appear for
+the moment almost superhuman. Slowly she raised her right hand, and
+pointed in the direction of the setting sun. 'He is coming,' she said in
+soft, clear tones; 'life and light are coming with him,--life and light
+and liberty!'
+
+"Her hand fell gently by her side; the rapt expression faded from her
+countenance, and the usual death-like blank overspread it. This trance
+passed away like others, and by midnight the house was profoundly still.
+Soon after that hour a vociferous peal at the great hall-bell roused
+most of the inmates from sleep. My rooms were in a distant quarter of
+the house, and a door opposite to that of my bedroom led to the haunted
+wing, but was always kept locked. I started up on hearing a second ring,
+and looked out, in hopes of seeing a servant pass, and ascertaining the
+cause of this unusual disturbance. I saw no one, and after listening for
+a while to the opening of the hall-door, and the sound of distant
+voices, I made up my mind that I should be sent for if wanted, and
+re-entered my room. As I was closing the door, I was rather startled to
+see a tall object, of grayish-white color and indistinct form, issue
+from the gallery whose door, as I said before, had always been locked in
+my recollection. For a moment I felt as though rooted to the spot, and a
+strange sensation crept over me. The next, all trace of the appearance
+had vanished, and I persuaded myself that what I had seen must have been
+some effect of light from the open door of my room.
+
+"The cause of the nightly disturbance appeared at breakfast on the
+following morning in the shape of a remarkably handsome young man, who
+was introduced by Sir James as his nephew, Don Luis de Cabral, the son
+of an only sister long dead, who had married a Spaniard of high rank.
+Don Luis showed but little trace of his southern parentage. If I may so
+express it, all the depth and warmth of coloring in that portion of his
+blood which he inherited from his Spanish ancestors came out in the
+raven-black hair and large lustrous dark eyes, which impressed you at
+once with their uncommon beauty. For the rest, he was a fine well-grown
+young man, no darker in complexion than an Englishman might well be, and
+with a careless, happy boyishness of manner, which won immediately on
+the regard of strangers, and rendered his presence in the house like
+that of a perpetual sunbeam. We all wondered, after a little while, what
+we had done before Luis came among us. He was as a son to Sir James;
+Miss Patricia softened to this new and pleasing interest in her
+colorless existence as I could not have believed it was in her
+fossilized nature to do; Miss Henderson became animated, almost young,
+under the reviving influence of the youth and joyousness of our new
+inmate; and I own that I speedily attached myself with a warm and
+affectionate regard to the happy, unselfish nature that seemed to
+brighten all who came near it.
+
+"But the most remarkable effect of the presence of Don Luis de Cabral
+among us was visible in Miss Collingham. 'Love at first sight,' often
+considered as a mere phrase, was, in the case of these two young
+creatures, an unmistakable reality. From the moment of their first
+meeting, the cousins were mutually drawn toward each other; and seeing
+the bright and wonderful change wrought by the presence of Don Luis in
+Blanche Collingham, I could not but remember, with the interest that
+attaches to a curious psychological phenomenon, the words she uttered in
+her trance on the eve of his arrival. 'Life, light, and liberty,'
+indeed, appeared given to all that was best and brightest in her nature.
+Her health improved visibly, and her beauty, always touching, became
+radiant in its full development. My duties toward her were now merely
+nominal; and when, about two months later, Sir James announced to me her
+approaching marriage, and confessed that it was with this object he had
+invited Don Luis to come and make the acquaintance of his English
+relations, the strong opinions I entertained against the marriage of
+first cousins, and also on the especial inadvisability of any project of
+marriage in the case of Miss Collingham, could not prevent my hearty
+rejoicing in the fair prospect of happiness in which two persons who
+deeply interested me were indulging.
+
+"Winter set in early and severely that year among our northern hills,
+and with a view to Blanche's removal from its withering influence, which
+I always considered prejudicial to her, the preparations for the
+marriage were hurried on, and the ceremony was fixed to take place about
+the middle of December. The travelling-carriage which was to convey the
+young couple on their way southward was to arrive at the nearest
+railway-station--then more than thirty miles distant--a week before the
+marriage; and as some important portions of the trousseau, together with
+a valuable package of jewels intended by Don Luis as presents for his
+bride, were expected at the same time, the young man announced his
+intention of riding across the hills to ----, in order to superintend
+the conveyance of the carriage and its contents along the rough mountain
+roads that it must traverse.
+
+"We were all sitting around the great fireplace in the winter parlor on
+the evening before his departure. Miss Collingham had been languid and
+depressed throughout the day, and often adverted to the long wintry ride
+he was to undertake in a strain of apprehension at which Don Luis
+laughed gayly. To divert her mind, he recounted various adventures
+which had befallen him in foreign lands, with a vigorous simplicity of
+description which enchained her attention and interested us all.
+
+"Suddenly, so sitting, Miss Collingham leaned forward, and in a changed,
+eager voice exclaimed, 'Luis, take away your hand from your throat!'
+
+"We looked. Luis' hands were lying one over the other on his knee in a
+careless attitude that was habitual to him.
+
+"'Take it away, I say! Oh, take it away!'
+
+"Miss Collingham started to her feet as she uttered these words almost
+in a shriek, and then fell back rigid and senseless, her outstretched
+hand still pointing to her betrothed.
+
+"The fit was a severe one, but by morning it had yielded to remedies,
+and Luis set off early on his ride, to make the most of the short
+daylight, and intending to return with the carriage on the morrow. All
+that day Miss Collingham remained in a half-conscious state. It was a
+dreary day of gloom, with a piercing north wind, and toward evening the
+snow began to fall in those close, compact flakes which forebode a heavy
+storm. We were glad to think that Luis must have reached his destination
+before it began; but when the next morning dawned on a wide expanse of
+snow, and the air was still thick with fast-falling flakes, it was
+feared that the state of the roads would preclude all hope of the
+arrival of the carriage on that day.
+
+"My patient took no heed of the untoward state of the weather. She was
+still in a drowsy condition, very unlike that which usually succeeded
+her attacks, and Miss Henderson, who had watched by her through the
+night, told me she spoke more than once in a strange, excited manner, as
+though carrying on a conversation with some one whom she appeared to see
+by her bedside. As the good lady, however, could give but a very
+imperfect and incoherent account of what had passed, I was left in some
+doubt as to whether Miss Collingham had seen more or Miss Henderson less
+than there really was to be seen, as I had before had reason to believe
+that she was not a very vigilant nurse.
+
+"So the hours went on, and night closed in. Sir James began to feel some
+uneasiness at the non-appearance, not only of Don Luis, but also of the
+priest, who was to have arrived at Collingham-Westmore on that day.
+
+"On questioning some of the servants who had been out of the house, the
+absence of Father O'Connor at least was satisfactorily accounted for:
+they all declared that it would be quite impossible for those best
+acquainted with the hills to find their way across them in the blinding
+drifts which had never ceased throughout the day. We concluded that
+Father O'Connor and Don Luis were alike storm-stayed, and had no remedy
+but patience.
+
+"Late in the evening--it must have been near midnight--I was in Miss
+Collingham's dressing-room with Miss Patricia, who intended to watch by
+her through the night. We were talking by the fire, of the snow-storm
+which still continued, and of the hindrance it might prove to the
+marriage--the day fixed for which was now less than a week
+distant--when we heard a voice in the adjoining room, where we imagined
+the object of our care to be sleeping. We went in. Miss Collingham was
+sitting up in bed, her eyes wide open, in one of her rigid fits. She was
+speaking rapidly in a low tone, unlike her usual voice.
+
+"'You cannot get through all that snow,' she said. 'Get help; there are
+men not far off with spades. Oh, be careful! You are off the road! Stop,
+stop! that is the way to Armstrong's Clough. Does not the postboy know
+the road? He is bewildered. I tell you it is madness to go on. See, one
+of the horses has fallen; he kicks--he will hit you! Oh, how dark it is!
+And the snow covers your lantern, and you cannot see the edge. Now the
+horse is up again, but he cannot go on. Do not beat him, Luis; it is not
+his fault, poor beast; the snow is too thick, and you are on rough
+ground. Now he rears--he backs--the other one backs also--the wheel of
+the carriage is over the edge--ah!'
+
+"The scream with which these wild, hurried words ended seemed to be
+taken up and echoed from a distance. Miss Patricia stared at me with a
+ghastly white face of horror, and I felt my blood curdle as that long,
+shrill, unearthly shriek pealed through the silent passages. It grew
+louder and nearer, and seemed to sweep through the room, dying away in
+the opposite direction. Miss Patricia fell forward without a word in a
+dead faint.
+
+"I looked at Miss Collingham; she had not moved, or shown any sign of
+hearing or heeding that awful sound. In a few seconds the room was
+filled with terrified women, roused from their sleep by the weird cry
+which rang through the house. Miss Patricia was conveyed by some of them
+to her own room, where, after much difficulty, we restored her to
+consciousness. Her first act was to grasp me by the arm.
+
+"'Mr. Feversham, for the love of the Holy Virgin do not leave me! I have
+seen that which I cannot look upon and live.'
+
+"I soothed her as best I might, and at last persuaded her to allow me to
+leave her with her own maid in order to visit my other patient,
+promising to return shortly.
+
+"I found no change whatever in Miss Collingham. Sir James was in the
+room trying to establish some degree of calmness and order among the
+terrified women. We succeeded in persuading most of them to take a
+restorative and return to bed, and leaving two of the most
+self-possessed to watch beside Miss Collingham, who was still completely
+insensible, we went together to Miss Patricia's room.
+
+"'Brother, I have seen her!' she exclaimed on Sir James' entrance.
+
+"'Seen who, my dear Patricia?'
+
+"'The pale lady--the spectre of our house,' she replied, shuddering from
+head to foot. 'She passed through the room, her hand upraised, and the
+blood-spots on her garment. Oh, James! my time is come, and Father
+O'Connor is not here.'
+
+"Sir James did not attempt to combat his sister's superstitious terrors,
+but appeared, on the contrary, almost as deeply impressed as herself,
+and questioned her closely about the apparition. Her answers led to some
+mention of the strange vision which Miss Collingham was describing in
+her trance just before the scream was heard. At Sir James' request I put
+down in writing, as nearly as I could remember, all she had said, and so
+great was the impression it made on my mind that I believe I recalled
+her very words. Knowing all we did of her abnormal condition while in a
+state of trance, it was impossible not to fear that she might have been
+describing a scene that was actually occurring at the time; and Sir
+James determined to send out a party, as soon as daylight came, on the
+road by which Don Luis must arrive.
+
+"The morning dawned brightly, with a keen frost, and several men were
+sent off along the road to ---- with the first rays of light.
+
+"Some hours afterward Father O'Connor arrived, having made his way with
+considerable difficulty across the hill. Miss Patricia claimed his first
+attention, for my unhappy charge remained senseless and motionless as
+ever.
+
+"After a long conference, he came to me with grave looks.
+
+"'She is at the window this day,' he said, shaking his head sorrowfully,
+when I had told him my share of the last night's singular experiences.
+'The pale lady is there; I saw her as I came by the bridge as plainly as
+now I see you. We shall have evil tidings of that poor lad before
+nightfall, or I am strangely mistaken.'
+
+"Evil tidings indeed they were that reached us on the return of some of
+the exploring-party. They were first attracted from following as nearly
+as they could the line of road, blocked as it was with drifts of snow by
+hearing the howling of a dog at some little distance, in the direction
+of the precipitous ravine which went by the name of 'Armstrong's
+Clough.' Following the sound, they came upon traces of wheels in the
+hill-side, where no carriage could have gone had it not been for the
+deep snow which concealed and smoothed away the inequalities of the
+ground. These marks were traced here and there till they led to the
+verge of the precipice, where a struggle had evidently taken place, and
+masses of snow had been dislodged and fallen into the ravine.
+
+"Looking below, the only thing they could see in the waste of snow was a
+little dog, who was known to be in the habit of running with the
+post-horses from ----, which was scraping wildly in the snow and filling
+the air with its dismal howlings. A considerable circuit had to be made
+before the bottom of the clough could be reached, and then the whole
+tragedy was revealed. There lay the broken carriage, the dead horses,
+and two stiffened corpses under the snow, that had drifted over and
+around them.
+
+"I need not pursue the melancholy story; I was an old fool for telling
+it to you," said the Doctor.
+
+"But Miss Collingham--what became of her?" asked an eager listener.
+
+"Well, she did not recover," answered the Doctor with a slight trembling
+in his voice. "It was a sad matter altogether; and within a short time
+she lay beside her betrothed in the family vault below the chapel. Sir
+James broke up his establishment and went abroad, and I never saw any of
+the family again."
+
+"And what did you do, Doctor?"
+
+"I went to London, to seek my fortune as best I might; and I hope you
+may all prosper as well, my young friends."
+
+"And is it all really true?" asked Amy, who had listened with breathless
+attention.
+
+"That is the worst of it; it really is," said the Doctor.
+
+
+
+
+THE SECRET OF THE TWO PLASTER CASTS.
+
+
+Years before the accession of her Majesty Queen Victoria, and yet at not
+so remote a date as to be utterly beyond the period to which the
+reminiscences of our middle-aged readers extend, it happened that two
+English gentlemen sat at table on a summer's evening, after dinner,
+quietly sipping their wine and engaged in desultory conversation. They
+were both men known to fame. One of them was a sculptor whose statues
+adorned the palaces of princes, and whose chiselled busts were the pride
+of half the nobility of his nation; the other was no less renowned as an
+anatomist and surgeon. The age of the anatomist might have been guessed
+at fifty, but the guess would have erred on the side of youth by at
+least ten years. That of the sculptor could scarcely be more than
+five-and-thirty. A bust of the anatomist, so admirably executed as to
+present, although in stone, the perfect similitude of life and flesh,
+stood upon a pedestal opposite to the table at which sat the pair, and
+at once explained at least one connecting-link of companionship between
+them. The anatomist was exhibiting for the criticism of his friend a
+rare gem which he had just drawn from his cabinet: it was a crucifix
+magnificently carved in ivory, and incased in a setting of pure gold.
+
+"The carving, my dear sir," observed Mr. Fiddyes, the sculptor, "is
+indeed, as you say, exquisite. The muscles are admirably made out, the
+flesh well modelled, wonderfully so for the size and material; and
+yet--by the bye, on this point you must know more than I--the more I
+think upon the matter, the more I regard the artistic conception as
+utterly false and wrong."
+
+"You speak in a riddle," replied Dr. Carnell; "but pray go on, and
+explain."
+
+"It is a fancy I first had in my student-days," replied Fiddyes.
+"Conventionality, not to say a most proper and becoming reverence,
+prevents people by no means ignorant from considering the point. But
+once think upon it, and you at least, of all men, must at once perceive
+how utterly impossible it would be for a victim nailed upon a cross by
+hands and feet to preserve the position invariably displayed in figures
+of the Crucifixion. Those who so portray it fail in what should be their
+most awful and agonizing effect. Think for one moment, and imagine, if
+you can, what would be the attitude of a man, living or dead, under this
+frightful torture."
+
+"You startle me," returned the great surgeon, "not only by the truth of
+your remarks, but by their obviousness. It is strange indeed that such a
+matter should have so long been overlooked. The more I think upon it the
+more the bare idea of actual crucifixion seems to horrify me, though
+heaven knows I am accustomed enough to scenes of suffering. How would
+you represent such a terrible agony?"
+
+"Indeed I cannot tell," replied the sculptor; "to guess would be almost
+vain. The fearful strain upon the muscles, their utter helplessness and
+inactivity, the frightful swellings, the effect of weight upon the
+racked and tortured sinews, appal me too much even for speculation."
+
+"But this," replied the surgeon, "one might think a matter of
+importance, not only to art, but, higher still, to religion itself."
+
+"Maybe so," returned the sculptor. "But perhaps the appeal to the senses
+through a true representation might be too horrible for either the one
+or the other."
+
+"Still," persisted the surgeon, "I should like--say for
+curiosity--though I am weak enough to believe even in my own motive as a
+higher one--to ascertain the effect from actual observation."
+
+"So should I, could it be done, and of course without pain to the
+object, which, as a condition, seems to present at the outset an
+impossibility."
+
+"Perhaps not," mused the anatomist; "I think I have a notion. Stay--we
+may contrive this matter. I will tell you my plan, and it will be
+strange indeed if we two cannot manage to carry it out."
+
+The discourse here, owing to the rapt attention of both speakers,
+assumed a low and earnest tone, but had perhaps better be narrated by a
+relation of the events to which it gave rise. Suffice it to say that the
+Sovereign was more than once mentioned during its progress, and in a
+manner which plainly told that the two speakers each possessed
+sufficient influence to obtain the assistance of royalty, and that such
+assistance would be required in their scheme.
+
+The shades of evening deepened while the two were still conversing. And
+leaving this scene, let us cast one hurried glimpse at another taking
+place contemporaneously.
+
+Between Pimlico and Chelsea, and across a canal of which the bed has
+since been used for the railway terminating at Victoria Station, there
+was at the time of which we speak a rude timber footway, long since
+replaced by a more substantial and convenient erection, but then known
+as the Wooden Bridge. It was named shortly afterward Cutthroat Bridge,
+and for this reason.
+
+While Mr. Fiddyes and Dr. Carnell were discoursing over their wine, as
+we have already seen, one Peter Starke, a drunken Chelsea pensioner, was
+murdering his wife upon the spot we have last indicated. The coincidence
+was curious.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In those days the punishment of criminals followed closely upon their
+conviction. The Chelsea pensioner whom we have mentioned was found
+guilty one Friday and sentenced to die on the following Monday. He was a
+sad scoundrel, impenitent to the last, glorying in the deeds of
+slaughter which he had witnessed and acted during the series of
+campaigns which had ended just previously at Waterloo. He was a tall,
+well-built fellow enough, of middle age, for his class was not then, as
+now, composed chiefly of veterans, but comprised many young men, just
+sufficiently disabled to be unfit for service. Peter Starke, although
+but slightly wounded, had nearly completed his term of service, and had
+obtained his pension and presentment to Chelsea Hospital. With his life
+we have but little to do, save as regards its close, which we shall
+shortly endeavor to describe far more veraciously, and at some greater
+length than set forth in the brief account which satisfied the public of
+his own day, and which, as embodied in the columns of the few journals
+then appearing, ran thus:
+
+    "On Monday last Peter Starke was executed at Newgate for the
+    murder at the Wooden Bridge, Chelsea, with four others for
+    various offences. After he had been hanging only for a few
+    minutes a respite arrived, but although he was promptly cut
+    down, life was pronounced to be extinct. His body was buried
+    within the prison walls."
+
+Thus far history. But the conciseness of history far more frequently
+embodies falsehood than truth. Perhaps the following narration may
+approach more nearly to the facts.
+
+A room within the prison had been, upon that special occasion and by
+high authority, allotted to the use of Dr. Carnell and Mr. Fiddyes, the
+famous sculptor, for the purpose of certain investigations connected
+with art and science. In that room Mr. Fiddyes, while wretched Peter
+Starke was yet swinging between heaven and earth, was busily engaged in
+arranging a variety of implements and materials, consisting of a large
+quantity of plaster-of-Paris, two large pails of water, some tubs, and
+other necessaries of the moulder's art. The room contained a large deal
+table, and a wooden cross, not neatly planed and squared at the angles,
+but of thick, narrow, rudely-sawn oaken plank, fixed by strong, heavy
+nails. And while Mr. Fiddyes was thus occupied, the executioner
+entered, bearing upon his shoulders the body of the wretched Peter,
+which he flung heavily upon the table.
+
+"You are sure he is dead?" asked Mr. Fiddyes.
+
+"Dead as a herring," replied the other. "And yet just as warm and limp
+as if he had only fainted."
+
+"Then go to work at once," replied the sculptor, as turning his back
+upon the hangman, he resumed his occupation.
+
+The "work" was soon done. Peter was stripped and nailed upon the timber,
+which was instantly propped against the wall.
+
+"As fine a one as ever I see," exclaimed the executioner, as he regarded
+the defunct murderer with an expression of admiration, as if at his own
+handiwork, in having abruptly demolished such a magnificent animal.
+"Drops a good bit for'ard, though. Shall I tie him up round the waist,
+sir?"
+
+"Certainly not," returned the sculptor. "Just rub him well over with
+this oil, especially his head, and then you can go. Dr. Carnell will
+settle with you."
+
+"All right, sir."
+
+The fellow did as ordered, and retired without another word; leaving
+this strange couple, the living and the dead, in that dismal chamber.
+
+Mr. Fiddyes was a man of strong nerve in such matters. He had been too
+much accustomed to taking posthumous casts to trouble himself with any
+sentiment of repugnance at his approaching task of taking what is called
+a "piece-mould" from a body. He emptied a number of bags of the white
+powdery plaster-of-Paris into one of the larger vessels, poured into it
+a pail of water, and was carefully stirring up the mass, when a sound of
+dropping arrested his ear.
+
+_Drip, drip._
+
+"There's something leaking," he muttered, as he took a second pail, and
+emptying it, again stirred the composition.
+
+_Drip, drip, drip._
+
+"It's strange," he soliloquized, half aloud. "There is no more water,
+and yet----"
+
+The sound was heard again.
+
+He gazed at the ceiling; there was no sign of damp. He turned his eyes
+to the body, and something suddenly caused him a violent start. The
+murderer was bleeding.
+
+The sculptor, spite of his command over himself, turned pale. At that
+moment the head of Starke moved--clearly moved. It raised itself
+convulsively for a single moment; its eyes rolled, and it gave vent to a
+subdued moan of intense agony. Mr. Fiddyes fell fainting on the floor as
+Dr. Carnell entered. It needed but a glance to tell the doctor what had
+happened, even had not Peter just then given vent to another low cry.
+The surgeon's measures were soon taken. Locking the door, he bore a
+chair to the wall which supported the body of the malefactor. He drew
+from his pocket a case of glittering instruments, and with one of these,
+so small and delicate that it scarcely seemed larger than a needle, he
+rapidly, but dexterously and firmly, touched Peter just at the back of
+the neck. There was no wound larger than the head of a small pin, and
+yet the head fell instantly as though the heart had been pierced. The
+doctor had divided the spinal cord, and Peter Starke was dead indeed.
+
+A few minutes sufficed to recall the sculptor to his senses. He at first
+gazed wildly upon the still suspended body, so painfully recalled to
+life by the rough venesection of the hangman and the subsequent friction
+of anointing his body to prevent the adhesion of the plaster.
+
+"You need not fear now," said Dr. Carnell; "I assure you he is dead."
+
+"But he _was_ alive, surely!"
+
+"Only for a moment, and even that scarcely to be called life--mere
+muscular contraction, my dear sir, mere muscular contraction."
+
+The sculptor resumed his labor. The body was girt at various
+circumferences with fine twine, to be afterward withdrawn through a
+thick coating of plaster, so as to separate the various pieces of the
+mould, which was at last completed; and after this Dr. Carnell skilfully
+flayed the body, to enable a second mould to be taken of the entire
+figure, showing every muscle of the outer layer.
+
+The two moulds were thus taken. It is difficult to conceive more ghastly
+appearances than they presented. For sculptor's work they were utterly
+useless; for no artist except the most daring of realists would have
+ventured to indicate the horrors which they presented. Fiddyes refused
+to receive them. Dr. Carnell, hard and cruel as he was, for kindness'
+sake, in his profession, was a gentle, genial father of a family of
+daughters. He received the casts, and at once consigned them to a
+garret, to which he forbade access. His youngest daughter, one
+unfortunate day, during her father's absence, was impelled by feminine
+curiosity--perhaps a little increased by the prohibition--to enter the
+mysterious chamber.
+
+Whether she imagined in the pallid figure upon the cross a celestial
+rebuke for her disobedience, or whether she was overcome by the mere
+mortal horror of one or both of those dreadful casts, can now never be
+known. But this is true: she became a maniac.
+
+The writer of this has more than once seen (as, no doubt, have many
+others) the plaster effigies of Peter Starke, after their removal from
+Dr. Carnell's to a famous studio near the Regent's Park. It was there
+that he heard whispered the strange story of their origin. Sculptor and
+surgeon are now both long since dead, and it is no longer necessary to
+keep _the secret of the two plaster casts_.
+
+
+
+
+WHAT WAS IT?
+
+
+It is, I confess, with considerable diffidence that I approached the
+strange narrative which I am about to relate. The events which I purpose
+detailing are of so extraordinary a character that I am quite prepared
+to meet with an unusual amount of incredulity and scorn. I accept all
+such beforehand. I have, I trust, the literary courage to face unbelief.
+I have, after mature consideration, resolved to narrate, in as simple
+and straightforward a manner as I can compass, some facts that passed
+under my observation, in the month of July last, and which, in the
+annals of the mysteries of physical science, are wholly unparalleled.
+
+I live at No. -- Twenty-sixth Street, in New York. The house is in some
+respects a curious one. It has enjoyed for the last two years the
+reputation of being haunted. The house is very spacious. A hall of noble
+size leads to a large spiral staircase winding through its centre, while
+the various apartments are of imposing dimensions. It was built some
+fifteen or twenty years since by Mr. A----, the well-known New York
+merchant, who five years ago threw the commercial world into convulsions
+by a stupendous bank fraud. Mr. A----, as every one knows, escaped to
+Europe, and died not long after, of a broken heart. Almost immediately
+after the news of his decease reached this country and was verified,
+the report spread in Twenty-sixth Street that No. -- was haunted. Legal
+measures had dispossessed the widow of its former owner, and it was
+inhabited merely by a care-taker and his wife, placed there by the
+house-agent into whose hands it had passed for purposes of renting or
+sale. These people declared that they were troubled with unnatural
+noises. Doors were opened without any visible agency. The remnants of
+furniture scattered through the various rooms were, during the night,
+piled one upon the other by unknown hands. Invisible feet passed up and
+down the stairs in broad daylight, accompanied by the rustle of unseen
+silk dresses, and the gliding of viewless hands along the massive
+balusters. The care-taker and his wife declared they would live there no
+longer. The house-agent laughed, dismissed them, and put others in their
+place. The noises and supernatural manifestations continued. The
+neighborhood caught up the story, and the house remained untenanted for
+three years. Several persons negotiated for it; but, somehow, always
+before the bargain was closed they heard the unpleasant rumors and
+declined to treat any further.
+
+It was in this state of things that my landlady, who at that time kept a
+boarding-house in Bleecker Street, and who wished to move farther up
+town, conceived the bold idea of renting No. -- Twenty-sixth Street.
+Happening to have in her house rather a plucky and philosophical set of
+boarders, she laid her scheme before us, stating candidly everything she
+had heard respecting the ghostly qualities of the establishment to which
+she wished to remove us. With the exception of two timid persons--a
+sea-captain and a returned Californian, who immediately gave notice that
+they would leave--all of Mrs. Moffat's guests declared that they would
+accompany her in her incursion into the abode of spirits.
+
+Our removal was effected in the month of May, and we were charmed with
+our new residence.
+
+Of course we had no sooner established ourselves at No. -- than we began
+to expect the ghosts. We absolutely awaited their advent with eagerness.
+Our dinner conversation was supernatural. I found myself a person of
+immense importance, it having leaked out that I was tolerably well
+versed in the history of supernaturalism, and had once written a story
+the foundation of which was a ghost. If a table or wainscot panel
+happened to warp when we were assembled in the large drawing-room, there
+was an instant silence, and every one was prepared for an immediate
+clanking of chains and a spectral form.
+
+After a month of psychological excitement, it was with the utmost
+dissatisfaction that we were forced to acknowledge that nothing in the
+remotest degree approaching the supernatural had manifested itself.
+
+Things were in this state when an incident took place so awful and
+inexplicable in its character that my reason fairly reels at the bare
+memory of the occurrence. It was the tenth of July. After dinner was
+over I repaired, with my friend Dr. Hammond, to the garden to smoke my
+evening pipe. Independent of certain mental sympathies which existed
+between the doctor and myself, we were linked together by a vice. We
+both smoked opium. We knew each other's secret and respected it. We
+enjoyed together that wonderful expansion of thought, that marvellous
+intensifying of the perceptive faculties, that boundless feeling of
+existence when we seem to have points of contact with the whole
+universe--in short, that unimaginable spiritual bliss, which I would not
+surrender for a throne, and which I hope you, reader, will never--never
+taste.
+
+On the evening in question, the tenth of July, the doctor and myself
+drifted into an unusually metaphysical mood. We lit our large
+meerschaums, filled with fine Turkish tobacco, in the core of which
+burned a little black nut of opium, that, like the nut in the fairy
+tale, held within its narrow limits wonders beyond the reach of kings;
+we paced to and fro, conversing. A strange perversity dominated the
+currents of our thoughts. They would not flow through the sun-lit
+channels into which we strove to divert them. For some unaccountable
+reason, they constantly diverged into dark and lonesome beds, where a
+continual gloom brooded. It was in vain that, after our old fashion, we
+flung ourselves on the shores of the East, and talked of its gay
+bazaars, of the splendors of the time of Haroun, of harems and golden
+palaces. Black afreets continually arose from the depths of our talk,
+and expanded, like the one the fisherman released from the copper
+vessel, until they blotted everything bright from our vision.
+Insensibly, we yielded to the occult force that swayed us, and indulged
+in gloomy speculation. We had talked some time upon the proneness of the
+human mind to mysticism, and the almost universal love of the terrible,
+when Hammond suddenly said to me, "What do you consider to be the
+greatest element of terror?"
+
+The question puzzled me. That many things were terrible, I knew. But it
+now struck me, for the first time, that there must be one great and
+ruling embodiment of fear--a King of Terrors, to which all others must
+succumb. What might it be? To what train of circumstances would it owe
+its existence?
+
+"I confess, Hammond," I replied to my friend, "I never considered the
+subject before. That there must be one Something more terrible than any
+other thing, I feel. I cannot attempt, however, even the most vague
+definition."
+
+"I am somewhat like you, Harry," he answered. "I feel my capacity to
+experience a terror greater than anything yet conceived by the human
+mind--something combining in fearful and unnatural amalgamation hitherto
+supposed incompatible elements. The calling of the voices in Brockden
+Brown's novel of 'Wieland' is awful; so is the picture of the Dweller on
+the Threshold, in Bulwer's 'Zanoni;' but," he added, shaking his head
+gloomily, "there is something more horrible still than these."
+
+"Look here, Hammond," I rejoined, "let us drop this kind of talk, for
+Heaven's sake! We shall suffer for it, depend on it."
+
+"I don't know what's the matter with me to-night," he replied, "but my
+brain is running upon all sorts of weird and awful thoughts. I feel as
+if I could write a story like Hoffman, to-night, if I were only master
+of a literary style."
+
+"Well, if we are going to be Hoffmanesque in our talk, I'm off to bed.
+Opium and nightmares should never be brought together. How sultry it
+is! Good-night, Hammond."
+
+"Good-night, Harry. Pleasant dreams to you."
+
+"To you, gloomy wretch, afreets, ghouls, and enchanters."
+
+We parted, and each sought his respective chamber. I undressed quickly
+and got into bed, taking with me, according to my usual custom, a book
+over which I generally read myself to sleep. I opened the volume as soon
+as I had laid my head upon the pillow, and instantly flung it to the
+other side of the room. It was Goudon's "History of Monsters,"--a
+curious French work, which I had lately imported from Paris, but which,
+in the state of mind I had then reached, was anything but an agreeable
+companion. I resolved to go to sleep at once; so, turning down my gas
+until nothing but a little blue point of light glimmered on the top of
+the tube, I composed myself to rest.
+
+The room was in total darkness. The atom of gas that still remained
+alight did not illuminate a distance of three inches round the burner. I
+desperately drew my arm across my eyes, as if to shut out even the
+darkness and tried to think of nothing. It was in vain. The confounded
+themes touched on by Hammond in the garden kept obtruding themselves on
+my brain. I battled against them. I erected ramparts of would-be
+blankness of intellect to keep them out. They still crowded upon me.
+While I was lying still as a corpse, hoping that by a perfect physical
+inaction I should hasten mental repose, an awful incident occurred. A
+Something dropped, as it seemed, from the ceiling, plumb upon my chest,
+and the next instant I felt two bony hands encircling my throat,
+endeavoring to choke me.
+
+I am no coward, and am possessed of considerable physical strength. The
+suddenness of the attack, instead of stunning me, strung every nerve to
+its highest tension. My body acted from instinct, before my brain had
+time to realize the terrors of my position. In an instant I wound two
+muscular arms around the creature, and squeezed it, with all the
+strength of despair, against my chest. In a few seconds the bony hands
+that had fastened on my throat loosened their hold, and I was free to
+breathe once more. Then commenced a struggle of awful intensity.
+Immersed in the most profound darkness, totally ignorant of the nature
+of the Thing by which I was so suddenly attacked, finding my grasp
+slipping every moment, by reason, it seemed to me, of the entire
+nakedness of my assailant, bitten with sharp teeth in the shoulder,
+neck, and chest, having every moment to protect my throat against a pair
+of sinewy, agile hands, which my utmost efforts could not confine--these
+were a combination of circumstances to combat which required all the
+strength, skill, and courage that I possessed.
+
+At last, after a silent, deadly, exhausting struggle, I got my assailant
+under by a series of incredible efforts of strength. Once pinned, with
+my knee on what I made out to be its chest, I knew that I was victor. I
+rested for a moment to breathe. I heard the creature beneath me panting
+in the darkness, and felt the violent throbbing of a heart. It was
+apparently as exhausted as I was; that was one comfort. At this moment I
+remembered that I usually placed under my pillow, before going to bed,
+a large yellow silk pocket-handkerchief. I felt for it instantly; it was
+there. In a few seconds more I had, after a fashion, pinioned the
+creature's arms.
+
+I now felt tolerably secure. There was nothing more to be done but to
+turn on the gas, and, having first seen what my midnight assailant was
+like, arouse the household. I will confess to being actuated by a
+certain pride in not giving the alarm before; I wished to make the
+capture alone and unaided.
+
+Never losing my hold for an instant, I slipped from the bed to the
+floor, dragging my captive with me. I had but a few steps to make to
+reach the gas-burner; these I made with the greatest caution, holding
+the creature in a grip like a vice. At last I got within arm's length of
+the tiny speck of blue light which told me where the gas-burner lay.
+Quick as lightning I released my grasp with one hand and let on the full
+flood of light. Then I turned to look at my captive.
+
+I cannot even attempt to give any definition of my sensations the
+instant after I turned on the gas. I suppose I must have shrieked with
+terror, for in less than a minute afterward my room was crowded with the
+inmates of the house. I shudder now as I think of that awful moment. _I
+saw nothing!_ Yes; I had one arm firmly clasped round a breathing,
+panting, corporeal shape, my other hand gripped with all its strength a
+throat as warm, and apparently fleshly, as my own; and yet, with this
+living substance in my grasp, with its body pressed against my own, and
+all in the bright glare of a large jet of gas, I absolutely beheld
+nothing! Not even an outline--a vapor!
+
+I do not, even at this hour, realize the situation in which I found
+myself. I cannot recall the astounding incident thoroughly. Imagination
+in vain tries to compass the awful paradox.
+
+It breathed. I felt its warm breath upon my cheek. It struggled
+fiercely. It had hands. They clutched me. Its skin was smooth, like my
+own. There it lay, pressed close up against me, solid as stone--and yet
+utterly invisible!
+
+I wonder that I did not faint or go mad on the instant. Some wonderful
+instinct must have sustained me; for absolutely, in place of loosening
+my hold on the terrible Enigma, I seemed to gain an additional strength
+in my moment of horror, and tightened my grasp with such wonderful force
+that I felt the creature shivering with agony.
+
+Just then Hammond entered my room at the head of the household. As soon
+as he beheld my face--which, I suppose, must have been an awful sight to
+look at--he hastened forward, crying, "Great Heaven, what has happened?"
+
+"Hammond! Hammond!" I cried, "come here. Oh, this is awful! I have been
+attacked in bed by something or other, which I have hold of; but I can't
+see it--I can't see it!"
+
+Hammond, doubtless struck by the unfeigned horror expressed in my
+countenance, made one or two steps forward with an anxious yet puzzled
+expression. A very audible titter burst from the remainder of my
+visitors. This suppressed laughter made me furious. To laugh at a human
+being in my position! It was the worst species of cruelty. _Now_, I can
+understand why the appearance of a man struggling violently, as it would
+seem, with an airy nothing, and calling for assistance against a vision,
+should have appeared ludicrous. _Then_, so great was my rage against the
+mocking crowd that had I the power I would have stricken them dead where
+they stood.
+
+"Hammond! Hammond!" I cried again, despairingly, "for God's sake come to
+me. I can hold the--the thing but a short while longer. It is
+overpowering me. Help me! Help me!"
+
+"Harry," whispered Hammond, approaching me, "you have been smoking too
+much opium."
+
+"I swear to you, Hammond, that this is no vision," I answered, in the
+same low tone. "Don't you see how it shakes my whole frame with its
+struggles? If you don't believe me convince yourself. Feel it--touch
+it."
+
+Hammond advanced and laid his hand in the spot I indicated. A wild cry
+of horror burst from him. He had felt it!
+
+In a moment he had discovered somewhere in my room a long piece of cord,
+and was the next instant winding it and knotting it about the body of
+the unseen being that I clasped in my arms.
+
+"Harry," he said, in a hoarse, agitated voice, for, though he preserved
+his presence of mind, he was deeply moved, "Harry, it's all safe now.
+You may let go, old fellow, if you're tired. The Thing can't move."
+
+I was utterly exhausted, and I gladly loosed my hold.
+
+[Illustration: "BOTH OF US--CONQUERING OUR FEARFUL REPUGNANCE TO TOUCH
+THE INVISIBLE CREATURE--LIFTED IT FROM THE GROUND, MANACLED AS IT WAS,
+AND TOOK IT TO MY BED."]
+
+Hammond stood holding the ends of the cord, that bound the Invisible,
+twisted round his hand, while before him, self-supporting as it were, he
+beheld a rope laced and interlaced, and stretching tightly around a
+vacant space. I never saw a man look so thoroughly stricken with awe.
+Nevertheless his face expressed all the courage and determination which
+I knew him to possess. His lips, although white, were set firmly, and
+one could perceive at a glance that, although stricken with fear, he was
+not daunted.
+
+The confusion that ensued among the guests of the house who were
+witnesses of this extraordinary scene between Hammond and myself--who
+beheld the pantomime of binding this struggling Something--who beheld me
+almost sinking from physical exhaustion when my task of jailer was
+over--the confusion and terror that took possession of the bystanders,
+when they saw all this, was beyond description. The weaker ones fled
+from the apartment. The few who remained clustered near the door and
+could not be induced to approach Hammond and his Charge. Still
+incredulity broke out through their terror. They had not the courage to
+satisfy themselves, and yet they doubted. It was in vain that I begged
+of some of the men to come near and convince themselves by touch of the
+existence in that room of a living being which was invisible. They were
+incredulous, but did not dare to undeceive themselves. How could a
+solid, living, breathing body be invisible, they asked. My reply was
+this. I gave a sign to Hammond, and both of us--conquering our fearful
+repugnance to touch the invisible creature--lifted it from the ground,
+manacled as it was, and took it to my bed. Its weight was about that of
+a boy of fourteen.
+
+"Now, my friends," I said, as Hammond and myself held the creature
+suspended over the bed, "I can give you self-evident proof that here is
+a solid, ponderable body, which, nevertheless, you cannot see. Be good
+enough to watch the surface of the bed attentively."
+
+I was astonished at my own courage in treating this strange event so
+calmly; but I had recovered from my first terror, and felt a sort of
+scientific pride in the affair, which dominated every other feeling.
+
+The eyes of the bystanders were immediately fixed on my bed. At a given
+signal Hammond and I let the creature fall. There was the dull sound of
+a heavy body alighting on a soft mass. The timbers of the bed creaked. A
+deep impression marked itself distinctly on the pillow, and on the bed
+itself. The crowd who witnessed this gave a low cry, and rushed from the
+room. Hammond and I were left alone with our Mystery.
+
+We remained silent for some time, listening to the low irregular
+breathing of the creature on the bed and watching the rustle of the
+bed-clothes as it impotently struggled to free itself from confinement.
+Then Hammond spoke.
+
+"Harry, this is awful."
+
+"Ay, awful."
+
+"But not unaccountable."
+
+"Not unaccountable! What do you mean? Such a thing has never occurred
+since the birth of the world. I know not what to think, Hammond. God
+grant that I am not mad and that this is not an insane fantasy!"
+
+"Let us reason a little, Harry. Here is a solid body which we touch but
+which we cannot see. The fact is so unusual that it strikes us with
+terror. Is there no parallel, though, for such a phenomenon? Take a
+piece of pure glass. It is tangible and transparent. A certain chemical
+coarseness is all that prevents its being so entirely transparent as to
+be totally invisible. It is not _theoretically impossible_, mind you, to
+make a glass which shall not reflect a single ray of light--a glass so
+pure and homogeneous in its atoms that the rays from the sun will pass
+through it as they do through the air, refracted but not reflected. We
+do not see the air, and yet we feel it."
+
+"That's all very well, Hammond, but these are inanimate substances.
+Glass does not breathe, air does not breathe. This thing has a heart
+that palpitates--a will that moves it--lungs that play, and inspire and
+respire."
+
+"You forget the phenomena of which we have so often heard of late,"
+answered the doctor gravely. "At the meetings called 'spirit circles,'
+invisible hands have been thrust into the hands of those persons round
+the table--warm, fleshly hands that seemed to pulsate with mortal life."
+
+"What? Do you think, then, that this thing is----"
+
+"I don't know what it is," was the solemn reply; "but please the gods I
+will, with your assistance, thoroughly investigate it."
+
+We watched together, smoking many pipes, all night long, by the bedside
+of the unearthly being that tossed and panted until it was apparently
+wearied out. Then we learned by the low, regular breathing that it
+slept.
+
+The next morning the house was all astir. The boarders congregated on
+the landing outside my room, and Hammond and myself were lions. We had
+to answer a thousand questions as to the state of our extraordinary
+prisoner, for as yet not one person in the house except ourselves could
+be induced to set foot in the apartment.
+
+The creature was awake. This was evidenced by the convulsive manner in
+which the bed-clothes were moved in its efforts to escape. There was
+something truly terrible in beholding, as it were, those second-hand
+indications of the terrible writhings and agonized struggles for liberty
+which themselves were invisible.
+
+Hammond and myself had racked our brains during the long night to
+discover some means by which we might realize the shape and general
+appearance of the Enigma. As well as we could make out by passing our
+hands over the creature's form, its outlines and lineaments were human.
+There was a mouth; a round, smooth head without hair; a nose, which,
+however, was little elevated above the cheeks; and its hands and feet
+felt like those of a boy. At first we thought of placing the being on a
+smooth surface and tracing its outlines with chalk, as shoemakers trace
+the outline of the foot. This plan was given up as being of no value.
+Such an outline would give not the slightest idea of its conformation.
+
+A happy thought struck me. We would take a cast of it in
+plaster-of-Paris. This would give us the solid figure, and satisfy all
+our wishes. But how to do it. The movements of the creature would
+disturb the setting of the plastic covering, and distort the mould.
+Another thought. Why not give it chloroform? It had respiratory
+organs--that was evident by its breathing. Once reduced to a state of
+insensibility, we could do with it what we would. Doctor X---- was sent
+for; and after the worthy physician had recovered from the first shock
+of amazement, he proceeded to administer the chloroform. In three
+minutes afterward we were enabled to remove the fetters from the
+creature's body, and a modeller was busily engaged in covering the
+invisible form with the moist clay. In five minutes more we had a mould,
+and before evening a rough fac-simile of the Mystery. It was shaped like
+a man--distorted, uncouth, and horrible, but still a man. It was small,
+not over four feet and some inches in height, and its limbs revealed a
+muscular development that was unparalleled. Its face surpassed in
+hideousness anything I had ever seen. Gustave Dore, or Callot, or Tony
+Johannot, never conceived anything so horrible. There is a face in one
+of the latter's illustrations to _Un Voyage ou il vous plaira_, which
+somewhat approaches the countenance of this creature, but does not equal
+it. It was the physiognomy of what I should fancy a ghoul might be. It
+looked as if it was capable of feeding on human flesh.
+
+Having satisfied our curiosity, and bound every one in the house to
+secrecy, it became a question what was to be done with our Enigma? It
+was impossible that we should keep such a horror in our house; it was
+equally impossible that such an awful being should be let loose upon the
+world. I confess that I would have gladly voted for the creature's
+destruction. But who would shoulder the responsibility? Who would
+undertake the execution of this horrible semblance to a human being? Day
+after day this question was deliberated gravely. The boarders all left
+the house. Mrs. Moffat was in despair, and threatened Hammond and myself
+with all sorts of legal penalties if we did not remove the Horror. Our
+answer was, "We will go if you like, but we decline taking this creature
+with us. Remove it yourself if you please. It appeared in your house. On
+you the responsibility rests." To this there was, of course, no answer.
+Mrs. Moffat could not obtain for love or money a person who would even
+approach the Mystery.
+
+At last it died. Hammond and I found it cold and stiff one morning in
+the bed. The heart had ceased to beat, the lungs to inspire. We hastened
+to bury it in the garden. It was a strange funeral, the dropping of that
+viewless corpse into the damp hole. The cast of its form I gave to
+Doctor X----, who keeps it in his museum in Tenth Street.
+
+As I am on the eve of a long journey from which I may not return, I have
+drawn up this narrative of an event the most singular that has ever come
+to my knowledge.
+
+
+    +------------------------------------------------------------------+
+    |Transcriber's Note:                                               |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |The words peckett (page 11), stronge (page 170) and Boulevart(s)  |
+    |(pages 59 and 80), the use of both L'Estrange and l'Estrange, and |
+    |variations in hyphenated words have been retained as in the       |
+    |original book.                                                    |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  21 "Derybshire" changed to "Derbyshire"                     |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  22 "felt their hair" changed to "felt the hair"             |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  46 "Come baack to" changed to "Come back to"                |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  48 Added " before Dear Mr. Westcar                          |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  61 "sufficiently start ling" changed to                     |
+    |         "sufficiently startling"                                 |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  84 Changed " to ' before And what other                     |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page  95 Removed " before together with                           |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 115 "dangerous conditon" changed to "dangerous condition"    |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 120 "keeeping the matter" changed to "keeping the matter"    |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 123 Added " after new stalls, Gen'ral).                      |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 127 "beyond each" changed to "beyond reach"                  |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 138 "tradionally imputed" changed to "traditionally imputed" |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 152 "by which pedestrains" changed to "by which pedestrians" |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 164 "buy the joint of you" changed to "buy the joint off you"|
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 191 "was on the the man's" changed to "was on the man's"     |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 219 "Miss Collingwood had been languid" changed to           |
+    |         "Miss Collingham had been languid"                       |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 220 Added " before Miss Collingham started                   |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 232 Removed " before The shades of evening                   |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 233 "Ferhaps the following" changed to                       |
+    |         "Perhaps the following"                                  |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 235 "it gavevent to" changed to "it gave vent to"            |
+    |                                                                  |
+    |Page 250 "my rage are against" changed to "my rage against"       |
+    +------------------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Stable for Nightmares, by
+J. Sheridan Le Fanu and Charles Young and and Others
+
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