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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/35641-8.txt b/35641-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b1649d8 --- /dev/null +++ b/35641-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5501 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Uncanny Tales, by Mary Louisa Molesworth + +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: Uncanny Tales + +Author: Mary Louisa Molesworth + +Illustrator: Fred Hyland + +Release Date: April 25, 2011 [EBook #35641] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNCANNY TALES *** + + + + +Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + + + + + + + + + Uncanny Tales + + BY MRS MOLESWORTH + + LONDON: HUTCHINSON & CO + Paternoster Row + + FRED HYLAND + + + + + TO + AN OTHERWISE UNACKNOWLEDGED "COLLABORATEUR" + IN THESE STORIES, + J. C. P. + + 19 SUMNER PLACE, S.W., + + _October, 1896._ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PAGE + + THE SHADOW IN THE MOONLIGHT 1 + + "THE MAN WITH THE COUGH" 82 + + "HALF-WAY BETWEEN THE STILES" 112 + + AT THE DIP OF THE ROAD 141 + + "---- WILL NOT TAKE PLACE" 153 + + THE CLOCK THAT STRUCK THIRTEEN 183 + + + + +UNCANNY TALES. + + + + +THE SHADOW IN THE MOONLIGHT. + +PART I. + + +We never thought of Finster St. Mabyn's being haunted. We really never +did. + +This may seem strange, but it is absolutely true. It was such an +extremely interesting and curious place in many ways that it required +nothing extraneous to add to its attractions. Perhaps this was the +reason. + +Now-a-days, immediately that you hear of a house being "very old," the +next remark is sure to be "I hope it is"--or "is not"--that depends on +the taste of the speaker--"haunted". + +But Finster was more than very old; it was _ancient_ and, in a modest +way, historical. I will not take up time by relating its history, +however, or by referring my readers to the chronicles in which mention +of it may be found. Nor shall I yield to the temptation of describing +the room in which a certain royalty spent one night, if not two or three +nights, four centuries ago, or the tower, now in ruins, where an even +more renowned personage was imprisoned for several months. All these +facts--or legends--have nothing to do with what I have to tell. Nor, +strictly speaking, has Finster itself, except as a sort of prologue to +my narrative. + +We heard of the house through friends living in the same county, though +some distance farther inland. They--Mr. and Miss Miles, it is convenient +to give their name at once--knew that we had been ordered to leave our +own home for some months, to get over the effects of a very trying +visitation of influenza, and that sea-air was specially desirable. + +We grumbled at this. Seaside places are often so dull and commonplace. +But when we heard of Finster we grumbled no longer. + +"Dull" in a sense it might be, but assuredly not "commonplace". Janet +Miles's description of it, though she was not particularly clever at +description, read like a fairy tale, or one of Longfellow's poems. + +"A castle by the sea--how perfect!" we all exclaimed. "Do, oh, do fix +for it, mother!" + +The objections were quickly over-ruled. It was rather isolated, said +Miss Miles, standing, as was not difficult to trace in its name, on a +point of land--a corner rather--with sea on two sides. It had not been +lived in, save spasmodically, for some years, for the late owner was one +of those happy, or unhappy people, who have more houses than they can +use, and the present one was a minor. Eventually it was to be overhauled +and some additions and alterations made, but the trustees would be glad +to let it at a moderate rent for some months, and had intended putting +it into some agents' hands when Mr. Miles happened to meet one of them, +who mentioned it to him. There was nothing against it; it was absolutely +healthy. But the furniture was old and shabby, and there was none too +much of it. If we wanted to have visitors we should certainly require to +add to it. This, however, could easily be done, our informant went on to +say. There was a very good upholsterer and furniture dealer at Raxtrew, +the nearest town, who was in the habit of hiring out things to the +officers at the fort. "Indeed," she added, "we often pick up charming +old pieces of furniture from him for next to nothing, so you could both +hire and buy." + +Of course, we should have visitors--and our own house would not be the +worse for some additional chairs and tables here and there, in place of +some excellent monstrosities Phil and Nugent and I had persuaded mother +to get rid of. + +"If I go down to spy the land with father," I said, "I shall certainly +go to the furniture dealer's and have a good look about me." + +I did go with father. I was nineteen--it is four years ago--and a +capable sort of girl. Then I was the only one who had not been ill, +and mother had been the worst of all, mother and Dormy--poor little +chap--for _he_ nearly died. + +He is the youngest of us--we are four boys and two girls. Sophy was then +fifteen. My own name is Leila. + +If I attempted to give any idea of the impression Finster St. Mabyn's +made upon us, I should go on for hours. It simply took our breath away. +It really felt like going back a few centuries merely to enter within +the walls and gaze round you. And yet we did not see it to any advantage, +so at least said the two Miles's who were our guides. It was a gloomy +day, with the feeling of rain not far off, early in April. It might have +been November, though it was not cold. + +"You can scarcely imagine what it is on a bright day," said Janet, +eager, as people always are in such circumstances, to show off her +_trouvaille_. "The lights and shadows are so exquisite." + +"I love it as it is," I said. "I don't think I shall ever regret having +seen it first on a grey day. It is just perfect." + +She was pleased at my admiration, and did her utmost to facilitate +matters. Father was taken with the place, too, I could see, but he +hummed and hawed a good deal about the bareness of the rooms--the +bedrooms especially. So Janet and I went into it at once in a +business-like way, making lists of the actually necessary additions, +which did not prove very formidable after all. + +"Hunter will manage all that _easily_," said Miss Miles, upon which +father gave in--I believe he had meant to do so all the time. The rent +was really so low that a little furniture-hire could be afforded, I +suggested. And father agreed. + +"It is extremely low," he said, "for a place possessing so many +advantages." + +But even then it did not occur to any of us to suggest "suspiciously +low". + +We had the Miles's guarantee for it all, to begin with. Had there been +any objection they must have known it. + +We spent the night with them and the next morning at the furniture +dealer's. He was a quick, obliging little man, and took in the situation +at a glance. And _his_ terms were so moderate that father said to me +amiably: "There are some quaint odds and ends here, Leila. You might +choose a few things, to use at Finster in the first place, and then to +take home with us." + +I was only too ready to profit by the permission, and with Janet's +help a few charmingly quaint chairs and tables, a three-cornered wall +cabinet, and some other trifles were soon put aside for us. We were just +leaving, when at one end of the shop some tempting-looking draperies +caught my eye. + +"What are these?" I asked the upholsterer. "Curtains! Why, this is real +old tapestry!" + +The obliging Hunter drew out the material in question. + +"They are not exactly curtains, miss," he said. "I thought they would +make nice _portières_. You see the tapestry is set into cloth. It was so +frail when I got it that it was the only thing to do with it." + +He had managed it very ingeniously. Two panels, so to say, of old +tapestry, very charming in tone, had been lined and framed with dull +green cloth, making a very good pair of _portières_ indeed. + +"Oh, papa!" I cried, "do let us have these. There are sure to be +draughty doors at Finster, and afterwards they would make _perfect_ +"_portières_" for the two side doors in the hall at home." + +Father eyed the tapestry appreciatively, but first prudently inquired +the price. It seemed higher in proportion than Hunter's other charges. + +"You see, sir," he said half apologetically, "the panels are real +antique work, though so much the worse for wear." + +"Where did they come from?" asked father. + +Hunter hesitated. + +"To tell you the truth, sir," he replied, "I was asked not to name the +party that I bought it from. It seems a pity to part with _h_eir-looms, +but--it happens sometimes--I bought several things together of a family +quite lately. The _portières_ have only come out of the workroom this +morning. We hurried on with them to stop them fraying more--you see +where they were before, they must have been nailed to the wall." + +Janet Miles, who was something of a connoisseur, had been examining the +tapestry. + +"It is well worth what he asks," she said, in a low voice. "You don't +often come across such tapestry in England." + +So the bargain was struck, and Hunter promised to see all that we had +chosen, both purchased and hired, delivered at Finster the week before +we proposed to come. + +Nothing interfered with our plans. By the end of the month we found +ourselves at our temporary home--all of us except Nat, our third +brother, who was at school. Dormer, the small boy, still did lessons +with Sophy's governess. The two older "boys," as we called them, +happened to be at home from different reasons--one, Nugent, on leave +from India; Phil, forced to miss a term at college through an attack +of the same illness which had treated mother and Dormy so badly. + +But now that everybody was well again, and going to be very much better, +thanks to Finster air, we thought the ill wind had brought us some very +distinct good. It would not have been half such fun had we not been a +large family party to start with, and before we had been a week at the +place we had added to our numbers by the first detachment of the guests +we had invited. + +It was not a very large house; besides ourselves we had not room for +more than three or four others. For some of the rooms--those on the top +story--were really too dilapidated to suit any one but rats--"rats or +ghosts," said some one laughingly one day, when we had been exploring +them. + +Afterwards the words returned to my memory. + +We had made ourselves very comfortable, thanks to the invaluable Hunter. +And every day the weather grew milder and more spring-like. The woods on +the inland side were full of primroses. It promised to be a lovely +season. + +There was a gallery along one side of the house, which soon became a +favourite resort; it made a pleasant lounging-place, in the day-time +especially, though less so in the evening, as the fireplace at one end +warmed it but imperfectly, and besides this it was difficult to light +up. It was draughty, too, as there was a superfluity of doors, two of +which, one at each end, we at once condemned. They were not needed, as +the one led by a very long spiral staircase, to the unused attic rooms, +the other to the kitchen and offices. And when we did have afternoon +tea in the gallery, it was easy to bring it through the dining or +drawing-rooms, long rooms, lighted at their extreme ends, which ran +parallel to the gallery lengthways, both of which had a door opening on +to it as well as from the hall on the other side. For all the principal +rooms at Finster were on the first-floor, not on the ground-floor. + +The closing of these doors got rid of a great deal of draught, and, as I +have said, the weather was really mild and calm. + +One afternoon--I am trying to begin at the beginning of our strange +experiences; even at the risk of long-windedness it seems better to do +so--we were all assembled in the gallery at tea-time. The "children," +as we called Sophy and Dormer, much to Sophy's disgust, and their +governess, were with us, for rules were relaxed at Finster, and Miss +Larpent was a great favourite with us all. + +Suddenly Sophy gave an exclamation of annoyance. + +"Mamma," she said, "I wish you would speak to Dormer. He has thrown +over my tea-cup--only look at my frock!" "If you cannot sit still," she +added, turning herself to the boy, "I don't think you should be allowed +to come to tea here." + +"What is the matter, Dormy?" said mother. + +Dormer was standing beside Sophy, looking very guilty, and rather white. + +"Mamma," he said, "I was only drawing a chair out. It got so dreadfully +cold where I was sitting, I really could not stay there," and he +shivered slightly. + +He had been sitting with his back to one of the locked-up doors. Phil, +who was nearest, moved his hand slowly across the spot. + +"You are fanciful, Dormy," he said, "there is really no draught +whatever." + +This did not satisfy mother. + +"He must have got a chill, then," she said, and she went on to question +the child as to what he had been doing all day, for, as I have said, he +was still delicate. + +But he persisted that he was quite well, and no longer cold. + +"It wasn't exactly a draught," he said, "it was--oh! just icy, all of a +sudden. I've felt it before--sitting in that chair." + +Mother said no more, and Dormer went on with his tea, and when bed-time +came he seemed just as usual, so that her anxiety faded. But she made +thorough investigation as to the possibility of any draught coming up +from the back stairs, with which this door communicated. None was to be +discovered--the door fitted fairly well, and beside this, Hunter had +tacked felt round the edges--furthermore, one of the thick heavy +_portières_ had been hung in front. + +An evening or two later we were sitting in the drawing room after +dinner, when a cousin who was staying with us suddenly missed her fan. + +"Run and fetch Muriel's fan, Dormy," I said, for Muriel felt sure it had +slipped under the dinner table. None of the men had as yet joined us. + +"Why, where are you going, child?" as he turned towards the farther +door. "It is much quicker by the gallery." + +He said nothing, but went out, walking rather slowly, by the gallery +door. And in a few minutes he returned, fan in hand, but by the _other_ +door. + +He was a sensitive child, and though I wondered what he had got into his +head against the gallery, I did not say anything before the others. But +when, soon after, Dormy said "Good night," and went off to bed, I +followed him. + +"What do you want, Leila?" he said rather crossly. + +"Don't be vexed, child," I said. "I can see there is something the +matter. Why do you not like the gallery?" + +He hesitated, but I had laid my hand on his shoulder, and he knew I +meant to be kind. + +"Leila," he said, with a glance round, to be sure that no one was within +hearing--we were standing, he and I, near the inner dining-room door, +which was open--"you'll laugh at me, but--there's something queer +there--sometimes!" + +"What? And how do you mean 'sometimes'?" I asked, with a slight thrill +at his tone. + +"I mean not always, I've felt it several times--there was the cold the +day before yesterday, and besides that, I've felt a--a sort of +_breaving_"--Dormy was not perfect in his "th's"--"like somebody very +unhappy." + +"Sighing?" I suggested. + +"Like sighing in a whisper," he replied, "and that's always near the +door. But last week--no, not so long ago, it was on Monday--I went round +that way when I was going to bed. I didn't want to be silly. But it was +moonlight--and--Leila, a shadow went all along the wall on that side, +and stopped at the door. I saw it waggling about--its _hands_," and here +he shivered--"on that funny curtain that hangs up, as if it were feeling +for a minute or two, and then----" + +"Well,--what then?" + +"It just went out," he said simply. "But it's moonlight again to-night, +sister, and I daren't see it again. I just _daren't_." + +"But you did go to the dining-room that way," I reminded him. + +"Yes, but I shut my eyes and ran, and even then I felt as if something +cold was behind me." + +"Dormy, dear," I said, a good deal concerned, "I do think it's your +fancy. You are not _quite_ well yet, you know." + +"Yes, I am," he replied sturdily. "I'm not a bit frightened anywhere +else. I sleep in a room alone you know. It's not _me_, sister, its +somefing in the gallery." + +"Would you be frightened to go there with me now? We can run through the +dining-room; there's no one to see us," and I turned in that direction +as I spoke. + +Again my little brother hesitated. + +"I'll go with you if you'll hold hands," he said, "but I'll shut my +eyes. And I won't open them till you tell me there's no shadow on the +wall. You must tell me truly." + +"But there must be some shadows," I said, "in this bright moonlight, +trees and branches, or even clouds scudding across--something of that +kind is what you must have seen, dear." + +He shook his head. + +"No, no, of course I wouldn't mind that. I know the difference. No--you +couldn't mistake. It goes along, right along, in a creeping way, and +then at the door its hands come farther out, and it _feels_." + +"Is it like a man or a woman?" I said, beginning to feel rather creepy +myself. + +"I think it's most like a rather little man," he replied, "but I'm not +sure. Its head has got something fuzzy about it--oh, I know, like a +sticking out wig. But lower down it seems wrapped up, like in a cloak. +Oh, it's _horrid_." + +And again he shivered--it was quite time all this nightmare nonsense was +put out of his poor little head. + +I took his hand and held it firmly; we went through the dining-room. +Nothing could have looked more comfortable and less ghostly. For the +lights were still burning on the table, and the flowers in their silver +bowls, some wine gleaming in the glasses, the fruit and pretty dishes, +made a pleasant glow of colour. It certainly seemed a curiously sudden +contrast when we found ourselves in the gallery beyond, cold and +unillumined, save by the pale moonlight streaming through the +unshuttered windows. For the door closed with a bang as we passed +through--the gallery _was_ a draughty place. + +Dormy's hold tightened. + +"Sister," he whispered, "I've shut my eyes now. You must stand with +your back to the windows--between them, or else you'll think it's our +own shadows--and watch." + +I did as he said, and I had not long to wait. + +It came--from the farther end, the second condemned door, whence the +winding stair mounted to the attics--it seemed to begin or at least +take form there. Creeping along, just as Dormy said--stealthily but +steadily--right down to the other extremity of the long room. And then +it grew blacker--more concentrated--and out from the vague outline came +two bony hands, and, as the child had said, too, you could see that they +were _feeling_--all over the upper part of the door. + +I stood and watched. I wondered afterwards at my own courage, if courage +it was. It was the shadow of a small man, I felt sure. The head seemed +large in proportion, and--yes--it--the original of the shadow--was +evidently covered by an antique wig. Half mechanically I glanced +round--as if in search of the material body that _must_ be there. But +no; there was nothing, literally _nothing_, that could throw this +extraordinary shadow. + +Of this I was instantly convinced; and here I may as well say once +for all, that never was it maintained by any one, however previously +sceptical, who had fully witnessed the whole, that it could be accounted +for by ordinary, or, as people say, "natural" causes. There was this +peculiarity at least about our ghost. + +Though I had fast hold of his hand, I had almost forgotten Dormy--I +seemed in a trance. + +Suddenly he spoke, though in a whisper. + +"You see it, sister, I know you do," he said. + +"Wait, wait a minute, dear," I managed to reply in the same tone, though +I could not have explained why I waited. + +Dormer had said that after a time--after the ghastly and apparently +fruitless _feeling_ all over the door--"it"--"went out". + +I think it was this that I was waiting for. It was not quite as he had +said. The door was in the extreme corner of the wall, the hinges almost +in the angle, and as the shadow began to move on again, it _looked_ as +if it disappeared; but no, it was only fainter. My eyes, preternaturally +sharpened by my intense gaze, still saw it, working its way round the +corner, as assuredly no _shadow_ in the real sense of the word ever did +nor could do. I realised this, and the sense of horror grew all but +intolerable; yet I stood still, clasping the cold little hand in mine +tighter and tighter. And an instinct of protection of the child gave me +strength. Besides, it was coming on so quickly--we could not have +escaped--it was coming, nay, it _was behind_ us. + +"Leila!" gasped Dormy, "the cold--you feel it now?" + +Yes, truly--like no icy breath that I had ever felt before was that +momentary but horrible thrill of utter cold. If it had lasted another +second I think it would have killed us both. But, mercifully, it passed, +in far less time than it has taken me to tell it, and then we seemed in +some strange way to be released. + +"Open your eyes, Dormy," I said, "you won't see anything, I promise you. +I want to rush across to the dining-room." + +He obeyed me. I felt there was time to escape before that awful presence +would again have arrived at the dining-room door, though it was +_coming_--ah, yes, it was coming, steadily pursuing its ghastly round. +And, alas! the dining-room door was closed. But I kept my nerve to some +extent. I turned the handle without over much trembling, and in another +moment, the door shut and locked behind us, we stood in safety, looking +at each other, in the bright cheerful room we had left so short a time +ago. + +_Was_ it so short a time? I said to myself. It seemed hours! + +And through the door open to the hall came at that moment the sound +of cheerful laughing voices from the drawing-room. Some one was coming +out. It seemed impossible, incredible, that within a few feet of the +matter-of-fact pleasant material life, this horrible inexplicable drama +should be going on, as doubtless it still was. + +Of the two I was now more upset than my little brother. I was older and +"took in" more. He, boy-like, was in a sense triumphant at having proved +himself correct and no coward, and though he was still pale, his eyes +shone with excitement and a queer kind of satisfaction. + +But before we had done more than look at each other, a figure appeared +at the open doorway. It was Sophy. + +"Leila," she said, "mamma wants to know what you are doing with Dormy? +He is to go to bed at once. We saw you go out of the room after him, +and then a door banged. Mamma says if you are playing with him it's very +bad for him so late at night." + +Dormy was very quick. He was still holding my hand, and he pinched it to +stop my replying. + +"Rubbish!" he said. "I am speaking to Leila quietly, and she is coming +up to my room while I undress. Good night, Sophy." + +"Tell mamma Dormy really wants me," I added, and then Sophy departed. + +"We musn't tell _her_, Leila," said the boy. "She'd have 'sterics." + +"Whom shall we tell?" I said, for I was beginning to feel very helpless +and upset. + +"Nobody, to-night," he replied sensibly. "You _mustn't_ go in there," +and he shivered a little as he moved his head towards the gallery; +"you're not fit for it, and they'd be wanting you to. Wait till the +morning and then I'd--I think I'd tell Philip first. You needn't be +frightened to-night, sister. It won't stop you sleeping. It didn't me +the time I saw it before." + +He was right. I slept dreamlessly. It was as if the intense nervous +strain of those few minutes had utterly exhausted me. + + +PART II. + +Phil is our soldier brother. And there is nothing fanciful about _him_! +He is a rock of sturdy common-sense and unfailing good nature. He was +the very best person to confide our strange secret to, and my respect +for Dormy increased. + +We did tell him--the very next morning. He listened very attentively, +only putting in a question here and there, and though, of course, he was +incredulous--had I not been so myself?--he was not mocking. + +"I am glad you have told no one else," he said, when we had related the +whole as circumstantially as possible. "You see mother is not very +strong yet, and it would be a pity to bother father, just when he's +taken this place and settled it all. And for goodness' sake, don't let a +breath of it get about among the servants; there'd be the--something to +pay, if you did." + +"I won't tell anybody," said Dormy. + +"Nor shall I," I added. "Sophy is far too excitable, and if she knew, +she would certainly tell Nannie." Nannie is our old nurse. + +"If we tell any one," Philip went on, "that means," with a rather +irritating smile of self-confidence, "if by any possibility I do not +succeed in making an end of your ghost and we want another opinion about +it, the person to tell would be Miss Larpent." + +"Yes," I said, "I think so, too." + +I would not risk irritating him by saying how convinced I was that +conviction awaited _him_ as surely it had come to myself, and I knew +that Miss Larpent, though far from credulous, was equally far from +stupid scepticism concerning the mysteries "not dreamt of" in ordinary +"philosophy". + +"What do you mean to do?" I went on. "You have a theory, I see. Won't +you tell me what it is?" + +"I have two," said Phil, rolling up a cigarette as he spoke. "It is +either some queer optical illusion, partly the effect of some odd +reflection outside--or it is a clever trick." + +"A trick!" I exclaimed; "what _possible_ motive could there be for a +trick?" + +Phil shook his head. + +"Ah," he said, "that I cannot at present say." + +"And what are you going to do?" + +"I shall sit up to-night in the gallery and see for myself." + +"Alone?" I exclaimed, with some misgiving. For big, sturdy fellow as he +was, I scarcely liked to think of him--of _any one_--alone with that +awful thing. + +"I don't suppose you or Dormy would care to keep me company," he +replied, "and on the whole I would rather not have you." + +"I wouldn't do it," said the child honestly, "not for--for nothing." + +"I shall keep Tim with me," said Philip, "I would rather have him than +any one." + +Tim is Phil's bull-dog, and certainly, I agreed, much better than +nobody. + +So it was settled. + +Dormy and I went to bed unusually early that night, for as the day wore +on we both felt exceedingly tired. I pleaded a headache, which was not +altogether a fiction, though I repented having complained at all when I +found that poor mamma immediately began worrying herself with fears +that "after all" I, too, was to fall a victim to the influenza. + +"I shall be all right in the morning," I assured her. + +I knew no further details of Phil's arrangements. I fell asleep almost +at once. I usually do. And it seemed to me that I had slept a whole +night when I was awakened by a glimmering light at my door, and heard +Philip's voice speaking softly. + +"Are you awake, Lel?" he said, as people always say when they awake you +in any untimely way. Of course, _now_ I was awake, very much awake +indeed. + +"What is it?" I exclaimed eagerly, my heart beginning to beat very fast. + +"Oh, nothing, nothing at all," said my brother, advancing a little into +the room. "I just thought I'd look in on my way to bed to reassure you. +I have seen _nothing_, absolutely nothing." + +I do not know if I was relieved or disappointed. + +"Was it moonlight?" I asked abruptly. + +"No," he replied, "unluckily the moon did not come out at all, though +it is nearly at the full. I carried in a small lamp, which made things +less eerie. But I should have preferred the moon." + +I glanced up at him. Was it the reflection of the candle he held, or did +he look paler than usual? + +"And," I added suddenly, "did you _feel_ nothing?" + +He hesitated. + +"It--it was chilly, certainly," he said. "I fancy I must have dosed a +little, for I did feel pretty cold once or twice." + +"Ah, indeed!" thought I to myself. "And how about Tim?" + +Phil smiled, but not very successfully. + +"Well," he said, "I must confess Tim did not altogether like it. He +started snarling, then he growled, and finished up with whining in a +decidedly unhappy way. He's rather upset--poor old chap!" + +And then I saw that the dog was beside him--rubbing up close to Philip's +legs--a very dejected, reproachful Tim--all the starch taken out of him. + +"Good-night, Phil," I said, turning round on my pillow. "I'm glad +you are satisfied. To-morrow morning you must tell me which of your +theories holds most water. Good-night, and many thanks." + +He was going to say more, but my manner for the moment stopped him, and +he went off. + +Poor old Phil! + +We had it out the next morning. He and I alone. He was _not_ satisfied. +Far from it. In the bottom of his heart I believe it was a strange +yearning for a breath of human companionship, for the sound of a human +voice, that had made him look in on me the night before. + +_For he had felt the cold passing him._ + +But he was very plucky. + +"I'll sit up again to-night, Leila," he said. + +"Not to-night," I objected. "This sort of adventure requires one to be +at one's best. If you take my advice you will go to bed early and have a +good stretch of sleep, so that you will be quite fresh by to-morrow. +There will be a moon for some nights still." + +"Why do you keep harping on the moon?" said Phil rather crossly, for +him. + +"Because--I have some idea that it is only in the moonlight that--that +anything is to be _seen_." + +"Bosh!" said my brother politely--he was certainly rather +discomposed--"we are talking at cross-purposes. You are satisfied----" + +"Far from satisfied," I interpolated. + +"Well, convinced, whatever you like to call it--that the whole thing is +supernatural, whereas I am equally sure it is a trick; a clever trick I +allow, though I haven't yet got at the motive of it." + +"You need your nerves to be at their best to discover a trick of this +kind, if a trick it be," I said quietly. + +Philip had left his seat, and walked up and down the room; his way of +doing so gave me a feeling that he wanted to walk off some unusual +consciousness of irritability. I felt half provoked and half sorry for +him. + +At that moment--we were alone in the drawing-room--the door opened, and +Miss Larpent came in. + +"I cannot find Sophy," she said, peering about through her rather +short-sighted eyes, which, nevertheless, see a great deal sometimes; "do +you know where she is?" + +"I saw her setting off somewhere with Nugent," said Philip, stopping +his quarter-deck exercise for a moment. + +"Ah, then it is hopeless. I suppose I must resign myself to very +irregular ways for a little longer," Miss Larpent replied with a smile. + +She is not young, and not good looking, but she is gifted with a +delightful way of smiling, and she is--well, the dearest and almost the +wisest of women. + +She looked at Philip as he spoke. She had known us nearly since our +babyhood. + +"Is there anything the matter?" she said suddenly. "You look fagged, +Leila, and Philip seems worried." + +I glanced at Philip. He understood me. + +"Yes," he replied, "I am irritated, and Leila is----" he hesitated. + +"What?" asked Miss Larpent. + +"Oh, I don't know--obstinate, I suppose. Sit down, Miss Larpent, and +hear our story. Leila, you can tell it." + +I did so--first obtaining a promise of secrecy, and making Phil relate +his own experience. + +Our new _confidante_ listened attentively, her face very grave. When +she had heard all, she said quietly, after a moment's silence:-- + +"It's very strange, very. Philip, if you will wait till to-morrow night, +and I quite agree with Leila that you had better do so, I will sit up +with you. I have pretty good nerves, and I have always wanted an +experience of that kind." + +"Then you don't think it is a trick?" I said eagerly. I was like Dormer, +divided between my real underlying longing to explain the thing, and get +rid of the horror of it, and a half childish wish to prove that I had +not exaggerated its ghastliness. + +"I will tell you that the day after to-morrow," she said. I could not +repress a little shiver as she spoke. + +She _had_ good nerves, and she was extremely sensible. + +But I almost blamed myself afterwards for having acquiesced in the plan. +For the effect on her was very great. They never told me exactly what +happened; "You _know_," said Miss Larpent. I imagine their experience +was almost precisely similar to Dormy's and mine, intensified, perhaps, +by the feeling of loneliness. For it was not till all the rest of +the family was in bed that this second vigil began. It was a bright +moonlight night--they had the whole thing complete. + +It was impossible to throw off the effect; even in the daytime the four +of us who had seen and heard, shrank from the gallery, and made any +conceivable excuse for avoiding it. + +But Phil, however convinced, behaved consistently. He examined the +closed door thoroughly, to detect any possible trickery. He explored +the attics, he went up and down the staircase leading to the offices, +till the servants must have thought he was going crazy. He found +_nothing_--no vaguest hint even as to why the gallery was chosen by the +ghostly shadow for its nightly round. + +Strange to say, however, as the moon waned, our horror faded, so that we +almost began to hope the thing was at an end, and to trust that in time +we should forget about it. And we congratulated ourselves that we had +kept our own counsel and not disturbed any of the others--even father, +who would, no doubt, have hooted at the idea--by the baleful whisper +that our charming castle by the sea was haunted! + +And the days passed by, growing into weeks. The second detachment of +our guests had left, and a third had just arrived, when one morning as I +was waiting at what we called "the sea-door" for some of the others to +join me in a walk along the sands, some one touched me on the shoulder. +It was Philip. + +"Leila," he said, "I am not happy about Dormer. He is looking ill again, +and----" + +"I thought he seemed so much stronger," I said, surprised and +distressed, "quite rosy, and so much merrier." + +"So he was till a few days ago," said Philip. "But if you notice him +well you'll see that he's getting that white look again. And--I've got +it into my head--he is an extraordinarily sensitive child, that it has +something to do with the moon. It's getting on to the full." + +For the moment I stupidly forgot the association. + +"Really, Phil," I said, "you are too absurd! Do you actually--oh," as he +was beginning to interrupt me, and my face fell, I feel sure--"you don't +mean about the gallery." + +"Yes, I do," he said. + +"How? Has Dormy told you anything?" and a sort of sick feeling came +over me. "I had begun to hope," I went on, "that somehow it had gone; +that, perhaps, it only comes once a year at a certain season, or +possibly that newcomers see it at the first and not again. Oh, Phil, +we _can't_ stay here, however nice it is, if it is really haunted." + +"Dormy hasn't said much," Philip replied. "He only told me he had _felt +the cold_ once or twice, 'since the moon came again,' he said. But I can +see the fear of more is upon him. And this determined me to speak to +you. I have to go to London for ten days or so, to see the doctors about +my leave, and a few other things. I don't like it for you and Miss +Larpent if--if this thing is to return--with no one else in your +confidence, especially on Dormy's account. Do you think we must tell +father before I go?" + +I hesitated. For many reasons I was reluctant to do so. Father would be +exaggeratedly sceptical at first, and then, if he were convinced, as I +_knew_ he would be, he would go to the other extreme and insist upon +leaving Finster, and there would be a regular upset, trying for mother +and everybody concerned. And mother liked the place, and was looking so +much better! + +"After all," I said, "it has not hurt any of us. Miss Larpent got +a shake, so did I. But it wasn't as great a shock to us as to you, +Phil, to have to believe in a ghost. And we can avoid the gallery +while you are away. No, except for Dormy, I would rather keep it to +ourselves--after all, we are not going to live here always. Yet it is so +nice, it seems such a pity." + +It was such an exquisite morning; the air, faintly breathing of the sea, +was like elixir; the heights and shadows on the cliffs, thrown out by +the darker woods behind, were indeed, as Janet Miles had said, +"wonderful". + +"Yes," Phil agreed, "it is an awful nuisance. But as for Dormy," he went +on, "supposing I get mother to let me take him with me? He'd be as jolly +as a sand-boy in London, and my old landlady would look after him like +anything if ever I had to be out late. And I'd let my doctor see +him--quietly, you know--he might give him a tonic or something." + +I heartily approved of the idea. So did mamma when Phil broached +it--she, too, had thought her "baby" looking quite pale lately. A London +doctor's opinion would be such a satisfaction. So it was settled, and +the very next day the two set off. Dormer, in his "old-fashioned," +reticent way, in the greatest delight, though only by one remark did the +brave little fellow hint at what was, no doubt, the principal cause of +his satisfaction. + +"The moon will be long past the full when we come back," he said. "And +after that there'll only be one other time before we go, won't there, +Leila? We've only got this house for three months?" + +"Yes," I said, "father only took it for three," though in my heart I +knew it was with the option of three more--six in all. + +And Miss Larpent and I were left alone, not with the ghost, certainly, +but with our fateful knowledge of its unwelcome proximity. + +We did not speak of it to each other, but we tacitly avoided the +gallery, even, as much as possible, in the daytime. I felt, and so, she +has since confessed, did she, that it would be impossible to endure +_that cold_ without betraying ourselves. + +And I began to breathe more freely, trusting that the dread of the +shadow's possible return was really only due to the child's overwrought +nerves. + +Till--one morning--my fool's paradise was abruptly destroyed. + +Father came in late to breakfast--he had been for an early walk, he +said, to get rid of a headache. But he did not look altogether as if he +had succeeded in doing so. + +"Leila," he said, as I was leaving the room after pouring out his +coffee--mamma was not yet allowed to get up early--"Leila, don't go. I +want to speak to you." + +I stopped short, and turned towards the table. There was something very +odd about his manner. He is usually hearty and eager, almost impetuous +in his way of speaking. + +"Leila," he began again, "you are a sensible girl, and your nerves are +strong, I fancy. Besides, you have not been ill like the others. Don't +speak of what I am going to tell you." + +I nodded in assent; I could scarcely have spoken. My heart was beginning +to thump. Father would not have commended my nerves had he known it. + +"Something odd and inexplicable happened last night," he went on. +"Nugent and I were sitting in the gallery. It was a mild night, and the +moon magnificent. We thought the gallery would be pleasanter than the +smoking-room, now that Phil and his pipes are away. Well--we were +sitting quietly. I had lighted my reading-lamp on the little table at +one end of the room, and Nugent was half lying in his chair, doing +nothing in particular except admiring the night, when all at once he +started violently with an exclamation, and, jumping up, came towards me. +Leila, his teeth were chattering, and he was _blue_ with cold. I was +very much alarmed--you know how ill he was at college. But in a moment +or two he recovered. + +"'What on earth is the matter?' I said to him. He tried to laugh. + +"'I really don't know,' he said; 'I felt as if I had had an electric +shock of _cold_--but I'm all right again now.' + +"I went into the dining-room, and made him take a little brandy and +water, and sent him off to bed. Then I came back, still feeling rather +uneasy about him, and sat down with my book, when, Leila--you will +scarcely credit it--I myself felt the same shock exactly. A perfectly +_hideous_ thrill of cold. That was how it began. I started up, and then, +Leila, by degrees, in some instinctive way, I seemed to realise what had +caused it. My dear child, you will think I have gone crazy when I tell +you that there was a shadow--a shadow in the moonlight--_chasing_ me, +so to say, round the room, and once again it caught me up, and again +came that appalling sensation. I would not give in. I dodged it after +that, and set myself to watch it, and then----" + +I need not quote my father further; suffice to say his experience +matched that of the rest of us entirely--no, I think it surpassed them. +It was the worst of all. + +Poor father! I shuddered for him. I think a shock of that kind is harder +upon a man than upon a woman. Our sex is less sceptical, less entrenched +in sturdy matters of fact, more imaginative, or whatever you like to +call the readiness to believe what we cannot explain. And it was +astounding to me to see how my father at once capitulated--never even +_alluding_ to a possibility of trickery. Astounding, yet at the same +time not without a certain satisfaction in it. It was almost a relief to +find others in the same boat with ourselves. + +I told him at once all _we_ had to tell, and how painfully exercised we +had been as to the advisability of keeping our secret to ourselves. I +never saw father so impressed; he was awfully kind, too, and so sorry +for us. He made me fetch Miss Larpent, and we held a council of--I +don't know what to call it!--not "war," assuredly, for none of us +thought of fighting the ghost. How could one fight a shadow? + +We decided to do nothing beyond endeavouring to keep the affair from +going further. During the next few days father arranged to have some +work done in the gallery which would prevent our sitting there, without +raising any suspicions on mamma's or Sophy's part. + +"And then," said father, "we must see. Possibly this extraordinary +influence only makes itself felt periodically." + +"I am almost certain it is so," said Miss Larpent. + +"And in this case," he continued, "we may manage to evade it. But I do +not feel disposed to continue my tenancy here after three months are +over. If once the servants get hold of the story, and they are sure to +do so sooner or later, it would be unendurable--the worry and annoyance +would do your mother far more harm than any good effect the air and +change have had upon her." + +I was glad to hear this decision. Honestly, I did not feel as if I +could stand the strain for long, and it might kill poor little Dormy. + +But where should we go? Our own home would be quite uninhabitable till +the autumn, for extensive alterations and repairs were going on there. I +said this to father. + +"Yes," he agreed, "it is not convenient,"--and he hesitated. "I cannot +make it out," he went on, "Miles would have been _sure_ to know if the +house had a bad name in any way. I think I will go over and see him +to-day, and tell him all about it--at least I shall inquire about some +other house in the neighbourhood--and _perhaps_ I will tell him our +reason for leaving this." + +He did so--he went over to Raxtrew that very afternoon, and, as I quite +anticipated would be the case, he told me on his return that he had +taken both our friends into his confidence. + +"They are extremely concerned about it," he said, "and very +sympathising, though, naturally, inclined to think us a parcel of very +weak-minded folk indeed. But I am glad of one thing--the Rectory there, +is to be let from the first of July for three months. Miles took me to +see it. I think it will do very well--it is quite out of the village, +for you really can't call it a town--and a nice little place in its way. +Quite modern, and as unghost-like as you could wish, bright and cheery." + +"And what will mamma think of our leaving so soon?" I asked. + +But as to this father reassured me. He had already spoken of it to her, +and somehow she did not seem disappointed. She had got it into her head +that Finster did not suit Dormy, and was quite disposed to think that +three months of such strong air were enough at a time. + +"Then have you decided upon Raxtrew Rectory?" I asked. + +"I have the refusal of it," said my father. "But you will be almost +amused to hear that Miles begged me not to fix absolutely for a few +days. He is coming to us to-morrow, to spend the night." + +"You mean to see for himself?" + +Father nodded. + +"Poor Mr. Miles!" I ejaculated. "You won't sit up with him, I hope, +father?" + +"I offered to do so, but he won't hear of it," was the reply. "He is +bringing one of his keepers with him--a sturdy, trustworthy young +fellow, and they two with their revolvers are going to nab the ghost, so +he says. We shall see. We must manage to prevent our servants suspecting +anything." + +This _was_ managed. I need not go into particulars. Suffice to say that +the sturdy keeper reached his own home before dawn on the night of the +vigil, no endeavours of his master having succeeded in persuading him to +stay another moment at Finster, and that Mr. Miles himself looked so ill +the next morning when he joined us at the breakfast-table that we, the +initiated, could scarcely repress our exclamations, when Sophy, with the +curious instinct of touching a sore place which some people have, told +him that he looked exactly "as if he had seen a ghost". + +His experience had been precisely similar to ours. After that we heard +no more from him--about the pity it was to leave a place that suited us +so well, etc., etc. On the contrary, before he left, he told my father +and myself that he thought us uncommonly plucky for staying out the +three months, though at the same time he confessed to feeling completely +nonplussed. + +"I have lived near Finster St. Mabyn's all my life," he said, "and +my people before me, and _never_, do I honestly assure you, have +I heard one breath of the old place being haunted. And in a shut-up +neighbourhood like this, such a thing would have leaked out." + +We shook our heads, but what could we say? + + +PART III. + +We left Finster St. Mabyn's towards the middle of July. + +Nothing worth recording happened during the last few weeks. If +the ghostly drama were still re-enacted night after night, or only +during some portion of each month, we took care not to assist at the +performance. I believe Phil and Nugent planned another vigil, but gave +it up by my father's expressed wish, and on one pretext or another he +managed to keep the gallery locked off without arousing any suspicion in +my mother or Sophy, or any of our visitors. + +It was a cold summer,--those early months of it at least--and that made +it easier to avoid the room. + +Somehow none of us were sorry to go. This was natural, so far as +several were concerned, but rather curious as regarded those of the +family who knew no drawback to the charms of the place. I suppose it was +due to some instinctive consciousness of the influence which so many of +the party had felt it impossible to resist or explain. + +And the Rectory at Raxtrew was really a dear little place. It was so +bright and open and sunny. Dormy's pale face was rosy with pleasure the +first afternoon when he came rushing in to tell us that there were tame +rabbits and a pair of guinea-pigs in an otherwise empty loose box in the +stable-yard. + +"Do come and look at them," he begged, and I went with him, pleased to +see him so happy. + +I did not care for the rabbits, but I always think guinea-pigs rather +fascinating, and we stayed playing with them some little time. + +"I'll show you another way back into the house," said Dormy, and he led +me through a conservatory into a large, almost unfurnished room, opening +again into a tiled passage leading to the offices. + +"This is the Warden boys' playroom," he said. "They keep their cricket +and football things here, you see, and their tricycle. I wonder if I +might use it?" + +"We must write and ask them," I said. "But what are all these big +packages?" I went on. "Oh, I see, its our heavy luggage from Finster. +There is not room in this house for our odds and ends of furniture, I +suppose. It's rather a pity they have put it in here, for we could have +had some nice games in this big room on a wet day, and see, Dormy, here +are several pairs of roller skates! Oh, we must have this place +cleared." + +We spoke to father about it--he came and looked at the room and agreed +with us that it would be a pity not to have the full use of it. Roller +skating would be good exercise for Dormy, he said, and even for Nat, who +would be joining us before long for his holidays. + +So our big cases, and the chairs and tables we had bought from Hunter, +in their careful swathings of wisps and matting, were carried out to an +empty barn--a perfectly dry and weather-tight barn--for everything at +the Rectory was in excellent repair. In this, as in all other details, +our new quarters were a complete contrast to the picturesque abode we +had just quitted. + +The weather was charming for the first two or three weeks--much warmer +and sunnier than at Finster. We all enjoyed it, and seemed to breathe +more freely. Miss Larpent, who was staying through the holidays this +year, and I congratulated each other more than once, when sure of not +being overheard, on the cheerful, wholesome atmosphere in which we found +ourselves. + +"I do not think I shall ever wish to live in a very old house again," +she said one day. We were in the play-room, and I had been persuading +her to try her hand--or feet--at roller skating. "Even now," she went +on, "I own to you, Leila, though it may sound very weak-minded, I cannot +think of that horrible night without a shiver. Indeed, I could fancy I +feel that thrill of indescribable cold at the present moment." + +She _was_ shivering--and, extraordinary to relate, as she spoke, her +tremor communicated itself to me. Again, I could swear to it, again I +felt that blast of unutterable, unearthly cold. + +I started up. We were seated on a bench against the wall--a bench +belonging to the play-room, and which we had not thought of removing, as +a few seats were a convenience. + +Miss Larpent caught sight of my face. Her own, which was very white, +grew distressed in expression. She grasped my arm. + +"My dearest child," she exclaimed, "you look blue, and your teeth are +chattering! I do wish I had not alluded to that fright we had. I had no +idea you were so nervous." + +"I did not know it myself," I replied. "I often think of the Finster +ghost quite calmly, even in the middle of the night. But just then, Miss +Larpent, do you know, I really _felt_ that horrid cold again!" + +"So did I--or rather my imagination did," she replied, trying to talk in +a matter-of-fact way. She got up as she spoke, and went to the window. +"It can't be _all_ imagination," she added. "See, Leila, what a gusty, +stormy day it is--not like the beginning of August. It really is cold." + +"And this play-room seems nearly as draughty as the gallery at Finster," +I said. "Don't let us stay here--come into the drawing-room and play +some duets. I wish we could quite forget about Finster." + +"Dormy has done so, I hope," said Miss Larpent. + +That chilly morning was the commencement of the real break-up in the +weather. We women would not have minded it so much, as there are always +plenty of indoor things we can find to do. And my two grown-up brothers +were away. Raxtrew held no particular attractions for them, and Phil +wanted to see some of our numerous relations before he returned to +India. So he and Nugent started on a round of visits. But, unluckily, +it was the beginning of the public school holidays, and poor Nat--the +fifteen-year-old boy--had just joined us. It was very disappointing +for him in more ways than one. He had set his heart on seeing Finster, +impressed by our enthusiastic description of it when we first went +there, and now his anticipations had to come down to a comparatively +tame and uninteresting village, and every probability--so said the +wise--of a stretch of rainy, unsummerlike weather. + +Nat is a good-natured, cheery fellow, however--not nearly as clever or +as impressionable as Dormy, but with the same common sense. So he wisely +determined to make the best of things, and as we were really sorry for +him, he did not, after all, come off very badly. + +His principal amusement was roller-skating in the play-room. Dormy had +not taken to it in the same way--the greater part of _his_ time was +spent with the rabbits and guinea-pigs, where Nat, when he himself had +had skating enough, was pretty sure to find him. + +I suppose it is with being the eldest sister that it always seems my +fate to receive the confidences of the rest of the family, and it was +about this time, a fortnight or so after his arrival, that it began to +strike me that Nat looked as if he had something on his mind. + +"He is sure to tell me what it is, sooner or later," I said to myself. +"Probably he has left some small debts behind him at school--only he did +not look worried or anxious when he first came home." + +The confidence was given. One afternoon Nat followed me into the +library, where I was going to write some letters, and said he wanted to +speak to me. I put my paper aside and waited. + +"Leila," he began, "you must promise not to laugh at me." + +This was not what I expected. + +"Laugh at you--no, certainly not," I replied, "especially if you are in +any trouble. And I have thought you were looking worried, Nat." + +"Well, yes," he said, "I don't know if there is anything coming over +me--I feel quite well, but--Leila," he broke off, "do you believe in +ghosts?" + +I started. + +"Has any one----" I was beginning rashly, but the boy interrupted me. + +"No, no," he said eagerly, "no one has put anything of the kind into my +head--no one. It is my own senses that have seen--felt it--or else, if +it is fancy, I must be going out of my mind, Leila--I do believe there +is a ghost here _in the play-room_." + +I sat silent, an awful dread creeping over me, which, as he went on, +grew worse and worse. Had the thing--the Finster shadow--attached itself +to us--I had read of such cases--had it journeyed with us to this +peaceful, healthful house? The remembrance of the cold thrill +experienced by Miss Larpent and myself flashed back upon me. And Nat +went on. + +Yes, the cold was the first thing he had been startled by, followed, +just as in the gallery of our old castle, by the consciousness of the +terrible shadow-like presence, gradually taking form in the moonlight. +For there had been moonlight the last night or two, and Nat, in his +skating ardour, had amused himself alone in the play-room after Dormy +had gone to bed. + +"The night before last was the worst," he said. "It stopped raining, +you remember, Leila, and the moon was very bright--I noticed how it +glistened on the wet leaves outside. It was by the moonlight I saw +the--the shadow. I wouldn't have thought of skating in the evening but +for the light, for we've never had a lamp in there. It came round the +walls, Leila, and then it seemed to stop and fumble away in one +corner--at the end where there is a bench, you know." + +Indeed I did know; it was where our governess and I had been sitting. + +"I got so awfully frightened," said Nat honestly, "that I ran off. Then +yesterday I was ashamed of myself, and went back there in the evening +with a candle. But I saw nothing: the moon did not come out. Only--I +felt the cold again. I believe it was there--though I could not see it. +Leila, what _can_ it be? If only I could make you understand! It is so +_much_ worse than it sounds to tell." + +I said what I could to soothe him. I spoke of odd shadows thrown by the +trees outside swaying in the wind, for the weather was still stormy. I +repeated the time-worn argument about optical illusions, etc., etc., +and in the end he gave in a little. It _might_ have been his fancy. +And he promised me most faithfully to breathe no hint--not the very +faintest--of the fright he had had, to Sophy or Dormy, or any one. + +Then I had to tell my father. I really shrank from doing so, but there +seemed no alternative. At first, of course, he pooh-poohed it at once by +saying Dormy must have been talking to Nat about the Finster business, +or if not Dormy, _some one_--Miss Larpent even! But when all such +explanations were entirely set at nought, I must say poor father looked +rather blank. I was sorry for him, and sorry for myself--the idea of +being _followed_ by this horrible presence was too sickening. + +Father took refuge at last in some brain-wave theory--involuntary +impressions had been made on Nat by all of us, whose minds were still +full of the strange experience. He said he felt sure, and no doubt he +tried to think he did, that this theory explained the whole. I felt glad +for him to get any satisfaction out of it, and I did my best to take it +up too. But it was no use. I felt that Nat's experience had been an +"objective" one, as Miss Larpent expressed it--or, as Dormy had said at +the first at Finster: "No, no, sister--it's something _there_--it's +nothing to do with _me_." + +And earnestly I longed for the time to come for our return to our own +familiar home. + +"I don't think I shall ever wish to leave it again," I thought. + +But after a week or two the feeling began to fade again. And father very +sensibly discovered that it would not do to leave our spare furniture +and heavy luggage in the barn--it was getting all dusty and cobwebby. So +it was all moved back again to the play-room, and stacked as it had been +at first, making it impossible for us to skate or amuse ourselves in any +way there, at which Sophy grumbled, but Nat did not. + +Father was very good to Nat. He took him about with him as much as he +could to get the thought of that horrid thing out of his head. But yet +it could not have been half as bad for Nat as for the rest of us, for +we took the greatest possible precautions against any whisper of the +dreadful and mysterious truth reaching him, that the ghost had _followed +us_ from Finster. + +Father did not tell Mr. Miles or Jenny about it. They had been worried +enough, poor things, by the trouble at Finster, and it would be too bad +for them to think that the strange influence was affecting us in the +_second_ house we had taken at their recommendation. + +"In fact," said father with a rather rueful smile, "if we don't take +care, we shall begin to be looked upon askance as a haunted family! Our +lives would have been in danger in the good old witchcraft days." + +"It is really a mercy that none of the servants have got hold of the +story," said Miss Larpent, who was one of our council of three. "We must +just hope that no further annoyance will befall us till we are safe at +home again." + +Her hopes were fulfilled. Nothing else happened while we remained at the +Rectory--it really seemed as if the unhappy shade was limited locally, +in one sense. For at Finster, even, it had never been seen or felt save +in the one room. + +The vividness of the impression of poor Nat's experience had almost died +away when the time came for us to leave. I felt now that I should rather +enjoy telling Phil and Nugent about it, and hearing what _they_ could +bring forward in the way of explanation. + +We left Raxtrew early in October. Our two big brothers were awaiting us +at home, having arrived there a few days before us. Nugent was due at +Oxford very shortly. + +It was very nice to be in our own house again, after several months' +absence, and it was most interesting to see how the alterations, +including a good deal of new papering and painting, had been carried +out. And as soon as the heavy luggage arrived we had grand consultations +as to the disposal about the rooms of the charming pieces of furniture +we had picked up at Hunter's. Our rooms are large and nicely shaped, +most of them. It was not difficult to make a pretty corner here and +there with a quaint old chair or two and a delicate spindle-legged +table, and when we had arranged them all--Phil, Nugent, and I, were the +movers--we summoned mother and Miss Larpent to give their opinion. + +They quite approved, mother even saying that she would be glad of a few +more odds and ends. + +"We might empower Janet Miles," she said, "to let us know if she sees +anything very tempting. Is that really all we have? They looked so much +more important in their swathings." + +The same idea struck me. I glanced round. + +"Yes," I said, "that's all, except--oh, yes, there are the tapestry +"_portières_"--the best of all. We can't have them in the drawing-room, +I fear. It is too modern for them. Where shall we hang them?" + +"You are forgetting, Leila," said mother. "We spoke of having them in +the hall. They will do beautifully to hang before the two side doors, +which are seldom opened. And in cold weather the hall is draughty, +though nothing like the gallery at Finster." + +Why did she say that? It made me shiver, but then, of course, she did +not know. + +Our hall is a very pleasant one. We sit there a great deal. The side +doors mother spoke of are second entrances to the dining-room and +library--quite unnecessary, except when we have a large party, a dance +or something of that sort. And the "_portières_" certainly seemed the +very thing, the mellow colouring of the tapestry showing to great +advantage. The boys--Phil and Nugent, I mean--set to work at once, and +in an hour or two the hangings were placed. + +"Of course," said Philip, "if ever these doors are to be opened, this +precious tapestry must be taken down, or very carefully looped back. It +is very worn in some places, and in spite of the thick lining it should +be tenderly handled. I am afraid it has suffered a little from being so +long rolled up at the Rectory. It should have been hung up!" + +Still, it looked very well indeed, and when father, who was away at some +magistrates' meeting, came home that afternoon, I showed him our +arrangements with pride. + +He was very pleased. + +"Very nice--very nice indeed," he said, though it was almost too dusk +for him to judge quite fully of the effect of the tapestry. "But, dear +me, child, this hall is very cold. We must have a larger fire. Only +October! What sort of a winter are we going to have?" + +He shivered as he spoke. He was standing close to one of the +"_portières_"--smoothing the tapestry half absently with one hand. I +looked at him with concern. + +"I _hope_ you have not got a chill, papa," I said. + +But he seemed all right again when we went into the library, where tea +was waiting--an extra late tea for his benefit. + +The next day Nugent went to Oxford. Nat had already returned to school. +So our home party was reduced to father and mother, Miss Larpent, Phil +and I, and the children. + +We were very glad to have Phil settled at home for some time. There was +little fear of his being tempted away, now that the shooting had begun. +We were expecting some of our usual guests at this season; the weather +was perfect autumn weather; we had thrown off all remembrance of +influenza and other depressing "influences," and were feeling bright +and cheerful, when again--ah, yes, even now it gives me a faint, sick +sensation to recall the horror of that _third_ visitation! + +But I must tell it simply, and not give way to painful remembrances. + +It was the very day before our first visitors were expected that the +blow fell, the awful fear made itself felt. And, as before, the victim +was a new one--the one who, for reasons already mentioned, we had +specially guarded from any breath of the gruesome terror--poor little +Sophy! + +What she was doing alone in the hall late that evening I cannot quite +recall--yes, I think I remember her saying she had run downstairs when +half-way up to bed, to fetch a book she had left there in the afternoon. +She had no light, and the one lamp in the hall--we never sat there after +dinner--was burning feebly. _It was bright moonlight._ + +I was sitting at the piano, where I had been playing in a rather sleepy +way--when a sudden touch on my shoulder made me start, and, looking up, +I saw my sister standing beside me, white and trembling. + +"Leila," she whispered, "come with me quickly. I don't want mamma to +notice." + +For mother was still nervous and delicate. + +The drawing-room is very long, and has two or three doors. No-one else +was at our end. It was easy to make our way out unperceived. Sophy +caught my hand and hurried me upstairs without speaking till we reached +my own room, where a bright fire was burning cheerfully. + +Then she began. + +"Leila," she said, "I have had such an awful fright. I did not want to +speak until we were safe up here." + +"What was it?" I exclaimed breathlessly. Did I already suspect the +truth? I really do not know, but my nerves were not what they had been. + +Sophy gasped and began to tremble. I put my arm round her. + +"It does not sound so bad," she said. "But--oh, Leila, what _could_ it +be? It was in the hall," and then I think she explained how she had come +to be there. "I was standing near the side door into the library that we +never use--and--all of a sudden a sort of darkness came along the wall, +and seemed to settle on the door--where the old tapestry is, you know. +I thought it was the shadow of something outside, for it was bright +moonlight, and the windows were not shuttered. But in a moment I saw it +could not be that--there is nothing to throw such a shadow. It seemed +to wriggle about--like--like a monstrous spider, or--" and there she +hesitated--"almost like a deformed sort of human being. And all at once, +Leila, my breath went and I fell down. I really did. I was _choked_ with +cold. I think my senses went away, but I am not sure. The next thing I +remember was rushing across the hall and then down the south corridor to +the drawing-room, and then I was so thankful to see you there by the +piano." + +I drew her down on my knee, poor child. + +"It was very good of you, dear," I said, "to control yourself, and not +startle mamma." + +This pleased her, but her terror was still uppermost. + +"Leila," she said piteously, "can't you explain it? I did so hope you +could." + +What _could_ I say? + +"I--one would need to go to the hall and look well about to see what +could cast such a shadow," I said vaguely, and I suppose I must +involuntarily have moved a little, for Sophy started, and clutched me +fast. + +"Oh, Leila, don't go--you don't mean you are going now?" she entreated. + +Nothing truly was farther from my thoughts, but I took care not to say +so. + +"I won't leave you if you'd rather not," I said, "and I tell you what, +Sophy, if you would like very much to sleep here with me to-night, you +shall. I will ring and tell Freake to bring your things down and undress +you--on one condition." + +"What?" she said eagerly. She was much impressed by my amiability. + +"That you won't say _one word_ about this, or give the least shadow of a +hint to any one that you have had a fright. You don't know the trouble +it will cause." + +"Of course I will promise to let no one know, if you think it better, +for you are so kind to me," said Sophy. But there was a touch of +reluctance in her tone. "You--you mean to do something about it though, +Leila," she went on. "I shall never be able to forget it if you don't." + +"Yes," I said, "I shall speak to father and Phil about it to-morrow. +If any one has been trying to frighten us," I added unguardedly, "by +playing tricks, they certainly must be exposed." + +"Not _us_," she corrected, "it was only me," and I did not reply. Why I +spoke of the possibility of a trick I scarcely know. I had no hope of +any such explanation. + +But another strange, almost incredible idea was beginning to take shape +in my mind, and with it came a faint, very faint touch of relief. Could +it be not the _houses_, nor the _rooms_, nor, worst of all, we ourselves +that were haunted, but something or things among the old furniture we +had bought at Raxtrew? + +And lying sleepless that night a sudden flash of illumination struck +me--could it--whatever the "it" was--could it have something to do with +the tapestry hangings? + +The more I thought it over the more striking grew the coincidences. At +Finster it had been on one of the closed doors that the shadow seemed +to settle, as again here in our own hall. But in both cases the +"_portières_" had hung in front! + +And at the Rectory? The tapestry, as Philip had remarked, had been there +rolled up all the time. Was it possible that it had never been taken out +to the barn at all? What _more_ probable than that it should have been +left, forgotten, under the bench where Miss Larpent and I had felt +for the second time that hideous cold? And, stay, something else was +returning to my mind in connection with that bench. Yes--I had it--Nat +had said "it seemed to stop and fumble away in one corner--at the end +where there is a bench, you know." + +And then to my unutterable thankfulness at last I fell asleep. + + +PART IV. + +I told Philip the next morning. There was no need to bespeak his +attention. I think he felt nearly as horrified as I had done myself at +the idea that our own hitherto bright, cheerful home was to be haunted +by this awful thing--influence or presence, call it what you will. And +the suggestions which I went on to make struck him, too, with a sense of +relief. + +He sat in silence for some time after making me recapitulate as +precisely as possible every detail of Sophy's story. + +"You are sure it was the door into the library?" he said at last. + +"Quite sure," I replied; "and, oh, Philip," I went on, "it has just +occurred to me that _father_ felt a chill there the other evening." + +For till that moment the little incident in question had escaped my +memory. + +"Do you remember which of the "_portières_" hung in front of the door at +Finster?" said Philip. + +I shook my head. + +"Dormy would," I said, "he used to examine the pictures in the tapestry +with great interest. I should not know one from the other. There is an +old castle in the distance in each, and a lot of trees, and something +meant for a lake." + +But in his turn Philip shook his head. + +"No," he said, "I won't speak to Dormy about it if I can possibly help +it. Leave it to me, Leila, and try to put it out of your own mind as +much as you possibly can, and don't be surprised at anything you may +notice in the next few days. I will tell you, first of any one, whenever +I have anything to tell." + +That was all I could get out of him. So I took his advice. + +Luckily, as it turned out, Mr. Miles, the only outsider, so to say +(except the unfortunate keeper), who had witnessed the ghostly drama, +was one of the shooting party expected that day. And him Philip at +once determined to consult about this new and utterly unexpected +manifestation. + +He did not tell me this. Indeed, it was not till fully a week later that +I heard anything, and then in a letter--a very long letter from my +brother, which, I think, will relate the sequel of our strange ghost +story better than any narration at second-hand, of my own. + +Mr. Miles only stayed two nights with us. The very day after he +came he announced that, to his great regret, he was obliged--most +unexpectedly--to return to Raxtrew on important business. + +"And," he continued, "I am afraid you will all feel much more vexed with +me when I tell you I am going to carry off Phil with me." + +Father looked very blank indeed. + +"Phil!" he exclaimed, "and how about our shooting?" + +"You can easily replace us," said my brother, "I have thought of that," +and he added something in a lower tone to father. He--Phil--was leaving +the room at the time. _I_ thought it had reference to the real reason of +his accompanying Mr. Miles, but I was mistaken. Father, however, said +nothing more in opposition to the plan, and the next morning the two +went off. + +We happened to be standing at the hall door--several of us--for we were +a large party now--when Phil and his friend drove away. As we turned to +re-enter the house, I felt some one touch me. It was Sophy. She was +going out for a constitutional with Miss Larpent, but had stopped a +moment to speak to me. + +"Leila," she said in a whisper, "why have they--did you know that the +tapestry had been taken down?" + +She glanced at me with a peculiar expression. I had not observed it. +Now, looking up, I saw that the two locked doors were visible in the +dark polish of their old mahogany as of yore--no longer shrouded by the +ancient _portières_. I started in surprise. + +"No," I whispered in return, "I did not know. Never mind, Sophy. I +suspect there is a reason for it which we shall know in good time." + +I felt strongly tempted--the moon being still at the full--to visit the +hall that night--in hopes of feeling and seeing--_nothing_. But when +the time drew near, my courage failed; besides I had tacitly promised +Philip to think as little as I possibly could about the matter, and any +vigil of the kind would certainly not have been acting in accordance +with the spirit of his advice. + +I think I will now copy, as it stands, the letter from Philip which I +received a week or so later. It was dated from his club in London. + + + "MY DEAR LEILA, + + "I have a long story to tell you and a very extraordinary one. I + think it is well that it should be put into writing, so I will + devote this evening to the task--especially as I shall not be + home for ten days or so. + + "You may have suspected that I took Miles into my confidence as + soon as he arrived. If you did you were right. He was the best + person to speak to for several reasons. He looked, I must say, + rather--well 'blank' scarcely expresses it--when I told him of + the ghost's re-appearance, not only at the Rectory, but in our + own house, and on both occasions to persons--Nat, and then + Sophy--who had not heard a breath of the story. But when I went + on to propound your suggestion, Miles cheered up. He had been, + I fancy, a trifle touchy about our calling Finster haunted, + and it was evidently a satisfaction to him to start another + theory. We talked it well over, and we decided to test the + thing again--it took some resolution, I own, to do so. We sat + up that night--bright moonlight luckily--and--well, I needn't + repeat it all. Sophy was quite correct. It came again--the + horrid creeping shadow--poor wretch, I'm rather sorry for it + now--just in the old way--quite as much at home in ----shire, + apparently, as in the Castle. It stopped at the closed library + door, and fumbled away, then started off again--ugh! We watched + it closely, but kept well in the middle of the room, so that + the cold did not strike us so badly. We both noted the special + part of the tapestry where its hands seemed to sprawl, and we + meant to stay for another round; but--when it came to the point + we funked it, and went to bed. + + "Next morning, on pretence of examining the date of + the tapestry, we had it down--you were all out--and we + found--_something_. Just where the hands felt about, there had + been a cut--three cuts, three sides of a square, as it were, + making a sort of door in the stuff, the fourth side having + evidently acted as a hinge, for there was a mark where it had + been folded back. And just where--treating the thing as a + door--you might expect to find a handle to open it by, we found + a distinct dint in the tapestry, as if a button or knob had + once been there. We looked at each other. The same idea had + struck us. The tapestry had been used to conceal a small door + in the wall--the door of a secret cupboard probably. The + ghostly fingers had been vainly seeking for the spring which in + the days of their flesh and bone they had been accustomed to + press. + + "'The first thing to do,' said Miles, 'is to look up Hunter and + make him tell where he got the tapestry from. Then we shall + see.' + + "'Shall we take the _portières_ with us?' I said. + + "But Miles shuddered, though he half laughed too. + + "'No, thank you,' he said. 'I'm not going to travel with the + evil thing.' + + "'We can't hang it up again, though,' I said, 'after this last + experience.' + + "In the end we rolled up the two _portières_, not to attract + attention by only moving one, and--well, I thought it just + possible the ghost might make a mistake, and I did not want + any more scares while I was away--we rolled them up together, + first carefully measuring the cut, and its position in the + curtain, and then we hid them away in one of the lofts that no + one ever enters, where they are at this moment, and where the + ghost may have been disporting himself, for all I know, though + I fancy he has given it up by this time, for reasons you shall + hear. + + "Then Miles and I, as you know, set off for Raxtrew. I smoothed + my father down about it, by reminding him how good-natured they + had been to us, and telling him Miles really needed me. We went + straight to Hunter. He hummed and hawed a good deal--he had + not distinctly promised not to give the name of the place the + tapestry had come from, but he knew the gentleman he had bought + it from did not want it known. + + "'Why?' said Miles. 'Is it some family that has come down in + the world, and is forced to part with things to get some ready + money?' + + "'Oh, dear no!' said Hunter. 'It is not that, at all. It + was only that--I suppose I must give you the name--Captain + Devereux--did not want any gossip to get about, as to ----' + + "'Devereux!' repeated Miles, 'you don't mean the people at + Hallinger?' + + "'The same,' said Hunter. 'If you know them, sir, you will be + careful, I hope, to assure the captain that I did my best to + carry out his wishes?' + + "'Certainly,' said Miles, 'I'll exonerate you.' + + "And then Hunter told us that Devereux, who only came into the + Hallinger property a few years ago, had been much annoyed by + stories getting about of the place being haunted, and this had + led to his dismantling one wing, and--Hunter thought, but was + not quite clear as to this--pulling down some rooms altogether. + But he, Devereux, was very touchy on the subject--he did not + want to be laughed at. + + "'And the tapestry came from him--you are certain as to that?' + Miles repeated. + + "'Positive, sir. I took it down with my own hands. It was + fitted on to two panels in what they call the round room at + Hallinger--there were, oh, I daresay, a dozen of them, with + tapestry nailed on, but I only bought these two pieces--the + others were sold to a London dealer.' + + "'The round room,' I said. Leila, the expression struck me. + + "Miles, it appeared, knew Devereux fairly well. Hallinger is + only ten miles off. We drove over there, but found he was in + London. So our next move was to follow him there. We called + twice at his club, and then Miles made an appointment, saying + that he wanted to see him on private business. + + "He received us civilly, of course. He is quite a young + fellow--in the Guards. But when Miles began to explain to him + what we had come about, he stiffened. + + "'I suppose you belong to the Psychical Society?' he said. 'I + can only repeat that I have nothing to tell, and I detest the + whole subject.' + + "'Wait a moment,' said Miles, and as he went on I saw that + Devereux changed. His face grew intent with interest and a + queer sort of eagerness, and at last he started to his feet. + + "'Upon my soul,' he said, 'I believe you've run him to earth + for me--the ghost, I mean, and if so, you shall have my endless + gratitude. I'll go down to Hallinger with you at once--this + afternoon, if you like, and see it out.' + + "He was so excited that he spoke almost incoherently, but after + a bit he calmed down, and told us all he had to tell--and that + was a good deal--which would indeed have been nuts for the + Psychical Society. What Hunter had said was but a small part of + the whole. It appeared that on succeeding to Hallinger, on the + death of an uncle, young Devereux had made considerable changes + in the house. He had, among others, opened out a small wing--a + sort of round tower--which had been completely dismantled and + bricked up for, I think he said, over a hundred years. There + was some story about it. An ancestor of his--an awful + gambler--had used the principal room in this wing for his + orgies. Very queer things went on there, the finish up being + the finding of old Devereux dead there one night, when his + servants were summoned by the man he had been playing + with--with whom he had had an awful quarrel. This man, a low + fellow, probably a professional cardsharper, vowed that he had + been robbed of a jewel which his host had staked, and it was + said that a ring of great value had disappeared. But it was + all hushed up--Devereux had really died in a fit--though soon + after, for reasons only hinted at, the round tower was shut + up, till the present man rashly opened it again. + + "Almost at once, he said, the annoyances, to use a mild term, + began. First one, then another of the household were terrified + out of their wits, just as we were, Leila. Devereux himself had + seen it two or three times, the 'it,' of course, being his + miserable old ancestor. A small man, with a big wig, and long, + thin, claw-like fingers. It all corresponded. Mrs. Devereux is + young and nervous. She could not stand it. So in the end the + round tower was shut up again, all the furniture and hangings + sold, and locally speaking, the ghost laid. That was all + Devereux knew. + + "We started, the three of us, that very afternoon, as excited + as a party of schoolboys. Miles and I kept questioning + Devereux, but he had really no more to tell. He had never + thought of examining the walls of the haunted room--it was + wainscotted, he said--and might be lined all through with + secret cupboards, for all he knew. But he could not get + over the extraordinariness of the ghost's sticking to the + _tapestry_--and indeed it does rather lower one's idea of + ghostly intelligence. + + "We went at it at once--the tower was not _bricked_ up again, + luckily--we got in without difficulty the next morning--Devereux + making some excuse to the servants, a new set who had not heard + of the ghost, for our eccentric proceedings. It was a tiresome + business. There were so many panels in the room, as Hunter had + said, and it was impossible to tell in which _the_ tapestry had + been fixed. But we had our measures, and we carefully marked a + line as near as we could guess at the height from the floor that + the cut in the _portières_ must have been. Then we tapped and + pummelled and pressed imaginary springs till we were nearly sick + of it--there was nothing to guide us. The wainscotting was dark + and much shrunk and marked with age, and full of joins in the + wood any one of which might have meant a door. + + "It was Devereux himself who found it at last. We heard an + exclamation from where he was standing by himself at the other + side of the room. He was quite white and shaky. + + "'Look here,' he said, and we looked. + + "Yes--there was a small deep recess, or cupboard in the + thickness of the wall, excellently contrived. Devereux had + touched the spring at last, and the door, just matching the + cut in the tapestry, flew open. + + "Inside lay what at first we took for a packet of letters, and + I hoped to myself they contained nothing that would bring + trouble on poor Devereux. They were not letters, however, but + two or three incomplete packs of cards--grey and dust-thick + with age--and as Miles spread them out, certain markings on + them told their own tale. Devereux did not like it, + naturally--their supposed owner had been a member of his house. + + "'The ghost has kept a conscience,' he said, with an attempt at + a laugh. 'Is there nothing more?' + + "Yes--a small leather bag--black and grimy, though originally, + I fancy, of chamois skin. It drew with strings. Devereux pulled + it open, and felt inside. + + "'By George!' he exclaimed. And he held out the most + magnificent diamond ring I have ever seen--sparkling away as if + it had only just come from the polisher's. 'This must be _the_ + ring,' he said. + + "And we all stared--too astonished to speak. + + "Devereux closed the cupboard again, after carefully examining + it to make sure nothing had been left behind. He marked the + exact spot where he had pressed the spring so as to find it at + any time. Then we all left the round room, locking the door + securely after us. + + "Miles and I spent that night at Hallinger. We sat up late + talking it all over. There are some queer inconsistencies about + the thing which will probably never be explained. First and + foremost--why has the ghost stuck to the tapestry instead of to + the actual spot he seemed to have wished to reveal? Secondly, + what was the connection between his visits and the full + moon--or is it that only by the moonlight the shade becomes + perceptible to human sense? Who can say? + + "As to the story itself--what was old Devereux's motive in + concealing his own ring? Were the marked cards his, or his + opponent's, of which he had managed to possess himself, and had + secreted as testimony against the other fellow? + + "I incline, and so does Miles, to this last theory, and when we + suggested it to Devereux, I could see it was a relief to him. + After all, one likes to think one's ancestors were gentlemen! + + "'But what, then, has he been worrying about all this century + or more?' he said. 'If it were that he wanted the ring returned + to its real owner--supposing the fellow _had_ won it--I could + understand it, though such a thing would be impossible. There + is no record of the man at all--his name was never mentioned in + the story.' + + "'He may want the ring restored to its proper owner all the + same,' said Miles. 'You are its owner, as the head of the + family, and it has been your ancestor's fault that it has been + hidden all these years. Besides, we cannot take upon ourselves + to explain motives in such a case. Perhaps--who knows?--the + poor shade could not help himself. His peregrinations may have + been of the nature of punishment.' + + "'I hope they are over now,' said Devereux, 'for his sake and + everybody else's. I should be glad to think he wanted the ring + restored to us, but besides that, I should like to do + something--something _good_ you know--if it would make him + easier, poor old chap. I must consult Lilias.' Lilias is Mrs. + Devereux. + + "This is all I have to tell you at present, Leila. When I come + home we'll have the _portières_ up again and see what happens. + I want you now to read all this to my father, and if he has no + objection--he and my mother, of course--I should like to invite + Captain and Mrs. Devereux to stay a few days with us--as well + as Miles, as soon as I come back." + +Philip's wish was acceded to. It was with no little anxiety and interest +that we awaited his return. + +The tapestry _portières_ were restored to their place--and on the first +moonlight night, my father, Philip, Captain Devereux and Mr. Miles held +their vigil. + +What happened? + +_Nothing_--the peaceful rays lighted up the quaint landscape of +the tapestry, undisturbed by the poor groping fingers--no gruesome +unearthly chill as of worse than death made itself felt to the midnight +watchers--the weary, may we not hope repentant, spirit was at rest at +last! + +And never since has any one been troubled by the shadow in the +moonlight. + +"I cannot help hoping," said Mrs. Devereux, when talking it over, "that +what Michael has done may have helped to calm the poor ghost." + +And she told us what it was. Captain Devereux is rich, though not +immensely so. He had the ring valued--it represented a very large sum, +but Philip says I had better not name the figures--and then he, so to +say, bought it from himself. And with this money he--no, again, Phil +says I must not enter into particulars beyond saying that with it he did +something very good, and very useful, which had long been a pet scheme +of his wife's. + +Sophy is grown up now and she knows the whole story. So does our mother. +And Dormy too has heard it all. The horror of it has quite gone. We feel +rather proud of having been the actual witnesses of a ghostly drama. + + + + +"THE MAN WITH THE COUGH." + + +I am a German by birth and descent. My name is Schmidt. But by education +I am quite as much an Englishman as a "Deutscher," and by affection much +more the former. My life has been spent pretty equally between the two +countries, and I flatter myself I speak both languages without any +foreign accent. + +I count England my headquarters now: it is "home" to me. But a few years +ago I was resident in Germany, only going over to London now and then on +business. I will not mention the town where I lived. It is unnecessary +to do so, and in the peculiar experience I am about to relate I think +real names of people and places are just as well, or better, avoided. + +I was connected with a large and important firm of engineers. I had been +bred up to the profession, and was credited with a certain amount of +talent; and I was considered--and, with all modesty, I think I deserved +the opinion--steady and reliable, so that I had already attained a fair +position in the house, and was looked upon as a "rising man". But I was +still young, and not quite so wise as I thought myself. I came very near +once to making a great mess of a certain affair. It is this story which +I am going to tell. + +Our house went in largely for patents--rather too largely, some thought. +But the head partner's son was a bit of a genius in his way, and his +father was growing old, and let Herr Wilhelm--Moritz we will call the +family name--do pretty much as he chose. And on the whole Herr Wilhelm +did well. He was cautious, and he had the benefit of the still greater +caution and larger experience of Herr Gerhardt, the second partner in +the firm. + +Patents and the laws which regulate them are queer things to have to do +with. No one who has not had personal experience of the complications +that arise could believe how far these spread and how entangled they +become. Great acuteness as well as caution is called for if you would +guide your patent bark safely to port--and perhaps more than anything, +a power of holding your tongue. I was no chatterbox, nor, when on a +mission of importance, did I go about looking as if I were bursting +with secrets, which is, in my opinion, almost as dangerous as revealing +them. No one, to meet me on the journeys which it often fell to my lot +to undertake, would have guessed that I had anything on my mind but an +easy-going young fellow's natural interest in his surroundings, though +many a time I have stayed awake through a whole night of railway travel +if at all doubtful about my fellow-passengers, or not dared to go to +sleep in a hotel without a ready-loaded revolver by my pillow. + +For now and then--though not through me--our secrets did ooze out. And +if, as _has_ happened, they were secrets connected with Government +orders or contracts, there was, or but for the exertion of the greatest +energy and tact on the part of my superiors, there _would_ have been, to +put it plainly, the devil to pay. + +One morning--it was nearing the end of November--I was sent for to Herr +Wilhelm's private room. There I found him and Herr Gerhardt before a +table spread with papers covered with figures and calculations, and +sheets of beautifully executed diagrams. + +"Lutz," said Herr Wilhelm. He had known me from childhood, and often +called me by the abbreviation of my Christian name, which is Ludwig, +or Louis. "Lutz, we are going to confide to you a matter of extreme +importance. You must be prepared to start for London to-morrow." + +"All right, sir," I said, "I shall be ready." + +"You will take the express through to Calais--on the whole it is the +best route, especially at this season. By travelling all night you will +catch the boat there, and arrive in London so as to have a good night's +rest, and be clear-headed for work the next morning." + +I bowed agreement, but ventured to make a suggestion. + +"If, as I infer, the matter is one of great importance," I said, "would +it not be well for me to start sooner? I can--yes," throwing a rapid +survey over the work I had before me for the next two days--"I can be +ready to-night." + +Herr Wilhelm looked at Herr Gerhardt. Herr Gerhardt shook his head. + +"No," he replied; "to-morrow it must be," and then he proceeded to +explain to me why. + +I need not attempt to give all the details of the matter with which I +was entrusted. Indeed, to "lay" readers it would be impossible. Suffice +it to say, the whole concerned a patent--that of a very remarkable and +wonderful invention, which it was hoped and believed the Governments +of both countries would take up. But to secure this being done in a +thoroughly satisfactory manner it was necessary that our firm should go +about it in concert with an English house of first-rate standing. To +this house--the firm of Messrs. Bluestone and Fagg I will call them--I +was to be sent with full explanations. And the next half-hour or more +passed in my superiors going minutely into the details, so as to satisfy +themselves that I understood. The mastering of the whole was not +difficult, for I was well grounded technically; and like many of the +best things the idea was essentially simple, and the diagrams were +perfect. When the explanations were over, and my instructions duly +noted, I began to gather together the various sheets, which were all +numbered. But, to my surprise, Herr Gerhardt, looking over me, withdrew +two of the most important diagrams, without which the others were +valueless, because inexplicable. + +"Stay," he said; "these two, Ludwig, must be kept separate. These we +send to-day, by registered post, direct to Bluestone and Fagg. They +will receive them a day before they see you, and with them a letter +announcing your arrival." + +I looked up in some disappointment. I had known of precautions of the +kind being taken, but usually when the employé sent was less reliable +than I believed myself to be. Still, I scarcely dared to demur. + +"Do you think that necessary?" I said respectfully. "I can assure you +that from the moment you entrust me with the papers they shall never +quit me day or night. And if there were any postal delay--you say time +is valuable in this case--or if the papers were stolen in the +transit--such things have happened--my whole mission would be +worthless." + +"We do not doubt your zeal and discretion, my good Schmidt," said Herr +Gerhardt. "But in this case we must take even extra precautions. I +had not meant to tell you, fearing to add to the certain amount of +nervousness and strain unavoidable in such a case, but still, perhaps +it is best that you should know that we _have_ reason for some special +anxiety. It has been hinted to us that some breath of this"--and he +tapped the papers--"has reached those who are always on the watch for +such things. We cannot be too careful." + +"And yet," I persisted, "you would trust the post?" + +"We do not trust the post," he replied. "Even if these diagrams were +tampered with, they would be perfectly useless. And tampered with they +will not be. But even supposing anything so wild, the rogues in question +knowing of your departure (and they are _more_ likely to know of it than +of our packet by post), were they in collusion with some traitor in the +post-office, are sharp enough to guess the truth--that we have made a +Masonic secret of it--the two separate diagrams are valueless without +your papers; _your_ papers reveal nothing without Nos. 7 and 13." + +I bowed in submission. But I was, all the same, disappointed, as I said, +and a trifle mortified. + +Herr Wilhelm saw it, and cheered me up. + +"All right, Lutz, my boy," he said. "I feel just like you--nothing I +should enjoy more than a rush over to London, carrying the whole +documents, and prepared for a fight with any one who tried to get hold +of them. But Herr Gerhardt here is cooler-blooded than we are." + +The elder man smiled. + +"I don't doubt your readiness to fight, nor Ludwig's either. But it +would be by no such honestly brutal means as open robbery that we should +be outwitted. Make friends readily with no one while travelling, Lutz, +yet avoid the appearance of keeping yourself aloof. You understand?" + +"Perfectly," I said. "I shall sleep well to-night, so as to be prepared +to keep awake throughout the journey." + +The papers were then carefully packed up. Those consigned to my care +were to be carried in a certain light, black handbag with a very good +lock, which had often before been my travelling companion. + +And the following evening I started by the express train agreed upon. +So, at least, I have always believed, but I have never been able to +bring forward a witness to the fact of my train at the start being the +right one, as no one came with me to see me off. For it was thought best +that I should depart in as unobtrusive a manner as possible, as, even in +a large town such as ours, the members and employés of an old and +important house like the Moritzes' were well known. + +I took my ticket then, registering no luggage, as I had none but what I +easily carried in my hand, as well as _the_ bag. It was already dusk, if +not dark, and there was not much bustle in the station, nor apparently +many passengers. I took my place in an empty second-class compartment, +and sat there quietly till the train should start. A few minutes before +it did so, another man got in. I was somewhat annoyed at this, as in my +circumstances nothing was more undesirable than travelling alone with +one other. Had there been a crowded compartment, or one with three or +four passengers, I would have chosen it; but at the moment I got in, the +carriages were all either empty or with but one or two occupants. Now, I +said to myself, I should have done better to wait till nearer the time +of departure, and then chosen my place. + +I turned to reconnoitre my companion, but I could not see his face +clearly, as he was half leaning out of the window. Was he doing so on +purpose? I said to myself, for naturally I was in a suspicious mood. And +as the thought struck me I half started up, determined to choose another +compartment. Suddenly a peculiar sound made itself heard. My companion +was coughing. He drew his head in, covering his face with his hand, as +he coughed again. You never heard such a curious cough. It was more like +a hen clucking than anything I can think of. Once, twice he coughed; +then, as if he had been waiting for the slight spasm to pass, he sprang +up, looked eagerly out of the window again, and, opening the door, +jumped out, with some exclamation, as if he had just caught sight of a +friend. + +And in another moment or two--he could barely have had time to get in +elsewhere--much to my satisfaction, the train moved off. + +"Now," thought I, "I can make myself comfortable for some hours. We do +not stop till M----: it will be nine o'clock by then. If no one gets in +there I am safe to go through till to-morrow alone; then there will only +be ---- Junction, and a clear run to Calais." + +I unstrapped my rug and lit a cigar--of course I had chosen a +smoking-carriage--and, delighted at having got rid of my clucking +companion, the time passed pleasantly till we pulled up at M----. The +delay there was not great, and to my enormous satisfaction no one +molested my solitude. Evidently the express to Calais was not in very +great demand that night. I now felt so secure that, notwithstanding my +intention of keeping awake all night, my innermost consciousness had not +I suppose quite resigned itself to the necessity, for, not more than a +hour or so after leaving M----, possibly sooner, I fell fast asleep. + +It seemed to me that I had slept heavily, for when I awoke I had great +difficulty in remembering where I was. Only by slow degrees did I +realise that I was not in my comfortable bed at home, but in a chilly, +ill-lighted railway-carriage. Chilly--yes, that it was--very chilly; but +as my faculties returned I remembered my precious bag, and forgot all +else in a momentary terror that it had been taken from me. No; there it +was--my elbow had been pressed against it as I slept. But how was this? +The train was not in motion. We were standing in a station; a dingy +deserted-looking place, with no cheerful noise or bustle; only one or +two porters slowly moving about, with a sort of sleepy "night duty," +surly air. It could not be the Junction? I looked at my watch. Barely +midnight! Of course, not the Junction. We were not due there till four +o'clock in the morning or so. + +What, then, were we doing here, and what _was_ "here"? Had there been +an accident--some unforeseen necessity for stopping? At that moment a +curious sound, from some yards' distance only it seemed to come, caught +my ear. It was that croaking, cackling cough!--the cough of my momentary +fellow-passenger, towards whom I had felt an instinctive aversion. I +looked out of the window--there was a refreshment-room just opposite, +dimly lighted, like everything else, and in the doorway, as if just +entering, was a figure which I felt pretty sure was that of the man with +the cough. + +"Bah!" I said to myself, "I must not be fanciful. I daresay the fellow's +all right. He is evidently in the same hole as myself. What in Heaven's +name are we waiting here for?" + +I sprang out of the carriage, nearly tumbling over a porter slowly +passing along. + +"How long are we to stay here?" I cried. "When do we start again for +----?" and I named the Junction. + +"For ----" he repeated in the queerest German I ever heard--was it +German? or did I discover his meaning by some preternatural cleverness +of my own? "There is no train for ---- for four or five hours, not +till----" and he named the time; and leaning forward lazily, he took +out my larger bag and my rug, depositing them on the platform. He did +not seem the least surprised at finding me there--I might have been +there for a week, it seemed to me. + +"No train for five hours? Are you mad?" I said. + +He shook his head and mumbled something, and it seemed to me that he +pointed to the refreshment-room opposite. Gathering my things together I +hurried thither, hoping to find some more reliable authority. But there +was no one there except a fat man with a white apron, who was clearing +the counter--and--yes, in one corner was the figure I had mentally +dubbed "The man with the cough". + +I addressed the cook or waiter--whichever he was. But he only shook his +head--denied all knowledge of the trains, but informed me that--in other +words--I must turn out; he was going to shut up. + +"And where am I to spend the night, then?" I said angrily, though +clearly it was not the aproned individual who was responsible for the +position in which I found myself. + +There was a "Restauration," he informed me, near at hand, which I +should find still open, straight before me on leaving the station, and +then a few doors to the right, I would see the lights. + +Clearly there was nothing else to be done. I went out, and as I did so +the silent figure in the corner rose also and followed me. The station +was evidently going to bed. As I passed the porter I repeated the hour +he had named, adding: "That is the first train for ---- Junction?" + +He nodded, again naming the exact time. But I cannot do so, as I have +never been able to recollect it. + +I trudged along the road--there were lamps, though very feeble ones; but +by their light I saw that the man who had been in the refreshment-room +was still a few steps behind me. It made me feel slightly nervous, and I +looked round furtively once or twice; the last time I did so he was not +to be seen, and I hoped he had gone some other way. + +The "Restauration" was scarcely more inviting than the station +refreshment-room. It, too, was very dimly lighted, and the one or two +attendants seemed half asleep and were strangely silent. There was a +fire, of a kind, and I seated myself at a small table near it and asked +for some coffee, which would, I thought, serve the double purpose of +warming me and keeping me awake. + +It was brought me, in silence. I drank it, and felt the better for it. +But there was something so gloomy and unsociable, so queer and almost +weird about the whole aspect and feeling of the place, that a sort of +irritable resignation took possession of me. If these surly folk won't +speak, neither will I, I said to myself childishly. And, incredible as +it may sound, I did _not_ speak. I think I paid for the coffee, but I am +not quite sure. I know I never asked what I had meant to ask--the name +of the town--a place of some importance, to judge by the size of the +station and the extent of twinkling lights I had observed as I made my +way to the "Restauration". From that day to this I have never been able +to identify it, and I am quite sure I never shall. + +What was there peculiar about that coffee? Or was it something peculiar +about my own condition that caused it to have the unusual effect I now +experienced? That question, too, I cannot answer. All I remember is +feeling a sensation of irresistible drowsiness creeping over me--mental, +or moral I may say, as well as physical. For when one part of me feebly +resisted the first onslaught of sleep, something seemed to reply: "Oh, +nonsense! you have several hours before you. Your papers are all right. +No one can touch them without awaking you." + +And dreamily conscious that my belongings were on the floor at my +feet--_the_ bag itself actually resting against my ankle--my scruples +silenced themselves in an extraordinary way. I remember nothing more, +save a vague consciousness through all my slumber of confused and +chaotic dreams, which I have never been able to recall. + +I awoke at last, and that with a start, almost a jerk. Something had +awakened me--a sound--and as it was repeated to my now aroused ears I +knew that I had heard it before, off and on, during my sleep. It was the +extraordinary cough! + +I looked up. Yes, there he was! At some two or three yards' distance +only, at the other side of the fireplace, which, and this I have +forgotten to mention as another peculiar item in that night's peculiar +experiences, considering I have every reason to believe I was still in +Germany, was not a stove, but an open grate. + +And he had not been there when I first fell asleep; to that I was +prepared to swear. + +"He must have come sneaking in after me," I thought, and in all +probability I should neither have noticed nor recognised him but for +that traitorous cackle of his. + +Now, my misgivings aroused, my first thought, of course, was for my +precious charge. I stooped. There were my rugs, my larger bag, but--no, +not the smaller one; and though the other two were there, I knew at +once that they were not quite in the same position--not so close to me. +Horror seized me. Half wildly I gazed around, when my silent neighbour +bent towards me. I could declare there was nothing in his hand when he +did so, and I could declare as positively that I had already looked +under the small round table beside which I sat, and that the bag was not +there. And yet when the man, with a slight cackle, caused, no doubt, by +his stooping, raised himself, the thing was in his hand! + +Was he a conjurer, a pupil of Maskelyne and Cook? And how was it that, +even as he held out my missing property, he managed, and that most +cleverly and unobtrusively, to prevent my catching sight of his face? I +did not see it then--I never did see it! + +Something he murmured, to the effect that he supposed the bag was what I +was looking for. In what language he spoke I know not; it was more that +by the action accompanying the mumbled sounds I gathered his meaning, +than that I heard anything articulate. + +I thanked him, of course, mechanically, so to say, though I began to +feel as if he were an evil spirit haunting me. I could only hope that +the splendid lock to the bag had defied all curiosity, but I felt in a +fever to be alone again, and able to satisfy myself that nothing had +been tampered with. + +The thought recalled my wandering faculties. How long had I been asleep? +I drew out my watch. Heavens! It was close upon the hour named for the +first train in the morning. I sprang up, collected my things, and dashed +out of the "Restauration". If I had not paid for my coffee before, I +certainly did not pay for it then. Besides my haste, there was another +reason for this--there was no one to pay to! Not a creature was to be +seen in the room or at the door as I passed out--always excepting the +man with the cough. + +As I left the place and hurried along the road, a bell began, not to +ring, but to toll. It sounded most uncanny. What it meant, of course, I +have never known. It may have been a summons to the workpeople of some +manufactory, it may have been like all the other experiences of that +strange night. But no; this theory I will not at present enter upon. + +Dawn was not yet breaking, but there was in one direction a faint +suggestion of something of the kind not far off. Otherwise all was dark. +I stumbled along as best as I could, helped in reality, I suppose, by +the ugly yellow glimmer of the woebegone street, or road lamps. And it +was not far to the station, though somehow it seemed farther than when I +came; and somehow, too, it seemed to have grown steep, though I could +not remember having noticed any slope the other way on my arrival. A +nightmare-like sensation began to oppress me. I felt as if my luggage +was growing momentarily heavier and heavier, as if I should _never_ +reach the station; and to this was joined the agonising terror of +missing the train. + +I made a desperate effort. Cold as it was, the beads of perspiration +stood out upon my forehead as I forced myself along. And by degrees the +nightmare feeling cleared off. I found myself entering the station at a +run just as--yes, a train was actually beginning to move! I dashed, +baggage and all, into a compartment; it was empty, and it was a +second-class one, precisely similar to the one I had occupied before; it +might have been the very same one. The train gradually increased its +speed, but for the first few moments, while still in the station and +passing through its immediate _entourage_, another strange thing struck +me--the extraordinary silence and lifelessness of all about. Not one +human being did I see, no porter watching our departure with the +faithful though stolid interest always to be seen on the porter's +visage. I might have been alone in the train--it might have had a +freight of the dead, and been itself propelled by some supernatural +agency, so noiselessly, so gloomily did it proceed. + +You will scarcely credit that I actually and for the third time fell +asleep. I could not help it. Some occult influence was at work upon me +throughout those dark hours, I am positively certain. And with the +daylight it was dispelled. For when I again awoke I felt for the first +time since leaving home completely and normally myself, fresh and +vigorous, all my faculties at their best. + +But, nevertheless, my first sensation was a start of amazement, almost +of terror. The compartment was nearly full! There were at least five or +six travellers besides myself, very respectable, ordinary-looking folk, +with nothing in the least alarming about them. Yet it was with a gasp of +extraordinary relief that I found my precious bag in the corner beside +me, where I had carefully placed it. It was concealed from view. No one, +I felt assured, could have touched it without awaking me. + +It was broad and bright daylight. How long had I slept? + +"Can you tell me," I inquired of my opposite neighbour, a cheery-faced +compatriot--"Can you tell me how soon we get to ---- Junction by this +train? I am most anxious to catch the evening mail at Calais, and am +quite out in my reckonings, owing to an extraordinary delay at ----. I +have wasted the night by getting into a stopping train instead of the +express." + +He looked at me in astonishment. He must have thought me either mad or +just awaking from a fit of intoxication--only I flatter myself I did +not look as if the latter were the case. + +"How soon we get to ---- Junction?" he repeated. "Why, my good sir, you +left it about three hours ago! It is now eight o'clock. We all got in at +the Junction. You were alone, if I mistake not?"--he glanced at one or +two of the others, who endorsed his statement. "And very fast asleep +you were, and must have been, not to be disturbed by the bustle at the +station. And as for catching the evening boat at Calais"--he burst into +a loud guffaw--"why, it would be very hard lines to do no better than +that! _We_ all hope to cross by the mid-day one." + +"Then--what train _is_ this?" I exclaimed, utterly perplexed. + +"The express, of course. All of us, excepting yourself, joined it at the +Junction," he replied. + +"The express?" I repeated. "The express that leaves"--and I named my own +town--"at six in the evening?" + +"Exactly. You have got into the right train after all," and here came +another shout of amusement. "How did you think we had all got in if you +had not yet passed the Junction? You had not the pleasure of our +company from M----, I take it? M----, which you passed at nine o'clock +last night, if my memory is correct." + +"Then," I persisted, "this is the double-fast express, which does not +stop between M---- and your Junction?" + +"Exactly," he repeated; and then, confirmed most probably in his belief +that I was mad, or the other thing, he turned to his newspaper, and left +me to my extraordinary cogitations. + +Had I been dreaming? Impossible! Every sensation, the very taste of +the coffee, seemed still present with me--the curious accent of the +officials at the mysterious town, I could perfectly recall. I still +shivered at the remembrance of the chilly waking in the "Restauration"; +I heard again the cackling cough. + +But I felt I must collect myself, and be ready for the important +negotiation entrusted to me. And to do this I must for the time banish +these fruitless efforts at solving the problem. + +We had a good run to Calais, found the boat in waiting, and a fair +passage brought us prosperously across the Channel. I found myself in +London punctual to the intended hour of my arrival. + +At once I drove to the lodgings in a small street off the Strand which I +was accustomed to frequent in such circumstances. I felt nervous till I +had an opportunity of thoroughly overhauling my documents. The bag had +been opened by the Custom House officials, but the words "private +papers" had sufficed to prevent any further examination; and to my +unspeakable delight they were intact. A glance satisfied me as to this +the moment I got them out, for they were most carefully numbered. + +The next morning saw me early on my way to--No. 909, we will +say--Blackfriars Street, where was the office of Messrs. Bluestone & +Fagg. I had never been there before, but it was easy to find, and had I +felt any doubt, their name stared me in the face at the side of the open +doorway. "Second-floor" I thought I read; but when I reached the first +landing I imagined I must have been mistaken. For there, at a door ajar, +stood an eminently respectable-looking gentleman, who bowed as he saw +me, with a discreet smile. + +"Herr Schmidt?" he said. "Ah, yes; I was on the look-out for you." + +I felt a little surprised, and my glance involuntarily strayed to the +doorway. There was no name upon it, and it appeared to have been freshly +painted. My new friend saw my glance. + +"It is all right," he said; "we have the painters here. We are using +these lower rooms temporarily. I was watching to prevent your having the +trouble of mounting to the second-floor." + +And as I followed him in, I caught sight of a painter's ladder--a small +one--on the stair above, and the smell was also unmistakable. + +The large outer office looked bare and empty, but under the +circumstances that was natural. No one was, at the first glance, to be +seen; but behind a dulled glass partition screening off one corner I +fancied I caught sight of a seated figure. And an inner office, to which +my conductor led the way, had a more comfortable and inhabited look. +Here stood a younger man. He bowed politely. + +"Mr. Fagg, my junior," said the first individual airily. "And now, Herr +Schmidt, to business at once, if you please. Time is everything. You +have all the documents ready?" + +I answered by opening my bag and spreading out its contents. Both men +were very grave, almost taciturn; but as I proceeded to explain things +it was easy to see that they thoroughly understood all I said. + +"And now," I went on, when I had reached a certain point, "if you will +give me Nos. 7 and 13 which you have already received by registered +post, I can put you in full possession of the whole. Without them, of +course, all I have said is, so to say, preliminary only." + +The two looked at each other. + +"Of course," said the elder man, "I follow what you say. The key of the +whole is wanting. But I was momentarily expecting you to bring it out. +We have not--Fagg, I am right, am I not--we have received nothing by +post?" + +"Nothing whatever," replied his junior. And the answer seemed simplicity +itself. Why did a strange thrill of misgiving go through me? Was it +something in the look that had passed between them? Perhaps so. In any +case, strange to say, the inconsistency between their having received no +papers and yet looking for my arrival at the hour mentioned in the +letter accompanying the documents, and accosting me by name, did not +strike me till some hours later. + +I threw off what I believed to be my ridiculous mistrust, and it was +not difficult to do so in my extreme annoyance. + +"I cannot understand it," I said. "It is really too bad. Everything +depends upon 7 and 13. I must telegraph at once for inquiries to be +instituted at the post-office." + +"But your people must have duplicates," said Fagg eagerly. "These can be +forwarded at once." + +"I hope so," I said, though feeling strangely confused and worried. + +"They must send them direct _here_," he went on. + +I did not at once answer. I was gathering my papers together. + +"And in the meantime," he proceeded, touching my bag, "you had better +leave _these_ here. We will lock them up in the safe at once. It is +better than carrying them about London." + +It certainly seemed so. I half laid down the bag on the table, but at +that moment from the outer room a most peculiar sound caught my ears--a +faint cackling cough! I _think_ I concealed my start. I turned away as +if considering Fagg's suggestion, which, to confess the truth, I had +been on the very point of agreeing to. For it would have been a great +relief to me to know that the papers were in safe custody. But now a +flash of lurid light seemed to have transformed everything. + +"I thank you," I replied. "I should be glad to be free from the +responsibility of the charge, but I dare not let these out of my own +hands till the agreement is formally signed." + +The younger man's face darkened. He assumed a bullying tone. + +"I don't know how it strikes _you_, Mr. Bluestone," he said, "but it +seems to me that this young gentleman is going rather too far. Do you +think your employers will be pleased to hear of your insulting us, sir?" + +But the elder man smiled condescendingly, though with a touch of +superciliousness. It was very well done. He waved his hand. + +"Stay, my dear Mr. Fagg; we can well afford to make allowance. You will +telegraph at once, no doubt, Herr Schmidt, and--let me see--yes, we +shall receive the duplicates of Nos. 7 and 13 by first post on Thursday +morning." + +I bowed. + +"Exactly," I replied, as I lifted the now locked bag. "And you may +expect me at the same hour on Thursday morning." + +Then I took my departure, accompanied to the door by the urbane +individual who had received me. + +The telegram which I at once despatched was not couched precisely as he +would have dictated, I allow. And he would have been considerably +surprised at my sending off another, later in the day, to Bluestone & +Fagg's telegraphic address, in these words:--- + +"Unavoidably detained till Thursday morning.--SCHMIDT." + +This was _after_ the arrival of a wire from home in answer to mine. + +By Thursday morning I had had time to receive a letter from Herr +Wilhelm, and to secure the services of a certain noted detective, +accompanied by whom I presented myself at the appointed hour at 909. But +my companion's services were not required. The birds had flown, warned +by the same traitor in our camp through whom the first hints of the new +patent had leaked out. With him it was easy to deal, poor wretch! but +the clever rogues who had employed him and personated the members of the +honourable firm of Bluestone & Fagg were never traced. + +The negotiation was successfully carried out. The experience I had gone +through left me a wiser man. It is to be hoped, too, that the owners of +909 Blackfriars Street were more cautious in the future as to whom they +let their premises to when temporarily vacant. The re-painting of the +doorway, etc., at the tenant's own expense had already roused some +slight suspicion. + +It is needless to add that Nos. 7 and 13 had been duly received on the +second-floor. + +I have never known the true history of that extraordinary night. Was it +all a dream, or a prophetic vision of warning? Or was it in any sense +true? _Had_ I, in some inexplicable way, left my own town earlier than I +intended, and really travelled in a slow train? + +Or had the man with a cough, for his own nefarious purposes, mesmerised +or hypnotised me, and to some extent succeeded? + +I cannot say. Sometimes, even, I ask myself if I am quite sure that +there ever was such a person as "the man with the cough"! + + + + +"HALF-WAY BETWEEN THE STILES." + +(A RIGHT-OF-WAY INCIDENT.) + + +By the road, Scarby village is good three miles from Colletwood, the +nearest town and railway station. But there is a short cut over the +hills for foot passengers. _Over_ the hills they call it, but _between_ +the hills would be more correct, for there is a sort of tableland once +you have climbed a short, steep bit up from the town, which extends +nearly to Scarby, sloping gradually down to the village. + +And on each side of this tableland the hills rise again, north and +south, much higher to the north than to the south. So this flat stretch, +though at some considerable height, is neither bleak nor exposed, being +sheltered on the colder side, and fairly open to the sunshine south and +west. + +It is a pleasant place, and so it must have been considered in the old +days; for a large monastery stood there once, of which the ruins are +still to be seen, and of which the memory is still preserved in the +name--"Monksholdings". + +Pleasant, but a trifle inconvenient, as the only carriage-road makes a +great round from Colletwood, winding along the base of the hill on the +north side till it reaches the village, then up again by the gradual +slope, half a mile or so--a drive in all of three to four miles, +whereas, as the bird flies or the pedestrian walks, the distance from +the town is barely a quarter of that. + +In the old days there was probably no road at all, the hill-path +doubtless serving all requirements. Naturally enough, therefore, it came +to be looked upon as entirely public property, and people forgot--if, +indeed, any one had ever thought of it--that though the monastery was a +ruin, the once carefully kept land round about the old dwelling-place of +Monksholdings was still private property. + +And the sensation was great when suddenly the news reached the +neighbourhood that this "unique estate," as the agents called it, was +sold--sold by the old Duke of Scarshire, who scarcely remembered that +he owned it, to a man who meant to live on it, to build a house which +should be a home for several months of the year for himself and his +family. + +There was considerable growling and grumbling; and this rose to its +height when a rumour got about that the hill-path--such part of it, that +is to say, as lay within the actual demesne--was to be closed--_must_ be +closed, if the site already chosen for the new house was to be retained; +for the house would actually stand upon the old foot-track, and there +could be no two opinions that this position had been well and wisely +selected. + +Things grew warlike, boding no agreeable reception for the newcomers--a +Mr. Raynald and his family, newcomers to England, it was said, as well +as to Scarshire. Every one plunged into questions of right-of-way; the +local legalities raised and discussed knotty points; Colletwood and +Scarby were aflame. But it all ended, flatly enough, in a compromise! + +Mr. Raynald turned out to be one of the most reasonable and courteous of +men. He came, saw, and--conquered. The goodwill of his future neighbours +was won e'er he knew he had risked its loss. Henceforward congratulations, +reciprocated and repeated, on the charming additions to Scarby society +were the order of the day, and the _détour_, skirting the south boundary +of the Monksholdings grounds, which the footpath was now inveigled into +making, was voted "a great improvement". + +And in due time the mansion rose. + +"A great improvement" also, to the aspect of the surrounding landscape. +It was in perfectly good taste--unpretentious and quietly picturesque. +It might have been there always for any jarring protest to the contrary. + +And just half-way along the old foot-track, that is to say, between the +two stiles which let the traveller to or from Scarby in or out of the +Monksholdings demesne, stood Sybil Raynald's grand piano! + +The stiles remained as an interesting survival; but they were made use +of by no one not bound for the house itself. And beside each was a +gate--a good oaken gate, that suited the place, as did everything about +it; and beside each gate a quaint miniature dwelling, one of which came +to be known as the east, and the other as the west, Monksholdings lodge. + +The first time the Raynalds came down to their new home they made but +a short stay there. It was already late in the season, and though the +preceding summer had been a magnificent one for drying fresh walls and +plaster, it would scarcely have done to risk damp or chilly weather in +so recently-built a house. + +They stayed long enough to confirm the favourable impression the head of +the family had already made, and to lead themselves to look forward with +pleasure to a less curtailed stay in Scarshire. + +The last morning of their visit, Sybil, the eldest daughter, up and +about betimes, turned to her father, when she had taken her place beside +him at the breakfast-table, with a suspicion of annoyance on her usually +cheerful face. + +"Papa," she said, "I have seen that old man _again_, leaning on the +stile by the Scarby lodge and looking in--along the drive--_so_ queerly. +I don't quite like it. It gave me rather a ghosty feeling; or else he is +out of his mind." + +Her brother, Mark by name, began to laugh, after the manner of brothers. + +"How very oddly you express yourself!" he said. "I should like to +experience 'a ghosty feeling'. A ghost is just what this place wants to +make it perfect. But it should be the spirit of one of the original +monks." + +Mr. Raynald turned to his son rather sharply. + +"I don't want any nonsense of that kind set about, Mark," he said. "It +would frighten the younger children when they come down here. I will ask +about the old man. It is quite possible he is half-witted, or something +of that sort. I forgot about it when Sybil mentioned it before. But no +doubt he is perfectly harmless. Has no one seen him but you, Sybil?" + +The girl shook her head. + +"None of _us_," she replied. "And I wasn't exactly frightened. There was +something very pathetic about him. He looked at me closely, murmuring +some words, and then shook his head. That was all." + +But just then her father was called away to give some last directions, +and in the bustle of hurry to catch their train the matter passed from +the minds of the younger as well as the elder members of the family. + +It returned to Sybil's memory, however, when she found herself in their +London house again, and called upon by her younger sisters to relate +every detail of Monksholdings and its neighbourhood. But mindful of her +father's warning, she said nothing to Esther or Annis of the figure at +the gate. It was only to Miss March--Ellinor March--the dearly-loved +governess, who was more friend than teacher to her three pupils, that +she spoke of it, late in the evening, when the younger ones had gone to +bed, and her father and mother were busy with Indian letters in Mr. +Raynald's study. + +The two girls, we may say--for Ellinor was still some years under +thirty--were alone in the drawing-room. Ellinor had been playing +something tender and faintly weird--it died away under her fingers, and +she sat on at the piano in silence. + +Sybil spoke suddenly. + +"That is _so_ melancholy," she said, "something so long ago about it, +like the ghost of a sorrow rather than a sorrow itself. I know--I know +what it makes me think of. Listen, Ellinor." + +For out of school hours the two threw formality aside. And Sybil told of +the sad, wistful old face looking over the stile. + +"Now it has come back to me," she said, "I can't forget it." + +Ellinor, too, was impressed. + +"Yes," she said, "it sounds very pitiful. Who knows what tragedy is +bound up in it?" and she sighed. + +Sybil understood her. Miss March's own history was a strange one. + +"We must find out about it when we go down to Monksholdings next year," +she said. + +"And perhaps," added Ellinor, "even if he is half-witted, we might do +something to comfort the poor man." + +Sybil hesitated. + +"Then you don't think he can be a ghost?" she said, looking half ashamed +of the suggestion. + +Miss March smiled--her smile was sad. + +"In one sense, no, I should think it highly improbable; in another, yes, +there must be the ghost of some great sorrow about the face you +describe," she said. + +So there was. + +This is the story. + +At the farther end of Scarby village--the farther end, that is to say, +from Monksholdings and the path between the hills--the road drops +again somewhat suddenly. Only for a short distance, however; Mayling +Farm--"Giles's" as it is colloquially called--which is the first house +you come to when you reach level ground again, being by no means low +lying. + +On the contrary, the west windows command a grand view of the great +Scarshire plain beneath, bordered by the faint hazy blue, scarcely to be +distinguished from clouds, of the long range of hills concealing the +far-off glimmer of the ocean, which otherwise might sometimes be +perceptible. + +Mayling is a very old place, and the Giles's had been there "always," so +to speak--steady-going, unambitious, save as regards their farming and +its success; they had been just the make of men to settle on to their +ground as if it and they could have no existence apart. A fine race +physically as well as morally, though some twenty-five years or so +before the Raynalds bought Monksholdings, a run of ill luck, a whole +chapter of casualties, had brought them down to but one representative, +and he scarcely the typical Farmer Giles of Mayling. + +This was Barnett, the youngest of four stalwart sons; the youngest and +the only survivor. He was already forty when his father died, earnestly +commending to him the "old place," which even at eighty the aged farmer +felt himself better fitted to manage than the somewhat delicate, +sensitive man whom his brothers had made good-natured fun of in his +youth as a "book-worm". + +But Barnett was intelligent and sensible, and he rose to the occasion. +Circumstances helped him. The year after old Giles's death Barnett for +the first time fell in love, wisely and well. His affection was bestowed +on a worthy object--Marion Grover, the daughter of a yeoman in the next +county--and was fully returned. + +Marion was years younger than her lover, fifteen at least, eminently +practical, healthy, and pretty. She brought her husband just exactly +what he was most in need of--brightness, energy, and youth. It was an +ideal marriage, and everything prospered at Mayling. Four years after +the advent of the new Mrs. Giles you would scarcely have recognised the +farmer, he seemed another man. + +He adored his wife, and could hardly find it in his heart to regret that +their child was not a son, even though, failing an heir, the old name +must die out; for if there was one creature the husband and wife loved +more than each other it was their baby girl. + +A month or two after this child's second birthday the singular +catastrophe occurred which changed the world to poor Barnett Giles, +leaving him but a wreck of his former self, physically and mentally. + +Young Mrs. Giles was strong in every way, and from the first she took +the line of saving her husband all extra fatigue or annoyance which +she could possibly hoist on to her own brave shoulders. There was +something quaint and even pathetic in the relations of the couple. For, +notwithstanding Marion's being so much Barnett's junior, her attitude +towards him had a decided suggestion of the maternal about it, though at +times of real emergency his sound judgment and advice never failed her. +It was within a week or two of Christmas; the weather was bitingly, +raspingly cold. And though as yet no snow had fallen, the weather-wise +were predicting it daily. + +"I _must_ go over to Colletwood this week," said Mrs. Giles, "and I must +take Nelly. Her new coat is waiting to be tried at the dressmaker's, and +I must get her some boots and several other things before Christmas. And +there is a whole list of other shopping too--all our Christmas presents +to see to." + +Her husband was looking out of the window, it was still very early in +the day. + +"I doubt if the snow will hold off much longer," he said. + +"And once it begins it may be heavy," his wife replied, "and then I +might not be able to go for ever so long, even by the road,"--for a deep +fall of snow at Scarby was practically a stoppage to all traffic. "I'll +tell you what, Barnett, we'll go to-day and make sure of it. I will put +other things aside and start before noon. A couple of hours, or three at +the most, will do everything, and then Nelly and I will be back long +before dark. You'll come to meet us, won't you?" + +"Of course I will--if you go. But," and again he glanced at the sky. +The morning was, so far, clear and bright, though very cold, but over +towards the north there was a suspicious look about the blue-grey +clouds. "I don't know," he said, "but that you'd better wait till +to-morrow and see if it blows off again." + +But Marion shook her head. + +"I've a feeling," she said, "that if I don't go to-day, I won't go at +all. And I really must. I'll take Betsy to carry the child till we're +just above the town, and then send her home, so as not to be tired for +coming back. Not that I'm _ever_ tired, as you know," with a smile. + +He gave in, only stipulating that at all costs they should start to +return by a certain hour, unless the snow should have already begun, in +which case Marion was to run no risks, but either to hire a fly to bring +her home by the road, or to stay in the town with some of her friends +till the weather cleared again. + +"And I'll meet you," he added. "Let us set our watches together--I'll +start from here so as to be at--let me see----" + +"Half-way between the stiles," said Marion. "We can each see the other +from one stile to the opposite one, you know, even though it's a good +bit of a way. Yes, dear, I'll time it as near as I can to meet half-way +between the stiles." + +And with these words the last on her lips, she set off, a picture of +health and happiness--little Nelly crowing back to "Dada" from over +stout Betsy's shoulder. + +Betsy was home again within the hour. + +But the mother and child--alas and alas! It was the immortal story of +"Lucy Gray" in an almost more pathetic shape. + +Farmer Giles, as I have said, was a studious, often absent-minded man. +There was not much to do at that season and in such weather, and what +there was, some amount of supervision on his part was enough for. After +his early dinner he got out his books for an hour or two's quiet reading +till it should be time to set off to meet his darlings. No fear of his +forgetting _that_ time, but till the clock struck, and he saw it was +approaching nearly, he never looked out--he was unconscious of the rapid +growth of the lurid, steely clouds; he had no idea that the snowflakes +were already falling, falling, more and more closely and thickly with +each instant that passed. + +Then rose the storm spirit and issued his orders--all too quickly +obeyed. Before Barnett Giles had left the village street he found +himself in what now-a-days would be called a "blizzard". And his pale +face grew paler, and his heart beat as if to choke him, when at last he +reached the first stile and stood there panting, to regain his breath. +It was all he could do to battle on through the fury of the wind, the +blinding, whirling snow, which seemed to envelop him as if in sheets. +Not for many and many a day will that awful snowstorm be forgotten in +Scarshire. + + * * * * * + +It was at the appointed trysting place they found him--"half-way between +the stiles". But not till late that evening, when Betsy, more alarmed by +his absence than by her mistress's not returning, at last struggled out +through the deep-lying snow to alarm the nearest neighbours. + +"The missis and Miss Nell will have stayed the night in the town," she +said. "But I misdoubt me if the master will ever have got so far, though +he may have been tempted on when he did not meet them." + +By this time the fury of the storm had spent itself, and they found poor +Giles after a not very protracted search, and brought him home--dead, +they thought at first. + +No, he was not dead, but it was less than half _life_ that he +returned to. For his first inquiry late the next day, when glimmering +consciousness had begun to revive--"Marion, the baby?"--seemed by some +subtle instinct to answer itself truthfully, in spite of the kindly +endeavour to deceive him for the time. + +"Dead!" he murmured. "I knew it. Half-way between the stiles," and he +turned his face to the wall. + +They almost wished he had died too--the rough but kind-hearted +country-folk who were his neighbours. But he lived. He never asked and +never knew the details of the tragedy, which, indeed, was never fully +known by any one. + +All that came to light was that the dead body of Marion Giles was +brought by some semi-gipsy wanderers to the workhouse of a town several +miles south of Colletwood, early on the morning after the blizzard. They +had found it, they said, at some little distance from the road along +which they were journeying, so that she must have lost her way long +before approaching the Monksholdings confines, not improbably, indeed, +in attempting to retrace her steps to the town which she had so +imprudently quitted. But of the child the tramps said nothing, and after +making the above deposition, they were allowed to go on their way, which +they expressed themselves as anxious to do; for reasons of their own, no +doubt; possibly the same reasons which had prevented their returning to +Colletwood with the young woman's corpse, as would have seemed more +natural. + +And afterwards no very special inquiry was made about the baby. The +father was incapable of it, and in those days people accepted things +more carelessly, perhaps. It was taken for granted that "Little Nell" +had fallen down some cliff, no doubt, and lay buried there, with the +snow for her shroud, like a strayed lambkin. Her tiny bones might yet be +found, years hence, maybe, by a shepherd in search of some bleating +wanderer, or--no more might ever be known of the infant's fate! + +Barnett Giles rose from his bed, after many weeks, with all the look of +a very old man. At first it was thought that his mind was quite gone; +but it did not prove to be so. After a time, with the help of an +excellent foreman, or bailiff, he showed himself able to manage his farm +with a strange, mechanical kind of intelligence. It seemed as if the +sense of duty outlived the loss of other perceptions, though these, too, +cleared by degrees to a considerable extent, and material things, +curious as it may appear, prospered with him. + +But he rarely spoke unless obliged to do so; and whenever he felt +himself at leisure, and knew that his work was not calling for him, he +seemed to relapse into the half-dreamy state which was his more real +life. Then he would pass through the village and slowly climb the slope +to the stile, where he would stand for hours together, patiently gazing +before him, while he murmured the old refrain: "'Half-way between the +stiles,' she said. I shall meet them there, 'half-way between the +stiles'." + +Fortunately, perhaps, it was not often he attempted to climb over; he +contented himself with standing and gazing. Fortunately so, for +otherwise the changes at Monksholdings would have probably terribly +shocked his abnormally sensitive brain. But he did not seem to notice +them, nor the new route of the old right-of-way agreed to by the +compromise. He was content with his post--standing, leaning on the +stile, and gazing before him. + +His, of course, was the worn, wistful face which had half frightened, +half appealed to Sybil Raynald. + +But she forgot about it again, or other things put it temporarily +aside, so that when the Raynalds came down to Monksholdings again the +following Easter it did not at once occur to her to remind her father of +the inquiry he had promised to make. + +Miss March was not with her pupils and their parents at first. She had +gone to spend a holiday week with the friends who had brought her up +and seen to her education--good, benevolent people, if not specially +sympathetic, but to whom she felt herself bound by ties of sincerest +gratitude, though her five years with the Raynald family had given her +more of the feeling of a "home" than she had ever had before. + +And her arrival at Monksholdings was the occasion of much rejoicing. +There was everything to show her, and every one, from Mark down to +little Robin, wanted to be her guide. It was not till the morning of the +next day that Sybil managed to get her to herself for a _tête-à-tête_ +stroll. + +Ellinor had some things to tell her quondam pupil. Mrs. Bellairs, her +self-appointed guardian, was growing old and somewhat feeble. + +"I fear she is not likely to live many years," said Miss March, "and she +thinks so herself. She has a curious longing, which I never saw in her +before, to find out my history--to know if there is no one really +belonging to me to whom she can give me back, as it were, before she +dies. She gave me the little parcel containing the clothes I had on when +she rescued me from being sent to a workhouse. They are carefully washed +and mended, and though I was a poor, dirty little object when I was +found, they do not look really as if I had been a beggar child," with a +little smile. + +"You a beggar child!" exclaimed Sybil indignantly. "Of course not. +Perhaps, on the contrary, you were somebody very grand." + +"No, no," said Ellinor sensibly. "In that case I should have been +advertised for and inquired after. No, I have never thought that, and I +should not wish it. I should be more than thankful to know I came of +good, honest people, however simple; to have some one of my very own." + +"I forget the actual details," said Sybil, "though you have often told +me about it. You were found--no, not literally in the workhouse, was +it?" + +"They were going to take me there," said Miss March. "It was at a +village near Bath where Mr. and Mrs. Bellairs were then living, and +one day, after a party of gipsies had been encamping on the common, a +cottager's wife heard something crying in the night, and found me in her +little garden. She was too poor to keep me herself, and felt certain I +was a child the gipsies had stolen and then wanted to get rid of. I was +fair-haired and blue-eyed, not like them. She was a friend or relation +of some of Mrs. Bellairs's servants, and so the story got round to my +kind old friend. And you know the rest--how they first thought of +bringing me up in quite a humble way, and then finding me--well, +intelligent and naturally rather refined, I suppose, I got a really good +education, and my good luck did not desert me, dear, when I came to be +your governess." + +Sybil smiled. + +"And can you remember _nothing_?" + +Ellinor hesitated. + +"Queer, dreamy fragments come back to me sometimes," she said. "I have +a feeling of having seen hills long, long ago. It is strange," she +went on, for by this time they had left the private grounds and were +strolling along the hill-path in the direction of the town, "it is +strange that since I came here I seem to have got hold of a tiny bit of +these old memories, if they are such. It must be the hills," and she +stood still and gazed round her with a deep breath of satisfaction, "I +could only have been between two and three when I was found," she went +on. "The only words I said were 'Dada' and 'Nennie'--it sounded like +'Nelly'. That was why Mrs. Bellairs called me 'Ellinor,' and 'March,' +because it was in that month she took me to her house." + +Sybil walked on in silence for a moment or two. + +"It _is_ such a romantic story," she said at last. "I am never tired of +thinking about it." + +They entered Monksholdings again from the east entrance, Ellinor glanced +at the stile. + +"By-the-bye," she said, "this is one of the two old stiles, I suppose. +Have you ever seen your ghost again, Sybil? Have you found out anything +about him?" + +Sybil looked round her half nervously. + +"It is the other stile he haunts," she said. "I rather avoid it, at +least, I mean to do so now. It is curious you speak of it, for till +yesterday I had not seen him again, and had almost forgotten about it. +But yesterday afternoon, just before you came, there he was--exactly +the same, staring in. I meant to speak to papa about it, but with the +pleasure and bustle of your arrival, I forgot it. Remind me about it. I +am afraid he is out of his mind." + +"Poor old man!" said Ellinor. "I wish we could do something to comfort +him. I feel as if everybody _must_ be happy here. It is such a charming, +exhilarating place. Dear me, how windy it is! The path is all strewn +with the white petals of the cherry blossom." + +"They have degenerated into wild cherry trees," said Sybil. "Long ago +papa says these must have been good fruit trees of many kinds, and this +is a great cherry country, you know." + +The wind dropped that afternoon, but only temporarily. It rose again so +much during the night that by the next morning the grounds looked, to +use little Annis's expression, "quite untidy". + +"And down in the village, or just beyond it," said Mark, who had been +for an early stroll, "at one place it really looks as if it had been +snowing. The road skirts that old farmhouse; you know it, father? I +forget the name--there's a grand cherry orchard there." + +"'Mayling Farm,' you must mean," said Mr. Raynald. "Farmer Giles's. Oh, +by the way, that reminds me, Sybil," but a glance round the table made +him stop short. They were at breakfast. He scarcely felt inclined to +relate the tragic story before the younger children, "they might look +frightened or run away if they came across the poor fellow," he +reflected. "I will tell Sybil about it afterwards." + +Easter holidays were not yet over, though the governess had returned, so +regular routine was set aside, and the whole of the young party, Ellinor +included, spent that morning in a scramble among the hills. + +The children seemed untirable, and set off again somewhere or other in +the afternoon. Sybil was busy with her mother, writing letters and +orders to be despatched to London, so that towards four o'clock or so, +when Miss March, having finished her own correspondence, entered the +drawing-room, she found it deserted. + +Sybil had promised to practise some duets with her, and while waiting on +the chance of her coming, Ellinor seated herself at the piano and began +to play--nothing very important--just snatches of old airs which she +wove into a kind of half-dreamy harmony, one melting into another as +they occurred to her. + +All at once a shadow fell on the keys, and then she remembered having +heard the door softly open a moment or two before--so softly, that she +had not looked round, imagining it to be the wind, which, though fallen +now, still lingered about. + +Now her ideas took another shape. + +"It is Sybil, no doubt," she thought with a smile. "She is going to make +me jump," and she waited, half expecting to feel Sybil's hands suddenly +clasped over her eyes from behind. + +But this was not to be the mode of attack, apparently, though she heard +what sounded like stealthy footsteps. + +"You need not try to startle me, Sybbie," she exclaimed laughingly, +without turning or ceasing to play, "I hear you." + +It was no laughing voice which replied. + +On the contrary, a sigh, almost a groan, close to her made her look +up sharply--a trifle indignant perhaps at the joke being carried so +far--and she saw, a pace or two from her only, the figure of an old +man--a white-haired, somewhat bent form, a worn face with wistful blue +eyes--gazing at her. + +She had scarcely time to feel frightened, for almost instantaneously +Sybil's "ghost" recurred to her memory. + +"He has found his way in, then," she thought, not without a slight +and natural tremor, which, however, disappeared as she gazed, so +pathetically gentle was the whole aspect of the intruder. + +But--his face changed curiously--the sight of hers, now fully in +his view, seemed strangely to affect him. With a gesture of utter +bewilderment he raised his hand to his forehead as if to brush something +away--the cloud still resting on his brain--then a smile broke over the +old face, a wonderful smile. + +"Marion," he said, "at last? I--I thought I was dreaming. I heard you +playing in my dream. It is the right place though, 'Half-way between the +stiles,' you said. I have waited so long and come so often, and now it +is snowing again. Just a little, dear, nothing to hurt. Marion, my +darling, why don't you speak? Is it all a dream--this fine room, the +music and all? Are _you_ a dream?" + +He closed his eyes as if he were fainting. Inexpressibly touched, all +Ellinor's womanly nature went out to him. She started forward, half +leading, half lifting him to a seat close at hand. + +"I--I am not Marion," she said, and afterwards she wondered what had +inspired the words, "but I am"--not "Ellinor," something made her change +the name as he spoke--"I am Nelly." + +He opened his eyes again. + +"Little Nell," he said, "has she sent you down to me from heaven? My +little Nell!" + +And then he fell back unconscious--this time he had fainted. + +She thought he was dead, but it was not so--her cries for help soon +brought her friends, Mr. Raynald first of all. He did not seem startled, +he soothed Ellinor at once. + +"It is poor old Giles," he said. "I know all about him, he has found his +way in at last." + +"But--but----," stammered the girl, "there is something else, Mr. +Raynald. I--I seem to remember something." + +She looked nearly as white as their poor visitor, and as Mr. Raynald +glanced at her, a curious expression flitted across his own face. + +Could it be so? He knew all her story. + +"Wait a little, my dear," he said. "We must attend to poor Giles first." + +They were very kind and tender to the old man, but he seemed to be +barely conscious, even after restoratives had brought him out of the +actual fainting fit. Then Mrs. Raynald proposed that his servants--his +housekeeper if he had one--should be sent for. + +And when faithful Betsy, stout as of old, though less nimble, made her +appearance, her irrepressible emotion at the sight of Ellinor, pale and +trembling though the young governess was, gave form and substance to Mr. +Raynald's suspicions. + +Yes, they had met at last--father and daughter--"half-way between the +stiles". He was "Dada," she was little "Nell". Might it not be that +Marion's prayers had brought them together? + +Every reasonable proof was forthcoming--the little parcel of clothes, +the correspondence in the dates, the strong resemblance to her mother. + +And--joy does not often kill. Barnett was able to understand it all +better than might have been expected. He was never _quite_ himself, but +infinitely better both in mind and body than poor old Betsy had ever +dreamt of seeing him. And he was perfectly content--content to live as +long as it should please God to spare him to his little Nell; ready to +go to his Marion when the time should come. + +And Ellinor had her wish--a home, though not a "grand" one; some one of +her "very own" to care for; a father's devoted love, and, to complete +her happiness, the friends who had grown so dear to her close at hand. + +More may yet be hers in the future, for she is still young. Her father +may live to see his grandchildren playing about the farmstead at +Mayling, so that, though the name be changed, the old stock will still +nourish where so many generations of its ancestors have sown and +reaped. + + + + +AT THE DIP OF THE ROAD. + + +Have I ever seen a ghost? + +I do not know. + +That is the only reply I can truthfully make to the question now-a-days +so often asked. And sometimes, if inquirers care to hear more, I go on +to tell them the one experience which makes it impossible for me to +reply positively either in the affirmative or negative, and restricts me +to "I do not know". + +This was the story. + +I was staying with relations in the country. Not a very isolated or +out-of-the-way part of the world, and yet rather inconvenient of access +by the railway. For the nearest station was six miles off. Though the +family I was visiting were nearly connected with me I did not know much +of their home or its neighbourhood, as the head of the house, an uncle +of mine by marriage, had only come into the property a year or two +previously to the date of which I am writing, through the death of an +elder brother. + +It was a nice place. A good comfortable old house, a prosperous, +satisfactory estate. Everything about it was in good order, from the +farmers, who always paid their rents, to the shooting, which was always +good; from the vineries, which were noted, to the woods, where the +earliest primroses in all the country side were yearly to be found. + +And my uncle and aunt and their family deserved these pleasant things +and made a good use of them. + +But there was a touch of the commonplace about it all. There was nothing +picturesque or romantic. The country was flat though fertile, the house, +though old, was conveniently modern in its arrangements, airy, cheery, +and bright. + +"Not even a ghost, or the shadow of one," I remember saying one day with +a faint grumble. + +"Ah, well--as to that," said my uncle, "perhaps we----" but just then +something interrupted him, and I forgot his unfinished speech. + +Into the happy party of which for the time being I was one, there fell +one morning a sudden thunderbolt of calamity. The post brought news of +the alarming illness of the eldest daughter--Frances, married a year or +two ago and living, as the crow flies, at no very great distance. But +as the crow flies is not always as the railroad runs, and to reach the +Aldoyns' home from Fawne Court, my uncle's place, was a complicated +business--it was scarcely possible to go and return in a day. + +"Can one of you come over?" wrote the young husband. "She is already out +of danger, but longing to see her mother or one of you. She is worrying +about the baby"--a child of a few months old--"and wishing for nurse." + +We looked at each other. + +"Nurse must go at once," said my uncle to me, as the eldest of the +party. Perhaps I should here say that I am a widow, though not old, and +with no close ties or responsibilities. "But for your aunt it is +impossible." + +"Quite so," I agreed. For she was at the moment painfully lamed by +rheumatism. + +"And the other girls are almost too young at such a crisis," my uncle +continued. "Would you, Charlotte----" and he hesitated. "It would be +such a comfort to have personal news of her." + +"Of course I will go," I said. "Nurse and I can start at once. I will +leave her there, and return alone, to give you, I have no doubt, better +news of poor Francie." + +He was full of gratitude. So were they all. + +"Don't hurry back to-night," said my uncle. "Stay till--till Monday if +you like." But I could not promise. I knew they would be glad of news at +once, and in a small house like my cousin's, at such a time, an inmate +the more might be inconvenient. + +"I will try to return to-night," I said. And as I sprang into the +carriage I added: "Send to Moore to meet the last train, unless I +telegraph to the contrary." + +My uncle nodded; the boys called after me, "All right;" the old butler +bowed assent, and I was satisfied. + +Nurse and I reached our journey's end promptly, considering the four or +five junctions at which we had to change carriages. But on the whole +"going," the trains fitted astonishingly. + +We found Frances better, delighted to see us, eager for news of her +mother, and, finally, disposed to sleep peacefully now that she knew +that there was an experienced person in charge. And both she and her +husband thanked me so much that I felt ashamed of the little I had done. +Mr. Aldoyn begged me to stay till Monday; but the house was upset, and I +was eager to carry back my good tidings. + +"They are meeting me at Moore by the last train," I said. "No, thank +you, I think it is best to go." + +"You will have an uncomfortable journey," he replied. "It is Saturday, +and the trains will be late, and the stations crowded with the market +people. It will be horrid for you, Charlotte." + +But I persisted. + +It _was_ rather horrid. And it was queer. There was a sort of uncanny +eeriness about that Saturday evening's journey that I have never +forgotten. The season was very early spring. It was not very cold, but +chilly and ungenial. And there were such odd sorts of people about. I +travelled second-class; for I am not rich, and I am very independent. +I did not want my uncle to pay my fare, for I liked the feeling of +rendering him some small service in return for his steady kindness to +me. The first stage of my journey was performed in the company of two +old naturalists travelling to Scotland to look for some small plant +which was to be found only in one spot in the Highlands. This I gathered +from their talk to each other. You never saw two such extraordinary +creatures as they were. They both wore black kid gloves much too large +for them, and the ends of the fingers waved about like feathers. + +Then followed two or three short transits, interspersed with weary +waitings at stations. The last of these was the worst, and tantalising, +too, for by this time I was within a few miles of Moore. The station was +crowded with rough folk, all, it seemed to me, more or less tipsy. So I +took refuge in a dark waiting-room on the small side line by which I was +to proceed, where I felt I might have been robbed and murdered and no +one the wiser. + +But at last came my slow little train, and in I jumped, to jump out +again still more joyfully some fifteen minutes later when we drew up at +Moore. + +I peered about for the carriage. It was not to be seen; only two or +three tax-carts or dog-carts, farmers' vehicles, standing about, while +their owners, it was easy to hear, were drinking far more than was good +for them in the taproom of the Unicorn. Thence, nevertheless--not to +the taproom, but to the front of the inn--I made my way, though not +undismayed by the shouts and roars breaking the stillness of the quiet +night. "Was the Fawne Court carriage not here?" I asked. + +The landlady was a good-natured woman, especially civil to any member of +the "Court" family. But she shook her head. + +"No, no carriage had been down to-day. There must have been some +mistake." + +There was nothing for it but to wait till she could somehow or other +disinter a fly and a horse, and, worst of all a driver. For the "men" +she had to call were all rather--"well, ma'am, you see it's Saturday +night. We weren't expecting any one." + +And when, after waiting half an hour, the fly at last emerged, my heart +almost failed me. Even before he drove out of the yard, it was very +plain that if ever we reached Fawne Court alive, it would certainly be +more thanks to good luck than to the driver's management. + +But the horse was old and the man had a sort of instinct about him. We +got on all right till we were more than half way to our journey's end. +The road was straight and the moonlight bright, especially after we had +passed a certain corner, and got well out of the shade of the trees +which skirted the first part of the way. + +Just past this turn there came a dip in the road. It went down, down +gradually, for a quarter of a mile or more, and I looked up anxiously, +fearful of the horse taking advantage of the slope. But no, he jogged +on, if possible more slowly than before, though new terrors assailed me +when I saw that the driver was now fast asleep, his head swaying from +side to side with extraordinary regularity. After a bit I grew easier +again; he seemed to keep his equilibrium, and I looked out at the side +window on the moon-flooded landscape, with some interest. I had never +seen brighter moonlight. + +Suddenly from out of the intense stillness and loneliness a figure, a +human figure, became visible. It was that of a man, a young and active +man, running along the footpath a few feet to our left, apparently +from some whim, keeping pace with the fly. My first feeling was of +satisfaction that I was no longer alone, at the tender mercies of my +stupefied charioteer. But, as I gazed, a slight misgiving came over me. +Who could it be running along this lonely road so late, and what was his +motive in keeping up with us so steadily. It almost seemed as if he had +been waiting for us, yet that, of course, was impossible. He was not +very highwayman-like certainly; he was well-dressed--neatly-dressed that +is to say, like a superior gamekeeper--his figure was remarkably good, +tall and slight, and he ran gracefully. But there was something queer +about him, and suddenly the curiosity that had mingled in my observation +of him was entirely submerged in alarm, when I saw that, as he ran, he +was slowly but steadily drawing nearer and nearer to the fly. + +"In another moment he will be opening the door and jumping in," I +thought, and I glanced before me only to see that the driver was more +hopelessly asleep than before; there was no chance of his hearing if +I called out. And get out I could not without attracting the strange +runner's attention, for as ill-luck would have it, the window was drawn +up on the right side, and I could not open the door without rattling the +glass. While, worse and worse, the left hand window was down! Even that +slight protection wanting! + +I looked out once more. By this time the figure was close, close to the +fly. Then an arm was stretched out and laid along the edge of the door, +as if preparatory to opening it, and then, for the first time I saw his +face. It was a young face, but terribly, horribly pale and ghastly, and +the eyes--all was so visible in the moonlight--had an expression such as +I had never seen before or since. It terrified me, though afterwards on +recalling it, it seemed to me that it might have been more a look of +agonised appeal than of menace of any kind. + +I cowered back into my corner and shut my eyes, feigning sleep. It was +the only idea that occurred to me. My heart was beating like a sledge +hammer. All sorts of thoughts rushed through me; among them I remember +saying to myself: "He must be an escaped lunatic--his eyes are so +awfully wild". + +How long I sat thus I don't know--whenever I dared to glance out +furtively he was still there. But all at once a strange feeling of +relief came over me. I sat up--yes, he was gone! And though, as I took +courage, I leant out and looked round in every direction, not a trace of +him was to be seen, though the road and the fields were bare and clear +for a long distance round. + +When I got to Fawne Court I had to wake the lodge-keeper--every one was +asleep. But my uncle was still up, though not expecting me, and very +distressed he was at the mistake about the carriage. + +"However," he concluded, "all's well that ends well. It's delightful to +have your good news. But you look sadly pale and tired, Charlotte." + +Then I told him of my fright--it seemed now so foolish of me, I said. +But my uncle did not smile--on the contrary. + +"My dear," he said. "It sounds very like our ghost, though, of course, +it may have been only one of the keepers." + +He told me the story. Many years ago in his grandfather's time, a young +and favourite gamekeeper had been found dead in a field skirting the +road down there. There was no sign of violence upon the body; it was +never explained what had killed him. But he had had in his charge a +watch--a very valuable one--which his master for some reason or other +had handed to him to take home to the house, not wishing to keep it on +him. And when the body was found late that night, the watch was not on +it. Since then, so the story goes, on a moonlight night the spirit of +the poor fellow haunts the spot. It is supposed that he wants to tell +what had become of his master's watch, which was never found. But no one +has ever had courage to address him. + +"He never comes farther than the dip in the road," said my uncle. "If +you had spoken to him, Charlotte, I wonder if he would have told you his +secret?" + +He spoke half laughingly, but I have never quite forgiven myself for my +cowardice. It was the look in those eyes! + + + + +"---- WILL NOT TAKE PLACE." + + +"'Lingard,' 'Trevannion,'" murmured Captain Murray, as he ran his eye +down the column of the morning paper specially devoted to so-called +fashionable intelligence, "Lingard, Arthur Lingard; yes, I've met him; +a very good fellow. And Trevannion; don't you know a Miss Trevannion, +Bessie?" + +Mrs. Murray glanced up from her teacups. + +"What do you say, Walter? Trevannion; yes, I have met a girl of the name +at my aunt's. A pretty girl, and I think I heard she was going to be +married. Is that what you are talking about?" + +"No," her husband replied. "It's the other way--broken off, I wonder +why." + +"What an old gossip you are," said Mrs. Murray. "No good reason at all, +I daresay. People are so capricious now-a-days." + +"Still, they don't often announce a marriage till it's pretty certain +to come off. This sort of thing," tapping the paper as he spoke, "isn't +exactly pleasant." + +"Very much the reverse," agreed Mrs. Murray, and then they thought no +more about it. + +"I wonder why," said a good many people that morning, when they caught +sight of the announcement. For the two principals it concerned--Arthur +Lingard, especially--had a large circle of friends and acquaintances, and +their engagement had been the subject of much and hearty congratulation. +It seemed so natural and fitting that these two should marry. Both +young, amiable, good-looking, and sufficiently well off. Even the most +cynical could discern no cloud in the bright sky of their future, no +crook in the lot before them. + +And now-- + +No marvel that Captain Murray's soliloquy was repeated by many. + +But who would have guessed that in one heart it was ever ringing with +maddening anguish? + +"I wonder why, oh, I wonder why he has done it. Oh, if he would but tell +me, it could not surely seem quite so unendurable." + +And Daisy Trevannion pressed her aching head, and her poor swollen eyes +on to her mother's loving bosom in a sort of wild despair. + +"Mamma, mamma," she cried, "help me. I cannot be angry with him. I wish +I could. He was so gentle, so sweet--and he is so heartbroken, I can see +by his letter. Oh, mamma, what can it be?" + +But to this, even the devoted mother, who would gladly have given her +own life to save her child this misery, could find no answer. + +This was what had happened. + +They had been engaged about three months, the wedding day was +approximately fixed, when one morning the blow fell. + +A letter to Daisy's father, enclosing one to herself--a letter which +made Mr. Trevannion draw his brows together in instinctive indignation, +and then as the first impulse cooled a little, caused him to turn to his +daughter with a movement of irritation, underneath which, hope had, +nevertheless, found time to reassert itself. + +"Daisy," he exclaimed sharply, "what is the meaning of all this +nonsense? Have you been quarrelling with Lingard? You're a bit of a +spoilt child I know, my dear, but I don't like playing with edged +tools--a man like Arthur won't stand being trifled with. Do you hear, +Daisy--eh, what?" + +For the girl had scarcely caught the sense of his words, so absorbed was +she in those of the short, all too short, but terrible letter she had +just read--the letter addressed to herself, which began "Daisy, my +Daisy, for the last time," and ended abruptly with the simple signature, +"Arthur Lingard". + +She gazed up at her father--her white face all drawn, and as it were, +withered with that minute's agony--her eyes dulled and yet wild. Never +was there such a metamorphosis from the happy, laughing girl who had +hurried in with some pretty excuse for her unpunctuality. + +"Daisy, my child! Daisy," her father repeated, repenting already of his +hasty remarks, "don't take it so seriously." "Margaret," to his wife, +"speak to her." + +And Mrs. Trevannion, as pale almost as her daughter, drew the sheet of +note-paper from the girl's unresisting hands, while her husband held out +to her his own letter. + +"Some complete mistake," she said, "some misplaced quixotry. Daisy, my +own darling, do not take it so seriously. Your father will see him--you +will, will you not, Hugh?" detecting the proud hesitation in her +husband's face. "It is not as if we did not know him well, and all about +him. Your father will find out, Daisy, and make it all right." + +Mr. Trevannion did not contradict her, but murmured some consolatory +words, and then the mother led Daisy away, and to a certain extent the +girl allowed herself to be reassured. + +"I will consult Keir if necessary," said the father when out of hearing +of his daughter. "He is the natural person, both as our own connection +and because he introduced Lingard, and thinks so highly of him. But +first I will see Arthur alone. The fewer mixed up in such a case the +better." + +Mrs. Trevannion agreed. She was constitutionally sanguine, but a painful +idea struck her as her husband spoke. + +"Hugh," she said hesitatingly, "you don't think--it surely is not +possible that his--that Arthur's brain is affected?" + +"His brain--tut, nonsense! What a woman's idea!" replied Mr. Trevannion +irritably. "Why, he is receiving compliments on every side, from the +very highest quarters, too, on that article of his on the Capricorn +Islands. Brain affected, indeed!" + +And to a whisper of, "I was thinking of over-work," which followed him +apologetically, he vouchsafed no reply. + +Some intensely trying days passed. Mr. Trevannion's interview with his +recalcitrant son-in-law-to-be, proved a complete failure. Nothing, +absolutely nothing was to be "got out of the fellow," he told his wife +in mingled anger and wretchedness, for the poor man was a devoted +father. Arthur was gentleness itself, respectful, deferential even, +to the man whose peculiarly disagreeable position he felt for +inexpressibly. But he was as firm, as hard in his decision that all +should be, must be, over between Miss Trevannion and himself, as if his +own heart had suddenly turned to iron, as if he possessed no feelings at +all. He grew white to the lips, with a terrible death-like whiteness, +when he named her; he said with a quiet, deliberate emphasis, more +impressive by far than any passionate declaration, that never, never +while he lived, would he forgive himself for the trouble he had brought +into her young life, but that he was powerless to do otherwise, he was +absolutely without a choice. As to the reason for the breaking off of +the engagement to be given to the world, he left it entirely in the +Trevannions' own hands; he would contradict nothing they thought it best +to say; but, if possible, he grew still whiter when his visitor from +under his shaggy eyebrows glanced at him with a look of contempt while +he replied cuttingly that he had no love of falsehood. For his part he +would tell the truth, and in the end he believed it would be best for +Daisy that all the world should know the way in which she had been +treated. + +"Best for her and worst for you," he repeated. + +And Arthur only said:-- + +"I hope so. It must be as you think well." + +Then Trevannion softened again a little. + +"I shall say nothing to any one at present," he went on. "I must see +Keir; possibly he may understand you better than I can." + +But, "No, it will be no use," the young man repeated coldly, though his +very heart was wrung for the father, crushing down his own pride while +he thought he saw still the ghost of a hope. "It will be no use. No one +can do anything." + +"And you adhere to your determination not to see my--not to see Daisy +again?" + +Lingard bowed his head. + +And Mr. Trevannion left him. + +Philip Keir was no blood relation of the Trevannions, but a cousin by +marriage and a very intimate friend. He was some years older than Mr. +Lingard, and it was through him that the acquaintance resulting in +Daisy's engagement had begun. He was a reserved man, with a frank and +cordial manner. Daisy thought she knew him well, but as to this she was +in some directions entirely mistaken. + +He was away from home when Mr. Trevannion called on him, driving +straight to his chambers from the fruitless interview with Lingard. +Philip did not return for a couple of days, and had left no address. +Hence ensued the painful interval of suspense alluded to. + +But on the third evening a hansom dashed up to the Trevannions' door, +and Mr. Keir jumped out. It was late, but there was no hesitation as to +admitting him. + +"I found your note," he said, as he grasped his host's hand, "and came +straight on. I have only just got back. What is the matter? Tell me at +once." + +He was a self-controlled man, but his agitation was evident. "Daisy?" he +added hastily. + +"Yes," replied the father. The two were alone in his study. "Poor +Daisy!" And then he told the story. + +Keir listened, though not altogether in silence, for broken +exclamations, which he seemed unable to repress, broke out from him more +than once. + +"Impossible----inconceivable!" he muttered, "Lingard, of all men, to +behave like a----" he stopped short, at a loss for a comparison. + +"Then you can throw no light upon it--none whatever?" said Mr. +Trevannion. "We had hoped--foolishly, perhaps--I had somehow hoped that +you might have helped us. You know him well, you see, you have been so +much together, your acquaintance is of old date, and you must understand +any peculiarities of his character." + +His tone still sounded as if he could not bring himself finally to +accept the position. Keir was inexpressibly sorry for him. + +"I know of none," he said. "Frankly, I know of nothing about him that is +not estimable. And, as you say, we have been much and most intimately +associated. We have travelled together half over the world, we have been +dependent on each other for months at a time, and the more I have seen +of him the more I have admired and--yes--loved him. If I had to pick a +fault in him I would say it is a curious spice of obstinacy--I have seen +it very strongly now and then. Once," and his face grew grave, "once, we +nearly quarrelled because he would not give in on a certain point. It +was in Siberia, not long ago," and here Philip gave a sort of shiver, +"it was very horrible--no need to go into details. He, Arthur, got it +into his head that a particular course of action was called for, and +there was no moving him. However it ended all right. I had almost +forgotten it. But he was determined." + +Mr. Trevannion listened, but vaguely. Keir's remarks scarcely seemed to +the point. + +"Obstinate!" he repeated. "Yes, but that doesn't explain things. There +was no question of giving in. They had had no quarrel. Daisy was +perfectly happy. The only thing she can say on looking back over the +last week or two closely, is that Arthur had seemed depressed now and +then, and when she taxed him with it he evaded a reply. You don't think, +Philip, that there is anything of that kind--melancholia, you know--in +his family?" + +"Bless you, no, my dear sir. He comes of the healthiest stock possible. +People one knows all about for generations. No, no, it's nothing of that +kind," Keir replied. "And--what man ever had such happy prospects?" + +"Then what in heaven's name is it?" said Mr. Trevannion, bringing his +hand down violently on the table beside which they were sitting. "Can +you get it out of him, if you can do nothing else for us, Philip? It is +our right to know; it is--it is due to my child, it is----" he stopped, +his face working with emotion. "He won't see her, you know," he added +disconnectedly. + +"I will try," said Philip. "It is indeed the least I can do. If--if I +could get him to see her--Daisy; surely that would be the best chance." + +Mr. Trevannion looked at him sharply, scrutinisingly. + +"You--you are satisfied then--entirely satisfied that there is nothing +we need dread her being mixed up in, so to say? Nothing wrong--nothing +to shock a girl like her? You see," half apologetically, "his refusing +to see her makes one afraid----" + +"I am as sure of him as of myself--surer," said Philip earnestly. "There +is nothing in his past to explain it--nothing." + +"An early secret marriage; a wife he thought dead turning up again," +suggested the father. "It sounds absurd, sensational--but after +all--there must be some reason." + +"Not that," said Keir, getting up as he spoke. "Well then, I will see +him first thing in the morning, and communicate with you as soon as +possible after I have done so. You will tell Mrs. Trevannion and--and +Daisy that I will do my best?" + +"My wife is still in the drawing-room. Will you not see her to-night?" + +Philip shook his head. + +"It is late," he said, "and I am dusty and unpresentable. Besides, there +is really nothing to say. To-morrow it shall be as you all think best. I +will see Mrs. Trevannion--and Daisy," here he flushed a little, but his +host did not observe it, "if you like and if she wishes it. Heaven send +I may have better news than I expect." + +And with a warm pressure of his old friend's hand, Mr. Keir left him. + +The two younger men met the next morning. There was no difficulty about +it, for Lingard, knowing by instinct that the interview must take place, +had determined to face it. So of the two he was the more prepared, the +more forearmed. + +The conversation was long--an hour, two hours passed before poor Philip +could make up his mind to accept the ultimatum contained in the few hard +words with which Arthur Lingard first greeted him. + +"I know what you have come about. I knew you must come. You could not +help yourself. But, Philip, it will save you pain--I don't mind for +myself; nothing can matter now--if you will at once take my word for it +that nothing you can say will do the least shadow of good. No, don't +shake hands with me. I would rather you didn't." + +And he put his right arm behind his back and stood there, leaning +against the mantelpiece, facing his friend. + +Philip looked up at him grimly. + +"No," he said, "I've given my word to--to these poor dear people, and +I'll stick to it. You've got to make up your mind to a cross-examination, +Lingard." + +But through or below the grimness was a terrible pity. Philip's heart +was very tender for the man whose inexplicable conduct was yet filling +him with indignation past words. Arthur was so changed--the last week or +two had done the work of years--all the youthfulness, the almost boyish +brightness, which had been one of his charms, was gone, dead. He was +pale with a strange indescribable pallor, that told of days, and worse +still, of nights of agony; the lines of his face were hardened; the lips +spoke of unalterable determination. Only once had Philip seen him look +thus, and then it was but in expression--the likeness and the contrast +struck him curiously. The other time it had been resolution temporarily +hardening a youthful face; now--what did it remind him of? A monk who +had gone through a life-time of spiritual struggle alone, unaided by +human sympathy? A martyr--no, there was no enthusiasm. It was all dull, +dead anguish of unalterable resolve. + +There was silence for a moment. Keir was choking down an uncomfortable +something in his throat, and bracing himself to the inquisitorial +torture before him to perform. + +"Well," said Arthur, at last. + +And Philip looked up at him again. + +How queer his eyes were--they used to be so deeply blue. Daisy had often +laughed at his changeable eyes, as she called them--blue in the daytime, +almost black at night, but always lustrous and liquid. Now, they were +glassy, almost filmy. What was it? A sudden thought struck Philip. + +"Arthur!" he exclaimed, "Arthur, old fellow, are you going blind? Is +that the mystery? If it is that, good Lord, how little you know her, if +you think that----" + +Arthur's pale lips grew visibly paler. He had been unprepared for attack +in this direction, and for the moment he quailed before it. + +"No," he whispered hoarsely, "it is not that. Would to God it were!" + +But almost instantly he had mastered himself, and from that moment +throughout the interview not even the mention of Daisy's name had power +to stir him. + +And Philip, annoyed with his own impulsiveness, stiffened again. + +"You are determined not to reveal your secret," he began, "but I want to +come to an understanding with you on one point. If I guess it, if I put +my finger on it, will you give me the satisfaction of owning that I have +done so." + +Lingard hesitated. + +"Yes," he said, "I will do so on one condition--your word of honour, +your oath, never to tell it to any human being." + +"Not to--her--Daisy?" + +"Least of all." + +Philip groaned. This did not look very promising for the meeting with +Daisy, which at the bottom of his heart he believed in as his last--his +trump card. + +Still, he had gained something. + +"Then, my first question seems, in the face of that, almost a mockery. I +was going to ask you," and he half gasped--"it is nothing--nothing about +her that is at the root of all this misery? No fancy," again the gasp, +"that--that she doesn't care for you, or love you enough? No nonsense +about your not being suited to each other, or that you couldn't make a +girl of her sensitive, high-strung nature happy?" + +"No," said Arthur, and the word seemed to ring through the room. "No, I +know she loves me as I love her. Oh, no, not quite like that, I trust," +and his voice was firm through all the tragedy of the last sentence. +"And I believe I could have made her very happy. Leave her name out of +it now, Phil, once for all. It has nothing to do personally with the +woman who is, and always will be, to me my perfect ideal of sweetness +and excellence and truth and beauty." + +"Then it has to do with yourself," murmured Keir. "Come, the radius is +narrowing. I flew out at poor Trevannion when he suggested it, but all +the same, it's nothing in your past you're ashamed of that's come to +light, is it? The best fellows in the world make fools of themselves +sometimes, you know. Don't mind my asking." + +"I don't mind," said Arthur wearily, "but it's no use. No, it's nothing +like that. I have done nothing I am ashamed of. I am not secretly +married, nor have I committed forgery," with a very ghastly attempt at a +smile. + +"Then," said Philip, "is it something about your family. Have you found +out that there's a strain of insanity in the Lingards perhaps? People +exaggerate that kind of thing now-a-days. There's a touch of it in us +all, I take it." + +"No," said Arthur, again "my family's all right. I've no very near +relations except my sister, but you know her, and you know all about us. +We're not adventurers in any sense of the word." + +"Far from it," agreed Philip warmly. Then for a moment or two he +relapsed into silence. "Does your sister--does Lady West know +about--about this mysterious affair?" he asked abruptly, after some +pondering. + +"Nothing whatever. I, of course, was bound by every consideration not to +tell her--to tell no one anything till it was understood by--the +Trevannions. And I had no reason for consulting her or--any friend," +Arthur replied. + +He spoke jerkily and with effort, as if he were putting force on himself +to endure what yet he was convinced was absolutely useless torture. + +But his words gave Keir a new opening, which he was quick to seize. + +"That's just it," he exclaimed eagerly. "That's just where it strikes +me you've gone wrong. You should have consulted some one--not myself, +not your sister even; I don't say whom, but some one sensible and +trustworthy. I believe your mind has got warped. You've been thinking +over this trouble, whatever it is, till you can't see it rightly. You've +exaggerated it out of all proportion, and you shouldn't trust your own +morbid judgment." + +Lingard did not answer. He stood motionless, his eyes fixed upon the +ground. For an instant a wild hope dashed through Philip that at last +he had made some impression. But as Arthur slowly raised his dim, worn +eyes, and looked him in the face, it faded again, even before the young +man spoke. + +"To satisfy you, I will tell you this much. I have consulted one +person--a man whom you would allow was trustworthy and wise and good. +From him I have hidden nothing whatever, and he agrees with me that I +have no choice--that duty points unmistakably to the course I am +pursuing." + +Again a flash of suggestion struck his hearer. + +"One person--a man," he repeated. "Arthur, is it some priest? Have they +been converting or perverting you, my boy? Are you going over to Rome, +fancying yourself called to be a Trappist, or a--those fellows at the +Grande Chartreuse, you remember?" + +For the second time during the interview, Arthur smiled, and his smile +was a trifle less ghastly this time. + +"No, again," he said. "You're quite on a wrong tack. I have not the +slightest inclination that way. I--I wish I had. No, my adviser is no +priest. But he's one of the best of men, all the same, and one of the +wisest." + +"You won't tell me who he is?" + +"I cannot." + +"And"--Philip was reluctant to try his last hope, and felt conscious +that he would do it clumsily--"Arthur," he burst out, "you will see +her--Daisy--once more? She has a right to it. You are putting enough +upon her without refusing this one request of hers." + +He stood up as he spoke. He himself had grown strangely pale, and seeing +this, as he glanced at him, Lingard's own face became ashen. + +He shook his head. + +"Good God!" he said, "I think this might have been spared me. No, I will +not see her again. The only thing I can do for her is to refuse this +last request. Tell her so, Philip--tell her what I say. And now leave +me. Don't shake hands with me. I don't wish it, and I daresay you don't. +If--if we never meet again, you and I--and who knows?--if this is our +goodbye, thank you, old fellow, thank you for all you have tried to do. +Perhaps I know the cost of it to you better than you imagine. Good-bye, +Phil!" + +Keir turned towards the door. But he looked back ere he reached it. +Arthur was standing as he had been--motionless. + +"You're not thinking of killing yourself, are you?" he said quietly. + +Arthur looked at him. His eyes had a different expression now--or was +it that something was gleaming softly in them that had not been there +before? + +"No, no--I am not going to be false to my colours. I--I don't care to +talk much about it, but--I am a Christian, Phil." + +"At least I can put that horrid idea out of the poor child's head, +then," thought Keir to himself. Though to Arthur he did not reply, save +by a bend of his head. + + * * * * * + +Time passed. And in his wings there was healing. + +At twenty-four, Daisy Trevannion, though her face bore traces of +suffering of no common order, was yet a sweet and serene woman. To some +extent she had outlived the strange tragedy of her earlier girlhood. + +It had never been explained. The one person who might naturally have +been looked to, to throw some light on the mystery, Lingard's sister, +Lady West, was, as her brother had stated, completely in the dark. At +first she had been disposed to blame Daisy, or her family; and though +afterwards convinced that in so doing she was entirely mistaken, she +never became in any sense confidential with them on the matter. And +after a few months they met no more. For her husband was sent abroad, +and detained there on an important diplomatic mission. + +Now and then, in the earlier days of her broken engagement, Daisy would +ask Philip to "try to find out if Mary West knows where he is". And to +please her he did so. But all he learnt was--what indeed was all the +sister had to tell--that Arthur was off again on his old travels--to +the Capricorn Islands or to the moon, it was not clear which. + +"He has promised that I shall hear from him once a year--as near my +birthday as he can manage. That is all I can tell you," she said, trying +to make light of it. + +And whether this promise was kept or no, one thing was certain--Arthur +Lingard had entirely disappeared from London society. + +At twenty-five, Daisy married Philip. He had always loved her, though he +had never allowed her to suspect it; and knowing herself and her history +as he did, he was satisfied with the true affection she could give +him--satisfied, that is to say, in the hope and belief that his own +devotion would kindle ever-increasing response on her side. And his +hopes were not disappointed. They were very happy. + +Now for the sequel to the story--such sequel, that is to say, as there +is to give--a suggestion of explanation rather than any positive +_dénoument_ of the mystery. + +They--Philip and Daisy--had been married for two or three years when one +evening it chanced to them to dine at the house of a rather well-known +literary man with whom they were but slightly acquainted. They had been +invited for a special reason; their hosts were pleasant and genial +people who liked to get those about them with interests in common. +And Keir, though his wings were now so happily clipt, still held his +position as a traveller who had seen and noted much in his former +wanderings. + +"We think your husband may enjoy a talk with Sir Abel Maynard, who is +with us for a few days," Mrs. Thorncroft had said in her note. + +And Sir Abel, not being of the surly order of lions who refuse to roar +when they know that their audience is eager to hear them, made himself +most agreeable. He appreciated Mr. Keir's intelligence and sympathy, and +was by no means indifferent to Mrs. Keir's beauty, though "evidently," +he thought to himself, "she is not over fond of reminiscences of her +husband's travels. Perhaps she is afraid of his taking flight again." + +During dinner the conversation turned, not unnaturally, on a subject +just at that moment much to the fore. For it was about the time of the +heroic Damien's death. + +"No," said Sir Abel, in answer to some inquiry, "I never visited his +place. But I have seen lepers--to perfection. By-the-by," he went on +suddenly, "I came across a queer, a very queer, story a while ago. I +wonder, Keir, if you can throw any light upon it?" + +But at that moment Mrs. Thorncroft gave the magic signal and the women +left the room. + +By degrees the men came straggling upstairs after them, then a little +music followed, but it was not till much later in the evening than was +usual with him that Philip made his appearance in the drawing-room, +preceded by Sir Abel Maynard. Philip looked tired and rather "distrait," +thought Daisy, whose eyes were keen with the quick discernment of +perfect affection, and she was not sorry when, before very long, he +whispered to her that it was getting late, might they not leave soon? +Nor was she sorry that during the interval before her husband made this +suggestion, Sir Abel, who had been devoting himself to her, had avoided +all mention of his travels, and had been amusing her with his criticism +of a popular novel instead. She could never succeed altogether in +banishing the painful association of Arthur Lingard from allusion to +her husband's old wanderings. + +Poor Arthur! Where was he now? + +"Philip, dear," she said, slipping her hand into his when they found +themselves alone, and with a longish drive before them, in their own +little brougham, "there is something the matter. You have heard +something? Tell me what it is." + +Keir hesitated. + +"Yes," he said, "I suppose it is best to tell you. It is the strange +story Sir Abel alluded to before you left the room." + +"About--about Arthur? Is it about Arthur?" whispered she, shivering a +little. + +Philip put his arm round her. + +"I can't say. We shall perhaps never know certainly," he replied. "But +it looks very like it. Listen, dear. Some little time ago--two or +three years ago--Maynard spent some days at one of those awful leper +settlements--never mind where. I would just as soon you did not know. +There, to his amazement, among the most devoted of the attendants upon +the poor creatures he found an Englishman, young still, at least by his +own account, though to judge by his appearance it would have been +impossible to say. For he was himself far gone, very far gone in some +ways, in the disease. But he was, or had been, a man of strong +constitution and enormous determination. Ill as he was, he yet managed +to tend others with indescribable devotion. They looked upon him as a +saint. Maynard did not like to inquire what had brought him to such a +pass--he, the poor fellow, was a perfect gentleman. But the day Sir Abel +was leaving, the Englishman took him to some extent into his confidence, +and asked him to do him a service. This was his story. Some years +before, in quite a different part of the world, the young man had nursed +a leper--a dying leper--for some hours. He believed for long that he had +escaped all danger, in fact he never thought of it; but it was not so. +There must have been an unhealed wound of some kind--a slight scratch +would do it--on his hand. No need to go into the details of his first +misgivings, of the horror of the awful certainty at last. It came upon +him in the midst of the greatest happiness; he was going to be married +to a girl he adored." + +"Oh, Philip, Philip, why did he not tell?" Daisy wailed. + +"He consulted the best and greatest physician, who--as a friend, he +said--approved of the course he had mapped out for himself. He decided +to tell no one, to break off his engagement, and die out of her--the +girl's--life; not once, after he was sure, did he see her again. He +would not even risk touching her hand. And he believed that telling +would only have brought worse agony upon her in the end than the agony +he was forced to inflict. For he was a doomed man, though they gave him +a few years to live. And he did the only thing he could do with those +years. He set off to the settlement in question. Maynard was to call +there some months later on his way home, and the young man knew he would +be dead then, and so he was. But he showed Maynard a letter explaining +all, that he had got ready--all but the address--_that_, he would not +add till he was in the act of dying. There must be no risk of her +knowing till he was dead. And this letter Maynard was to fetch on his +return. He did so, but--there had been no time to add the address--death +had come suddenly. All sorts of precautions had been ordered by the poor +fellow as to disinfecting the letter and so on. But it did not seem to +Maynard that these had been taken. So he contented himself by spreading +out the paper on the sea-shore and learning it by heart, and then +leaving it. The sum total of it was what I have told you, but not one +name was named." + +Daisy was sobbing quietly. + +"Was it he?" she said. + +"Yes, I feel sure of it," Philip replied. "For I can supply the missing +link. The one time I really quarrelled with Arthur was when we were in +Siberia. He _would_ spend a night in a dying leper's hut. I would have +done it myself, I believe and hope, had it been necessary. But by riding +on a few miles we could have got help for the poor creature--which +indeed I did--and more efficient help than ours. But Lingard was +determined, and no ill seemed to come of it. I had almost forgotten the +circumstance. I never associated it with the mystery that caused you +such anguish, my poor darling." + +"It was he," whispered Daisy. "Philip, he was a hero after all." + +"Not even you can feel that, as I do," Keir replied. + +Then they were silent. + + * * * * * + +A few weeks afterwards came a letter from Lady West, in her far-off +South American home. Daisy had not heard from her for years. + +"By circuitous ways, I need not explain the details," she wrote, "I have +learnt that my darling brother is dead. I thought I had better tell you. +I am sure his most earnest wish was that you should live to be happy, +dear Daisy, as I trust you are. And I know you have long forgiven him +the sorrow he caused you--it was worse still for him." + +"I wonder," said Daisy, "if she knows more?" + +But the letter seemed to add certainty to their own conviction. + + + + +THE CLOCK THAT STRUCK THIRTEEN. + + +"You misunderstand me wilfully, Helen. I neither said nor inferred +anything of the kind." + +"What did you mean then, for if words to you bear a different +interpretation from what they do to me, I must trouble you to speak in +_my_ language when addressing me," angrily retorted a young girl, with +what nature had intended to be a very pretty face with a charming +expression, but which at the present moment was far from deserving the +latter part of the description. Eyes flashing, cheeks burning and hands +clenched in the excess of her indignation, stood Helen Beaumont by the +window of her pretty little sitting-room, or "studio" as she loved to +call it, presenting a striking contrast to the peaceful scene without; +where a carefully tended garden still looked bright with the remaining +flowers of late September. Her companion, standing in the attitude +invariably assumed now-a-days by novelists' heroes, namely, leaning +against the mantelpiece, was a young man of equally prepossessing +appearance with her own. At first glance no one would have suspected him +of sharing any of the young lady's excitement, for his expression was so +calm as almost to merit the description of sleepy. Looking more closely, +however, the signs of some unusual disturbance or annoyance were to be +descried, for his face was slightly flushed and his blue eyes had lost +the look of sweet temper evidently their ordinary expression. + +"What I meant to say, Helen, was not, as you choose to misinterpret it, +that I blame you for proper womanly courage and spirit, than which, I +consider few things more admirable, nor as you are well aware do I +admire the sweetly silly and affectedly timid order of young ladies. But +this I do mean and repeat, that I think your persistence in this foolish +scheme a piece of sheer bravado and foolhardiness, totally unworthy of +any sensible person's approval, and what is more----" + +"Thank you, Malcolm, or rather Mr. Willoughby, I have heard quite +enough,"--and as she spoke, Helen turned from the window out of which +she had been gazing while Malcolm spoke, with, it must be confessed, +very little interest in the varied tints of the dahlias blooming in all +their rich brilliance on the terrace,--"I have heard quite enough, and +think myself exceedingly fortunate in having heard it now before it +is too late. You may imagine," she continued, "that I am speaking in +temper, but it is not so. I have for some time suspected, and now feel +convinced, that we are not suited to each other. Your own words bear +witness to your opinion of me, 'self-willed, foolhardy, unwomanly,' and +I know not what other pretty expressions you have applied to me, and for +my part I tell you simply that I cannot and will not marry a man whose +opinion of what a woman should be is like yours; and who insults me +constantly as you do, by telling me how far short I fall of his ideal. +Marry your ideal, Malcolm Willoughby, and I shall wish you joy of her. +Some silly little fool who dares not move a step alone in her bewitching +helplessness. But do not think to convert _me_ into such a piece of +contemptible inanity," and so saying she turned towards the door. + +"Helen," said Malcolm quietly, so quietly that Helen was arrested in +spite of herself, "you are unjust, unreasonable and ungenerous. You know +that I never cared for any woman but you, you know that nothing pleases +me more than to witness your superiority in numberless particulars to +the general run of girls, and you know too the pride and pleasure I take +in your skill as an artist; but blinded by self-will you will not see +the perfect reasonableness of my request that you will abandon this +absurd expedition. If not for your own sake, at least do so for Edith's, +who is as you know left in your special charge by Leonard." + +The first part of this speech seemed, to judge by Helen's transparent +countenance, likely to soften and move her, but the unlucky word +"absurd" and the tone in which Malcolm spoke, as if it was necessary to +remind her of her duty, effectually did away with any good result that +his remonstrance might have worked. She turned, with her hand on the +door, and saying, "I have told you my decision, Mr. Willoughby, and I +wish you good-evening," left the room. Malcolm remained behind, lost +in thought of no pleasurable nature. At last he too left the little +sitting-room, after first ringing the bell and ordering his horse to be +brought round. Making his way to the front entrance he there "mounted +and rode away," his spirits, poor fellow, by no means the better for +his visit. + +It is time, I think, to explain the cause of the lovers' quarrel +above described. Helen and Edith Beaumont were orphans, left to the +guardianship of their brother Leonard, in whose house we have seen the +former. Delicacy, induced by a severe illness some months previously, +had obliged Mr. Beaumont, accompanied by his wife, to go for the autumn +and winter months to the south of France, leaving his sisters at home +under the nominal chaperonage of an elderly aunt, who performed her duty +to the perfect satisfaction of her nieces by letting them do exactly as +they liked. More correctly speaking, perhaps, exactly as Helen liked, +for the younger of the two, Edith, a girl of seventeen and four years +her sister's junior, could hardly be said to have likes or dislikes +distinct from those of Helen. Possibly Mr. Beaumont might not have left +the two to their own devices with so easy a mind, had he not quitted +home happy in the knowledge of Helen's engagement to his friend and +neighbour Malcolm Willoughby. The gentleman in question lived within a +few miles of our heroine's home, having succeeded some years before to +his father's property. His only sister, Mrs. Lindsay, was at this time +living with him for a few months while awaiting her husband's return +from India, and though some years older, was, next to her sister, +Helen's most valued friend and companion. Malcolm Willoughby was a man +of high character, peculiarly fitted, by his unusual amount of sterling +good sense, to be the guide of an impulsive, enthusiastic girl like +pretty Helen Beaumont, whom to know was to love, and who would have been +altogether charming but for her inordinate amount of self-will and +inveterate dislike to being, as she expressed it, "ordered" to do or not +to do whatever came into her head. She and her sister had real talent as +artists, and their spirited and well-executed landscapes bore but little +resemblance to the insipid productions of most young lady painters. To +improving herself in this direction Helen had devoted much time and +labour. Unfortunately, it had so absorbed her thoughts and desires that +in its pursuance she was inclined sometimes to forget what were for +her more important avocations. Helen's fortunate engagement to Mr. +Willoughby had for some time past corrected these only objectionable +tendencies in her character, and all had gone smoothly and happily till +the date at which our story commences, when, unluckily, some artist +friends had filled her head with their descriptions of the exquisite +autumn scenery, "effects of foliage," etc., to be seen in a mountainous +and hitherto little explored part of Wales. Her imagination, and through +her that of her sister Edith, ran wild on the subject, and now nothing +would satisfy her but a journey to the spot in question, by themselves, +in order that they might enjoy their freedom to the utmost, and revel in +the delight of painting some of the wonderful Welsh scenery described to +them. The idea had at first been mooted half in joke, but an impolitic +expression of strong disapprobation on the part of Mr. Willoughby had +done more to determine Helen on carrying it out than all the anticipated +artistic enjoyment. + +"It will be just the opportunity I wanted," thought the foolish girl, +"of showing him that I do not intend to be a silly nonentity of a wife +with no opinion of my own, and hedged in by all the absurd old-fashioned +conventionalities which will not allow a woman to have an existence of +her own or give her opportunity to cultivate what talents she may +possess." + +And once determined, Miss Helen remained inflexible. In vain Mr. +Willoughby remonstrated, in vain even their indulgent old aunt expressed +her horror at the idea of "two young girls scouring the country by +themselves," her own feebleness rendering her accompanying them out of +the question. Go to Wales Helen and Edith must, and go they would, till +at last the discussion with her _fiancé_ terminated in the disastrous +manner above recorded. + +I will not undertake to describe Helen's feelings, when, in the solitude +of her own room, she thought over what she had done. Had she herself +been obliged to put them into words, I believe she would have repeated +that she had not acted in temper and that the stand she had made for her +womanly freedom, as she would have expressed it, had been an act of +supreme heroism and devotion to the cause of right. She said all this +to herself and tried hard, very hard to believe it; and to stifle the +little voice at the very bottom of her heart which whispered that +she had behaved like a silly, self-willed, petted child, and shown +herself undeserving of so good a gift as the love of a man like +Malcolm Willoughby. The little voice was smothered for the time by +exaggerated anticipations of the delights of their tour and attempted +self-congratulations at her newly regained liberty to do as she chose; +for Malcolm did not come near her again, and it took all her pride to +hide from herself and others the shock she felt through all her being +when, in the course of a few days, she heard accidentally that Mr. +Willoughby was leaving home for an uncertain length of time. + +"He has taken me at my word," thought she, "but of course I meant him to +do so," and she hurried on the preparations for their journey which they +were now on the eve of. + +"You will at least take Maxwell," said Aunt Fanny timidly. + +"Maxwell, aunt! No, thank you," said Helen ironically; "she would be +crying for her spring mattress the first night and thinking she was +going to die if she heard the wind howl. No, thank you, I mean to be +independent for once in my life, and so does Edith." + +Other twenty-four hours saw our two young ladies on their way. +Unaccustomed as they were to travelling alone they got on very well for +the greater part of their journey, till they arrived at a certain +railway station in Wales, of name unpronounceable by civilised tongue, +but which sounded to them like that of the place where they were to +leave the railway. Never doubting but what they were right in so doing +Helen and Edith calmly descended from their carriage, watched the train +disappear in the tunnel hard by, and then began to make inquiries for a +conveyance to transport themselves and their luggage, white umbrellas, +easels and all, the five or six miles which they imagined were all that +divided them from their destination. A colloquy ensued with the most +intelligible of two or three fly-drivers, carmen, or whatever these +personages are called in Wales; but what was Helen's consternation on +learning that fifteen miles at least remained to be traversed; they +having left the railway at Llanfar, two stations too soon, instead of +remaining in it till they reached Llanfair, the point nearest to the +farm-house where lodgings had been taken for them. No chance of a train +to Llanfair till to-morrow morning, for the line was a new one, and the +traffic as yet but small. No prospect of a night's accommodation where +they were. Nothing for it but to trust to the driver's assurance that he +and his unpromising-looking horse could easily convey them to the +farm-house, with the inevitably unpronounceable name. With some +unconfessed misgivings Helen and Edith mounted the vehicle awaiting +them, and drove off along a muddy, jolting lane into the quickly +gathering gloom. + +Shivering on her uncomfortable seat, did Helen wish herself at home +again in her own little sitting-room, with Aunt Fanny peacefully +knitting, Edith kneeling on the hearth-rug, and Malcolm's face bright +with the reflection of the ruddy log fire so welcome in autumn evenings; +all together as was their wont, enjoying "blind man's holiday"? + +I think we had better not press the question too closely. However, "it's +a long lane that has no ending," and even this dreary journey gradually +drew to a close. They passed but few houses of any kind, one or two +straggling hamlets were left behind, and for some two or three miles the +road had been perfectly solitary, when they suddenly heard wheels +advancing to meet them, and in a few minutes a car like their own drove +towards them, and being hailed by their driver, drew up at their side. A +jabbering ensued of directions asked and given, and they again drove on. + +"Are you sure you know the way?" said Helen timidly. + +"Oh yes, miss," the driver answered confidently, and further informed +them that the car they had met, had just returned from their own +destination (being translated), the Black Nest Farm, having there +deposited a traveller who had taken the middle course of leaving the +railway at the intermediate stoppage between Llanfar and Llanfair. Other +three-quarters of an hour and they pulled up at last before a house +which the darkness prevented their seeing more of than that it was long +and low. They stumbled up the rough garden path, and in answer to their +knock, the door was opened by a tidy, clean-looking old woman, with a +flickering candle in her hand, evidently surprised at their appearance. +She had, she said, quite given up thoughts of their coming that night, +and feared the fire in the sitting-room was out. Thankful to have +reached the Black Nest at last, a chilly room seemed a smaller evil than +the two girls would have considered it at home; and after all, things +were not so bad, for the fire in the little farmhouse parlour, to which +their landlady conducted them, was not quite out, and a little judicious +coaxing soon brought it round. + +Their hostess's and their own first idea was of course _tea_. What a +blessing, by the way, it is that British womankind in general, high and +low, rich and poor, old and young, have this _one_ taste in common! +Refreshed by the homely meal speedily set before them, Helen and Edith +proceeded, under the guidance of the old woman (apparently the only +inhabitant of the house), and the flickering candle, to inspect their +sleeping apartment. The result was not eminently satisfactory, for it +struck them as gloomy, ill-ventilated, and a long way from their +parlour, though but few rooms appeared to intervene between the two. +This puzzled them at the time, but was afterwards explained by the fact +that Black Nest Farm-house had originally consisted of two one-storeyed +cottages standing at some yards distance from each other, and which, on +becoming the property of one owner, had been united by a long passage; +which arrangement was looked upon in the neighbourhood as a triumph of +architectural ingenuity. On returning to their sitting-room Helen's eye +fell on a door beside their own which she had not before noticed, and +she inquired if that was a bedroom. To which the old woman replied in +the affirmative, but added that they could not have it, as it and a +small sitting-room opening out of it were engaged by a "strange +gentleman". And besides this, she added, the bedroom was not so +desirable for ladies, having a second, or rather third door to the +outside of the house. The only other room they could have was so small +that she did not think they would like it, but they should see for +themselves, and so saying she turned towards a recess in the passage. +Helen followed her, but the flickering candle suddenly throwing light in +a new direction, she gave a little exclamation of alarm at what appeared +at the first moment to be a very ugly grinning portrait high up on the +wall. + +"It's only the clock, miss," said the old woman. "Though, to be sure, it +is quare," and as she spoke she threw the light more fully upon the +object that had startled Helen, which she now perceived to be a very +antique clock, standing high in a dark wooden case, and with the face +she had seen, peeping at you as it were from behind the dial-plate. An +ugly, coarsely painted face, with a disagreeably mocking expression it +seemed to Helen; nor was it the only repulsive feature in this very +remarkable clock, for the artist appeared to have outdone himself in the +grotesquely hideous devices at the bottom of the dial. Death's heads, +cross-bones, and other equally unpleasant objects of various kinds, +curiously intermingled with a condensed solar system, in which sun, moon +and stars appeared jumbled together haphazard. The general object of the +whole evidently being to bring before the spectator the ghastly side of +his future, and to read him a wholesome, but certainly not attractive, +homily on the shortness of life, and the speed with which time was +ticking away. Helen felt half fascinated by its hideousness. + +"Dear me, what a very curious clock!" she ejaculated, and the old woman +repeated, with a little inward chuckle at what she evidently considered +the admiration drawn forth by her heirloom:-- + +"Yes, sure it _is_ quare." + +An uncanny object it certainly was, and Helen felt relieved that the +room in its immediate vicinity was so small as to be out of the question +for the accommodation of her sister and herself. Re-entering the +sitting-room she found poor Edith looking so utterly worn-out that she +proposed that they should at once go to bed; which they accordingly did, +followed by the old woman with offers of assistance. Passing the door of +"the strange gentleman's" room, they heard sounds of some one moving +inside, and Edith sleepily remarked that she wondered what could have +brought a gentleman to an outlandish place like the Black Nest, unless, +like themselves, he came to take views in the neighbourhood. Helen +pricked up her ears at this and inquired of Mrs. Jones if their +fellow-lodger was an artist. Mrs. Jones thought not, but seemed +unwilling to pursue the topic of the strange gentleman further. In +rather a forced manner she changed the subject by inquiring if the young +ladies would like to hire her pony while there, as it was rough walking, +and her grandson Griffith, the only other inhabitant of the cottage, a +little lad of twelve, could lead it for them, and show them the way +whenever they chose. Helen gladly closed with the offer. + +"Dear me, Mrs. Jones," she exclaimed "how very lonely you must be living +here with no one but a little boy. Have you no near neighbours?" + +"None nearer than three miles ma'am, for the farm-men live at a +distance, save old Thomas in the last cottage you passed, but he is +bed-ridden. My widow daughter, Griffith's mother, was with me till she +took ill, two winters ago, and died before the doctor could get to her. +Yes, it is lonesome like in winter to be sure. It's not often that +gentry like you, miss, care to be in these parts so late in the year." + +Further inquiries elicited that the nearest church was a good five miles +off, that there was no doctor nearer than Llanfar, that the butcher only +came in the winter once a fortnight and that irregularly; in consequence +of which the Black Nesters had often to depend upon their own scanty +resources, the roads being almost impassable in stormy weather. + +"Don't you think it feels rather dreary, Helen?" said Edith, as she was +falling asleep. + +"_Eerie_, rather, I should say," replied her sister, "but that, you +know, is the beauty of it. In the morning, I daresay, it will look +bright enough, but I confess I do not like that clock. Listen, can't +you hear its ticking, faintly, even here, at the end of that long +passage?" + +"What clock do you mean? I saw no clock," said Edith, but almost before +Helen could answer, her soft regular breathing told that she was asleep. +Helen however, could not so quickly compose herself. She felt excited +and vaguely uneasy; and when she at last fell asleep, it was only to +have her discomfort increased, by absurd, yet alarming dreams. With +them all the ugly clock was grotesquely intermingled. Sometimes it was +herself, sometimes Edith, and once Malcolm, whom she fancied in some +position of terrible peril, always associated with the clock, and at +last she awoke with a half-smothered scream of horror at the most +frightful dream of all; in which the "strange gentleman," their +fellow-lodger, was pursuing her with a veil over his face, which just as +he caught her fell off, and disclosed, horrible to relate, the face on +the clock. + +Edith started up as Helen convulsively clutched her, and exclaiming, +"What in the world is the matter?" really thought Helen was going out of +her mind when she replied, "That horrible clock;" and as she spoke, as +if invoked, the clock began to strike: "One, two, three, four," and so +on. "Is it never going to stop?" said Helen. Poor Edith, half asleep +still, listened with her. + +"Edith, I am almost certain that clock struck _thirteen_," said Helen in +an awe-struck voice; and then they heard a door shut at the end of the +passage. + +"Helen, you have been dreaming, and you are only half awake now," said +Edith. "It is not like you to waken me in this frightening way, please +let me go to sleep." + +"I am very sorry," said Helen penitently, and she too closed her eyes +and tried hard to go to sleep, which of course she did, as soon as she +left off trying, and had made up her mind to lie awake till daylight. + +The morning broke clear and fresh; and, as Helen had said, things in +general bore a very different aspect to that of the night before. +Indoors, the quaint old house now looked simply picturesque, and Mrs. +Jones the _beau idéal_ of a cheery old hostess. Even the face of the +clock, when Helen pointed it out to Edith, seemed to have lost its +mocking grin, and to be merely bidding them good-morning, with a comical +smile at the consternation it had awakened the night before. + +Out-of-doors they soon turned their steps. There was no view from the +house, but a short voyage of discovery quickly explained to them their +locality. Black Nest Farm stood at the foot of a hill close on to the +high road, or what passed for such in that hitherto little frequented +neighbourhood. On the opposite side of the road but little was to be +seen, as the meadows were soon lost in a thick belt of wood; but +immediately behind the house was a tempting prospect, for there a little +winding path led up the hill to one of the spots Helen and Edith most +ardently desired to paint, and of which their friends had given them a +glowing description. It was rather a long walk to the Black Lake, Mrs. +Jones informed them, but their enthusiasm knew no bounds, and hardly +permitted them to do justice to their breakfast of ham and eggs, +home-made bread and home-churned butter. See them then starting on their +expedition,--their painting materials, and some creature comforts in the +shape of sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs, safely packed on the pony's +back, Griffith leading him and acting as guide. A pretty stiff pull it +was, enthusiasm notwithstanding, and rather hard work for the little +feet, sensibly shod in good strong boots it is true, but unaccustomed +nevertheless to mountain scrambling. But at last their circuitous path +brought them to the summit, and there a curious prospect broke upon +them. They stood at the edge of the great Welsh tableland. There it +stretched away before them, miles and miles beyond their view; a vast +expanse of wild, brown moor, unrelieved by tree or shrub, but here and +there dotted by great patches of what Edith at first sight took to be +"lovely emerald moss". Treacherous loveliness, for it told, as they +learnt from Griffith, of fearful bog-pits, down whose slimy sides once +slipped no man or beast could ever regain firm ground. + +"What a horrible death that would be," said Helen, shuddering, "far +worse than regular drowning in clean water. It would be slow suffocation +in nasty, dirty mud." + +A few minutes' careful walking brought them in sight of the Black Lake, +the special object of their excursion. And it certainly was well worth +coming to see, if not to paint; probably too, better seen in the +greyness of a late autumn day than in the summer sun, whose bright rays +reflected on its surface would have little harmonised with its character +of gloom and loneliness. The lake was equal to several acres in extent, +but from where they stood could not all be seen, as its farther end +was hidden by the undulations of the land. In colour it was a dull, +leaden grey, and looking at it, one's mind spontaneously reverted to +travellers' descriptions of the Dead Sea, for _dead_ was essentially the +word by which to describe it. There were no fish to be caught in it +Griffith told them, and as for its depth he had never heard tell of any +one's sounding it. The effect of the whole scene was very peculiar, and +so Helen and Edith felt it to be, as they stood gazing at the leaden +water and the great, apparently boundless moorland. It was difficult to +realise that they were so far above the ordinary haunts of men, for +there was nothing in that great plain to remind them of the existence +even of hills and mountains, except a steady-blowing breeze of that +peculiar freshness pertaining only to sea or mountain air. Pleasantly +invigorating at first, but soon becoming too chilly to make one care to +stand about, or, worse still, to _sit_, as our young ladies now +prepared to do. + +"We are very lucky in the weather," remarked Helen, as they prepared for +their sketching. "I should fancy it is just the day to see the lake to +the best advantage." + +"Or disadvantage," said Edith, "for I do think it is the most horrible +place I ever saw. I don't know," added she dreamily, "but what it would +seem even more desolate on a bright, sunny day. I don't know why." + +"I understand how you mean," replied her sister, "the contrast would be +so strange. Like a skeleton dressed in a golden robe. Dear me, I am +becoming quite poetical. But look, Edith, how do you like this?" And a +consultation on their work ensued. + +Very cold work it became, as it grew to afternoon, notwithstanding the +pleasurable excitement of their occupation, and Edith, for one, was not +sorry when Helen at last thought it time to pack up their painting +materials and turn homewards. A drizzling rain began to fall as they +neared the foot of the hill, and they both felt thankful to reach the +farm-house,--tired, muddy and damp, and in not _quite_ such high +spirits as when they set off on their expedition. A savoury odour +meeting them on their entrance, Helen suddenly bethought herself that +she had utterly forgotten to order anything for their "high tea," or +whatever one likes to call the said incongruous meal. It was therefore +an agreeable surprise to her after remembering her neglect to see on +entering their little sitting-room the brightest of fires, and the table +daintily set out with evident preparation for a tempting repast; part of +which, in the shape of a delicious-looking ham, "a new-made pat of +butter and a wheaten loaf so fine," had already made its appearance. +Damp clothes and muddy boots discarded, they sat down with an excellent +appetite to their meal, and the savoury odour which had greeted them was +soon explained by the appearance of Mrs. Jones bearing a chicken stewed +in mushrooms. + +"Mushrooms!" exclaimed Helen, "the thing of all others I like. How +clever you are, Mrs. Jones, to get us all these good things! I shall +leave our food to your providing, I think, in future." + +Mrs. Jones laughed and said a friend had sent some things from Llanfar, +and a friend also had gathered the mushrooms, the last of their season, +thinking the young ladies might like them. + +"Your friends are as good as yourself then, Mrs. Jones," said Helen; but +as she spoke she was startled by what sounded like a half-smothered +laugh or exclamation of some kind just outside the door. Almost at the +same moment her friend the clock began to strike, and she therefore +fancied the sound she had heard must have come from it. "Its internal +arrangements are, I daresay, as peculiar as its outside," thought she to +herself, and refrained therefore from mentioning to Edith what she +thought she had heard. All the rest of the evening, however, though she +would hardly have owned it to herself, she felt a little nervous and +uneasy, particularly when she heard the clock strike. + +"I wonder what our fellow-lodger does with himself all day," said Edith +that evening. + +"I am sure I don't know, or care either," said Helen, "indeed, I hardly +believe there is such a being at all." + +They went early to bed, and fell quickly asleep. After having slept, it +seemed to her for several hours, Helen woke suddenly with the feeling +that something had wakened her, and found that the clock was busy +striking, and to her confused fancy had been striking for ever so long +before she woke. Its strokes ceased before she was sufficiently awake to +count them, but a moment or two afterwards she heard a door shut as it +had done the night before. + +"It is very annoying that I can't get a good night's rest here," thought +she. A whispered "Helen," told her that Edith too was awake. + +"The clock _did_ strike thirteen," said Edith, "and there _must_ be +somebody in that room, for I heard the door shut again." + +"And so did I," said Helen, whereupon they lay still in awe-struck +silence, till they both fell fast asleep again. + +The next day was Saturday, and though somewhat stiff and tired with +their exertions, Friday's programme was repeated. The sketches proceeded +satisfactorily, but our heroines were less fortunate in other respects, +for just as they were about to leave the Black Lake in the afternoon, +the rain came on in torrents. Long before they got back to the +farm-house the poor girls were thoroughly drenched. Edith escaped with +no ill results, but Helen sat shivering over the fire all the evening, +passed an uneasy night in which it seemed to her that the clock never +left off striking at all, and woke on Sunday morning with every symptom +of a delightfully bad cold. The prospect outside was not cheering. Rain, +rain, rain. Down it came in torrents. No chance of making their way to +the five miles' off church, no chance even of a quiet stroll along the +lanes; and, worst of all, no books to read, for such a possibility as a +whole day in the house had never presented itself to their inexperienced +imaginations! It was very dull. Helen was almost cross with Edith for +being so exceedingly sympathetic. It was kind of course, but provoking +nevertheless, as to Helen's sensitiveness it seemed to convey a tacit +reproach. She would not allow to herself that they were at all to be +pitied. All the same she was not sorry when the time came at last for +them to go to bed. + +"I wish we had brought some sherry with us," said Edith. "A little white +wine whey would have been the very thing for your cold." + +"What's the good of wishing," replied her sister rather snappishly, "you +had better call Mrs. Jones and ask her to make me some gruel." But on +Mrs. Jones's appearance, and when the request had been made, both the +girls felt rather surprised at her volunteering the very thing they had +been wishing for. + +She had, she said, "some very nice sherry wine, given her by a friend," +and many years ago, when she was in service in Chester, she had learnt +to make white wine whey. Sure enough a tempting-looking basinful shortly +after made its appearance. + +Thanks to its soporific influence Helen soon fell asleep, but woke (as +she had got strangely into the habit of doing) just at midnight, or +as Edith had taken to calling it, "thirteen o'clock". The clock was +half-way through its striking when she woke, and a sudden impulse seized +her to jump up, and, opening the door slightly, to peep out and either +see who it was that always shut a door after the clock struck, or, by +seeing nothing, satisfy herself that the sound had all along been merely +the creation of her own and Edith's imagination. + +She opened the door very cautiously, and instantly perceived that there +was a light at the end of the passage in the recess where stood the +clock. Helen's heart beat more loudly, and she wished devoutly that she +had allowed her curiosity to remain unsatisfied, when to her horror the +light moved out of the recess, and she saw that it was held by a tall +dark figure with its back turned towards her. The passage was so long +and the light flickered so much that it was impossible for her to +distinguish anything but the general outline of the person who held it. +Not Mrs. Jones or Griffith, assuredly, but poor Helen was too frightened +to do more than lock the door with her trembling fingers and leap back +into bed, thereby awakening Edith, who on hearing Helen's story calmly +assured her that she had either been dreaming, or had seen the strange +gentleman their fellow-lodger whose existence Helen had rashly dared to +question. Oddly enough she had forgotten all about him, and felt +somewhat relieved by Edith's matter-of-fact solution. + +"Only what should he be doing at the clock at this time of night? I hope +he is not out of his mind;"--to which Edith replied:-- + +"I do believe he gets up to make it strike thirteen on purpose to tease +us." + +Monday morning wore a more promising aspect than Sunday, for such clouds +as there were, bespoke nothing worse than showers, and our young ladies +succeeded in obtaining an hour or two's sketching at the lake. Helen, +however, felt still considerably the worse of her terrible wetting, +and was actually the first to propose that they should return to the +farm-house. Somewhat weakened by her cold, and tired too, she mounted +the little pony at Edith's suggestion, and they were proceeding cheerily +enough on their way--Griffith, loaded with their painting materials, +some little distance behind--when a stumble on the pony's part brought +him suddenly to the ground. Helen had been paying little attention to +her steed, and, unprepared for the shock, fell on her side with some +little force. A most undignified procedure had there been any one to +witness it, but which would have drawn forth nothing but a laugh had it +not been that in the fall her foot caught in the stirrup. Her sharp cry +of pain terrified Edith, who, however, soon succeeded in disentangling +her, as the poor little pony remained perfectly quiet, but a moment's +examination, and a vain attempt to stand, showed them that the ankle was +badly sprained. All that could be done was to mount Helen again as well +as Edith and Griffith could manage, and to make the best of their way +home. Arrived there, hot applications soon reduced the pain, but it was +easy to be seen, even by their inexperienced eyes, that Helen must not +attempt to move for several days to come. + +Here was a charming ending to their expedition! Helen, even, felt +woefully disconcerted, and poor Edith fairly began to cry. + +"If it were not that you would not like it, I would write to Mrs. +Lindsay to come and nurse you," said Edith, "she is so good and kind, +and I know she would come in a minute, for she has nothing to prevent +her." + +"Mrs. Lindsay! Edith," exclaimed Helen indignantly, "the very last +person I would apply to, however good and kind she may be. Do you really +think that. I would put myself under such an obligation to the sister of +the man I have----" "Quarrelled with for nothing at all," said the +little voice at the bottom of her heart. Edith said nothing, but for the +first time in her life took an independent resolution and acted upon it. +Her love for Helen conquered her fear of displeasing her. What this +resolution was we shall not disclose, nor shall we tell whose hand +addressed a letter to Mrs. Lindsay carried that evening by the post-boy +to Llanfar. The strangest coincidence was that _two_ letters bearing the +same direction left the Black Nest Farm that evening. + +Tired out with the pain of her ankle, Helen, for the first time since +their arrival, slept past midnight and only woke to hear the clock +strike five. All too soon for her comfort, for her thoughts were none +of the brightest, as she lay waiting for the daylight. Her folly, her +headstrong determination, right or wrong, to carry out her own way, +began to show themselves to her more clearly; or rather, she began to +allow herself to see them in their true light. And when at last the +morning came, and she was established for the day on the hard little +horse-hair sofa in their sitting-room, her spirits were not improved by +the perusal of a letter from her Aunt Fanny. The good old lady, after +deploring their absence and pathetically describing her anxiety on their +behalf, made mention of a visit from Mrs. Lindsay, who had come to tell +her how unhappy she was about her brother. "He left home," wrote Aunt +Fanny, "two days after that unfortunate conversation with you without +telling his sister what was the matter. At least she only gathered that +something unpleasant had happened from his saying that you were leaving +home, and that he did not expect to see you before you went. He left no +direction beyond telling her to write to his club, which she has done +two or three times, but got no answer. She says he looked so unlike +himself that she fears he has fallen ill somewhere and cannot write to +tell her. Oh, Helen, I do wish you had never thought of this +expedition." + +"How very silly Mrs. Lindsay is to be so fanciful," said Helen, in which +view of the case tender-hearted little Edith did not at all agree, +though she hardly dared to say so. They spent a dull day, for Edith +would not consent to leave her sister, and their paintings were at a +standstill for want of another day's sketching from the original. + +"To-morrow, Edith," said Helen, "you might go to the lake for an hour or +so without me and finish your sketch, and I might go on with mine from +yours," to which Edith made no objection. + +By night Helen's feverish uneasiness had increased, and Edith secretly +congratulated herself on her resolute step of the day before. And a +wretched night followed. In reality Helen was very anxious and unhappy +about Malcolm Willoughby, and her dreams were full of terrors that +something had befallen him. Through all, the disagreeable clock again +thrust forward its ugly face, and she woke in an indescribable state of +horror, fancying that the clock was standing by her bedside, striking +loudly in her ears to a kind of "refrain" of the words: "I told you so. +I told you so." Of course the clock _was_ striking, and had evidently +awakened her by so doing. + +"Thirteen again," whispered Edith, "it is really very disagreeable." + +"It sounds to _me_ like the voice of my conscience," said Helen, +"warning me that some terrible punishment is coming upon me for my +wicked folly. Yes, Edith, I see it all now, and as soon as ever I can +move we shall go home, and I shall ask poor Aunt Fanny to forgive me. I +wish every other consequence of my wrong-doing could be done away with +as easily as her displeasure." And all her pride broken down, poor Helen +burst into tears, and Edith's affectionate words of soothing were of no +avail to stop her sobs. She felt rather better in the morning however, +partly, perhaps, because the day was bright and sunny. About mid-day +she fell into a doze on her sofa, and waking after an hour's sleep was +surprised to miss Edith. A note in pencil pinned to the table-cover +caught her attention. It bore these words: "You are so nicely asleep I +don't like to waken you. I shall come back as early as I can, but don't +be alarmed if I am a little later than you expect." + +"She has gone to finish the sketch," thought Helen uneasily. "I wish I +had not asked her to do so, it looks dull and overcast." + +She rang the hand-bell for Mrs. Jones, who appeared with a basin of +soup, and told her that the young lady had set off a quarter of an hour +before. + +"It can't be helped now," said Helen, "but I wish I had not proposed +it." + +The afternoon seemed long and dull, and yet Helen felt sorry when it +began to close in, for no Edith had yet appeared. Still it was not later +than they had been out together more than once. Helen tried to think it +was not yet dusk outside, but felt this comfort fail her when it +gradually grew so indisputably dark that Mrs. Jones brought in candles +without her asking for them. + +"Are you not uneasy about my sister and Griffith, Mrs. Jones?" said +Helen; but her anxiety was tenfold increased when Mrs. Jones replied +calmly:-- + +"Griffith is not with the young lady to-day. I had to send him a message +to Llanfair, and as like as not he will stay at his uncle's till the +morning. The young lady said it did not matter, and I saddled the pony +for her myself." + +"Griffith not with her!" exclaimed Helen. "Oh, Mrs. Jones, what will +become of her?" + +"Don't be alarmed, miss," said the old woman, "the pony is very steady, +and the darkness comes on so sudden-like, it seems later than it is." + +And with this scanty consolation Helen was obliged to remain satisfied. +Mrs. Jones stirred up the fire and set the tea all ready, but Helen grew +sick at heart as the time went on, and still no Edith. Six, struck the +clock, and ticked on again to seven. Helen could bear it no longer. + +"Mrs. Jones," cried she, "can you not get any one to go to look for my +sister? She may be on her way down the hill, and have got into some +difficulty with the pony." + +"Indeed, miss, I don't know what I can do. There's no one nearer than +old Thomas and he can't move." + +"The strange gentleman!" said Helen suddenly; "your other lodger. Would +he not help me?" + +"He has been out since early this morning," replied Mrs. Jones, "and he +told me he was not sure of being back to-night. He has gone to meet a +friend." + +Helen felt more in despair than before. It seemed an aggravation of her +anxiety to have to lie still on the sofa doing nothing. Indeed had she +been able to do so, nothing would have prevented her making her way to +the Black Lake, and too probably losing her own life in the endeavour to +save her sister's. As it was, she managed at last to drag herself to the +door in hopes of hearing footsteps up the path, but nothing broke the +silence save the tick, tick of the clock. It wore on to nine, despite +her wretchedness and indescribable anxiety. She pictured to herself her +sister, her dear little Edith, left so specially in her charge, cowering +on the moor, alone in that dreary darkness, sobbing in despair of ever +finding her way out of that frightful desert. Or, worse still, lying +cold and dead in one of those fearful pits under the mockingly beautiful +moss; whence, in all probability, her poor body even would never be +recovered. It was too frightful. Helen almost shrieked aloud: "Oh, my +darling, my little sister, come back, do come back. Oh, Malcolm, if +only you were here. How terribly I am punished for my self-will!" And +terribly punished she was, for the memory of that night's suffering was +too painful to recall in after years without a shudder. Mrs. Jones was +in helpless distress, though in hopes of every moment hearing the pony +and the young lady at the gate, and she returned to her own domains +saying she had better have hot water ready as Miss Edith would be +fainting for her tea. Helen remained alone at the window of the +sitting-room. + +The night was fine but very dark. Darker than she had ever seen a night +before, it seemed to Helen. She was almost in a stupor of despair. She +sank down half-unconsciously before the fire and never knew how long she +had lain there when she was roused by the clock striking. "One, two, +three, four,"--she counted aloud as if bewitched, till when it got to +the fatal _thirteen_, her over-strained nerves gave way, and with a +scream she ran or stumbled, she knew not how, along the passage to seek +for Mrs. Jones. As she passed the front-door she was arrested by the +sharp sounds of steps coming quickly up the garden path. The door was +pushed open. The only light was what came through the open door of the +room she had just left, and she could distinguish nothing but a tall +dark figure hurrying towards her. She screamed with terror but stood, +unable to move, when to her intense relief a voice from behind the +person she saw, exclaimed eagerly: "Helen, dearest Helen, don't be +frightened. I am quite safe," and some one rushed past the tall person, +now close to her, and kissing her passionately, Helen felt, rather than +saw, that it was Edith. + +"Malcolm! Malcolm! she is fainting!" called Edith, and the tall person +pressed forward, caught her up in his arms like a baby, and, unconscious +now of everything, Helen was carried back into the sitting-room, laid on +the hard little sofa, and there held tenderly by the strong yet gentle +arms whose protecting care she, poor foolish child, had fancied she +could so well dispense with. + +It was the first time in her life that Helen Beaumont had ever fainted, +and it was not long before she began to recover. + +"Malcolm! oh, Malcolm!" were her first words on returning consciousness +(and it seemed to her afterwards as if some one else had spoken them for +her, her good angel perhaps!), "can you ever forgive me?" + +"My darling," was the whispered answer, "you know you need not ask it." +And then Helen felt as if she were just going to die, but was too happy +to care, and too languid to ask even how all this had come about. But +now a third person came forward saying:-- + +"Malcolm, let me stay beside her," and, wonderful to tell, the sweet +voice and kind face were Mrs. Lindsay's. Helen thought she must be +dreaming, but lay still as she was told, and then drank something or +other Mrs. Lindsay brought her; so before long she was able to sit up +and begin to wonder what was the meaning of it all. + +"Are you not amazed, Helen?" said Edith; "but first of all you must +forgive me for frightening you so, for indeed I have been nearly as +wretched as you, thinking of what you must have been feeling." And +before Helen could reply the eager girl ran on with her explanations. +"Who do you think has been our fellow-lodger all this time, Helen? Who +do you think is the 'strange gentleman'? Only fancy Malcolm's having +been here ever since we came! It was he that travelled by the same +train, and seeing as it moved off at Llanfar that we had got out, he did +so at the next station, and arrived here before us. He had inquired +about Mrs. Jones, and heard what a good creature she was; and he had +time to have a talk with her, and to take her to some extent into his +confidence." + +Helen looked at first, as this recital went on, as if she were wavering +between a return to her old dislike to being interfered with, and +gratitude to Malcolm for his undeserved devotion. The good angel +triumphed, as Malcolm, who was watching her anxiously, quickly +perceived. + +"I did not interfere with you, Helen," he said in a low voice, "but it +was the greatest comfort to me to be able to protect and care for you, +even though you did not know it." + +The tears started to Helen's eyes. + +"Oh, Malcolm, I know how good you are, but----" + +"Never mind any 'buts,'" said Mrs. Lindsay brightly, catching the last +word. "'All's well, that ends well.'" + +"I know now who foraged for us so successfully," said Edith. "Who was +the mysterious friend that gave Mrs. Jones the mushrooms!" + +"And nearly betrayed myself by laughing at the door, when passing I +heard Helen's enthusiastic thanks to Mrs. Jones," said Malcolm. + +"Yes, and frightened me horribly by so doing," added Helen, "as I really +began to think that clock was bewitched, and had a special ill-will +against me. In fact it took the place of my conscience for the time +being." + +"I have the very greatest regard for the clock," said Malcolm demurely, +"and I intend to make Mrs. Jones an offer for it forthwith." + +"Please don't," said Helen piteously. "I daresay it is very silly, but I +really don't quite like that clock, though, after all, its warning of +ill-luck has brought the very reverse to me. But I have not heard yet +what kept Edith out so late, or how in the world you and Mrs. Lindsay +met her at the Black Lake." + +"The Black Lake?" said Mrs. Lindsay, "what do you mean?" + +Whereupon Edith hastened on with that part of her story relating to her +own adventures. She, it appeared, feeling confident in Mrs. Lindsay's +ready kindness, and never doubting but what she would at once respond to +her appeal by coming to nurse Helen, instead of going to the Black Lake +to sketch, as Helen imagined, set off on the pony to meet her friend +at the station, having proposed to her to come by a certain train. +Overtaking Griffith on the road to Llanfair, as she expected from Mrs. +Jones's account, he accompanied her to the village, where she gave over +the pony to his care. As she entered the station she saw a return train +about to start for the Junction about half an hour's journey from where +she was. Finding by her watch that she was in ample time, it struck her +that she might as well go so far to meet her friend, but on arriving at +the Junction she was startled to find that with the new month a change +had taken place in the trains, and that consequently Mrs. Lindsay could +not arrive till late in the evening. Worse still she herself could not +now get back to Helen till she was frightened to think what hour, the +evening train in question not going farther than Llanfar, the station +near the Junction at which she and her sister had by mistake got out on +their arrival, and which was fifteen miles from the Black Nest. It is +needless to describe her distress of mind all the long hours she had to +sit in the little waiting-room at the Junction; or her corresponding +delight when, on the train coming up, she descried looking out of a +window the familiar face of Malcolm Willoughby, and found that he was +accompanied by his sister whom he had gone to meet half-way on her +journey. + +Helen woke at noon the next day feeling indescribably happy, she could +not tell why till the sight of Mrs. Lindsay's sweet face recalled to her +mind all her misery of the night before and the relief and happiness +with which it had ended. + +"How little I deserve it!" thought she humbly and gratefully, "and how +can I ever repay Malcolm for his goodness?" + +Their dull little parlour looked very different now that it was +enlivened by the presence of the two newcomers; and Helen could scarcely +believe it to be the same room in which, but yesterday, she had passed +hours of such agonising suspense. So thoroughly penitent and softened +did she feel that she offered no opposition to anything proposed, and it +was therefore arranged that as soon as Helen was well enough to travel +they should all return home together to relieve poor Aunt Fanny's +anxiety. + +"I wonder," said Helen, with a little sigh, a few days afterwards, when +they were packing up their painting materials, "I wonder if I shall ever +finish my sketch of the Black Lake." + +"I don't like to make rash promises," said Malcolm, "but if somebody I +know is _very_ good perhaps next summer she may see the Black Lake +again, provided she will neither catch cold nor tumble off her pony." + +Edith laughed and Helen blushed. + +"But there's one thing still," said Edith, "which I don't understand. +Why, Malcolm, did you always shut your door as the clock struck +thirteen?" + +"Very simply explained," replied he. "The first night I was here I was +sitting up reading till midnight and thought I heard it strike thirteen. +I thought it very odd, and for a night or two I listened till it began +to strike and then opened my door to make sure I was not mistaken. And +one night I went out with my candle to examine the clock, trying to make +out the cause of it, and to see if I could put it right. No man, they +say, can resist meddling with a clock even though he is no mechanical +genius." + +"All the same," said Edith triumphantly, "notwithstanding your +examinations, you and no one else can tell the reason why that clock +does strike thirteen." + + +THE END. + +ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE + + +Hyphenation is inconsistent; in a small number of instances, missing +punctuation has been added. + +A duplicated word "than" was removed from the sentence "...of a "home" +than she had ever had before." + +Several obvious misspellings have been corrected. The following +additional change was made to punctuation in keeping with the logic of +the plot (original is followed by corrected version): + + The more I thought it over the more striking grew the + coincidences at Finster. It had been on one of the closed doors + that the shadow seemed to settle, as again here in our own hall. + + The more I thought it over the more striking grew the + coincidences. At Finster it had been on one of the closed doors + that the shadow seemed to settle, as again here in our own hall. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Uncanny Tales, by Mary Louisa Molesworth + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNCANNY TALES *** + +***** This file should be named 35641-8.txt or 35641-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/6/4/35641/ + +Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: Uncanny Tales + +Author: Mary Louisa Molesworth + +Illustrator: Fred Hyland + +Release Date: April 25, 2011 [EBook #35641] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNCANNY TALES *** + + + + +Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4" summary="Illustration"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/tp.png"> + <img src="images/tp.png" height="400" + alt="TITLE_PAGE" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> +</div> +<p> </p> +<h1>Uncanny Tales</h1> +<p> </p> +<h2><span class="smallcaps">By</span> M<sup>rs</sup> <span class="smallcaps">Molesworth</span></h2> +<p> </p> +<h4><span class="smallcaps">London: Hutchinson</span> & C<sup>o</sup></h4> +<h5>Paternoster Row</h5> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="center"> + <table class="sm" style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="poem"> + <tr><td align="center">TO</td></tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr><td align="center">AN OTHERWISE UNACKNOWLEDGED "COLLABORATEUR"</td></tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr><td align="center">IN THESE STORIES,</td></tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr><td align="center"><span class="big">J. C. P.</span></td></tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr><td align="left"><span class="smallcaps">19 Sumner Place, S.W.</span>,</td></tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr><td align="left"><span class="ind2"><i>October, 1896.</i></span></td></tr> + </table> +</div> +<p> </p> +<hr class="minimal" /> +<p> </p> +<h3>CONTENTS.</h3> +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="2" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#st_I">THE SHADOW IN THE MOONLIGHT.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#st_II">"THE MAN WITH THE COUGH."</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#st_III">"HALF-WAY BETWEEN THE STILES."</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#st_IV">AT THE DIP OF THE ROAD.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#st_V">"<span class="nowrap">——</span> WILL NOT TAKE PLACE."</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#st_VI">THE CLOCK THAT STRUCK THIRTEEN.</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<p> </p> +<hr class="minimal" /> +<p> </p> +<h2><span class="wide">UNCANNY TALES.</span></h2> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="st_I" id="st_I"></a>THE SHADOW IN THE MOONLIGHT.</h3> + +<h4>PART I.</h4> + +<p>We never thought of Finster St. Mabyn's being +haunted. We really never did.</p> + +<p>This may seem strange, but it is absolutely true. +It was such an extremely interesting and curious +place in many ways that it required nothing +extraneous to add to its attractions. Perhaps this +was the reason.</p> + +<p>Now-a-days, immediately that you hear of a +house being "very old," the next remark is sure to +be "I hope it is"—or "is not"—that depends on +the taste of the speaker—"haunted".</p> + +<p>But Finster was more than very old; it was +<i>ancient</i> and, in a modest way, historical. I will not +take up time by relating its history, however, or +by referring my readers to the chronicles in which +mention of it may be found. Nor shall I yield to +the temptation of describing the room in which a +certain royalty spent one night, if not two or three +nights, four centuries ago, or the tower, now in +ruins, where an even more renowned personage was +imprisoned for several months. All these facts—or +legends—have nothing to do with what I have +to tell. Nor, strictly speaking, has Finster itself, +except as a sort of prologue to my narrative.</p> + +<p>We heard of the house through friends living in +the same county, though some distance farther inland. +They—Mr. and Miss Miles, it is convenient +to give their name at once—knew that we +had been ordered to leave our own home for some +months, to get over the effects of a very trying +visitation of influenza, and that sea-air was specially +desirable.</p> + +<p>We grumbled at this. Seaside places are often +so dull and commonplace. But when we heard of +Finster we grumbled no longer.</p> + +<p>"Dull" in a sense it might be, but assuredly not +"commonplace". Janet Miles's description of it, +though she was not particularly clever at description, +read like a fairy tale, or one of Longfellow's +poems.</p> + +<p>"A castle by the sea—how perfect!" we all exclaimed. +"Do, oh, do fix for it, mother!"</p> + +<p>The objections were quickly over-ruled. It +was rather isolated, said Miss Miles, standing, +as was not difficult to trace in its name, on a point +of land—a corner rather—with sea on two sides. +It had not been lived in, save spasmodically, for +some years, for the late owner was one of those +happy, or unhappy people, who have more houses +than they can use, and the present one was a +minor. Eventually it was to be overhauled and +some additions and alterations made, but the +trustees would be glad to let it at a moderate +rent for some months, and had intended putting +it into some agents' hands when Mr. Miles +happened to meet one of them, who mentioned +it to him. There was nothing against it; it was +absolutely healthy. But the furniture was old and +shabby, and there was none too much of it. If +we wanted to have visitors we should certainly +require to add to it. This, however, could easily +be done, our informant went on to say. There +was a very good upholsterer and furniture dealer +at Raxtrew, the nearest town, who was in the +habit of hiring out things to the officers at the +fort. "Indeed," she added, "we often pick up +charming old pieces of furniture from him for +next to nothing, so you could both hire and +buy."</p> + +<p>Of course, we should have visitors—and our +own house would not be the worse for some +additional chairs and tables here and there, in +place of some excellent monstrosities Phil and +Nugent and I had persuaded mother to get +rid of.</p> + +<p>"If I go down to spy the land with father," +I said, "I shall certainly go to the furniture +dealer's and have a good look about me."</p> + +<p>I did go with father. I was nineteen—it is +four years ago—and a capable sort of girl. Then +I was the only one who had not been ill, and +mother had been the worst of all, mother and +Dormy—poor little chap—for <i>he</i> nearly died.</p> + +<p>He is the youngest of us—we are four boys +and two girls. Sophy was then fifteen. My +own name is Leila.</p> + +<p>If I attempted to give any idea of the impression +Finster St. Mabyn's made upon us, I should +go on for hours. It simply took our breath +away. It really felt like going back a few centuries +merely to enter within the walls and gaze +round you. And yet we did not see it to any +advantage, so at least said the two Miles's who +were our guides. It was a gloomy day, with the +feeling of rain not far off, early in April. It +might have been November, though it was not +cold.</p> + +<p>"You can scarcely imagine what it is on a +bright day," said Janet, eager, as people always +are in such circumstances, to show off her +<i>trouvaille</i>. "The lights and shadows are so +exquisite."</p> + +<p>"I love it as it is," I said. "I don't think +I shall ever regret having seen it first on a grey +day. It is just perfect."</p> + +<p>She was pleased at my admiration, and did her +utmost to facilitate matters. Father was taken +with the place, too, I could see, but he hummed +and hawed a good deal about the bareness of the +rooms—the bedrooms especially. So Janet and I +went into it at once in a business-like way, making +lists of the actually necessary additions, which did +not prove very formidable after all.</p> + +<p>"Hunter will manage all that <i>easily</i>," said Miss +Miles, upon which father gave in—I believe he +had meant to do so all the time. The rent was +really so low that a little furniture-hire could be +afforded, I suggested. And father agreed.</p> + +<p>"It is extremely low," he said, "for a place +possessing so many advantages."</p> + +<p>But even then it did not occur to any of us to +suggest "suspiciously low".</p> + +<p>We had the Miles's guarantee for it all, to begin +with. Had there been any objection they must +have known it.</p> + +<p>We spent the night with them and the next +morning at the furniture dealer's. He was a +quick, obliging little man, and took in the situation +at a glance. And <i>his</i> terms were so moderate that +father said to me amiably: "There are some quaint +odds and ends here, Leila. You might choose a +few things, to use at Finster in the first place, and +then to take home with us."</p> + +<p>I was only too ready to profit by the permission, +and with Janet's help a few charmingly quaint +chairs and tables, a three-cornered wall cabinet, and +some other trifles were soon put aside for us. We +were just leaving, when at one end of the +shop some tempting-looking draperies caught my +eye.</p> + +<p>"What are these?" I asked the upholsterer. +"Curtains! Why, this is real old tapestry!"</p> + +<p>The obliging Hunter drew out the material in +question.</p> + +<p>"They are not exactly curtains, miss," he said. +"I thought they would make nice <i>portières</i>. You +see the tapestry is set into cloth. It was so frail +when I got it that it was the only thing to do with +it."</p> + +<p>He had managed it very ingeniously. Two +panels, so to say, of old tapestry, very charming +in tone, had been lined and framed with dull green +cloth, making a very good pair of <i>portières</i> indeed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa!" I cried, "do let us have these. +There are sure to be draughty doors at Finster, +and afterwards they would make <i>perfect "portières"</i> +for the two side doors in the hall at home."</p> + +<p>Father eyed the tapestry appreciatively, but first +prudently inquired the price. It seemed higher in +proportion than Hunter's other charges.</p> + +<p>"You see, sir," he said half apologetically, "the +panels are real antique work, though so much the +worse for wear."</p> + +<p>"Where did they come from?" asked father.</p> + +<p>Hunter hesitated.</p> + +<p>"To tell you the truth, sir," he replied, "I was +asked not to name the party that I bought it from. +It seems a pity to part with <i>h</i>eir-looms, but—it +happens sometimes—I bought several things together +of a family quite lately. The <i>portières</i> +have only come out of the workroom this morning. +We hurried on with them to stop them fraying +more—you see where they were before, they must +have been nailed to the wall."</p> + +<p>Janet Miles, who was something of a connoisseur, +had been examining the tapestry.</p> + +<p>"It is well worth what he asks," she said, in a +low voice. "You don't often come across such +tapestry in England."</p> + +<p>So the bargain was struck, and Hunter promised +to see all that we had chosen, both purchased and +hired, delivered at Finster the week before we +proposed to come.</p> + +<p>Nothing interfered with our plans. By the end +of the month we found ourselves at our temporary +home—all of us except Nat, our third brother, who +was at school. Dormer, the small boy, still did +lessons with Sophy's governess. The two older +"boys," as we called them, happened to be at +home from different reasons—one, Nugent, on +leave from India; Phil, forced to miss a term at +college through an attack of the same illness which +had treated mother and Dormy so badly.</p> + +<p>But now that everybody was well again, and +going to be very much better, thanks to Finster +air, we thought the ill wind had brought us some +very distinct good. It would not have been half +such fun had we not been a large family party to +start with, and before we had been a week at the +place we had added to our numbers by the first +detachment of the guests we had invited.</p> + +<p>It was not a very large house; besides ourselves +we had not room for more than three or four +others. For some of the rooms—those on the top +story—were really too dilapidated to suit any one +but rats—"rats or ghosts," said some one laughingly +one day, when we had been exploring them.</p> + +<p>Afterwards the words returned to my memory.</p> + +<p>We had made ourselves very comfortable, thanks +to the invaluable Hunter. And every day the +weather grew milder and more spring-like. The +woods on the inland side were full of primroses. +It promised to be a lovely season.</p> + +<p>There was a gallery along one side of the house, +which soon became a favourite resort; it made a +pleasant lounging-place, in the day-time especially, +though less so in the evening, as the fireplace at +one end warmed it but imperfectly, and besides +this it was difficult to light up. It was draughty, +too, as there was a superfluity of doors, two of +which, one at each end, we at once condemned. +They were not needed, as the one led by a very +long spiral staircase, to the unused attic rooms, the +other to the kitchen and offices. And when we +did have afternoon tea in the gallery, it was easy +to bring it through the dining or drawing-rooms, +long rooms, lighted at their extreme ends, which +ran parallel to the gallery lengthways, both of +which had a door opening on to it as well as from +the hall on the other side. For all the principal +rooms at Finster were on the first-floor, not on +the ground-floor.</p> + +<p>The closing of these doors got rid of a great +deal of draught, and, as I have said, the weather +was really mild and calm.</p> + +<p>One afternoon—I am trying to begin at the +beginning of our strange experiences; even at +the risk of long-windedness it seems better to +do so—we were all assembled in the gallery at +tea-time. The "children," as we called Sophy and +Dormer, much to Sophy's disgust, and their governess, +were with us, for rules were relaxed at +Finster, and Miss Larpent was a great favourite +with us all.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Sophy gave an exclamation of annoyance.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," she said, "I wish you would speak +to Dormer. He has thrown over my tea-cup—only +look at my frock!" "If you cannot sit +still," she added, turning herself to the boy, "I +don't think you should be allowed to come to tea +here."</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Dormy?" said mother.</p> + +<p>Dormer was standing beside Sophy, looking +very guilty, and rather white.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," he said, "I was only drawing a +chair out. It got so dreadfully cold where I was +sitting, I really could not stay there," and he +shivered slightly.</p> + +<p>He had been sitting with his back to one of +the locked-up doors. Phil, who was nearest, +moved his hand slowly across the spot.</p> + +<p>"You are fanciful, Dormy," he said, "there is +really no draught whatever."</p> + +<p>This did not satisfy mother.</p> + +<p>"He must have got a chill, then," she said, and +she went on to question the child as to what he +had been doing all day, for, as I have said, he was +still delicate.</p> + +<p>But he persisted that he was quite well, and no +longer cold.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't exactly a draught," he said, "it +was—oh! just icy, all of a sudden. I've felt it +before—sitting in that chair."</p> + +<p>Mother said no more, and Dormer went on +with his tea, and when bed-time came he seemed +just as usual, so that her anxiety faded. But she +made thorough investigation as to the possibility +of any draught coming up from the back stairs, +with which this door communicated. None was +to be discovered—the door fitted fairly well, +and beside this, Hunter had tacked felt round +the edges—furthermore, one of the thick heavy +<i>portières</i> had been hung in front.</p> + +<p>An evening or two later we were sitting in the +drawing room after dinner, when a cousin who +was staying with us suddenly missed her fan.</p> + +<p>"Run and fetch Muriel's fan, Dormy," I said, +for Muriel felt sure it had slipped under the dinner +table. None of the men had as yet joined us.</p> + +<p>"Why, where are you going, child?" as he +turned towards the farther door. "It is much +quicker by the gallery."</p> + +<p>He said nothing, but went out, walking rather +slowly, by the gallery door. And in a few minutes +he returned, fan in hand, but by the <i>other</i> door.</p> + +<p>He was a sensitive child, and though I wondered +what he had got into his head against the gallery, +I did not say anything before the others. But +when, soon after, Dormy said "Good night," and +went off to bed, I followed him.</p> + +<p>"What do you want, Leila?" he said rather +crossly.</p> + +<p>"Don't be vexed, child," I said. "I can see +there is something the matter. Why do you not +like the gallery?"</p> + +<p>He hesitated, but I had laid my hand on his +shoulder, and he knew I meant to be kind.</p> + +<p>"Leila," he said, with a glance round, to be sure +that no one was within hearing—we were standing, +he and I, near the inner dining-room door, which +was open—"you'll laugh at me, but—there's something +queer there—sometimes!"</p> + +<p>"What? And how do you mean 'sometimes'?" +I asked, with a slight thrill at his tone.</p> + +<p>"I mean not always, I've felt it several times—there +was the cold the day before yesterday, and +besides that, I've felt a—a sort of <i>breaving</i>"—Dormy +was not perfect in his "th's"—"like somebody +very unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Sighing?" I suggested.</p> + +<p>"Like sighing in a whisper," he replied, "and +that's always near the door. But last week—no, +not so long ago, it was on Monday—I went round +that way when I was going to bed. I didn't want +to be silly. But it was moonlight—and—Leila, a +shadow went all along the wall on that side, and +stopped at the door. I saw it waggling about—its +<i>hands</i>," and here he shivered—"on that funny +curtain that hangs up, as if it were feeling for a +minute or two, and then<span class="nowrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Well,—what then?"</p> + +<p>"It just went out," he said simply. "But it's +moonlight again to-night, sister, and I daren't see +it again. I just <i>daren't</i>."</p> + +<p>"But you did go to the dining-room that way," +I reminded him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I shut my eyes and ran, and even +then I felt as if something cold was behind me."</p> + +<p>"Dormy, dear," I said, a good deal concerned, +"I do think it's your fancy. You are not <i>quite</i> +well yet, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am," he replied sturdily. "I'm not a +bit frightened anywhere else. I sleep in a room +alone you know. It's not <i>me</i>, sister, its somefing +in the gallery."</p> + +<p>"Would you be frightened to go there with me +now? We can run through the dining-room; +there's no one to see us," and I turned in that +direction as I spoke.</p> + +<p>Again my little brother hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I'll go with you if you'll hold hands," he said, +"but I'll shut my eyes. And I won't open them +till you tell me there's no shadow on the wall. +You must tell me truly."</p> + +<p>"But there must be some shadows," I said, "in +this bright moonlight, trees and branches, or even +clouds scudding across—something of that kind is +what you must have seen, dear."</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No, no, of course I wouldn't mind that. I +know the difference. No—you couldn't mistake. +It goes along, right along, in a creeping way, and +then at the door its hands come farther out, and it +<i>feels</i>."</p> + +<p>"Is it like a man or a woman?" I said, beginning +to feel rather creepy myself.</p> + +<p>"I think it's most like a rather little man," he +replied, "but I'm not sure. Its head has got +something fuzzy about it—oh, I know, like a +sticking out wig. But lower down it seems +wrapped up, like in a cloak. Oh, it's <i>horrid</i>."</p> + +<p>And again he shivered—it was quite time all +this nightmare nonsense was put out of his poor +little head.</p> + +<p>I took his hand and held it firmly; we went +through the dining-room. Nothing could have +looked more comfortable and less ghostly. For +the lights were still burning on the table, and the +flowers in their silver bowls, some wine gleaming +in the glasses, the fruit and pretty dishes, made a +pleasant glow of colour. It certainly seemed a +curiously sudden contrast when we found ourselves +in the gallery beyond, cold and unillumined, save +by the pale moonlight streaming through the unshuttered +windows. For the door closed with a +bang as we passed through—the gallery <i>was</i> a +draughty place.</p> + +<p>Dormy's hold tightened.</p> + +<p>"Sister," he whispered, "I've shut my eyes +now. You must stand with your back to the +windows—between them, or else you'll think it's +our own shadows—and watch."</p> + +<p>I did as he said, and I had not long to wait.</p> + +<p>It came—from the farther end, the second condemned +door, whence the winding stair mounted +to the attics—it seemed to begin or at least take +form there. Creeping along, just as Dormy said—stealthily +but steadily—right down to the other +extremity of the long room. And then it grew +blacker—more concentrated—and out from the +vague outline came two bony hands, and, as the +child had said, too, you could see that they were +<i>feeling</i>—all over the upper part of the door.</p> + +<p>I stood and watched. I wondered afterwards at +my own courage, if courage it was. It was the +shadow of a small man, I felt sure. The head +seemed large in proportion, and—yes—it—the +original of the shadow—was evidently covered by +an antique wig. Half mechanically I glanced +round—as if in search of the material body that +<i>must</i> be there. But no; there was nothing, +literally <i>nothing</i>, that could throw this extraordinary +shadow.</p> + +<p>Of this I was instantly convinced; and here I +may as well say once for all, that never was it +maintained by any one, however previously +sceptical, who had fully witnessed the whole, that +it could be accounted for by ordinary, or, as people +say, "natural" causes. There was this peculiarity +at least about our ghost.</p> + +<p>Though I had fast hold of his hand, I had almost +forgotten Dormy—I seemed in a trance.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he spoke, though in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"You see it, sister, I know you do," he said.</p> + +<p>"Wait, wait a minute, dear," I managed to reply +in the same tone, though I could not have +explained why I waited.</p> + +<p>Dormer had said that after a time—after the +ghastly and apparently fruitless <i>feeling</i> all over the +door—"it"—"went out".</p> + +<p>I think it was this that I was waiting for. It +was not quite as he had said. The door was in +the extreme corner of the wall, the hinges almost +in the angle, and as the shadow began to move on +again, it <i>looked</i> as if it disappeared; but no, it was +only fainter. My eyes, preternaturally sharpened +by my intense gaze, still saw it, working its way +round the corner, as assuredly no <i>shadow</i> in the +real sense of the word ever did nor could do. I +realised this, and the sense of horror grew all but +intolerable; yet I stood still, clasping the cold little +hand in mine tighter and tighter. And an instinct +of protection of the child gave me strength. +Besides, it was coming on so quickly—we could +not have escaped—it was coming, nay, it <i>was behind</i> +us.</p> + +<p>"Leila!" gasped Dormy, "the cold—you feel +it now?"</p> + +<p>Yes, truly—like no icy breath that I had ever +felt before was that momentary but horrible thrill +of utter cold. If it had lasted another second I +think it would have killed us both. But, mercifully, +it passed, in far less time than it has taken me to +tell it, and then we seemed in some strange way to +be released.</p> + +<p>"Open your eyes, Dormy," I said, "you won't +see anything, I promise you. I want to rush across +to the dining-room."</p> + +<p>He obeyed me. I felt there was time to escape +before that awful presence would again have arrived +at the dining-room door, though it was <i>coming</i>—ah, +yes, it was coming, steadily pursuing its +ghastly round. And, alas! the dining-room +door was closed. But I kept my nerve to some +extent. I turned the handle without over much +trembling, and in another moment, the door shut +and locked behind us, we stood in safety, looking +at each other, in the bright cheerful room we had +left so short a time ago.</p> + +<p><i>Was</i> it so short a time? I said to myself. It +seemed hours!</p> + +<p>And through the door open to the hall came +at that moment the sound of cheerful laughing +voices from the drawing-room. Some one was +coming out. It seemed impossible, incredible, +that within a few feet of the matter-of-fact pleasant +material life, this horrible inexplicable drama +should be going on, as doubtless it still was.</p> + +<p>Of the two I was now more upset than my +little brother. I was older and "took in" more. +He, boy-like, was in a sense triumphant at having +proved himself correct and no coward, and though +he was still pale, his eyes shone with excitement +and a queer kind of satisfaction.</p> + +<p>But before we had done more than look at each +other, a figure appeared at the open doorway. It +was Sophy.</p> + +<p>"Leila," she said, "mamma wants to know +what you are doing with Dormy? He is to go +to bed at once. We saw you go out of the room +after him, and then a door banged. Mamma +says if you are playing with him it's very bad for +him so late at night."</p> + +<p>Dormy was very quick. He was still holding +my hand, and he pinched it to stop my +replying.</p> + +<p>"Rubbish!" he said. "I am speaking to Leila +quietly, and she is coming up to my room while +I undress. Good night, Sophy."</p> + +<p>"Tell mamma Dormy really wants me," I +added, and then Sophy departed.</p> + +<p>"We musn't tell <i>her</i>, Leila," said the boy. +"She'd have 'sterics."</p> + +<p>"Whom shall we tell?" I said, for I was +beginning to feel very helpless and upset.</p> + +<p>"Nobody, to-night," he replied sensibly. +"You <i>mustn't</i> go in there," and he shivered a +little as he moved his head towards the gallery; +"you're not fit for it, and they'd be wanting you +to. Wait till the morning and then I'd—I think +I'd tell Philip first. You needn't be frightened +to-night, sister. It won't stop you sleeping. It +didn't me the time I saw it before."</p> + +<p>He was right. I slept dreamlessly. It was as +if the intense nervous strain of those few minutes +had utterly exhausted me.</p> + +<p> </p> +<h4>PART II.</h4> + +<p>Phil is our soldier brother. And there is nothing +fanciful about <i>him</i>! He is a rock of sturdy common-sense +and unfailing good nature. He was +the very best person to confide our strange secret +to, and my respect for Dormy increased.</p> + +<p>We did tell him—the very next morning. He +listened very attentively, only putting in a question +here and there, and though, of course, he was +incredulous—had I not been so myself?—he was +not mocking.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you have told no one else," he said, +when we had related the whole as circumstantially +as possible. "You see mother is not very strong +yet, and it would be a pity to bother father, just +when he's taken this place and settled it all. And +for goodness' sake, don't let a breath of it get +about among the servants; there'd be the—something +to pay, if you did."</p> + +<p>"I won't tell anybody," said Dormy.</p> + +<p>"Nor shall I," I added. "Sophy is far too +excitable, and if she knew, she would certainly tell +Nannie." Nannie is our old nurse.</p> + +<p>"If we tell any one," Philip went on, "that +means," with a rather irritating smile of self-confidence, +"if by any possibility I do not succeed in +making an end of your ghost and we want another +opinion about it, the person to tell would be Miss +Larpent."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "I think so, too."</p> + +<p>I would not risk irritating him by saying how +convinced I was that conviction awaited <i>him</i> as +surely it had come to myself, and I knew that Miss +Larpent, though far from credulous, was equally +far from stupid scepticism concerning the +mysteries "not dreamt of" in ordinary +"philosophy".</p> + +<p>"What do you mean to do?" I went on. +"You have a theory, I see. Won't you tell me +what it is?"</p> + +<p>"I have two," said Phil, rolling up a cigarette +as he spoke. "It is either some queer optical +illusion, partly the effect of some odd reflection +outside—or it is a clever trick."</p> + +<p>"A trick!" I exclaimed; "what <i>possible</i> motive +could there be for a trick?"</p> + +<p>Phil shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Ah," he said, "that I cannot at present +say."</p> + +<p>"And what are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"I shall sit up to-night in the gallery and see +for myself."</p> + +<p>"Alone?" I exclaimed, with some misgiving. +For big, sturdy fellow as he was, I scarcely liked +to think of him—of <i>any one</i>—alone with that awful +thing.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose you or Dormy would care to +keep me company," he replied, "and on the whole +I would rather not have you."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't do it," said the child honestly, +"not for—for nothing."</p> + +<p>"I shall keep Tim with me," said Philip, "I +would rather have him than any one."</p> + +<p>Tim is Phil's bull-dog, and certainly, I agreed, +much better than nobody.</p> + +<p>So it was settled.</p> + +<p>Dormy and I went to bed unusually early that +night, for as the day wore on we both felt +exceedingly tired. I pleaded a headache, which +was not altogether a fiction, though I repented +having complained at all when I found that poor +mamma immediately began worrying herself with +fears that "after all" I, too, was to fall a victim +to the influenza.</p> + +<p>"I shall be all right in the morning," I assured +her.</p> + +<p>I knew no further details of Phil's arrangements. +I fell asleep almost at once. I usually +do. And it seemed to me that I had slept a +whole night when I was awakened by a glimmering +light at my door, and heard Philip's +voice speaking softly.</p> + +<p>"Are you awake, Lel?" he said, as people +always say when they awake you in any untimely +way. Of course, <i>now</i> I was awake, very much +awake indeed.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" I exclaimed eagerly, my heart +beginning to beat very fast.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing, nothing at all," said my brother, +advancing a little into the room. "I just thought +I'd look in on my way to bed to reassure you. +I have seen <i>nothing</i>, absolutely nothing."</p> + +<p>I do not know if I was relieved or disappointed.</p> + +<p>"Was it moonlight?" I asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"No," he replied, "unluckily the moon did +not come out at all, though it is nearly at the full. +I carried in a small lamp, which made things less +eerie. But I should have preferred the moon."</p> + +<p>I glanced up at him. Was it the reflection of +the candle he held, or did he look paler than +usual?</p> + +<p>"And," I added suddenly, "did you <i>feel</i> +nothing?"</p> + +<p>He hesitated.</p> + +<p>"It—it was chilly, certainly," he said. "I +fancy I must have dosed a little, for I did feel +pretty cold once or twice."</p> + +<p>"Ah, indeed!" thought I to myself. "And +how about Tim?"</p> + +<p>Phil smiled, but not very successfully.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "I must confess Tim did not +altogether like it. He started snarling, then he +growled, and finished up with whining in a +decidedly unhappy way. He's rather upset—poor +old chap!"</p> + +<p>And then I saw that the dog was beside +him—rubbing up close to Philip's legs—a very +dejected, reproachful Tim—all the starch taken +out of him.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Phil," I said, turning round on +my pillow. "I'm glad you are satisfied. +To-morrow morning you must tell me which of +your theories holds most water. Good-night, +and many thanks."</p> + +<p>He was going to say more, but my manner +for the moment stopped him, and he went off.</p> + +<p>Poor old Phil!</p> + +<p>We had it out the next morning. He and I +alone. He was <i>not</i> satisfied. Far from it. In the +bottom of his heart I believe it was a strange +yearning for a breath of human companionship, +for the sound of a human voice, that had made +him look in on me the night before.</p> + +<p><i>For he had felt the cold passing him.</i></p> + +<p>But he was very plucky.</p> + +<p>"I'll sit up again to-night, Leila," he said.</p> + +<p>"Not to-night," I objected. "This sort of +adventure requires one to be at one's best. If you +take my advice you will go to bed early and have +a good stretch of sleep, so that you will be quite +fresh by to-morrow. There will be a moon for +some nights still."</p> + +<p>"Why do you keep harping on the moon?" +said Phil rather crossly, for him.</p> + +<p>"Because—I have some idea that it is only in +the moonlight that—that anything is to be <i>seen</i>."</p> + +<p>"Bosh!" said my brother politely—he was +certainly rather discomposed—"we are talking at +cross-purposes. You are satisfied<span class="nowrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Far from satisfied," I interpolated.</p> + +<p>"Well, convinced, whatever you like to call +it—that the whole thing is supernatural, whereas +I am equally sure it is a trick; a clever trick I +allow, though I haven't yet got at the motive +of it."</p> + +<p>"You need your nerves to be at their best to +discover a trick of this kind, if a trick it be," I +said quietly.</p> + +<p>Philip had left his seat, and walked up and down +the room; his way of doing so gave me a feeling +that he wanted to walk off some unusual consciousness +of irritability. I felt half provoked and half +sorry for him.</p> + +<p>At that moment—we were alone in the drawing-room—the +door opened, and Miss Larpent came +in.</p> + +<p>"I cannot find Sophy," she said, peering about +through her rather short-sighted eyes, which, +nevertheless, see a great deal sometimes; "do you +know where she is?"</p> + +<p>"I saw her setting off somewhere with Nugent," +said Philip, stopping his quarter-deck exercise for +a moment.</p> + +<p>"Ah, then it is hopeless. I suppose I +must resign myself to very irregular ways +for a little longer," Miss Larpent replied with +a smile.</p> + +<p>She is not young, and not good looking, but she +is gifted with a delightful way of smiling, and she +is—well, the dearest and almost the wisest of +women.</p> + +<p>She looked at Philip as he spoke. She had +known us nearly since our babyhood.</p> + +<p>"Is there anything the matter?" she said +suddenly. "You look fagged, Leila, and Philip +seems worried."</p> + +<p>I glanced at Philip. He understood me.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied, "I am irritated, and Leila +is<span class="nowrap">——</span>" he hesitated.</p> + +<p>"What?" asked Miss Larpent.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know—obstinate, I suppose. Sit +down, Miss Larpent, and hear our story. Leila, +you can tell it."</p> + +<p>I did so—first obtaining a promise of secrecy, +and making Phil relate his own experience.</p> + +<p>Our new <i>confidante</i> listened attentively, her face +very grave. When she had heard all, she said +quietly, after a moment's silence:—</p> + +<p>"It's very strange, very. Philip, if you will +wait till to-morrow night, and I quite agree with +Leila that you had better do so, I will sit up with +you. I have pretty good nerves, and I have +always wanted an experience of that kind."</p> + +<p>"Then you don't think it is a trick?" I said +eagerly. I was like Dormer, divided between my +real underlying longing to explain the thing, and +get rid of the horror of it, and a half childish +wish to prove that I had not exaggerated its +ghastliness.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you that the day after to-morrow," +she said. I could not repress a little shiver as she +spoke.</p> + +<p>She <i>had</i> good nerves, and she was extremely +sensible.</p> + +<p>But I almost blamed myself afterwards for +having acquiesced in the plan. For the effect on +her was very great. They never told me exactly +what happened; "You <i>know</i>," said Miss Larpent. +I imagine their experience was almost precisely +similar to Dormy's and mine, intensified, perhaps, +by the feeling of loneliness. For it was not till all +the rest of the family was in bed that this second +vigil began. It was a bright moonlight night—they +had the whole thing complete.</p> + +<p>It was impossible to throw off the effect; even +in the daytime the four of us who had seen and +heard, shrank from the gallery, and made any conceivable +excuse for avoiding it.</p> + +<p>But Phil, however convinced, behaved consistently. +He examined the closed door thoroughly, +to detect any possible trickery. He explored the +attics, he went up and down the staircase leading +to the offices, till the servants must have thought +he was going crazy. He found <i>nothing</i>—no vaguest +hint even as to why the gallery was chosen by the +ghostly shadow for its nightly round.</p> + +<p>Strange to say, however, as the moon waned, our +horror faded, so that we almost began to hope the +thing was at an end, and to trust that in time we +should forget about it. And we congratulated ourselves +that we had kept our own counsel and not +disturbed any of the others—even father, who +would, no doubt, have hooted at the idea—by the +baleful whisper that our charming castle by the +sea was haunted!</p> + +<p>And the days passed by, growing into weeks. +The second detachment of our guests had left, and +a third had just arrived, when one morning as I +was waiting at what we called "the sea-door" for +some of the others to join me in a walk along the +sands, some one touched me on the shoulder. It +was Philip.</p> + +<p>"Leila," he said, "I am not happy about +Dormer. He is looking ill again, and<span class="nowrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I thought he seemed so much stronger," I +said, surprised and distressed, "quite rosy, and so +much merrier."</p> + +<p>"So he was till a few days ago," said Philip. +"But if you notice him well you'll see that he's +getting that white look again. And—I've got it +into my head—he is an extraordinarily sensitive +child, that it has something to do with the moon. +It's getting on to the full."</p> + +<p>For the moment I stupidly forgot the association.</p> + +<p>"Really, Phil," I said, "you are too absurd! +Do you actually—oh," as he was beginning to +interrupt me, and my face fell, I feel sure—"you +don't mean about the gallery."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do," he said.</p> + +<p>"How? Has Dormy told you anything?" +and a sort of sick feeling came over me. "I had +begun to hope," I went on, "that somehow it had +gone; that, perhaps, it only comes once a year at +a certain season, or possibly that newcomers see it +at the first and not again. Oh, Phil, we <i>can't</i> stay +here, however nice it is, if it is really haunted."</p> + +<p>"Dormy hasn't said much," Philip replied. +"He only told me he had <i>felt the cold</i> once or +twice, 'since the moon came again,' he said. +But I can see the fear of more is upon him. +And this determined me to speak to you. I have +to go to London for ten days or so, to see the +doctors about my leave, and a few other things. +I don't like it for you and Miss Larpent if—if +this thing is to return—with no one else in your +confidence, especially on Dormy's account. Do +you think we must tell father before I go?"</p> + +<p>I hesitated. For many reasons I was reluctant +to do so. Father would be exaggeratedly sceptical +at first, and then, if he were convinced, as I <i>knew</i> +he would be, he would go to the other extreme and +insist upon leaving Finster, and there would be +a regular upset, trying for mother and everybody +concerned. And mother liked the place, and was +looking so much better!</p> + +<p>"After all," I said, "it has not hurt any of us. +Miss Larpent got a shake, so did I. But it wasn't +as great a shock to us as to you, Phil, to have to +believe in a ghost. And we can avoid the gallery +while you are away. No, except for Dormy, I +would rather keep it to ourselves—after all, we +are not going to live here always. Yet it is so +nice, it seems such a pity."</p> + +<p>It was such an exquisite morning; the air, +faintly breathing of the sea, was like elixir; the +heights and shadows on the cliffs, thrown out by +the darker woods behind, were indeed, as Janet +Miles had said, "wonderful".</p> + +<p>"Yes," Phil agreed, "it is an awful nuisance. +But as for Dormy," he went on, "supposing I get +mother to let me take him with me? He'd be as +jolly as a sand-boy in London, and my old landlady +would look after him like anything if ever +I had to be out late. And I'd let my doctor see +him—quietly, you know—he might give him a +tonic or something."</p> + +<p>I heartily approved of the idea. So did mamma +when Phil broached it—she, too, had thought her +"baby" looking quite pale lately. A London +doctor's opinion would be such a satisfaction. So +it was settled, and the very next day the two set +off. Dormer, in his "old-fashioned," reticent way, +in the greatest delight, though only by one remark +did the brave little fellow hint at what was, no +doubt, the principal cause of his satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"The moon will be long past the full when we +come back," he said. "And after that there'll only +be one other time before we go, won't there, Leila? +We've only got this house for three months?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "father only took it for three," +though in my heart I knew it was with the option +of three more—six in all.</p> + +<p>And Miss Larpent and I were left alone, not +with the ghost, certainly, but with our fateful +knowledge of its unwelcome proximity.</p> + +<p>We did not speak of it to each other, but we +tacitly avoided the gallery, even, as much as +possible, in the daytime. I felt, and so, she has +since confessed, did she, that it would be impossible +to endure <i>that cold</i> without betraying ourselves.</p> + +<p>And I began to breathe more freely, trusting that +the dread of the shadow's possible return was +really only due to the child's overwrought nerves.</p> + +<p>Till—one morning—my fool's paradise was +abruptly destroyed.</p> + +<p>Father came in late to breakfast—he had been +for an early walk, he said, to get rid of a headache. +But he did not look altogether as if he had +succeeded in doing so.</p> + +<p>"Leila," he said, as I was leaving the room after +pouring out his coffee—mamma was not yet allowed +to get up early—"Leila, don't go. I want to +speak to you."</p> + +<p>I stopped short, and turned towards the table. +There was something very odd about his manner. +He is usually hearty and eager, almost impetuous +in his way of speaking.</p> + +<p>"Leila," he began again, "you are a sensible +girl, and your nerves are strong, I fancy. Besides, +you have not been ill like the others. Don't +speak of what I am going to tell you."</p> + +<p>I nodded in assent; I could scarcely have spoken. +My heart was beginning to thump. Father would +not have commended my nerves had he known it.</p> + +<p>"Something odd and inexplicable happened last +night," he went on. "Nugent and I were sitting +in the gallery. It was a mild night, and the moon +magnificent. We thought the gallery would be +pleasanter than the smoking-room, now that Phil +and his pipes are away. Well—we were sitting +quietly. I had lighted my reading-lamp on the +little table at one end of the room, and Nugent +was half lying in his chair, doing nothing in particular +except admiring the night, when all at once +he started violently with an exclamation, and, +jumping up, came towards me. Leila, his teeth +were chattering, and he was <i>blue</i> with cold. I was +very much alarmed—you know how ill he was at +college. But in a moment or two he recovered.</p> + +<p>"'What on earth is the matter?' I said to him. +He tried to laugh.</p> + +<p>"'I really don't know,' he said; 'I felt as if I +had had an electric shock of <i>cold</i>—but I'm all right +again now.'</p> + +<p>"I went into the dining-room, and made him +take a little brandy and water, and sent him off to +bed. Then I came back, still feeling rather uneasy +about him, and sat down with my book, when, Leila—you +will scarcely credit it—I myself felt the same +shock exactly. A perfectly <i>hideous</i> thrill of cold. +That was how it began. I started up, and then, +Leila, by degrees, in some instinctive way, I seemed +to realise what had caused it. My dear child, you +will think I have gone crazy when I tell you that +there was a shadow—a shadow in the +moonlight—<i>chasing</i> me, so to say, round the room, and once +again it caught me up, and again came that +appalling sensation. I would not give in. I +dodged it after that, and set myself to watch it, and +then<span class="nowrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>I need not quote my father further; suffice to +say his experience matched that of the rest of us +entirely—no, I think it surpassed them. It was +the worst of all.</p> + +<p>Poor father! I shuddered for him. I think a +shock of that kind is harder upon a man than upon +a woman. Our sex is less sceptical, less entrenched +in sturdy matters of fact, more imaginative, or +whatever you like to call the readiness to believe +what we cannot explain. And it was astounding +to me to see how my father at once capitulated—never +even <i>alluding</i> to a possibility of trickery. +Astounding, yet at the same time not without a +certain satisfaction in it. It was almost a relief to +find others in the same boat with ourselves.</p> + +<p>I told him at once all <i>we</i> had to tell, and +how painfully exercised we had been as to the +advisability of keeping our secret to ourselves. I +never saw father so impressed; he was awfully +kind, too, and so sorry for us. He made me fetch +Miss Larpent, and we held a council of—I don't +know what to call it!—not "war," assuredly, for +none of us thought of fighting the ghost. How +could one fight a shadow?</p> + +<p>We decided to do nothing beyond endeavouring +to keep the affair from going further. During +the next few days father arranged to have some +work done in the gallery which would prevent +our sitting there, without raising any suspicions +on mamma's or Sophy's part.</p> + +<p>"And then," said father, "we must see. +Possibly this extraordinary influence only makes +itself felt periodically."</p> + +<p>"I am almost certain it is so," said Miss +Larpent.</p> + +<p>"And in this case," he continued, "we may +manage to evade it. But I do not feel disposed +to continue my tenancy here after three months +are over. If once the servants get hold of the +story, and they are sure to do so sooner or later, +it would be unendurable—the worry and annoyance +would do your mother far more harm than +any good effect the air and change have had +upon her."</p> + +<p>I was glad to hear this decision. Honestly, I +did not feel as if I could stand the strain for +long, and it might kill poor little Dormy.</p> + +<p>But where should we go? Our own home +would be quite uninhabitable till the autumn, +for extensive alterations and repairs were going +on there. I said this to father.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he agreed, "it is not convenient,"—and +he hesitated. "I cannot make it out," he +went on, "Miles would have been <i>sure</i> to know +if the house had a bad name in any way. I think +I will go over and see him to-day, and tell him +all about it—at least I shall inquire about some +other house in the neighbourhood—and <i>perhaps</i> +I will tell him our reason for leaving this."</p> + +<p>He did so—he went over to Raxtrew that very +afternoon, and, as I quite anticipated would be +the case, he told me on his return that he had +taken both our friends into his confidence.</p> + +<p>"They are extremely concerned about it," he +said, "and very sympathising, though, naturally, +inclined to think us a parcel of very weak-minded +folk indeed. But I am glad of one thing—the +Rectory there, is to be let from the first of July +for three months. Miles took me to see it. I +think it will do very well—it is quite out of the +village, for you really can't call it a town—and a +nice little place in its way. Quite modern, and +as unghost-like as you could wish, bright and +cheery."</p> + +<p>"And what will mamma think of our leaving +so soon?" I asked.</p> + +<p>But as to this father reassured me. He had +already spoken of it to her, and somehow she did +not seem disappointed. She had got it into her +head that Finster did not suit Dormy, and was +quite disposed to think that three months of such +strong air were enough at a time.</p> + +<p>"Then have you decided upon Raxtrew Rectory?" +I asked.</p> + +<p>"I have the refusal of it," said my father. +"But you will be almost amused to hear that +Miles begged me not to fix absolutely for a few +days. He is coming to us to-morrow, to spend +the night."</p> + +<p>"You mean to see for himself?"</p> + +<p>Father nodded.</p> + +<p>"Poor Mr. Miles!" I ejaculated. "You won't +sit up with him, I hope, father?"</p> + +<p>"I offered to do so, but he won't hear of it," +was the reply. "He is bringing one of his keepers +with him—a sturdy, trustworthy young fellow, +and they two with their revolvers are going to nab +the ghost, so he says. We shall see. We must +manage to prevent our servants suspecting anything."</p> + +<p>This <i>was</i> managed. I need not go into particulars. +Suffice to say that the sturdy keeper +reached his own home before dawn on the night of +the vigil, no endeavours of his master having +succeeded in persuading him to stay another +moment at Finster, and that Mr. Miles himself +looked so ill the next morning when he joined us +at the breakfast-table that we, the initiated, could +scarcely repress our exclamations, when Sophy, +with the curious instinct of touching a sore place +which some people have, told him that he looked +exactly "as if he had seen a ghost".</p> + +<p>His experience had been precisely similar to +ours. After that we heard no more from him—about +the pity it was to leave a place that suited us +so well, etc., etc. On the contrary, before he left, +he told my father and myself that he thought us +uncommonly plucky for staying out the three +months, though at the same time he confessed to +feeling completely nonplussed.</p> + +<p>"I have lived near Finster St. Mabyn's all my +life," he said, "and my people before me, and +<i>never</i>, do I honestly assure you, have I heard one +breath of the old place being haunted. And in a +shut-up neighbourhood like this, such a thing +would have leaked out."</p> + +<p>We shook our heads, but what could we say?</p> + +<p> </p> +<h4>PART III.</h4> + +<p>We left Finster St. Mabyn's towards the middle +of July.</p> + +<p>Nothing worth recording happened during the +last few weeks. If the ghostly drama were still +re-enacted night after night, or only during some +portion of each month, we took care not to assist +at the performance. I believe Phil and Nugent +planned another vigil, but gave it up by my father's +expressed wish, and on one pretext or another he +managed to keep the gallery locked off without +arousing any suspicion in my mother or Sophy, or +any of our visitors.</p> + +<p>It was a cold summer,—those early months of +it at least—and that made it easier to avoid the +room.</p> + +<p>Somehow none of us were sorry to go. This +was natural, so far as several were concerned, but +rather curious as regarded those of the family who +knew no drawback to the charms of the place. I +suppose it was due to some instinctive consciousness +of the influence which so many of the party +had felt it impossible to resist or explain.</p> + +<p>And the Rectory at Raxtrew was really a dear +little place. It was so bright and open and sunny. +Dormy's pale face was rosy with pleasure the first +afternoon when he came rushing in to tell us that +there were tame rabbits and a pair of guinea-pigs +in an otherwise empty loose box in the stable-yard.</p> + +<p>"Do come and look at them," he begged, and +I went with him, pleased to see him so happy.</p> + +<p>I did not care for the rabbits, but I always think +guinea-pigs rather fascinating, and we stayed playing +with them some little time.</p> + +<p>"I'll show you another way back into the house," +said Dormy, and he led me through a conservatory +into a large, almost unfurnished room, opening +again into a tiled passage leading to the offices.</p> + +<p>"This is the Warden boys' playroom," he said. +"They keep their cricket and football things here, +you see, and their tricycle. I wonder if I might +use it?"</p> + +<p>"We must write and ask them," I said. "But +what are all these big packages?" I went on. +"Oh, I see, its our heavy luggage from Finster. +There is not room in this house for our odds and +ends of furniture, I suppose. It's rather a pity +they have put it in here, for we could have had +some nice games in this big room on a wet +day, and see, Dormy, here are several pairs of +roller skates! Oh, we must have this place +cleared."</p> + +<p>We spoke to father about it—he came and looked +at the room and agreed with us that it would be a +pity not to have the full use of it. Roller skating +would be good exercise for Dormy, he said, and +even for Nat, who would be joining us before long +for his holidays.</p> + +<p>So our big cases, and the chairs and tables we +had bought from Hunter, in their careful swathings +of wisps and matting, were carried out to an +empty barn—a perfectly dry and weather-tight +barn—for everything at the Rectory was in +excellent repair. In this, as in all other details, +our new quarters were a complete contrast to the +picturesque abode we had just quitted.</p> + +<p>The weather was charming for the first two or +three weeks—much warmer and sunnier than at +Finster. We all enjoyed it, and seemed to breathe +more freely. Miss Larpent, who was staying +through the holidays this year, and I congratulated +each other more than once, when sure of not being +overheard, on the cheerful, wholesome atmosphere +in which we found ourselves.</p> + +<p>"I do not think I shall ever wish to live in a +very old house again," she said one day. We were +in the play-room, and I had been persuading her to +try her hand—or feet—at roller skating. "Even +now," she went on, "I own to you, Leila, though +it may sound very weak-minded, I cannot think of +that horrible night without a shiver. Indeed, +I could fancy I feel that thrill of indescribable +cold at the present moment."</p> + +<p>She <i>was</i> shivering—and, extraordinary to relate, +as she spoke, her tremor communicated itself to +me. Again, I could swear to it, again I felt that +blast of unutterable, unearthly cold.</p> + +<p>I started up. We were seated on a bench against +the wall—a bench belonging to the play-room, and +which we had not thought of removing, as a few +seats were a convenience.</p> + +<p>Miss Larpent caught sight of my face. Her +own, which was very white, grew distressed in expression. +She grasped my arm.</p> + +<p>"My dearest child," she exclaimed, "you look +blue, and your teeth are chattering! I do wish I +had not alluded to that fright we had. I had no +idea you were so nervous."</p> + +<p>"I did not know it myself," I replied. "I often +think of the Finster ghost quite calmly, even in +the middle of the night. But just then, Miss +Larpent, do you know, I really <i>felt</i> that horrid +cold again!"</p> + +<p>"So did I—or rather my imagination did," she +replied, trying to talk in a matter-of-fact way. +She got up as she spoke, and went to the window. +"It can't be <i>all</i> imagination," she added. "See, +Leila, what a gusty, stormy day it is—not like the +beginning of August. It really is cold."</p> + +<p>"And this play-room seems nearly as draughty +as the gallery at Finster," I said. "Don't let us +stay here—come into the drawing-room and play +some duets. I wish we could quite forget about +Finster."</p> + +<p>"Dormy has done so, I hope," said Miss +Larpent.</p> + +<p>That chilly morning was the commencement +of the real break-up in the weather. We women +would not have minded it so much, as there are +always plenty of indoor things we can find to do. +And my two grown-up brothers were away. +Raxtrew held no particular attractions for them, +and Phil wanted to see some of our numerous +relations before he returned to India. So he and +Nugent started on a round of visits. But, unluckily, +it was the beginning of the public school +holidays, and poor Nat—the fifteen-year-old boy—had +just joined us. It was very disappointing +for him in more ways than one. He had set +his heart on seeing Finster, impressed by our +enthusiastic description of it when we first went +there, and now his anticipations had to come +down to a comparatively tame and uninteresting +village, and every probability—so said the wise—of +a stretch of rainy, unsummerlike weather.</p> + +<p>Nat is a good-natured, cheery fellow, however—not +nearly as clever or as impressionable as +Dormy, but with the same common sense. So +he wisely determined to make the best of things, +and as we were really sorry for him, he did not, +after all, come off very badly.</p> + +<p>His principal amusement was roller-skating in +the play-room. Dormy had not taken to it in +the same way—the greater part of <i>his</i> time was +spent with the rabbits and guinea-pigs, where +Nat, when he himself had had skating enough, +was pretty sure to find him.</p> + +<p>I suppose it is with being the eldest sister that +it always seems my fate to receive the confidences +of the rest of the family, and it was about this +time, a fortnight or so after his arrival, that it +began to strike me that Nat looked as if he had +something on his mind.</p> + +<p>"He is sure to tell me what it is, sooner or +later," I said to myself. "Probably he has left +some small debts behind him at school—only he +did not look worried or anxious when he first +came home."</p> + +<p>The confidence was given. One afternoon Nat +followed me into the library, where I was going +to write some letters, and said he wanted to speak +to me. I put my paper aside and waited.</p> + +<p>"Leila," he began, "you must promise not to +laugh at me."</p> + +<p>This was not what I expected.</p> + +<p>"Laugh at you—no, certainly not," I replied, +"especially if you are in any trouble. And +I have thought you were looking worried, +Nat."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes," he said, "I don't know if there +is anything coming over me—I feel quite well, +but—Leila," he broke off, "do you believe in +ghosts?"</p> + +<p>I started.</p> + +<p>"Has any one<span class="nowrap">——</span>" I was beginning rashly, +but the boy interrupted me.</p> + +<p>"No, no," he said eagerly, "no one has put +anything of the kind into my head—no one. It +is my own senses that have seen—felt it—or else, +if it is fancy, I must be going out of my mind, +Leila—I do believe there is a ghost here <i>in the +play-room</i>."</p> + +<p>I sat silent, an awful dread creeping over me, +which, as he went on, grew worse and worse. Had +the thing—the Finster shadow—attached itself to +us—I had read of such cases—had it journeyed +with us to this peaceful, healthful house? The +remembrance of the cold thrill experienced by +Miss Larpent and myself flashed back upon me. +And Nat went on.</p> + +<p>Yes, the cold was the first thing he had been +startled by, followed, just as in the gallery of our +old castle, by the consciousness of the terrible +shadow-like presence, gradually taking form in the +moonlight. For there had been moonlight the +last night or two, and Nat, in his skating ardour, +had amused himself alone in the play-room after +Dormy had gone to bed.</p> + +<p>"The night before last was the worst," he said. +"It stopped raining, you remember, Leila, and the +moon was very bright—I noticed how it glistened +on the wet leaves outside. It was by the moonlight +I saw the—the shadow. I wouldn't have thought +of skating in the evening but for the light, for +we've never had a lamp in there. It came round +the walls, Leila, and then it seemed to stop and +fumble away in one corner—at the end where there +is a bench, you know."</p> + +<p>Indeed I did know; it was where our governess +and I had been sitting.</p> + +<p>"I got so awfully frightened," said Nat honestly, +"that I ran off. Then yesterday I was ashamed +of myself, and went back there in the evening +with a candle. But I saw nothing: the moon did +not come out. Only—I felt the cold again. I +believe it was there—though I could not see it. +Leila, what <i>can</i> it be? If only I could make you +understand! It is so <i>much</i> worse than it sounds to +tell."</p> + +<p>I said what I could to soothe him. I spoke of +odd shadows thrown by the trees outside swaying +in the wind, for the weather was still stormy. I +repeated the time-worn argument about optical +illusions, etc., etc., and in the end he gave in a +little. It <i>might</i> have been his fancy. And he +promised me most faithfully to breathe no hint—not +the very faintest—of the fright he had had, +to Sophy or Dormy, or any one.</p> + +<p>Then I had to tell my father. I really shrank +from doing so, but there seemed no alternative. +At first, of course, he pooh-poohed it at once by +saying Dormy must have been talking to Nat +about the Finster business, or if not Dormy, <i>some +one</i>—Miss Larpent even! But when all such +explanations were entirely set at nought, I must +say poor father looked rather blank. I was sorry +for him, and sorry for myself—the idea of being +<i>followed</i> by this horrible presence was too +sickening.</p> + +<p>Father took refuge at last in some brain-wave +theory—involuntary impressions had been made on +Nat by all of us, whose minds were still full of the +strange experience. He said he felt sure, and no +doubt he tried to think he did, that this theory +explained the whole. I felt glad for him to get +any satisfaction out of it, and I did my best to +take it up too. But it was no use. I felt that +Nat's experience had been an "objective" one, +as Miss Larpent expressed it—or, as Dormy +had said at the first at Finster: "No, no, +sister—it's something <i>there</i>—it's nothing to do +with <i>me</i>."</p> + +<p>And earnestly I longed for the time to come for +our return to our own familiar home.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I shall ever wish to leave it +again," I thought.</p> + +<p>But after a week or two the feeling began to +fade again. And father very sensibly discovered +that it would not do to leave our spare furniture +and heavy luggage in the barn—it was getting all +dusty and cobwebby. So it was all moved back +again to the play-room, and stacked as it had +been at first, making it impossible for us to skate +or amuse ourselves in any way there, at which +Sophy grumbled, but Nat did not.</p> + +<p>Father was very good to Nat. He took him +about with him as much as he could to get the +thought of that horrid thing out of his head. But +yet it could not have been half as bad for Nat as +for the rest of us, for we took the greatest possible +precautions against any whisper of the dreadful +and mysterious truth reaching him, that the ghost +had <i>followed us</i> from Finster.</p> + +<p>Father did not tell Mr. Miles or Jenny about it. +They had been worried enough, poor things, by +the trouble at Finster, and it would be too bad for +them to think that the strange influence was +affecting us in the <i>second</i> house we had taken at +their recommendation.</p> + +<p>"In fact," said father with a rather rueful smile, +"if we don't take care, we shall begin to be looked +upon askance as a haunted family! Our lives +would have been in danger in the good old witchcraft +days."</p> + +<p>"It is really a mercy that none of the servants +have got hold of the story," said Miss Larpent, +who was one of our council of three. "We must +just hope that no further annoyance will befall us +till we are safe at home again."</p> + +<p>Her hopes were fulfilled. Nothing else happened +while we remained at the Rectory—it really seemed +as if the unhappy shade was limited locally, in one +sense. For at Finster, even, it had never been +seen or felt save in the one room.</p> + +<p>The vividness of the impression of poor Nat's +experience had almost died away when the time +came for us to leave. I felt now that I should +rather enjoy telling Phil and Nugent about it, +and hearing what <i>they</i> could bring forward in +the way of explanation.</p> + +<p>We left Raxtrew early in October. Our two +big brothers were awaiting us at home, having +arrived there a few days before us. Nugent was +due at Oxford very shortly.</p> + +<p>It was very nice to be in our own house again, +after several months' absence, and it was most +interesting to see how the alterations, including +a good deal of new papering and painting, had +been carried out. And as soon as the heavy +luggage arrived we had grand consultations as +to the disposal about the rooms of the charming +pieces of furniture we had picked up at Hunter's. +Our rooms are large and nicely shaped, most of +them. It was not difficult to make a pretty +corner here and there with a quaint old chair or +two and a delicate spindle-legged table, and when +we had arranged them all—Phil, Nugent, and I, +were the movers—we summoned mother and +Miss Larpent to give their opinion.</p> + +<p>They quite approved, mother even saying that +she would be glad of a few more odds and ends.</p> + +<p>"We might empower Janet Miles," she said, +"to let us know if she sees anything very +tempting. Is that really all we have? They +looked so much more important in their +swathings."</p> + +<p>The same idea struck me. I glanced round.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "that's all, except—oh, yes, +there are the tapestry "<i>portières</i>"—the best of all. +We can't have them in the drawing-room, I +fear. It is too modern for them. Where shall +we hang them?"</p> + +<p>"You are forgetting, Leila," said mother. +"We spoke of having them in the hall. They +will do beautifully to hang before the two side +doors, which are seldom opened. And in cold +weather the hall is draughty, though nothing like +the gallery at Finster."</p> + +<p>Why did she say that? It made me shiver, +but then, of course, she did not know.</p> + +<p>Our hall is a very pleasant one. We sit there +a great deal. The side doors mother spoke of +are second entrances to the dining-room and +library—quite unnecessary, except when we have +a large party, a dance or something of that sort. +And the "<i>portières</i>" certainly seemed the very thing, +the mellow colouring of the tapestry showing to +great advantage. The boys—Phil and Nugent, +I mean—set to work at once, and in an hour or +two the hangings were placed.</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Philip, "if ever these doors +are to be opened, this precious tapestry must be +taken down, or very carefully looped back. It is +very worn in some places, and in spite of the +thick lining it should be tenderly handled. I am +afraid it has suffered a little from being so long +rolled up at the Rectory. It should have been +hung up!"</p> + +<p>Still, it looked very well indeed, and when +father, who was away at some magistrates' meeting, +came home that afternoon, I showed him our +arrangements with pride.</p> + +<p>He was very pleased.</p> + +<p>"Very nice—very nice indeed," he said, though +it was almost too dusk for him to judge quite fully +of the effect of the tapestry. "But, dear me, child, +this hall is very cold. We must have a larger fire. +Only October! What sort of a winter are we +going to have?"</p> + +<p>He shivered as he spoke. He was standing close +to one of the "<i>portières</i>"—smoothing the tapestry +half absently with one hand. I looked at him with +concern.</p> + +<p>"I <i>hope</i> you have not got a chill, papa," I +said.</p> + +<p>But he seemed all right again when we went into +the library, where tea was waiting—an extra late +tea for his benefit.</p> + +<p>The next day Nugent went to Oxford. Nat had +already returned to school. So our home party +was reduced to father and mother, Miss Larpent, +Phil and I, and the children.</p> + +<p>We were very glad to have Phil settled at home +for some time. There was little fear of his being +tempted away, now that the shooting had begun. +We were expecting some of our usual guests at +this season; the weather was perfect autumn +weather; we had thrown off all remembrance of +influenza and other depressing "influences," and +were feeling bright and cheerful, when again—ah, +yes, even now it gives me a faint, sick sensation to +recall the horror of that <i>third</i> visitation!</p> + +<p>But I must tell it simply, and not give way to +painful remembrances.</p> + +<p>It was the very day before our first visitors were +expected that the blow fell, the awful fear made +itself felt. And, as before, the victim was a new +one—the one who, for reasons already mentioned, +we had specially guarded from any breath of the +gruesome terror—poor little Sophy!</p> + +<p>What she was doing alone in the hall late that +evening I cannot quite recall—yes, I think I +remember her saying she had run downstairs +when half-way up to bed, to fetch a book she had +left there in the afternoon. She had no light, and +the one lamp in the hall—we never sat there after +dinner—was burning feebly. <i>It was bright moonlight.</i></p> + +<p>I was sitting at the piano, where I had been +playing in a rather sleepy way—when a sudden +touch on my shoulder made me start, and, looking +up, I saw my sister standing beside me, white and +trembling.</p> + +<p>"Leila," she whispered, "come with me quickly. +I don't want mamma to notice."</p> + +<p>For mother was still nervous and delicate.</p> + +<p>The drawing-room is very long, and has two or +three doors. No-one else was at our end. It was +easy to make our way out unperceived. Sophy +caught my hand and hurried me upstairs without +speaking till we reached my own room, where a +bright fire was burning cheerfully.</p> + +<p>Then she began.</p> + +<p>"Leila," she said, "I have had such an awful +fright. I did not want to speak until we were safe +up here."</p> + +<p>"What was it?" I exclaimed breathlessly. +Did I already suspect the truth? I really do +not know, but my nerves were not what they had +been.</p> + +<p>Sophy gasped and began to tremble. I put my +arm round her.</p> + +<p>"It does not sound so bad," she said. "But—oh, +Leila, what <i>could</i> it be? It was in the hall," +and then I think she explained how she had come +to be there. "I was standing near the side door +into the library that we never use—and—all of a +sudden a sort of darkness came along the wall, +and seemed to settle on the door—where the old +tapestry is, you know. I thought it was the +shadow of something outside, for it was bright +moonlight, and the windows were not shuttered. +But in a moment I saw it could not be that—there +is nothing to throw such a shadow. It seemed to +wriggle about—like—like a monstrous spider, +or—" and there she hesitated—"almost like a +deformed sort of human being. And all at once, +Leila, my breath went and I fell down. I really +did. I was <i>choked</i> with cold. I think my senses +went away, but I am not sure. The next thing +I remember was rushing across the hall and then +down the south corridor to the drawing-room, and +then I was so thankful to see you there by the +piano."</p> + +<p>I drew her down on my knee, poor child.</p> + +<p>"It was very good of you, dear," I said, "to +control yourself, and not startle mamma."</p> + +<p>This pleased her, but her terror was still uppermost.</p> + +<p>"Leila," she said piteously, "can't you explain +it? I did so hope you could."</p> + +<p>What <i>could</i> I say?</p> + +<p>"I—one would need to go to the hall and look +well about to see what could cast such a shadow," +I said vaguely, and I suppose I must involuntarily +have moved a little, for Sophy started, and clutched +me fast.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Leila, don't go—you don't mean you are +going now?" she entreated.</p> + +<p>Nothing truly was farther from my thoughts, +but I took care not to say so.</p> + +<p>"I won't leave you if you'd rather not," I said, +"and I tell you what, Sophy, if you would like +very much to sleep here with me to-night, you +shall. I will ring and tell Freake to bring your +things down and undress you—on one condition."</p> + +<p>"What?" she said eagerly. She was much impressed +by my amiability.</p> + +<p>"That you won't say <i>one word</i> about this, or +give the least shadow of a hint to any one that +you have had a fright. You don't know the +trouble it will cause."</p> + +<p>"Of course I will promise to let no one know, +if you think it better, for you are so kind to me," +said Sophy. But there was a touch of reluctance +in her tone. "You—you mean to do something +about it though, Leila," she went on. "I shall +never be able to forget it if you don't."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "I shall speak to father and Phil +about it to-morrow. If any one has been trying to +frighten us," I added unguardedly, "by playing +tricks, they certainly must be exposed."</p> + +<p>"Not <i>us</i>," she corrected, "it was only me," and +I did not reply. Why I spoke of the possibility +of a trick I scarcely know. I had no hope of any +such explanation.</p> + +<p>But another strange, almost incredible idea was +beginning to take shape in my mind, and with it +came a faint, very faint touch of relief. Could it +be not the <i>houses</i>, nor the <i>rooms</i>, nor, worst of all, +we ourselves that were haunted, but something or +things among the old furniture we had bought +at Raxtrew?</p> + +<p>And lying sleepless that night a sudden flash of +illumination struck me—could it—whatever the +"it" was—could it have something to do with the +tapestry hangings?</p> + +<p>The more I thought it over the more striking +grew the coincidences. At Finster it had been on +one of the closed doors that the shadow seemed to +settle, as again here in our own hall. But in both +cases the "<i>portières</i>" had hung in front!</p> + +<p>And at the Rectory? The tapestry, as Philip +had remarked, had been there rolled up all the +time. Was it possible that it had never been taken +out to the barn at all? What <i>more</i> probable than +that it should have been left, forgotten, under the +bench where Miss Larpent and I had felt for the +second time that hideous cold? And, stay, something +else was returning to my mind in connection +with that bench. Yes—I had it—Nat had said +"it seemed to stop and fumble away in one +corner—at the end where there is a bench, you +know."</p> + +<p>And then to my unutterable thankfulness at last +I fell asleep.</p> + +<p> </p> +<h4>PART IV.</h4> + +<p>I told Philip the next morning. There was no +need to bespeak his attention. I think he felt +nearly as horrified as I had done myself at the +idea that our own hitherto bright, cheerful home +was to be haunted by this awful thing—influence +or presence, call it what you will. And the suggestions +which I went on to make struck him, +too, with a sense of relief.</p> + +<p>He sat in silence for some time after making me +recapitulate as precisely as possible every detail of +Sophy's story.</p> + +<p>"You are sure it was the door into the library?" +he said at last.</p> + +<p>"Quite sure," I replied; "and, oh, Philip," I +went on, "it has just occurred to me that <i>father</i> +felt a chill there the other evening."</p> + +<p>For till that moment the little incident in question +had escaped my memory.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember which of the "<i>portières</i>" +hung in front of the door at Finster?" said Philip.</p> + +<p>I shook my head.</p> + +<p>"Dormy would," I said, "he used to examine +the pictures in the tapestry with great interest. I +should not know one from the other. There is an +old castle in the distance in each, and a lot of trees, +and something meant for a lake."</p> + +<p>But in his turn Philip shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, "I won't speak to Dormy about +it if I can possibly help it. Leave it to me, Leila, +and try to put it out of your own mind as much as +you possibly can, and don't be surprised at anything +you may notice in the next few days. I will +tell you, first of any one, whenever I have anything +to tell."</p> + +<p>That was all I could get out of him. So I took +his advice.</p> + +<p>Luckily, as it turned out, Mr. Miles, the only +outsider, so to say (except the unfortunate keeper), +who had witnessed the ghostly drama, was one of +the shooting party expected that day. And him +Philip at once determined to consult about this +new and utterly unexpected manifestation.</p> + +<p>He did not tell me this. Indeed, it was not till +fully a week later that I heard anything, and then +in a letter—a very long letter from my brother, +which, I think, will relate the sequel of our strange +ghost story better than any narration at second-hand, +of my own.</p> + +<p>Mr. Miles only stayed two nights with us. The +very day after he came he announced that, to his +great regret, he was obliged—most unexpectedly—to +return to Raxtrew on important business.</p> + +<p>"And," he continued, "I am afraid you will all +feel much more vexed with me when I tell you I +am going to carry off Phil with me."</p> + +<p>Father looked very blank indeed.</p> + +<p>"Phil!" he exclaimed, "and how about our +shooting?"</p> + +<p>"You can easily replace us," said my brother, +"I have thought of that," and he added something +in a lower tone to father. He—Phil—was leaving +the room at the time. <i>I</i> thought it had reference +to the real reason of his accompanying Mr. Miles, +but I was mistaken. Father, however, said nothing +more in opposition to the plan, and the next morning +the two went off.</p> + +<p>We happened to be standing at the hall door—several +of us—for we were a large party now—when +Phil and his friend drove away. As we +turned to re-enter the house, I felt some one touch +me. It was Sophy. She was going out for a constitutional +with Miss Larpent, but had stopped a +moment to speak to me.</p> + +<p>"Leila," she said in a whisper, "why have they—did +you know that the tapestry had been taken +down?"</p> + +<p>She glanced at me with a peculiar expression. I +had not observed it. Now, looking up, I saw that +the two locked doors were visible in the dark +polish of their old mahogany as of yore—no longer +shrouded by the ancient <i>portières</i>. I started in +surprise.</p> + +<p>"No," I whispered in return, "I did not know. +Never mind, Sophy. I suspect there is a reason +for it which we shall know in good time."</p> + +<p>I felt strongly tempted—the moon being still at +the full—to visit the hall that night—in hopes of +feeling and seeing—<i>nothing</i>. But when the time +drew near, my courage failed; besides I had +tacitly promised Philip to think as little as I +possibly could about the matter, and any vigil of +the kind would certainly not have been acting in +accordance with the spirit of his advice.</p> + +<p>I think I will now copy, as it stands, the letter +from Philip which I received a week or so later. +It was dated from his club in London.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>"<span class="smallcaps">My dear Leila</span>,</p> + +<p><span class="ind2"> </span>"I have a long story to tell you and +a very extraordinary one. I think it is well that +it should be put into writing, so I will devote this +evening to the task—especially as I shall not be +home for ten days or so.</p> + +<p>"You may have suspected that I took Miles into +my confidence as soon as he arrived. If you did +you were right. He was the best person to +speak to for several reasons. He looked, I must +say, rather—well 'blank' scarcely expresses it—when +I told him of the ghost's re-appearance, +not only at the Rectory, but in our own house, +and on both occasions to persons—Nat, and then +Sophy—who had not heard a breath of the story. +But when I went on to propound your suggestion, +Miles cheered up. He had been, I fancy, a trifle +touchy about our calling Finster haunted, and it +was evidently a satisfaction to him to start another +theory. We talked it well over, and we decided +to test the thing again—it took some resolution, +I own, to do so. We sat up that night—bright +moonlight luckily—and—well, I needn't repeat it +all. Sophy was quite correct. It came again—the +horrid creeping shadow—poor wretch, I'm +rather sorry for it now—just in the old way—quite +as much at home in <span class="nowrap">——</span>shire, apparently, +as in the Castle. It stopped at the closed library +door, and fumbled away, then started off again—ugh! +We watched it closely, but kept well in +the middle of the room, so that the cold did not +strike us so badly. We both noted the special +part of the tapestry where its hands seemed to +sprawl, and we meant to stay for another round; +but—when it came to the point we funked it, and +went to bed.</p> + +<p>"Next morning, on pretence of examining the +date of the tapestry, we had it down—you were +all out—and we found—<i>something</i>. Just where +the hands felt about, there had been a cut—three +cuts, three sides of a square, as it were, making a +sort of door in the stuff, the fourth side having +evidently acted as a hinge, for there was a mark +where it had been folded back. And just where—treating +the thing as a door—you might expect +to find a handle to open it by, we found a distinct +dint in the tapestry, as if a button or knob had +once been there. We looked at each other. The +same idea had struck us. The tapestry had been +used to conceal a small door in the wall—the door +of a secret cupboard probably. The ghostly fingers +had been vainly seeking for the spring which in +the days of their flesh and bone they had been +accustomed to press.</p> + +<p>"'The first thing to do,' said Miles, 'is to look +up Hunter and make him tell where he got the +tapestry from. Then we shall see.'</p> + +<p>"'Shall we take the <i>portières</i> with us?' I said.</p> + +<p>"But Miles shuddered, though he half laughed +too.</p> + +<p>"'No, thank you,' he said. 'I'm not going to +travel with the evil thing.'</p> + +<p>"'We can't hang it up again, though,' I said, +'after this last experience.'</p> + +<p>"In the end we rolled up the two <i>portières</i>, not to +attract attention by only moving one, and—well, +I thought it just possible the ghost might make a +mistake, and I did not want any more scares while +I was away—we rolled them up together, first +carefully measuring the cut, and its position in the +curtain, and then we hid them away in one of the +lofts that no one ever enters, where they are at +this moment, and where the ghost may have been +disporting himself, for all I know, though I fancy +he has given it up by this time, for reasons you +shall hear.</p> + +<p>"Then Miles and I, as you know, set off for Raxtrew. +I smoothed my father down about it, by +reminding him how good-natured they had been to +us, and telling him Miles really needed me. We +went straight to Hunter. He hummed and hawed +a good deal—he had not distinctly promised not to +give the name of the place the tapestry had come +from, but he knew the gentleman he had bought it +from did not want it known.</p> + +<p>"'Why?' said Miles. 'Is it some family that +has come down in the world, and is forced to part +with things to get some ready money?'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, dear no!' said Hunter. 'It is not that, at +all. It was only that—I suppose I must give you +the name—Captain Devereux—did not want any +gossip to get about, as to <span class="nowrap">——</span>'</p> + +<p>"'Devereux!' repeated Miles, 'you don't mean +the people at Hallinger?'</p> + +<p>"'The same,' said Hunter. 'If you know them, +sir, you will be careful, I hope, to assure the +captain that I did my best to carry out his +wishes?'</p> + +<p>"'Certainly,' said Miles, 'I'll exonerate +you.'</p> + +<p>"And then Hunter told us that Devereux, who +only came into the Hallinger property a few years +ago, had been much annoyed by stories getting +about of the place being haunted, and this had led +to his dismantling one wing, and—Hunter thought, +but was not quite clear as to this—pulling down +some rooms altogether. But he, Devereux, was +very touchy on the subject—he did not want to be +laughed at.</p> + +<p>"'And the tapestry came from him—you are +certain as to that?' Miles repeated.</p> + +<p>"'Positive, sir. I took it down with my own +hands. It was fitted on to two panels in what they +call the round room at Hallinger—there were, oh, +I daresay, a dozen of them, with tapestry nailed on, +but I only bought these two pieces—the others +were sold to a London dealer.'</p> + +<p>"'The round room,' I said. Leila, the expression +struck me.</p> + +<p>"Miles, it appeared, knew Devereux fairly well. +Hallinger is only ten miles off. We drove over +there, but found he was in London. So our next +move was to follow him there. We called twice at +his club, and then Miles made an appointment, +saying that he wanted to see him on private +business.</p> + +<p>"He received us civilly, of course. He is quite +a young fellow—in the Guards. But when Miles +began to explain to him what we had come about, +he stiffened.</p> + +<p>"'I suppose you belong to the Psychical Society?' +he said. 'I can only repeat that I have nothing +to tell, and I detest the whole subject.'</p> + +<p>"'Wait a moment,' said Miles, and as he went +on I saw that Devereux changed. His face grew +intent with interest and a queer sort of eagerness, +and at last he started to his feet.</p> + +<p>"'Upon my soul,' he said, 'I believe you've run +him to earth for me—the ghost, I mean, and if so, +you shall have my endless gratitude. I'll go down +to Hallinger with you at once—this afternoon, if +you like, and see it out.'</p> + +<p>"He was so excited that he spoke almost incoherently, +but after a bit he calmed down, and told us +all he had to tell—and that was a good deal—which +would indeed have been nuts for the Psychical +Society. What Hunter had said was but a small +part of the whole. It appeared that on succeeding +to Hallinger, on the death of an uncle, young +Devereux had made considerable changes in the +house. He had, among others, opened out a small +wing—a sort of round tower—which had been +completely dismantled and bricked up for, I think +he said, over a hundred years. There was some +story about it. An ancestor of his—an awful +gambler—had used the principal room in this wing +for his orgies. Very queer things went on there, +the finish up being the finding of old Devereux dead +there one night, when his servants were summoned +by the man he had been playing with—with whom +he had had an awful quarrel. This man, a low +fellow, probably a professional cardsharper, vowed +that he had been robbed of a jewel which his host +had staked, and it was said that a ring of great +value had disappeared. But it was all hushed up—Devereux +had really died in a fit—though soon after, +for reasons only hinted at, the round tower was +shut up, till the present man rashly opened it +again.</p> + +<p>"Almost at once, he said, the annoyances, to use a +mild term, began. First one, then another of the +household were terrified out of their wits, just as we +were, Leila. Devereux himself had seen it two or +three times, the 'it,' of course, being his miserable +old ancestor. A small man, with a big wig, and +long, thin, claw-like fingers. It all corresponded. +Mrs. Devereux is young and nervous. She could +not stand it. So in the end the round tower was +shut up again, all the furniture and hangings sold, +and locally speaking, the ghost laid. That was all +Devereux knew.</p> + +<p>"We started, the three of us, that very afternoon, +as excited as a party of schoolboys. Miles and I +kept questioning Devereux, but he had really no +more to tell. He had never thought of examining +the walls of the haunted room—it was wainscotted, +he said—and might be lined all through with +secret cupboards, for all he knew. But he could +not get over the extraordinariness of the ghost's +sticking to the <i>tapestry</i>—and indeed it does rather +lower one's idea of ghostly intelligence.</p> + +<p>"We went at it at once—the tower was not +<i>bricked</i> up again, luckily—we got in without +difficulty the next morning—Devereux making +some excuse to the servants, a new set who had +not heard of the ghost, for our eccentric proceedings. +It was a tiresome business. There were so +many panels in the room, as Hunter had said, +and it was impossible to tell in which <i>the</i> tapestry +had been fixed. But we had our measures, and +we carefully marked a line as near as we could +guess at the height from the floor that the cut +in the <i>portières</i> must have been. Then we tapped +and pummelled and pressed imaginary springs +till we were nearly sick of it—there was nothing +to guide us. The wainscotting was dark and +much shrunk and marked with age, and full of +joins in the wood any one of which might have +meant a door.</p> + +<p>"It was Devereux himself who found it at last. +We heard an exclamation from where he was +standing by himself at the other side of the +room. He was quite white and shaky.</p> + +<p>"'Look here,' he said, and we looked.</p> + +<p>"Yes—there was a small deep recess, or cupboard +in the thickness of the wall, excellently +contrived. Devereux had touched the spring at +last, and the door, just matching the cut in the +tapestry, flew open.</p> + +<p>"Inside lay what at first we took for a packet +of letters, and I hoped to myself they contained +nothing that would bring trouble on poor Devereux. +They were not letters, however, but two +or three incomplete packs of cards—grey and +dust-thick with age—and as Miles spread them +out, certain markings on them told their own +tale. Devereux did not like it, naturally—their +supposed owner had been a member of his house.</p> + +<p>"'The ghost has kept a conscience,' he said, +with an attempt at a laugh. 'Is there nothing +more?'</p> + +<p>"Yes—a small leather bag—black and grimy, +though originally, I fancy, of chamois skin. It +drew with strings. Devereux pulled it open, +and felt inside.</p> + +<p>"'By George!' he exclaimed. And he held +out the most magnificent diamond ring I have +ever seen—sparkling away as if it had only just +come from the polisher's. 'This must be <i>the</i> +ring,' he said.</p> + +<p>"And we all stared—too astonished to speak.</p> + +<p>"Devereux closed the cupboard again, after +carefully examining it to make sure nothing had been +left behind. He marked the exact spot where +he had pressed the spring so as to find it at any +time. Then we all left the round room, locking +the door securely after us.</p> + +<p>"Miles and I spent that night at Hallinger. We +sat up late talking it all over. There are some +queer inconsistencies about the thing which will +probably never be explained. First and foremost—why +has the ghost stuck to the tapestry instead +of to the actual spot he seemed to have wished to +reveal? Secondly, what was the connection between +his visits and the full moon—or is it that only by +the moonlight the shade becomes perceptible to +human sense? Who can say?</p> + +<p>"As to the story itself—what was old Devereux's +motive in concealing his own ring? Were the +marked cards his, or his opponent's, of which he +had managed to possess himself, and had secreted +as testimony against the other fellow?</p> + +<p>"I incline, and so does Miles, to this last theory, +and when we suggested it to Devereux, I could see +it was a relief to him. After all, one likes to think +one's ancestors were gentlemen!</p> + +<p>"'But what, then, has he been worrying about +all this century or more?' he said. 'If it were +that he wanted the ring returned to its real owner—supposing +the fellow <i>had</i> won it—I could understand +it, though such a thing would be impossible. +There is no record of the man at all—his name was +never mentioned in the story.'</p> + +<p>"'He may want the ring restored to its proper +owner all the same,' said Miles. 'You are its +owner, as the head of the family, and it has been +your ancestor's fault that it has been hidden all +these years. Besides, we cannot take upon ourselves +to explain motives in such a case. Perhaps—who +knows?—the poor shade could not help +himself. His peregrinations may have been of the +nature of punishment.'</p> + +<p>"'I hope they are over now,' said Devereux, +'for his sake and everybody else's. I should be +glad to think he wanted the ring restored to us, +but besides that, I should like to do something—something +<i>good</i> you know—if it would make him +easier, poor old chap. I must consult Lilias.' +Lilias is Mrs. Devereux.</p> + +<p>"This is all I have to tell you at present, Leila. +When I come home we'll have the <i>portières</i> up +again and see what happens. I want you now to +read all this to my father, and if he has no objection—he +and my mother, of course—I should like +to invite Captain and Mrs. Devereux to stay a few +days with us—as well as Miles, as soon as I come +back."</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Philip's wish was acceded to. It was with no +little anxiety and interest that we awaited his +return.</p> + +<p>The tapestry <i>portières</i> were restored to their +place—and on the first moonlight night, my father, +Philip, Captain Devereux and Mr. Miles held their +vigil.</p> + +<p>What happened?</p> + +<p><i>Nothing</i>—the peaceful rays lighted up the quaint +landscape of the tapestry, undisturbed by the poor +groping fingers—no gruesome unearthly chill as of +worse than death made itself felt to the midnight +watchers—the weary, may we not hope repentant, +spirit was at rest at last!</p> + +<p>And never since has any one been troubled by +the shadow in the moonlight.</p> + +<p>"I cannot help hoping," said Mrs. Devereux, +when talking it over, "that what Michael has done +may have helped to calm the poor ghost."</p> + +<p>And she told us what it was. Captain Devereux +is rich, though not immensely so. He had the +ring valued—it represented a very large sum, but +Philip says I had better not name the figures—and +then he, so to say, bought it from himself. And +with this money he—no, again, Phil says I must +not enter into particulars beyond saying that with +it he did something very good, and very useful, +which had long been a pet scheme of his wife's.</p> + +<p>Sophy is grown up now and she knows the whole +story. So does our mother. And Dormy too has +heard it all. The horror of it has quite gone. We +feel rather proud of having been the actual witnesses +of a ghostly drama.</p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="minimal" /> +<p> </p> + +<h3><a name="st_II" id="st_II"></a>"THE MAN WITH THE COUGH."</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>I am a German by birth and descent. My name +is Schmidt. But by education I am quite as much +an Englishman as a "Deutscher," and by affection +much more the former. My life has been spent +pretty equally between the two countries, and I +flatter myself I speak both languages without any +foreign accent.</p> + +<p>I count England my headquarters now: it is +"home" to me. But a few years ago I was resident +in Germany, only going over to London now +and then on business. I will not mention the +town where I lived. It is unnecessary to do so, +and in the peculiar experience I am about to relate +I think real names of people and places are just as +well, or better, avoided.</p> + +<p>I was connected with a large and important +firm of engineers. I had been bred up to the profession, +and was credited with a certain amount of +talent; and I was considered—and, with all +modesty, I think I deserved the opinion—steady +and reliable, so that I had already attained a fair +position in the house, and was looked upon as a +"rising man". But I was still young, and not +quite so wise as I thought myself. I came very +near once to making a great mess of a certain +affair. It is this story which I am going to tell.</p> + +<p>Our house went in largely for patents—rather +too largely, some thought. But the head partner's +son was a bit of a genius in his way, and his father +was growing old, and let Herr Wilhelm—Moritz +we will call the family name—do pretty much as +he chose. And on the whole Herr Wilhelm did +well. He was cautious, and he had the benefit of +the still greater caution and larger experience of +Herr Gerhardt, the second partner in the firm.</p> + +<p>Patents and the laws which regulate them are +queer things to have to do with. No one who has +not had personal experience of the complications +that arise could believe how far these spread and +how entangled they become. Great acuteness as +well as caution is called for if you would guide +your patent bark safely to port—and perhaps more +than anything, a power of holding your tongue. +I was no chatterbox, nor, when on a mission of +importance, did I go about looking as if I were bursting +with secrets, which is, in my opinion, almost as +dangerous as revealing them. No one, to meet me +on the journeys which it often fell to my lot to +undertake, would have guessed that I had anything +on my mind but an easy-going young fellow's natural +interest in his surroundings, though many a time I +have stayed awake through a whole night of railway +travel if at all doubtful about my fellow-passengers, +or not dared to go to sleep in a hotel without a +ready-loaded revolver by my pillow.</p> + +<p>For now and then—though not through me—our +secrets did ooze out. And if, as <i>has</i> happened, +they were secrets connected with Government +orders or contracts, there was, or but for the +exertion of the greatest energy and tact on the part +of my superiors, there <i>would</i> have been, to put it +plainly, the devil to pay.</p> + +<p>One morning—it was nearing the end of +November—I was sent for to Herr Wilhelm's +private room. There I found him and Herr +Gerhardt before a table spread with papers covered +with figures and calculations, and sheets of beautifully +executed diagrams.</p> + +<p>"Lutz," said Herr Wilhelm. He had known +me from childhood, and often called me by the +abbreviation of my Christian name, which is +Ludwig, or Louis. "Lutz, we are going to confide +to you a matter of extreme importance. You +must be prepared to start for London to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"All right, sir," I said, "I shall be ready."</p> + +<p>"You will take the express through to Calais—on +the whole it is the best route, especially at this +season. By travelling all night you will catch the +boat there, and arrive in London so as to have a +good night's rest, and be clear-headed for work +the next morning."</p> + +<p>I bowed agreement, but ventured to make a +suggestion.</p> + +<p>"If, as I infer, the matter is one of great importance," +I said, "would it not be well for me to +start sooner? I can—yes," throwing a rapid +survey over the work I had before me for the next +two days—"I can be ready to-night."</p> + +<p>Herr Wilhelm looked at Herr Gerhardt. Herr +Gerhardt shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No," he replied; "to-morrow it must be," +and then he proceeded to explain to me why.</p> + +<p>I need not attempt to give all the details of the +matter with which I was entrusted. Indeed, to +"lay" readers it would be impossible. Suffice it +to say, the whole concerned a patent—that of a +very remarkable and wonderful invention, which +it was hoped and believed the Governments of both +countries would take up. But to secure this being +done in a thoroughly satisfactory manner it was +necessary that our firm should go about it in concert +with an English house of first-rate standing. To +this house—the firm of Messrs. Bluestone and +Fagg I will call them—I was to be sent with full +explanations. And the next half-hour or more +passed in my superiors going minutely into the +details, so as to satisfy themselves that I understood. +The mastering of the whole was not difficult, for I +was well grounded technically; and like many of +the best things the idea was essentially simple, and +the diagrams were perfect. When the explanations +were over, and my instructions duly noted, I began +to gather together the various sheets, which were +all numbered. But, to my surprise, Herr Gerhardt, +looking over me, withdrew two of the most important +diagrams, without which the others were +valueless, because inexplicable.</p> + +<p>"Stay," he said; "these two, Ludwig, must be +kept separate. These we send to-day, by registered +post, direct to Bluestone and Fagg. They will +receive them a day before they see you, and with +them a letter announcing your arrival."</p> + +<p>I looked up in some disappointment. I had +known of precautions of the kind being taken, but +usually when the employé sent was less reliable than +I believed myself to be. Still, I scarcely dared to +demur.</p> + +<p>"Do you think that necessary?" I said respectfully. +"I can assure you that from the moment +you entrust me with the papers they shall never +quit me day or night. And if there were any +postal delay—you say time is valuable in this case—or +if the papers were stolen in the transit—such +things have happened—my whole mission would +be worthless."</p> + +<p>"We do not doubt your zeal and discretion, +my good Schmidt," said Herr Gerhardt. "But +in this case we must take even extra precautions. +I had not meant to tell you, fearing to add to the +certain amount of nervousness and strain unavoidable +in such a case, but still, perhaps it is best that +you should know that we <i>have</i> reason for some +special anxiety. It has been hinted to us that some +breath of this"—and he tapped the papers—"has +reached those who are always on the watch for such +things. We cannot be too careful."</p> + +<p>"And yet," I persisted, "you would trust the +post?"</p> + +<p>"We do not trust the post," he replied. "Even +if these diagrams were tampered with, they would +be perfectly useless. And tampered with they +will not be. But even supposing anything so wild, +the rogues in question knowing of your departure +(and they are <i>more</i> likely to know of it than +of our packet by post), were they in collusion +with some traitor in the post-office, are sharp +enough to guess the truth—that we have made a +Masonic secret of it—the two separate diagrams +are valueless without your papers; <i>your</i> papers +reveal nothing without Nos. 7 and 13."</p> + +<p>I bowed in submission. But I was, all the same, +disappointed, as I said, and a trifle mortified.</p> + +<p>Herr Wilhelm saw it, and cheered me up.</p> + +<p>"All right, Lutz, my boy," he said. "I feel +just like you—nothing I should enjoy more than +a rush over to London, carrying the whole documents, +and prepared for a fight with any one who +tried to get hold of them. But Herr Gerhardt +here is cooler-blooded than we are."</p> + +<p>The elder man smiled.</p> + +<p>"I don't doubt your readiness to fight, nor +Ludwig's either. But it would be by no such +honestly brutal means as open robbery that we +should be outwitted. Make friends readily with +no one while travelling, Lutz, yet avoid the appearance +of keeping yourself aloof. You understand?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly," I said. "I shall sleep well to-night, +so as to be prepared to keep awake throughout +the journey."</p> + +<p>The papers were then carefully packed up. +Those consigned to my care were to be carried in +a certain light, black handbag with a very good +lock, which had often before been my travelling +companion.</p> + +<p>And the following evening I started by the +express train agreed upon. So, at least, I have +always believed, but I have never been able to +bring forward a witness to the fact of my train at +the start being the right one, as no one came with +me to see me off. For it was thought best that I +should depart in as unobtrusive a manner as +possible, as, even in a large town such as ours, the +members and employés of an old and important +house like the Moritzes' were well known.</p> + +<p>I took my ticket then, registering no luggage, +as I had none but what I easily carried in my +hand, as well as <i>the</i> bag. It was already dusk, if +not dark, and there was not much bustle in the +station, nor apparently many passengers. I took +my place in an empty second-class compartment, +and sat there quietly till the train should start. A +few minutes before it did so, another man got in. +I was somewhat annoyed at this, as in my circumstances +nothing was more undesirable than travelling +alone with one other. Had there been +a crowded compartment, or one with three or four +passengers, I would have chosen it; but at the +moment I got in, the carriages were all either +empty or with but one or two occupants. Now, I +said to myself, I should have done better to wait +till nearer the time of departure, and then chosen +my place.</p> + +<p>I turned to reconnoitre my companion, but I +could not see his face clearly, as he was half leaning +out of the window. Was he doing so on purpose? +I said to myself, for naturally I was in a suspicious +mood. And as the thought struck me I half started +up, determined to choose another compartment. +Suddenly a peculiar sound made itself heard. My +companion was coughing. He drew his head in, +covering his face with his hand, as he coughed again. +You never heard such a curious cough. It was more +like a hen clucking than anything I can think of. +Once, twice he coughed; then, as if he had been +waiting for the slight spasm to pass, he sprang up, +looked eagerly out of the window again, and, opening +the door, jumped out, with some exclamation, +as if he had just caught sight of a friend.</p> + +<p>And in another moment or two—he could barely +have had time to get in elsewhere—much to my +satisfaction, the train moved off.</p> + +<p>"Now," thought I, "I can make myself comfortable +for some hours. We do not stop till M<span class="nowrap">——</span>: +it will be nine o'clock by then. If no one gets in +there I am safe to go through till to-morrow alone; +then there will only be <span class="nowrap">——</span> Junction, and a clear +run to Calais."</p> + +<p>I unstrapped my rug and lit a cigar—of course +I had chosen a smoking-carriage—and, delighted at +having got rid of my clucking companion, the time +passed pleasantly till we pulled up at M<span class="nowrap">——</span>. The +delay there was not great, and to my enormous +satisfaction no one molested my solitude. Evidently +the express to Calais was not in very great +demand that night. I now felt so secure that, notwithstanding +my intention of keeping awake all +night, my innermost consciousness had not I suppose +quite resigned itself to the necessity, for, not more +than a hour or so after leaving M<span class="nowrap">——</span>, possibly +sooner, I fell fast asleep.</p> + +<p>It seemed to me that I had slept heavily, for when +I awoke I had great difficulty in remembering where +I was. Only by slow degrees did I realise that I +was not in my comfortable bed at home, but in a +chilly, ill-lighted railway-carriage. Chilly—yes, +that it was—very chilly; but as my faculties returned +I remembered my precious bag, and forgot +all else in a momentary terror that it had been taken +from me. No; there it was—my elbow had been +pressed against it as I slept. But how was this? +The train was not in motion. We were standing in +a station; a dingy deserted-looking place, with no +cheerful noise or bustle; only one or two porters +slowly moving about, with a sort of sleepy "night +duty," surly air. It could not be the Junction? +I looked at my watch. Barely midnight! Of +course, not the Junction. We were not due there +till four o'clock in the morning or so.</p> + +<p>What, then, were we doing here, and what +<i>was</i> "here"? Had there been an accident—some +unforeseen necessity for stopping? At that moment +a curious sound, from some yards' distance only it +seemed to come, caught my ear. It was that croaking, +cackling cough!—the cough of my momentary +fellow-passenger, towards whom I had felt an instinctive +aversion. I looked out of the window—there +was a refreshment-room just opposite, dimly +lighted, like everything else, and in the doorway, as +if just entering, was a figure which I felt pretty sure +was that of the man with the cough.</p> + +<p>"Bah!" I said to myself, "I must not be fanciful. +I daresay the fellow's all right. He is +evidently in the same hole as myself. What in +Heaven's name are we waiting here for?"</p> + +<p>I sprang out of the carriage, nearly tumbling over +a porter slowly passing along.</p> + +<p>"How long are we to stay here?" I cried. +"When do we start again for <span class="nowrap">——</span>?" and I named +the Junction.</p> + +<p>"For <span class="nowrap">——</span>" he repeated in the queerest German +I ever heard—was it German? or did I discover his +meaning by some preternatural cleverness of my +own? "There is no train for <span class="nowrap">——</span> for four or +five hours, not till<span class="nowrap">——</span>" and he named the time; +and leaning forward lazily, he took out my larger +bag and my rug, depositing them on the platform. +He did not seem the least surprised at finding +me there—I might have been there for a week, +it seemed to me.</p> + +<p>"No train for five hours? Are you mad?" I +said.</p> + +<p>He shook his head and mumbled something, and +it seemed to me that he pointed to the refreshment-room +opposite. Gathering my things together I +hurried thither, hoping to find some more reliable +authority. But there was no one there except a +fat man with a white apron, who was clearing the +counter—and—yes, in one corner was the figure I +had mentally dubbed "The man with the cough".</p> + +<p>I addressed the cook or waiter—whichever he +was. But he only shook his head—denied all +knowledge of the trains, but informed me that—in +other words—I must turn out; he was going to +shut up.</p> + +<p>"And where am I to spend the night, then?" I +said angrily, though clearly it was not the aproned +individual who was responsible for the position in +which I found myself.</p> + +<p>There was a "Restauration," he informed me, +near at hand, which I should find still open, straight +before me on leaving the station, and then a few +doors to the right, I would see the lights.</p> + +<p>Clearly there was nothing else to be done. I +went out, and as I did so the silent figure in the +corner rose also and followed me. The station +was evidently going to bed. As I passed the +porter I repeated the hour he had named, adding: +"That is the first train for <span class="nowrap">——</span> Junction?"</p> + +<p>He nodded, again naming the exact time. But +I cannot do so, as I have never been able to recollect +it.</p> + +<p>I trudged along the road—there were lamps, +though very feeble ones; but by their light I saw +that the man who had been in the refreshment-room +was still a few steps behind me. It made me +feel slightly nervous, and I looked round furtively +once or twice; the last time I did so he was not +to be seen, and I hoped he had gone some other +way.</p> + +<p>The "Restauration" was scarcely more inviting +than the station refreshment-room. It, too, was +very dimly lighted, and the one or two attendants +seemed half asleep and were strangely silent. There +was a fire, of a kind, and I seated myself at a small +table near it and asked for some coffee, which +would, I thought, serve the double purpose of +warming me and keeping me awake.</p> + +<p>It was brought me, in silence. I drank it, and +felt the better for it. But there was something so +gloomy and unsociable, so queer and almost weird +about the whole aspect and feeling of the place, +that a sort of irritable resignation took possession +of me. If these surly folk won't speak, neither +will I, I said to myself childishly. And, incredible +as it may sound, I did <i>not</i> speak. I think I paid +for the coffee, but I am not quite sure. I know I +never asked what I had meant to ask—the name of +the town—a place of some importance, to judge by +the size of the station and the extent of twinkling +lights I had observed as I made my way to the +"Restauration". From that day to this I have +never been able to identify it, and I am quite sure +I never shall.</p> + +<p>What was there peculiar about that coffee? +Or was it something peculiar about my own condition +that caused it to have the unusual effect I now +experienced? That question, too, I cannot answer. +All I remember is feeling a sensation of irresistible +drowsiness creeping over me—mental, or moral I +may say, as well as physical. For when one part +of me feebly resisted the first onslaught of sleep, +something seemed to reply: "Oh, nonsense! you +have several hours before you. Your papers are +all right. No one can touch them without awaking +you."</p> + +<p>And dreamily conscious that my belongings +were on the floor at my feet—<i>the</i> bag itself actually +resting against my ankle—my scruples silenced +themselves in an extraordinary way. I remember +nothing more, save a vague consciousness through +all my slumber of confused and chaotic dreams, +which I have never been able to recall.</p> + +<p>I awoke at last, and that with a start, almost a +jerk. Something had awakened me—a sound—and +as it was repeated to my now aroused ears I +knew that I had heard it before, off and on, during +my sleep. It was the extraordinary cough!</p> + +<p>I looked up. Yes, there he was! At some two +or three yards' distance only, at the other side of +the fireplace, which, and this I have forgotten to +mention as another peculiar item in that night's +peculiar experiences, considering I have every +reason to believe I was still in Germany, was not +a stove, but an open grate.</p> + +<p>And he had not been there when I first fell +asleep; to that I was prepared to swear.</p> + +<p>"He must have come sneaking in after me," I +thought, and in all probability I should neither +have noticed nor recognised him but for that +traitorous cackle of his.</p> + +<p>Now, my misgivings aroused, my first thought, +of course, was for my precious charge. I stooped. +There were my rugs, my larger bag, but—no, +not the smaller one; and though the other two +were there, I knew at once that they were not quite +in the same position—not so close to me. Horror +seized me. Half wildly I gazed around, when my +silent neighbour bent towards me. I could declare +there was nothing in his hand when he did so, and +I could declare as positively that I had already +looked under the small round table beside which I +sat, and that the bag was not there. And yet when +the man, with a slight cackle, caused, no doubt, by +his stooping, raised himself, the thing was in his +hand!</p> + +<p>Was he a conjurer, a pupil of Maskelyne and +Cook? And how was it that, even as he held out +my missing property, he managed, and that most +cleverly and unobtrusively, to prevent my catching +sight of his face? I did not see it then—I never +did see it!</p> + +<p>Something he murmured, to the effect that he +supposed the bag was what I was looking for. In +what language he spoke I know not; it was more +that by the action accompanying the mumbled +sounds I gathered his meaning, than that I heard +anything articulate.</p> + +<p>I thanked him, of course, mechanically, so to +say, though I began to feel as if he were an evil +spirit haunting me. I could only hope that the +splendid lock to the bag had defied all curiosity, +but I felt in a fever to be alone again, and able to +satisfy myself that nothing had been tampered with.</p> + +<p>The thought recalled my wandering faculties. +How long had I been asleep? I drew out my +watch. Heavens! It was close upon the hour +named for the first train in the morning. I sprang +up, collected my things, and dashed out of the +"Restauration". If I had not paid for my coffee +before, I certainly did not pay for it then. Besides +my haste, there was another reason for this—there +was no one to pay to! Not a creature was to be +seen in the room or at the door as I passed out—always +excepting the man with the cough.</p> + +<p>As I left the place and hurried along the road, a +bell began, not to ring, but to toll. It sounded +most uncanny. What it meant, of course, I have +never known. It may have been a summons to +the workpeople of some manufactory, it may have +been like all the other experiences of that strange +night. But no; this theory I will not at present +enter upon.</p> + +<p>Dawn was not yet breaking, but there was in +one direction a faint suggestion of something of +the kind not far off. Otherwise all was dark. I +stumbled along as best as I could, helped in reality, +I suppose, by the ugly yellow glimmer of the woebegone +street, or road lamps. And it was not far +to the station, though somehow it seemed farther +than when I came; and somehow, too, it seemed +to have grown steep, though I could not remember +having noticed any slope the other way on my +arrival. A nightmare-like sensation began to +oppress me. I felt as if my luggage was growing +momentarily heavier and heavier, as if I should +<i>never</i> reach the station; and to this was joined the +agonising terror of missing the train.</p> + +<p>I made a desperate effort. Cold as it was, the +beads of perspiration stood out upon my forehead +as I forced myself along. And by degrees the +nightmare feeling cleared off. I found myself +entering the station at a run just as—yes, a train +was actually beginning to move! I dashed, baggage +and all, into a compartment; it was empty, and +it was a second-class one, precisely similar to the one +I had occupied before; it might have been the very +same one. The train gradually increased its speed, +but for the first few moments, while still in the +station and passing through its immediate <i>entourage</i>, +another strange thing struck me—the extraordinary +silence and lifelessness of all about. Not one +human being did I see, no porter watching our +departure with the faithful though stolid interest +always to be seen on the porter's visage. I might +have been alone in the train—it might have had a +freight of the dead, and been itself propelled by +some supernatural agency, so noiselessly, so gloomily +did it proceed.</p> + +<p>You will scarcely credit that I actually and for +the third time fell asleep. I could not help it. +Some occult influence was at work upon me +throughout those dark hours, I am positively +certain. And with the daylight it was dispelled. +For when I again awoke I felt for the first time +since leaving home completely and normally myself, +fresh and vigorous, all my faculties at their best.</p> + +<p>But, nevertheless, my first sensation was a start +of amazement, almost of terror. The compartment +was nearly full! There were at least five or +six travellers besides myself, very respectable, +ordinary-looking folk, with nothing in the least +alarming about them. Yet it was with a gasp of +extraordinary relief that I found my precious bag +in the corner beside me, where I had carefully +placed it. It was concealed from view. No one, +I felt assured, could have touched it without +awaking me.</p> + +<p>It was broad and bright daylight. How long +had I slept?</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me," I inquired of my opposite +neighbour, a cheery-faced compatriot—"Can you +tell me how soon we get to <span class="nowrap">——</span> Junction by this +train? I am most anxious to catch the evening mail +at Calais, and am quite out in my reckonings, +owing to an extraordinary delay at <span class="nowrap">——</span>. I have +wasted the night by getting into a stopping train +instead of the express."</p> + +<p>He looked at me in astonishment. He must +have thought me either mad or just awaking from +a fit of intoxication—only I flatter myself I did not +look as if the latter were the case.</p> + +<p>"How soon we get to <span class="nowrap">——</span> Junction?" he +repeated. "Why, my good sir, you left it about +three hours ago! It is now eight o'clock. We +all got in at the Junction. You were alone, if I +mistake not?"—he glanced at one or two of the +others, who endorsed his statement. "And very +fast asleep you were, and must have been, not to +be disturbed by the bustle at the station. And as +for catching the evening boat at Calais"—he burst +into a loud guffaw—"why, it would be very hard +lines to do no better than that! <i>We</i> all hope to +cross by the mid-day one."</p> + +<p>"Then—what train <i>is</i> this?" I exclaimed, +utterly perplexed.</p> + +<p>"The express, of course. All of us, excepting +yourself, joined it at the Junction," he replied.</p> + +<p>"The express?" I repeated. "The express +that leaves"—and I named my own town—"at +six in the evening?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. You have got into the right train +after all," and here came another shout of amusement. +"How did you think we had all got in +if you had not yet passed the Junction? You had +not the pleasure of our company from M<span class="nowrap">——</span>, I +take it? M<span class="nowrap">——</span>, which you passed at nine +o'clock last night, if my memory is correct."</p> + +<p>"Then," I persisted, "this is the double-fast +express, which does not stop between M<span class="nowrap">——</span> and +your Junction?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly," he repeated; and then, confirmed +most probably in his belief that I was mad, or the +other thing, he turned to his newspaper, and left +me to my extraordinary cogitations.</p> + +<p>Had I been dreaming? Impossible! Every +sensation, the very taste of the coffee, seemed still +present with me—the curious accent of the officials +at the mysterious town, I could perfectly recall. +I still shivered at the remembrance of the chilly +waking in the "Restauration"; I heard again the +cackling cough.</p> + +<p>But I felt I must collect myself, and be ready +for the important negotiation entrusted to me. +And to do this I must for the time banish these +fruitless efforts at solving the problem.</p> + +<p>We had a good run to Calais, found the boat in +waiting, and a fair passage brought us prosperously +across the Channel. I found myself in London +punctual to the intended hour of my arrival.</p> + +<p>At once I drove to the lodgings in a small +street off the Strand which I was accustomed to +frequent in such circumstances. I felt nervous till +I had an opportunity of thoroughly overhauling +my documents. The bag had been opened by the +Custom House officials, but the words "private +papers" had sufficed to prevent any further examination; +and to my unspeakable delight they were +intact. A glance satisfied me as to this the +moment I got them out, for they were most +carefully numbered.</p> + +<p>The next morning saw me early on my way to—No. +909, we will say—Blackfriars Street, where +was the office of Messrs. Bluestone & Fagg. I +had never been there before, but it was easy to +find, and had I felt any doubt, their name stared +me in the face at the side of the open doorway. +"Second-floor" I thought I read; but when I +reached the first landing I imagined I must have +been mistaken. For there, at a door ajar, stood +an eminently respectable-looking gentleman, who +bowed as he saw me, with a discreet smile.</p> + +<p>"Herr Schmidt?" he said. "Ah, yes; I was +on the look-out for you."</p> + +<p>I felt a little surprised, and my glance +involuntarily strayed to the doorway. There was no +name upon it, and it appeared to have been freshly +painted. My new friend saw my glance.</p> + +<p>"It is all right," he said; "we have the painters +here. We are using these lower rooms temporarily. +I was watching to prevent your having the trouble +of mounting to the second-floor."</p> + +<p>And as I followed him in, I caught sight of a +painter's ladder—a small one—on the stair above, +and the smell was also unmistakable.</p> + +<p>The large outer office looked bare and empty, +but under the circumstances that was natural. No +one was, at the first glance, to be seen; but +behind a dulled glass partition screening off one +corner I fancied I caught sight of a seated figure. +And an inner office, to which my conductor led the +way, had a more comfortable and inhabited look. +Here stood a younger man. He bowed politely.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fagg, my junior," said the first individual +airily. "And now, Herr Schmidt, to business at +once, if you please. Time is everything. You +have all the documents ready?"</p> + +<p>I answered by opening my bag and spreading +out its contents. Both men were very grave, +almost taciturn; but as I proceeded to explain +things it was easy to see that they thoroughly +understood all I said.</p> + +<p>"And now," I went on, when I had reached a +certain point, "if you will give me Nos. 7 and +13 which you have already received by registered +post, I can put you in full possession of the whole. +Without them, of course, all I have said is, so to +say, preliminary only."</p> + +<p>The two looked at each other.</p> + +<p>"Of course," said the elder man, "I follow what +you say. The key of the whole is wanting. But +I was momentarily expecting you to bring it out. +We have not—Fagg, I am right, am I not—we +have received nothing by post?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing whatever," replied his junior. And +the answer seemed simplicity itself. Why did a +strange thrill of misgiving go through me? Was +it something in the look that had passed between +them? Perhaps so. In any case, strange to say, +the inconsistency between their having received no +papers and yet looking for my arrival at the hour +mentioned in the letter accompanying the documents, +and accosting me by name, did not strike +me till some hours later.</p> + +<p>I threw off what I believed to be my ridiculous +mistrust, and it was not difficult to do so in my +extreme annoyance.</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand it," I said. "It is really +too bad. Everything depends upon 7 and 13. I +must telegraph at once for inquiries to be instituted +at the post-office."</p> + +<p>"But your people must have duplicates," said +Fagg eagerly. "These can be forwarded at once."</p> + +<p>"I hope so," I said, though feeling strangely +confused and worried.</p> + +<p>"They must send them direct <i>here</i>," he went on.</p> + +<p>I did not at once answer. I was gathering my +papers together.</p> + +<p>"And in the meantime," he proceeded, touching +my bag, "you had better leave <i>these</i> here. We +will lock them up in the safe at once. It is better +than carrying them about London."</p> + +<p>It certainly seemed so. I half laid down the bag +on the table, but at that moment from the outer +room a most peculiar sound caught my ears—a +faint cackling cough! I <i>think</i> I concealed my +start. I turned away as if considering Fagg's suggestion, +which, to confess the truth, I had been on +the very point of agreeing to. For it would have +been a great relief to me to know that the papers +were in safe custody. But now a flash of lurid +light seemed to have transformed everything.</p> + +<p>"I thank you," I replied. "I should be glad to +be free from the responsibility of the charge, but +I dare not let these out of my own hands till the +agreement is formally signed."</p> + +<p>The younger man's face darkened. He assumed +a bullying tone.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how it strikes <i>you</i>, Mr. Bluestone," +he said, "but it seems to me that this young +gentleman is going rather too far. Do you think +your employers will be pleased to hear of your +insulting us, sir?"</p> + +<p>But the elder man smiled condescendingly, +though with a touch of superciliousness. It was +very well done. He waved his hand.</p> + +<p>"Stay, my dear Mr. Fagg; we can well afford +to make allowance. You will telegraph at once, +no doubt, Herr Schmidt, and—let me see—yes, +we shall receive the duplicates of Nos. 7 and 13 +by first post on Thursday morning."</p> + +<p>I bowed.</p> + +<p>"Exactly," I replied, as I lifted the now locked +bag. "And you may expect me at the same hour +on Thursday morning."</p> + +<p>Then I took my departure, accompanied to the +door by the urbane individual who had received +me.</p> + +<p>The telegram which I at once despatched was +not couched precisely as he would have dictated, I +allow. And he would have been considerably +surprised at my sending off another, later in the +day, to Bluestone & Fagg's telegraphic address, in +these words:—</p> + +<p>"Unavoidably detained till Thursday morning.—<span class="smallcaps">Schmidt</span>."</p> + +<p>This was <i>after</i> the arrival of a wire from home +in answer to mine.</p> + +<p>By Thursday morning I had had time to receive +a letter from Herr Wilhelm, and to secure the +services of a certain noted detective, accompanied +by whom I presented myself at the appointed hour +at 909. But my companion's services were not +required. The birds had flown, warned by the +same traitor in our camp through whom the first +hints of the new patent had leaked out. With +him it was easy to deal, poor wretch! but the +clever rogues who had employed him and personated +the members of the honourable firm of +Bluestone & Fagg were never traced.</p> + +<p>The negotiation was successfully carried out. +The experience I had gone through left me a wiser +man. It is to be hoped, too, that the owners of +909 Blackfriars Street were more cautious in the +future as to whom they let their premises to when +temporarily vacant. The re-painting of the doorway, +etc., at the tenant's own expense had already +roused some slight suspicion.</p> + +<p>It is needless to add that Nos. 7 and 13 had +been duly received on the second-floor.</p> + +<p>I have never known the true history of that extraordinary +night. Was it all a dream, or a prophetic +vision of warning? Or was it in any sense +true? <i>Had</i> I, in some inexplicable way, left my +own town earlier than I intended, and really +travelled in a slow train?</p> + +<p>Or had the man with a cough, for his own +nefarious purposes, mesmerised or hypnotised me, +and to some extent succeeded?</p> + +<p>I cannot say. Sometimes, even, I ask myself if +I am quite sure that there ever was such a person +as "the man with the cough"!</p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="minimal" /> +<p> </p> + +<h3><a name="st_III" id="st_III"></a>"HALF-WAY BETWEEN THE STILES."</h3> + +<h4>(A RIGHT-OF-WAY INCIDENT.)</h4> + +<p>By the road, Scarby village is good three miles +from Colletwood, the nearest town and railway +station. But there is a short cut over the hills +for foot passengers. <i>Over</i> the hills they call it, +but <i>between</i> the hills would be more correct, for +there is a sort of tableland once you have climbed +a short, steep bit up from the town, which extends +nearly to Scarby, sloping gradually down to the +village.</p> + +<p>And on each side of this tableland the hills rise +again, north and south, much higher to the north +than to the south. So this flat stretch, though at +some considerable height, is neither bleak nor +exposed, being sheltered on the colder side, and +fairly open to the sunshine south and west.</p> + +<p>It is a pleasant place, and so it must have been +considered in the old days; for a large monastery +stood there once, of which the ruins are still to be +seen, and of which the memory is still preserved in +the name—"Monksholdings".</p> + +<p>Pleasant, but a trifle inconvenient, as the only +carriage-road makes a great round from Colletwood, +winding along the base of the hill on the north +side till it reaches the village, then up again by the +gradual slope, half a mile or so—a drive in all of +three to four miles, whereas, as the bird flies or the +pedestrian walks, the distance from the town is +barely a quarter of that.</p> + +<p>In the old days there was probably no road at all, +the hill-path doubtless serving all requirements. +Naturally enough, therefore, it came to be looked +upon as entirely public property, and people forgot—if, +indeed, any one had ever thought of it—that +though the monastery was a ruin, the once carefully +kept land round about the old dwelling-place of +Monksholdings was still private property.</p> + +<p>And the sensation was great when suddenly the +news reached the neighbourhood that this "unique +estate," as the agents called it, was sold—sold by +the old Duke of Scarshire, who scarcely remembered +that he owned it, to a man who meant to live on +it, to build a house which should be a home for +several months of the year for himself and his +family.</p> + +<p>There was considerable growling and grumbling; +and this rose to its height when a rumour got about +that the hill-path—such part of it, that is to say, as +lay within the actual demesne—was to be closed—<i>must</i> +be closed, if the site already chosen for the +new house was to be retained; for the house would +actually stand upon the old foot-track, and there +could be no two opinions that this position had +been well and wisely selected.</p> + +<p>Things grew warlike, boding no agreeable reception +for the newcomers—a Mr. Raynald and his +family, newcomers to England, it was said, as well +as to Scarshire. Every one plunged into questions +of right-of-way; the local legalities raised and +discussed knotty points; Colletwood and Scarby +were aflame. But it all ended, flatly enough, in a +compromise!</p> + +<p>Mr. Raynald turned out to be one of the most +reasonable and courteous of men. He came, saw, +and—conquered. The goodwill of his future +neighbours was won e'er he knew he had risked its +loss. Henceforward congratulations, reciprocated +and repeated, on the charming additions to Scarby +society were the order of the day, and the <i>détour</i>, +skirting the south boundary of the Monksholdings +grounds, which the footpath was now inveigled into +making, was voted "a great improvement".</p> + +<p>And in due time the mansion rose.</p> + +<p>"A great improvement" also, to the aspect of the +surrounding landscape. It was in perfectly good +taste—unpretentious and quietly picturesque. It +might have been there always for any jarring protest +to the contrary.</p> + +<p>And just half-way along the old foot-track, that +is to say, between the two stiles which let the +traveller to or from Scarby in or out of the Monksholdings +demesne, stood Sybil Raynald's grand +piano!</p> + +<p>The stiles remained as an interesting survival; +but they were made use of by no one not bound +for the house itself. And beside each was a gate—a +good oaken gate, that suited the place, as did +everything about it; and beside each gate a quaint +miniature dwelling, one of which came to be known +as the east, and the other as the west, Monksholdings +lodge.</p> + +<p>The first time the Raynalds came down to their +new home they made but a short stay there. It +was already late in the season, and though the preceding +summer had been a magnificent one for +drying fresh walls and plaster, it would scarcely +have done to risk damp or chilly weather in so +recently-built a house.</p> + +<p>They stayed long enough to confirm the +favourable impression the head of the family +had already made, and to lead themselves to +look forward with pleasure to a less curtailed stay +in Scarshire.</p> + +<p>The last morning of their visit, Sybil, the eldest +daughter, up and about betimes, turned to her +father, when she had taken her place beside him +at the breakfast-table, with a suspicion of annoyance +on her usually cheerful face.</p> + +<p>"Papa," she said, "I have seen that old man +<i>again</i>, leaning on the stile by the Scarby lodge +and looking in—along the drive—<i>so</i> queerly. I +don't quite like it. It gave me rather a ghosty +feeling; or else he is out of his mind."</p> + +<p>Her brother, Mark by name, began to laugh, +after the manner of brothers.</p> + +<p>"How very oddly you express yourself!" he +said. "I should like to experience 'a ghosty +feeling'. A ghost is just what this place wants to +make it perfect. But it should be the spirit of one +of the original monks."</p> + +<p>Mr. Raynald turned to his son rather sharply.</p> + +<p>"I don't want any nonsense of that kind set +about, Mark," he said. "It would frighten the +younger children when they come down here. I +will ask about the old man. It is quite possible +he is half-witted, or something of that sort. I +forgot about it when Sybil mentioned it before. +But no doubt he is perfectly harmless. Has no +one seen him but you, Sybil?"</p> + +<p>The girl shook her head.</p> + +<p>"None of <i>us</i>," she replied. "And I wasn't +exactly frightened. There was something very +pathetic about him. He looked at me closely, +murmuring some words, and then shook his head. +That was all."</p> + +<p>But just then her father was called away to give +some last directions, and in the bustle of hurry to +catch their train the matter passed from the minds +of the younger as well as the elder members of the +family.</p> + +<p>It returned to Sybil's memory, however, when +she found herself in their London house again, and +called upon by her younger sisters to relate every +detail of Monksholdings and its neighbourhood. +But mindful of her father's warning, she said +nothing to Esther or Annis of the figure at the +gate. It was only to Miss March—Ellinor March—the +dearly-loved governess, who was more friend +than teacher to her three pupils, that she spoke of +it, late in the evening, when the younger ones had +gone to bed, and her father and mother were busy +with Indian letters in Mr. Raynald's study.</p> + +<p>The two girls, we may say—for Ellinor was still +some years under thirty—were alone in the drawing-room. +Ellinor had been playing something tender +and faintly weird—it died away under her fingers, +and she sat on at the piano in silence.</p> + +<p>Sybil spoke suddenly.</p> + +<p>"That is <i>so</i> melancholy," she said, "something +so long ago about it, like the ghost of a sorrow +rather than a sorrow itself. I know—I know +what it makes me think of. Listen, Ellinor."</p> + +<p>For out of school hours the two threw formality +aside. And Sybil told of the sad, wistful old face +looking over the stile.</p> + +<p>"Now it has come back to me," she said, "I +can't forget it."</p> + +<p>Ellinor, too, was impressed.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "it sounds very pitiful. Who +knows what tragedy is bound up in it?" and she +sighed.</p> + +<p>Sybil understood her. Miss March's own history +was a strange one.</p> + +<p>"We must find out about it when we go down +to Monksholdings next year," she said.</p> + +<p>"And perhaps," added Ellinor, "even if he is +half-witted, we might do something to comfort +the poor man."</p> + +<p>Sybil hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Then you don't think he can be a ghost?" she +said, looking half ashamed of the suggestion.</p> + +<p>Miss March smiled—her smile was sad.</p> + +<p>"In one sense, no, I should think it highly improbable; +in another, yes, there must be the ghost +of some great sorrow about the face you describe," +she said.</p> + +<p>So there was.</p> + +<p>This is the story.</p> + +<p>At the farther end of Scarby village—the farther +end, that is to say, from Monksholdings and the +path between the hills—the road drops again +somewhat suddenly. Only for a short distance, +however; Mayling Farm—"Giles's" as it is +colloquially called—which is the first house you +come to when you reach level ground again, being +by no means low lying.</p> + +<p>On the contrary, the west windows command a +grand view of the great Scarshire plain beneath, +bordered by the faint hazy blue, scarcely to be +distinguished from clouds, of the long range of +hills concealing the far-off glimmer of the ocean, +which otherwise might sometimes be perceptible.</p> + +<p>Mayling is a very old place, and the Giles's had +been there "always," so to speak—steady-going, +unambitious, save as regards their farming and its +success; they had been just the make of men to +settle on to their ground as if it and they could +have no existence apart. A fine race physically as +well as morally, though some twenty-five years or +so before the Raynalds bought Monksholdings, a +run of ill luck, a whole chapter of casualties, had +brought them down to but one representative, +and he scarcely the typical Farmer Giles of +Mayling.</p> + +<p>This was Barnett, the youngest of four stalwart +sons; the youngest and the only survivor. He +was already forty when his father died, earnestly +commending to him the "old place," which even +at eighty the aged farmer felt himself better fitted +to manage than the somewhat delicate, sensitive +man whom his brothers had made good-natured +fun of in his youth as a "book-worm".</p> + +<p>But Barnett was intelligent and sensible, and he +rose to the occasion. Circumstances helped him. +The year after old Giles's death Barnett for the +first time fell in love, wisely and well. His affection +was bestowed on a worthy object—Marion +Grover, the daughter of a yeoman in the next +county—and was fully returned.</p> + +<p>Marion was years younger than her lover, +fifteen at least, eminently practical, healthy, and +pretty. She brought her husband just exactly +what he was most in need of—brightness, energy, +and youth. It was an ideal marriage, and everything +prospered at Mayling. Four years after the +advent of the new Mrs. Giles you would scarcely +have recognised the farmer, he seemed another man.</p> + +<p>He adored his wife, and could hardly find it in +his heart to regret that their child was not a son, +even though, failing an heir, the old name must +die out; for if there was one creature the husband +and wife loved more than each other it was their +baby girl.</p> + +<p>A month or two after this child's second birthday +the singular catastrophe occurred which changed +the world to poor Barnett Giles, leaving him but +a wreck of his former self, physically and mentally.</p> + +<p>Young Mrs. Giles was strong in every way, and +from the first she took the line of saving her +husband all extra fatigue or annoyance which she +could possibly hoist on to her own brave shoulders. +There was something quaint and even pathetic +in the relations of the couple. For, notwithstanding +Marion's being so much Barnett's junior, her +attitude towards him had a decided suggestion of +the maternal about it, though at times of real emergency +his sound judgment and advice never failed +her. It was within a week or two of Christmas; +the weather was bitingly, raspingly cold. And +though as yet no snow had fallen, the weather-wise +were predicting it daily.</p> + +<p>"I <i>must</i> go over to Colletwood this week," +said Mrs. Giles, "and I must take Nelly. Her +new coat is waiting to be tried at the dressmaker's, +and I must get her some boots and several other +things before Christmas. And there is a whole +list of other shopping too—all our Christmas +presents to see to."</p> + +<p>Her husband was looking out of the window, +it was still very early in the day.</p> + +<p>"I doubt if the snow will hold off much longer," +he said.</p> + +<p>"And once it begins it may be heavy," his wife +replied, "and then I might not be able to go for +ever so long, even by the road,"—for a deep fall +of snow at Scarby was practically a stoppage to +all traffic. "I'll tell you what, Barnett, we'll +go to-day and make sure of it. I will put other +things aside and start before noon. A couple of +hours, or three at the most, will do everything, +and then Nelly and I will be back long before +dark. You'll come to meet us, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I will—if you go. But," and again +he glanced at the sky. The morning was, so far, +clear and bright, though very cold, but over +towards the north there was a suspicious look +about the blue-grey clouds. "I don't know," +he said, "but that you'd better wait till to-morrow +and see if it blows off again."</p> + +<p>But Marion shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I've a feeling," she said, "that if I don't go +to-day, I won't go at all. And I really must. +I'll take Betsy to carry the child till we're just +above the town, and then send her home, so +as not to be tired for coming back. Not +that I'm <i>ever</i> tired, as you know," with a +smile.</p> + +<p>He gave in, only stipulating that at all costs +they should start to return by a certain hour, +unless the snow should have already begun, in +which case Marion was to run no risks, but either +to hire a fly to bring her home by the road, or to +stay in the town with some of her friends till the +weather cleared again.</p> + +<p>"And I'll meet you," he added. "Let us set +our watches together—I'll start from here so as to +be at—let me see<span class="nowrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Half-way between the stiles," said Marion. +"We can each see the other from one stile to the +opposite one, you know, even though it's a good +bit of a way. Yes, dear, I'll time it as near as I +can to meet half-way between the stiles."</p> + +<p>And with these words the last on her lips, she +set off, a picture of health and happiness—little +Nelly crowing back to "Dada" from over stout +Betsy's shoulder.</p> + +<p>Betsy was home again within the hour.</p> + +<p>But the mother and child—alas and alas! It +was the immortal story of "Lucy Gray" in an +almost more pathetic shape.</p> + +<p>Farmer Giles, as I have said, was a studious, +often absent-minded man. There was not much +to do at that season and in such weather, and what +there was, some amount of supervision on his part +was enough for. After his early dinner he got out +his books for an hour or two's quiet reading till it +should be time to set off to meet his darlings. No +fear of his forgetting <i>that</i> time, but till the clock +struck, and he saw it was approaching nearly, he +never looked out—he was unconscious of the rapid +growth of the lurid, steely clouds; he had no idea +that the snowflakes were already falling, falling, +more and more closely and thickly with each +instant that passed.</p> + +<p>Then rose the storm spirit and issued his orders—all +too quickly obeyed. Before Barnett Giles +had left the village street he found himself in what +now-a-days would be called a "blizzard". And +his pale face grew paler, and his heart beat as if +to choke him, when at last he reached the first stile +and stood there panting, to regain his breath. It +was all he could do to battle on through the fury +of the wind, the blinding, whirling snow, which +seemed to envelop him as if in sheets. Not for +many and many a day will that awful snowstorm +be forgotten in Scarshire.</p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="minimal" /> +<p> </p> +<p>It was at the appointed trysting place they found +him—"half-way between the stiles". But not +till late that evening, when Betsy, more alarmed +by his absence than by her mistress's not returning, +at last struggled out through the deep-lying snow +to alarm the nearest neighbours.</p> + +<p>"The missis and Miss Nell will have stayed the +night in the town," she said. "But I misdoubt +me if the master will ever have got so far, though +he may have been tempted on when he did not +meet them."</p> + +<p>By this time the fury of the storm had spent +itself, and they found poor Giles after a not very +protracted search, and brought him home—dead, +they thought at first.</p> + +<p>No, he was not dead, but it was less than half +<i>life</i> that he returned to. For his first inquiry late +the next day, when glimmering consciousness had +begun to revive—"Marion, the baby?"—seemed +by some subtle instinct to answer itself truthfully, +in spite of the kindly endeavour to deceive him for +the time.</p> + +<p>"Dead!" he murmured. "I knew it. Half-way +between the stiles," and he turned his face to +the wall.</p> + +<p>They almost wished he had died too—the rough +but kind-hearted country-folk who were his +neighbours. But he lived. He never asked and +never knew the details of the tragedy, which, +indeed, was never fully known by any one.</p> + +<p>All that came to light was that the dead body of +Marion Giles was brought by some semi-gipsy +wanderers to the workhouse of a town several miles +south of Colletwood, early on the morning after +the blizzard. They had found it, they said, at +some little distance from the road along which they +were journeying, so that she must have lost her +way long before approaching the Monksholdings +confines, not improbably, indeed, in attempting to +retrace her steps to the town which she had so imprudently +quitted. But of the child the tramps +said nothing, and after making the above deposition, +they were allowed to go on their way, which +they expressed themselves as anxious to do; for +reasons of their own, no doubt; possibly the same +reasons which had prevented their returning to +Colletwood with the young woman's corpse, as +would have seemed more natural.</p> + +<p>And afterwards no very special inquiry was made +about the baby. The father was incapable of it, +and in those days people accepted things more carelessly, +perhaps. It was taken for granted that +"Little Nell" had fallen down some cliff, no +doubt, and lay buried there, with the snow for her +shroud, like a strayed lambkin. Her tiny bones +might yet be found, years hence, maybe, by a +shepherd in search of some bleating wanderer, or—no +more might ever be known of the infant's +fate!</p> + +<p>Barnett Giles rose from his bed, after many +weeks, with all the look of a very old man. At first +it was thought that his mind was quite gone; but +it did not prove to be so. After a time, with the +help of an excellent foreman, or bailiff, he showed +himself able to manage his farm with a strange, +mechanical kind of intelligence. It seemed as if +the sense of duty outlived the loss of other perceptions, +though these, too, cleared by degrees to +a considerable extent, and material things, curious +as it may appear, prospered with him.</p> + +<p>But he rarely spoke unless obliged to do so; +and whenever he felt himself at leisure, and knew +that his work was not calling for him, he seemed +to relapse into the half-dreamy state which was his +more real life. Then he would pass through the +village and slowly climb the slope to the stile, +where he would stand for hours together, patiently +gazing before him, while he murmured the old +refrain: "'Half-way between the stiles,' she said. +I shall meet them there, 'half-way between the +stiles'."</p> + +<p>Fortunately, perhaps, it was not often he attempted +to climb over; he contented himself with +standing and gazing. Fortunately so, for otherwise +the changes at Monksholdings would have +probably terribly shocked his abnormally sensitive +brain. But he did not seem to notice them, nor +the new route of the old right-of-way agreed to by +the compromise. He was content with his post—standing, +leaning on the stile, and gazing before +him.</p> + +<p>His, of course, was the worn, wistful face which +had half frightened, half appealed to Sybil Raynald.</p> + +<p>But she forgot about it again, or other things +put it temporarily aside, so that when the Raynalds +came down to Monksholdings again the following +Easter it did not at once occur to her to remind +her father of the inquiry he had promised to +make.</p> + +<p>Miss March was not with her pupils and their +parents at first. She had gone to spend a holiday +week with the friends who had brought her up +and seen to her education—good, benevolent +people, if not specially sympathetic, but to whom +she felt herself bound by ties of sincerest gratitude, +though her five years with the Raynald family had +given her more of the feeling of a "home" +than she had ever had before.</p> + +<p>And her arrival at Monksholdings was the +occasion of much rejoicing. There was everything +to show her, and every one, from Mark down to +little Robin, wanted to be her guide. It was not +till the morning of the next day that Sybil managed +to get her to herself for a <i>tête-à-tête</i> stroll.</p> + +<p>Ellinor had some things to tell her quondam +pupil. Mrs. Bellairs, her self-appointed guardian, +was growing old and somewhat feeble.</p> + +<p>"I fear she is not likely to live many years," +said Miss March, "and she thinks so herself. +She has a curious longing, which I never saw in +her before, to find out my history—to know if +there is no one really belonging to me to whom +she can give me back, as it were, before she dies. +She gave me the little parcel containing the clothes +I had on when she rescued me from being sent to +a workhouse. They are carefully washed and +mended, and though I was a poor, dirty little object +when I was found, they do not look really as if +I had been a beggar child," with a little smile.</p> + +<p>"You a beggar child!" exclaimed Sybil indignantly. +"Of course not. Perhaps, on the +contrary, you were somebody very grand."</p> + +<p>"No, no," said Ellinor sensibly. "In that case +I should have been advertised for and inquired +after. No, I have never thought that, and I +should not wish it. I should be more than thankful +to know I came of good, honest people, however +simple; to have some one of my very own."</p> + +<p>"I forget the actual details," said Sybil, "though +you have often told me about it. You were found—no, +not literally in the workhouse, was it?"</p> + +<p>"They were going to take me there," said Miss +March. "It was at a village near Bath where Mr. +and Mrs. Bellairs were then living, and one day, +after a party of gipsies had been encamping on the +common, a cottager's wife heard something crying +in the night, and found me in her little garden. +She was too poor to keep me herself, and felt +certain I was a child the gipsies had stolen and +then wanted to get rid of. I was fair-haired and +blue-eyed, not like them. She was a friend or +relation of some of Mrs. Bellairs's servants, and so +the story got round to my kind old friend. And +you know the rest—how they first thought of +bringing me up in quite a humble way, and then +finding me—well, intelligent and naturally rather +refined, I suppose, I got a really good education, +and my good luck did not desert me, dear, when +I came to be your governess."</p> + +<p>Sybil smiled.</p> + +<p>"And can you remember <i>nothing</i>?"</p> + +<p>Ellinor hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Queer, dreamy fragments come back to me +sometimes," she said. "I have a feeling of having +seen hills long, long ago. It is strange," she went +on, for by this time they had left the private +grounds and were strolling along the hill-path in +the direction of the town, "it is strange that since +I came here I seem to have got hold of a tiny bit +of these old memories, if they are such. It must +be the hills," and she stood still and gazed round +her with a deep breath of satisfaction, "I could +only have been between two and three when I was +found," she went on. "The only words I said +were 'Dada' and 'Nennie'—it sounded like +'Nelly'. That was why Mrs. Bellairs called me +'Ellinor,' and 'March,' because it was in that +month she took me to her house."</p> + +<p>Sybil walked on in silence for a moment or two.</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> such a romantic story," she said at last. +"I am never tired of thinking about it."</p> + +<p>They entered Monksholdings again from the +east entrance, Ellinor glanced at the stile.</p> + +<p>"By-the-bye," she said, "this is one of the two +old stiles, I suppose. Have you ever seen your +ghost again, Sybil? Have you found out anything +about him?"</p> + +<p>Sybil looked round her half nervously.</p> + +<p>"It is the other stile he haunts," she said. "I +rather avoid it, at least, I mean to do so now. It +is curious you speak of it, for till yesterday I had +not seen him again, and had almost forgotten +about it. But yesterday afternoon, just before +you came, there he was—exactly the same, staring +in. I meant to speak to papa about it, but with +the pleasure and bustle of your arrival, I forgot +it. Remind me about it. I am afraid he is out +of his mind."</p> + +<p>"Poor old man!" said Ellinor. "I wish we +could do something to comfort him. I feel as if +everybody <i>must</i> be happy here. It is such a +charming, exhilarating place. Dear me, how +windy it is! The path is all strewn with the +white petals of the cherry blossom."</p> + +<p>"They have degenerated into wild cherry trees," +said Sybil. "Long ago papa says these must have +been good fruit trees of many kinds, and this is a +great cherry country, you know."</p> + +<p>The wind dropped that afternoon, but only +temporarily. It rose again so much during the +night that by the next morning the grounds +looked, to use little Annis's expression, "quite +untidy".</p> + +<p>"And down in the village, or just beyond it," +said Mark, who had been for an early stroll, "at +one place it really looks as if it had been snowing. +The road skirts that old farmhouse; you know it, +father? I forget the name—there's a grand cherry +orchard there."</p> + +<p>"'Mayling Farm,' you must mean," said Mr. +Raynald. "Farmer Giles's. Oh, by the way, +that reminds me, Sybil," but a glance round the +table made him stop short. They were at breakfast. +He scarcely felt inclined to relate the tragic +story before the younger children, "they might +look frightened or run away if they came across +the poor fellow," he reflected. "I will tell Sybil +about it afterwards."</p> + +<p>Easter holidays were not yet over, though the +governess had returned, so regular routine was set +aside, and the whole of the young party, Ellinor +included, spent that morning in a scramble among +the hills.</p> + +<p>The children seemed untirable, and set off again +somewhere or other in the afternoon. Sybil was +busy with her mother, writing letters and orders +to be despatched to London, so that towards four +o'clock or so, when Miss March, having finished +her own correspondence, entered the drawing-room, +she found it deserted.</p> + +<p>Sybil had promised to practise some duets with +her, and while waiting on the chance of her coming, +Ellinor seated herself at the piano and began to +play—nothing very important—just snatches of +old airs which she wove into a kind of half-dreamy +harmony, one melting into another as they occurred +to her.</p> + +<p>All at once a shadow fell on the keys, and then +she remembered having heard the door softly open +a moment or two before—so softly, that she had +not looked round, imagining it to be the wind, +which, though fallen now, still lingered about.</p> + +<p>Now her ideas took another shape.</p> + +<p>"It is Sybil, no doubt," she thought with a smile. +"She is going to make me jump," and she waited, +half expecting to feel Sybil's hands suddenly clasped +over her eyes from behind.</p> + +<p>But this was not to be the mode of attack, +apparently, though she heard what sounded like +stealthy footsteps.</p> + +<p>"You need not try to startle me, Sybbie," she +exclaimed laughingly, without turning or ceasing +to play, "I hear you."</p> + +<p>It was no laughing voice which replied.</p> + +<p>On the contrary, a sigh, almost a groan, close to +her made her look up sharply—a trifle indignant +perhaps at the joke being carried so far—and she +saw, a pace or two from her only, the figure of an +old man—a white-haired, somewhat bent form, a +worn face with wistful blue eyes—gazing at her.</p> + +<p>She had scarcely time to feel frightened, for +almost instantaneously Sybil's "ghost" recurred +to her memory.</p> + +<p>"He has found his way in, then," she thought, +not without a slight and natural tremor, which, +however, disappeared as she gazed, so pathetically +gentle was the whole aspect of the intruder.</p> + +<p>But—his face changed curiously—the sight of +hers, now fully in his view, seemed strangely to +affect him. With a gesture of utter bewilderment +he raised his hand to his forehead as if to brush +something away—the cloud still resting on his +brain—then a smile broke over the old face, a +wonderful smile.</p> + +<p>"Marion," he said, "at last? I—I thought I +was dreaming. I heard you playing in my dream. +It is the right place though, 'Half-way between +the stiles,' you said. I have waited so long and +come so often, and now it is snowing again. Just +a little, dear, nothing to hurt. Marion, my +darling, why don't you speak? Is it all a dream—this +fine room, the music and all? Are <i>you</i> a +dream?"</p> + +<p>He closed his eyes as if he were fainting. Inexpressibly +touched, all Ellinor's womanly nature +went out to him. She started forward, half leading, +half lifting him to a seat close at hand.</p> + +<p>"I—I am not Marion," she said, and afterwards +she wondered what had inspired the +words, "but I am"—not "Ellinor," something +made her change the name as he spoke—"I am +Nelly."</p> + +<p>He opened his eyes again.</p> + +<p>"Little Nell," he said, "has she sent you down +to me from heaven? My little Nell!"</p> + +<p>And then he fell back unconscious—this time +he had fainted.</p> + +<p>She thought he was dead, but it was not so—her +cries for help soon brought her friends, Mr. +Raynald first of all. He did not seem startled, he +soothed Ellinor at once.</p> + +<p>"It is poor old Giles," he said. "I know all +about him, he has found his way in at last."</p> + +<p>"But—but<span class="nowrap">——</span>," stammered the girl, "there +is something else, Mr. Raynald. I—I seem to +remember something."</p> + +<p>She looked nearly as white as their poor visitor, +and as Mr. Raynald glanced at her, a curious +expression flitted across his own face.</p> + +<p>Could it be so? He knew all her story.</p> + +<p>"Wait a little, my dear," he said. "We must +attend to poor Giles first."</p> + +<p>They were very kind and tender to the old +man, but he seemed to be barely conscious, even +after restoratives had brought him out of the +actual fainting fit. Then Mrs. Raynald proposed +that his servants—his housekeeper if he had one—should +be sent for.</p> + +<p>And when faithful Betsy, stout as of old, though +less nimble, made her appearance, her irrepressible +emotion at the sight of Ellinor, pale and trembling +though the young governess was, gave form and +substance to Mr. Raynald's suspicions.</p> + +<p>Yes, they had met at last—father and daughter—"half-way +between the stiles". He was +"Dada," she was little "Nell". Might it not be +that Marion's prayers had brought them together?</p> + +<p>Every reasonable proof was forthcoming—the +little parcel of clothes, the correspondence in the +dates, the strong resemblance to her mother.</p> + +<p>And—joy does not often kill. Barnett was able +to understand it all better than might have been +expected. He was never <i>quite</i> himself, but infinitely +better both in mind and body than poor old +Betsy had ever dreamt of seeing him. And he +was perfectly content—content to live as long as +it should please God to spare him to his little +Nell; ready to go to his Marion when the time +should come.</p> + +<p>And Ellinor had her wish—a home, though not +a "grand" one; some one of her "very own" to +care for; a father's devoted love, and, to complete +her happiness, the friends who had grown so dear +to her close at hand.</p> + +<p>More may yet be hers in the future, for she is +still young. Her father may live to see his grandchildren +playing about the farmstead at Mayling, +so that, though the name be changed, the old +stock will still nourish where so many generations +of its ancestors have sown and reaped.</p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="minimal" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="st_IV" id="st_IV"></a>AT THE DIP OF THE ROAD.</h3> + +<p class="noindent">Have I ever seen a ghost?</p> + +<p>I do not know.</p> + +<p>That is the only reply I can truthfully make to +the question now-a-days so often asked. And +sometimes, if inquirers care to hear more, I go on +to tell them the one experience which makes it impossible +for me to reply positively either in the +affirmative or negative, and restricts me to "I do +not know".</p> + +<p>This was the story.</p> + +<p>I was staying with relations in the country. +Not a very isolated or out-of-the-way part of the +world, and yet rather inconvenient of access by +the railway. For the nearest station was six miles +off. Though the family I was visiting were +nearly connected with me I did not know much of +their home or its neighbourhood, as the head of +the house, an uncle of mine by marriage, had only +come into the property a year or two previously +to the date of which I am writing, through the +death of an elder brother.</p> + +<p>It was a nice place. A good comfortable old +house, a prosperous, satisfactory estate. Everything +about it was in good order, from the +farmers, who always paid their rents, to the +shooting, which was always good; from the +vineries, which were noted, to the woods, where +the earliest primroses in all the country side +were yearly to be found.</p> + +<p>And my uncle and aunt and their family deserved +these pleasant things and made a good +use of them.</p> + +<p>But there was a touch of the commonplace +about it all. There was nothing picturesque or +romantic. The country was flat though fertile, +the house, though old, was conveniently modern +in its arrangements, airy, cheery, and bright.</p> + +<p>"Not even a ghost, or the shadow of one," I +remember saying one day with a faint grumble.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well—as to that," said my uncle, "perhaps +we<span class="nowrap">——</span>" but just then something interrupted +him, and I forgot his unfinished speech.</p> + +<p>Into the happy party of which for the time +being I was one, there fell one morning a sudden +thunderbolt of calamity. The post brought news +of the alarming illness of the eldest daughter—Frances, +married a year or two ago and living, +as the crow flies, at no very great distance. But +as the crow flies is not always as the railroad runs, +and to reach the Aldoyns' home from Fawne +Court, my uncle's place, was a complicated business—it +was scarcely possible to go and return in a day.</p> + +<p>"Can one of you come over?" wrote the +young husband. "She is already out of danger, +but longing to see her mother or one of you. She +is worrying about the baby"—a child of a few +months old—"and wishing for nurse."</p> + +<p>We looked at each other.</p> + +<p>"Nurse must go at once," said my uncle to me, +as the eldest of the party. Perhaps I should here +say that I am a widow, though not old, and with +no close ties or responsibilities. "But for your +aunt it is impossible."</p> + +<p>"Quite so," I agreed. For she was at the +moment painfully lamed by rheumatism.</p> + +<p>"And the other girls are almost too young at +such a crisis," my uncle continued. "Would you, +Charlotte<span class="nowrap">——</span>" and he hesitated. "It would be +such a comfort to have personal news of her."</p> + +<p>"Of course I will go," I said. "Nurse and I +can start at once. I will leave her there, and return +alone, to give you, I have no doubt, better +news of poor Francie."</p> + +<p>He was full of gratitude. So were they all.</p> + +<p>"Don't hurry back to-night," said my uncle. +"Stay till—till Monday if you like." But I could +not promise. I knew they would be glad of news +at once, and in a small house like my cousin's, at +such a time, an inmate the more might be inconvenient.</p> + +<p>"I will try to return to-night," I said. And as I +sprang into the carriage I added: "Send to Moore +to meet the last train, unless I telegraph to the +contrary."</p> + +<p>My uncle nodded; the boys called after me, +"All right;" the old butler bowed assent, and I +was satisfied.</p> + +<p>Nurse and I reached our journey's end promptly, +considering the four or five junctions at which we +had to change carriages. But on the whole "going," +the trains fitted astonishingly.</p> + +<p>We found Frances better, delighted to see us, +eager for news of her mother, and, finally, disposed +to sleep peacefully now that she knew that there +was an experienced person in charge. And both +she and her husband thanked me so much that I +felt ashamed of the little I had done. Mr. Aldoyn +begged me to stay till Monday; but the house +was upset, and I was eager to carry back my good +tidings.</p> + +<p>"They are meeting me at Moore by the last +train," I said. "No, thank you, I think it is best +to go."</p> + +<p>"You will have an uncomfortable journey," he +replied. "It is Saturday, and the trains will be +late, and the stations crowded with the market +people. It will be horrid for you, Charlotte."</p> + +<p>But I persisted.</p> + +<p>It <i>was</i> rather horrid. And it was queer. There +was a sort of uncanny eeriness about that Saturday +evening's journey that I have never forgotten. The +season was very early spring. It was not very cold, +but chilly and ungenial. And there were such odd +sorts of people about. I travelled second-class; for +I am not rich, and I am very independent. I did +not want my uncle to pay my fare, for I liked the +feeling of rendering him some small service in return +for his steady kindness to me. The first stage +of my journey was performed in the company of +two old naturalists travelling to Scotland to look +for some small plant which was to be found only +in one spot in the Highlands. This I gathered +from their talk to each other. You never saw two +such extraordinary creatures as they were. They +both wore black kid gloves much too large for +them, and the ends of the fingers waved about like +feathers.</p> + +<p>Then followed two or three short transits, interspersed +with weary waitings at stations. The last +of these was the worst, and tantalising, too, for by +this time I was within a few miles of Moore. The +station was crowded with rough folk, all, it seemed +to me, more or less tipsy. So I took refuge in a +dark waiting-room on the small side line by which +I was to proceed, where I felt I might have been +robbed and murdered and no one the wiser.</p> + +<p>But at last came my slow little train, and in I +jumped, to jump out again still more joyfully +some fifteen minutes later when we drew up at +Moore.</p> + +<p>I peered about for the carriage. It was not to +be seen; only two or three tax-carts or dog-carts, +farmers' vehicles, standing about, while their +owners, it was easy to hear, were drinking far +more than was good for them in the taproom of +the Unicorn. Thence, nevertheless—not to the +taproom, but to the front of the inn—I made my +way, though not undismayed by the shouts and +roars breaking the stillness of the quiet night. +"Was the Fawne Court carriage not here?" I +asked.</p> + +<p>The landlady was a good-natured woman, especially +civil to any member of the "Court" family. +But she shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No, no carriage had been down to-day. There +must have been some mistake."</p> + +<p>There was nothing for it but to wait till she +could somehow or other disinter a fly and a horse, +and, worst of all a driver. For the "men" she +had to call were all rather—"well, ma'am, you see +it's Saturday night. We weren't expecting any +one."</p> + +<p>And when, after waiting half an hour, the fly at +last emerged, my heart almost failed me. Even +before he drove out of the yard, it was very plain +that if ever we reached Fawne Court alive, it +would certainly be more thanks to good luck than +to the driver's management.</p> + +<p>But the horse was old and the man had a sort of +instinct about him. We got on all right till we +were more than half way to our journey's end. +The road was straight and the moonlight bright, +especially after we had passed a certain corner, +and got well out of the shade of the trees which +skirted the first part of the way.</p> + +<p>Just past this turn there came a dip in the road. +It went down, down gradually, for a quarter of a +mile or more, and I looked up anxiously, fearful of +the horse taking advantage of the slope. But no, +he jogged on, if possible more slowly than before, +though new terrors assailed me when I saw that the +driver was now fast asleep, his head swaying from +side to side with extraordinary regularity. After a +bit I grew easier again; he seemed to keep his +equilibrium, and I looked out at the side window +on the moon-flooded landscape, with some interest. +I had never seen brighter moonlight.</p> + +<p>Suddenly from out of the intense stillness and +loneliness a figure, a human figure, became visible. +It was that of a man, a young and active man, +running along the footpath a few feet to our left, +apparently from some whim, keeping pace with the +fly. My first feeling was of satisfaction that I was +no longer alone, at the tender mercies of my stupefied +charioteer. But, as I gazed, a slight misgiving +came over me. Who could it be running along this +lonely road so late, and what was his motive in +keeping up with us so steadily. It almost seemed +as if he had been waiting for us, yet that, of course, +was impossible. He was not very highwayman-like +certainly; he was well-dressed—neatly-dressed that +is to say, like a superior gamekeeper—his figure was +remarkably good, tall and slight, and he ran gracefully. +But there was something queer about him, +and suddenly the curiosity that had mingled in my +observation of him was entirely submerged in alarm, +when I saw that, as he ran, he was slowly but steadily +drawing nearer and nearer to the fly.</p> + +<p>"In another moment he will be opening the door +and jumping in," I thought, and I glanced before +me only to see that the driver was more hopelessly +asleep than before; there was no chance of his +hearing if I called out. And get out I could not +without attracting the strange runner's attention, +for as ill-luck would have it, the window was drawn +up on the right side, and I could not open the door +without rattling the glass. While, worse and worse, +the left hand window was down! Even that slight +protection wanting!</p> + +<p>I looked out once more. By this time the figure +was close, close to the fly. Then an arm was +stretched out and laid along the edge of the door, +as if preparatory to opening it, and then, for the first +time I saw his face. It was a young face, but +terribly, horribly pale and ghastly, and the eyes—all +was so visible in the moonlight—had an expression +such as I had never seen before or since. It +terrified me, though afterwards on recalling it, it +seemed to me that it might have been more a +look of agonised appeal than of menace of any +kind.</p> + +<p>I cowered back into my corner and shut my +eyes, feigning sleep. It was the only idea that +occurred to me. My heart was beating like a +sledge hammer. All sorts of thoughts rushed +through me; among them I remember saying +to myself: "He must be an escaped lunatic—his +eyes are so awfully wild".</p> + +<p>How long I sat thus I don't know—whenever I +dared to glance out furtively he was still there. +But all at once a strange feeling of relief came +over me. I sat up—yes, he was gone! And +though, as I took courage, I leant out and looked +round in every direction, not a trace of him was +to be seen, though the road and the fields were +bare and clear for a long distance round.</p> + +<p>When I got to Fawne Court I had to wake +the lodge-keeper—every one was asleep. But my +uncle was still up, though not expecting me, and +very distressed he was at the mistake about the +carriage.</p> + +<p>"However," he concluded, "all's well that ends +well. It's delightful to have your good news. +But you look sadly pale and tired, Charlotte."</p> + +<p>Then I told him of my fright—it seemed now +so foolish of me, I said. But my uncle did not +smile—on the contrary.</p> + +<p>"My dear," he said. "It sounds very like our +ghost, though, of course, it may have been only +one of the keepers."</p> + +<p>He told me the story. Many years ago in his +grandfather's time, a young and favourite gamekeeper +had been found dead in a field skirting the +road down there. There was no sign of violence +upon the body; it was never explained what had +killed him. But he had had in his charge a +watch—a very valuable one—which his master for +some reason or other had handed to him to take +home to the house, not wishing to keep it on him. +And when the body was found late that night, the +watch was not on it. Since then, so the story goes, +on a moonlight night the spirit of the poor fellow +haunts the spot. It is supposed that he wants to +tell what had become of his master's watch, which +was never found. But no one has ever had courage +to address him.</p> + +<p>"He never comes farther than the dip in the +road," said my uncle. "If you had spoken to +him, Charlotte, I wonder if he would have told +you his secret?"</p> + +<p>He spoke half laughingly, but I have never +quite forgiven myself for my cowardice. It was +the look in those eyes!</p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="minimal" /> +<p> </p> + +<h3><a name="st_V" id="st_V"></a>"<span class="nowrap">——</span> WILL NOT TAKE PLACE."</h3> + +<p>"'Lingard,' 'Trevannion,'" murmured Captain +Murray, as he ran his eye down the column of +the morning paper specially devoted to so-called +fashionable intelligence, "Lingard, Arthur Lingard; +yes, I've met him; a very good fellow. +And Trevannion; don't you know a Miss +Trevannion, Bessie?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Murray glanced up from her teacups.</p> + +<p>"What do you say, Walter? Trevannion; +yes, I have met a girl of the name at my aunt's. +A pretty girl, and I think I heard she was going +to be married. Is that what you are talking +about?"</p> + +<p>"No," her husband replied. "It's the other +way—broken off, I wonder why."</p> + +<p>"What an old gossip you are," said Mrs. +Murray. "No good reason at all, I daresay. +People are so capricious now-a-days."</p> + +<p>"Still, they don't often announce a marriage +till it's pretty certain to come off. This sort of +thing," tapping the paper as he spoke, "isn't +exactly pleasant."</p> + +<p>"Very much the reverse," agreed Mrs. Murray, +and then they thought no more about it.</p> + +<p>"I wonder why," said a good many people +that morning, when they caught sight of the +announcement. For the two principals it concerned—Arthur +Lingard, especially—had a large +circle of friends and acquaintances, and their +engagement had been the subject of much and +hearty congratulation. It seemed so natural and +fitting that these two should marry. Both young, +amiable, good-looking, and sufficiently well off. +Even the most cynical could discern no cloud in +the bright sky of their future, no crook in the +lot before them.</p> + +<p>And now—</p> + +<p>No marvel that Captain Murray's soliloquy +was repeated by many.</p> + +<p>But who would have guessed that in one heart +it was ever ringing with maddening anguish?</p> + +<p>"I wonder why, oh, I wonder why he has done +it. Oh, if he would but tell me, it could not +surely seem quite so unendurable."</p> + +<p>And Daisy Trevannion pressed her aching head, +and her poor swollen eyes on to her mother's loving +bosom in a sort of wild despair.</p> + +<p>"Mamma, mamma," she cried, "help me. I +cannot be angry with him. I wish I could. He +was so gentle, so sweet—and he is so heartbroken, +I can see by his letter. Oh, mamma, what can it +be?"</p> + +<p>But to this, even the devoted mother, who would +gladly have given her own life to save her child +this misery, could find no answer.</p> + +<p>This was what had happened.</p> + +<p>They had been engaged about three months, the +wedding day was approximately fixed, when one +morning the blow fell.</p> + +<p>A letter to Daisy's father, enclosing one to herself—a +letter which made Mr. Trevannion draw +his brows together in instinctive indignation, and +then as the first impulse cooled a little, caused him +to turn to his daughter with a movement of irritation, +underneath which, hope had, nevertheless, +found time to reassert itself.</p> + +<p>"Daisy," he exclaimed sharply, "what is the +meaning of all this nonsense? Have you been +quarrelling with Lingard? You're a bit of a +spoilt child I know, my dear, but I don't like +playing with edged tools—a man like Arthur +won't stand being trifled with. Do you hear, +Daisy—eh, what?"</p> + +<p>For the girl had scarcely caught the sense of his +words, so absorbed was she in those of the short, +all too short, but terrible letter she had just read—the +letter addressed to herself, which began "Daisy, +my Daisy, for the last time," and ended abruptly +with the simple signature, "Arthur Lingard".</p> + +<p>She gazed up at her father—her white face all +drawn, and as it were, withered with that minute's +agony—her eyes dulled and yet wild. Never was +there such a metamorphosis from the happy, laughing +girl who had hurried in with some pretty excuse +for her unpunctuality.</p> + +<p>"Daisy, my child! Daisy," her father repeated, +repenting already of his hasty remarks, "don't +take it so seriously. Margaret," to his wife, +"speak to her."</p> + +<p>And Mrs. Trevannion, as pale almost as her +daughter, drew the sheet of note-paper from the +girl's unresisting hands, while her husband held +out to her his own letter.</p> + +<p>"Some complete mistake," she said, "some +misplaced quixotry. Daisy, my own darling, do +not take it so seriously. Your father will see him—you +will, will you not, Hugh?" detecting the +proud hesitation in her husband's face. "It is not +as if we did not know him well, and all about him. +Your father will find out, Daisy, and make it all +right."</p> + +<p>Mr. Trevannion did not contradict her, but +murmured some consolatory words, and then the +mother led Daisy away, and to a certain extent the +girl allowed herself to be reassured.</p> + +<p>"I will consult Keir if necessary," said the +father when out of hearing of his daughter. "He +is the natural person, both as our own connection +and because he introduced Lingard, and thinks +so highly of him. But first I will see Arthur +alone. The fewer mixed up in such a case the +better."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trevannion agreed. She was constitutionally +sanguine, but a painful idea struck her as her +husband spoke.</p> + +<p>"Hugh," she said hesitatingly, "you don't +think—it surely is not possible that his—that +Arthur's brain is affected?"</p> + +<p>"His brain—tut, nonsense! What a woman's +idea!" replied Mr. Trevannion irritably. "Why, +he is receiving compliments on every side, from the +very highest quarters, too, on that article of his on +the Capricorn Islands. Brain affected, indeed!"</p> + +<p>And to a whisper of, "I was thinking of over-work," +which followed him apologetically, he +vouchsafed no reply.</p> + +<p>Some intensely trying days passed. Mr. Trevannion's +interview with his recalcitrant son-in-law-to-be, +proved a complete failure. Nothing, absolutely +nothing was to be "got out of the fellow," +he told his wife in mingled anger and wretchedness, +for the poor man was a devoted father. Arthur was +gentleness itself, respectful, deferential even, to the +man whose peculiarly disagreeable position he felt +for inexpressibly. But he was as firm, as hard in +his decision that all should be, must be, over between +Miss Trevannion and himself, as if his own heart +had suddenly turned to iron, as if he possessed no +feelings at all. He grew white to the lips, with a +terrible death-like whiteness, when he named her; +he said with a quiet, deliberate emphasis, more +impressive by far than any passionate declaration, +that never, never while he lived, would he forgive +himself for the trouble he had brought into her +young life, but that he was powerless to do otherwise, +he was absolutely without a choice. As to the +reason for the breaking off of the engagement to +be given to the world, he left it entirely in the +Trevannions' own hands; he would contradict nothing +they thought it best to say; but, if possible, +he grew still whiter when his visitor from under +his shaggy eyebrows glanced at him with a look of +contempt while he replied cuttingly that he had +no love of falsehood. For his part he would tell +the truth, and in the end he believed it would be +best for Daisy that all the world should know the +way in which she had been treated.</p> + +<p>"Best for her and worst for you," he repeated.</p> + +<p>And Arthur only said:—</p> + +<p>"I hope so. It must be as you think well."</p> + +<p>Then Trevannion softened again a little.</p> + +<p>"I shall say nothing to any one at present," he +went on. "I must see Keir; possibly he may +understand you better than I can."</p> + +<p>But, "No, it will be no use," the young man +repeated coldly, though his very heart was wrung +for the father, crushing down his own pride while +he thought he saw still the ghost of a hope. "It +will be no use. No one can do anything."</p> + +<p>"And you adhere to your determination not to +see my—not to see Daisy again?"</p> + +<p>Lingard bowed his head.</p> + +<p>And Mr. Trevannion left him.</p> + +<p>Philip Keir was no blood relation of the Trevannions, +but a cousin by marriage and a very +intimate friend. He was some years older than +Mr. Lingard, and it was through him that the +acquaintance resulting in Daisy's engagement had +begun. He was a reserved man, with a frank +and cordial manner. Daisy thought she knew +him well, but as to this she was in some directions +entirely mistaken.</p> + +<p>He was away from home when Mr. Trevannion +called on him, driving straight to his chambers +from the fruitless interview with Lingard. Philip +did not return for a couple of days, and had left +no address. Hence ensued the painful interval +of suspense alluded to.</p> + +<p>But on the third evening a hansom dashed up +to the Trevannions' door, and Mr. Keir jumped +out. It was late, but there was no hesitation as +to admitting him.</p> + +<p>"I found your note," he said, as he grasped +his host's hand, "and came straight on. I have +only just got back. What is the matter? Tell +me at once."</p> + +<p>He was a self-controlled man, but his agitation +was evident. "Daisy?" he added hastily.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the father. The two were alone +in his study. "Poor Daisy!" And then he +told the story.</p> + +<p>Keir listened, though not altogether in silence, +for broken exclamations, which he seemed unable +to repress, broke out from him more than once.</p> + +<p>"Impossible—-inconceivable!" he muttered, +"Lingard, of all men, to behave like a<span class="nowrap">——</span>" he +stopped short, at a loss for a comparison.</p> + +<p>"Then you can throw no light upon it—none +whatever?" said Mr. Trevannion. "We had +hoped—foolishly, perhaps—I had somehow hoped +that you might have helped us. You know him +well, you see, you have been so much together, +your acquaintance is of old date, and you must +understand any peculiarities of his character."</p> + +<p>His tone still sounded as if he could not bring +himself finally to accept the position. Keir was +inexpressibly sorry for him.</p> + +<p>"I know of none," he said. "Frankly, I +know of nothing about him that is not estimable. +And, as you say, we have been much and most +intimately associated. We have travelled together +half over the world, we have been dependent on +each other for months at a time, and the more I +have seen of him the more I have admired and—yes—loved +him. If I had to pick a fault in him +I would say it is a curious spice of obstinacy—I +have seen it very strongly now and then. Once," +and his face grew grave, "once, we nearly +quarrelled because he would not give in on a +certain point. It was in Siberia, not long ago," +and here Philip gave a sort of shiver, "it was +very horrible—no need to go into details. He, +Arthur, got it into his head that a particular course +of action was called for, and there was no moving +him. However it ended all right. I had almost +forgotten it. But he was determined."</p> + +<p>Mr. Trevannion listened, but vaguely. Keir's +remarks scarcely seemed to the point.</p> + +<p>"Obstinate!" he repeated. "Yes, but that +doesn't explain things. There was no question +of giving in. They had had no quarrel. Daisy +was perfectly happy. The only thing she can say +on looking back over the last week or two closely, +is that Arthur had seemed depressed now and +then, and when she taxed him with it he evaded +a reply. You don't think, Philip, that there is +anything of that kind—melancholia, you know—in +his family?"</p> + +<p>"Bless you, no, my dear sir. He comes of the +healthiest stock possible. People one knows all +about for generations. No, no, it's nothing of +that kind," Keir replied. "And—what man ever +had such happy prospects?"</p> + +<p>"Then what in heaven's name is it?" said Mr. +Trevannion, bringing his hand down violently on +the table beside which they were sitting. "Can +you get it out of him, if you can do nothing else +for us, Philip? It is our right to know; it is—it +is due to my child, it is<span class="nowrap">——</span>" he stopped, his +face working with emotion. "He won't see her, +you know," he added disconnectedly.</p> + +<p>"I will try," said Philip. "It is indeed the +least I can do. If—if I could get him to see +her—Daisy; surely that would be the best +chance."</p> + +<p>Mr. Trevannion looked at him sharply, scrutinisingly.</p> + +<p>"You—you are satisfied then—entirely satisfied +that there is nothing we need dread her being +mixed up in, so to say? Nothing wrong—nothing +to shock a girl like her? You see," half apologetically, +"his refusing to see her makes one +afraid<span class="nowrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I am as sure of him as of myself—surer," said +Philip earnestly. "There is nothing in his past +to explain it—nothing."</p> + +<p>"An early secret marriage; a wife he thought +dead turning up again," suggested the father. "It +sounds absurd, sensational—but after all—there +must be some reason."</p> + +<p>"Not that," said Keir, getting up as he spoke. +"Well then, I will see him first thing in the morning, +and communicate with you as soon as possible +after I have done so. You will tell Mrs. +Trevannion and—and Daisy that I will do my +best?"</p> + +<p>"My wife is still in the drawing-room. Will +you not see her to-night?"</p> + +<p>Philip shook his head.</p> + +<p>"It is late," he said, "and I am dusty and unpresentable. +Besides, there is really nothing to say. +To-morrow it shall be as you all think best. I will +see Mrs. Trevannion—and Daisy," here he flushed +a little, but his host did not observe it, "if you like +and if she wishes it. Heaven send I may have +better news than I expect."</p> + +<p>And with a warm pressure of his old friend's +hand, Mr. Keir left him.</p> + +<p>The two younger men met the next morning. +There was no difficulty about it, for Lingard, knowing +by instinct that the interview must take place, +had determined to face it. So of the two he was +the more prepared, the more forearmed.</p> + +<p>The conversation was long—an hour, two hours +passed before poor Philip could make up his mind +to accept the ultimatum contained in the few hard +words with which Arthur Lingard first greeted him.</p> + +<p>"I know what you have come about. I knew +you must come. You could not help yourself. But, +Philip, it will save you pain—I don't mind for myself; +nothing can matter now—if you will at once +take my word for it that nothing you can say will +do the least shadow of good. No, don't shake hands +with me. I would rather you didn't."</p> + +<p>And he put his right arm behind his back and +stood there, leaning against the mantelpiece, facing +his friend.</p> + +<p>Philip looked up at him grimly.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, "I've given my word to—to +these poor dear people, and I'll stick to it. You've +got to make up your mind to a cross-examination, +Lingard."</p> + +<p>But through or below the grimness was a terrible +pity. Philip's heart was very tender for the man +whose inexplicable conduct was yet filling him with +indignation past words. Arthur was so changed—the +last week or two had done the work of years—all +the youthfulness, the almost boyish brightness, +which had been one of his charms, was gone, +dead. He was pale with a strange indescribable +pallor, that told of days, and worse still, of nights +of agony; the lines of his face were hardened; the +lips spoke of unalterable determination. Only once +had Philip seen him look thus, and then it was but +in expression—the likeness and the contrast struck +him curiously. The other time it had been resolution +temporarily hardening a youthful face; now—what +did it remind him of? A monk who had +gone through a life-time of spiritual struggle alone, +unaided by human sympathy? A martyr—no, +there was no enthusiasm. It was all dull, dead +anguish of unalterable resolve.</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment. Keir was +choking down an uncomfortable something in his +throat, and bracing himself to the inquisitorial +torture before him to perform.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Arthur, at last.</p> + +<p>And Philip looked up at him again.</p> + +<p>How queer his eyes were—they used to be so +deeply blue. Daisy had often laughed at his +changeable eyes, as she called them—blue in the +daytime, almost black at night, but always lustrous +and liquid. Now, they were glassy, almost filmy. +What was it? A sudden thought struck Philip.</p> + +<p>"Arthur!" he exclaimed, "Arthur, old fellow, +are you going blind? Is that the mystery? If +it is that, good Lord, how little you know her, +if you think that<span class="nowrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>Arthur's pale lips grew visibly paler. He had +been unprepared for attack in this direction, and +for the moment he quailed before it.</p> + +<p>"No," he whispered hoarsely, "it is not that. +Would to God it were!"</p> + +<p>But almost instantly he had mastered himself, +and from that moment throughout the interview +not even the mention of Daisy's name had power +to stir him.</p> + +<p>And Philip, annoyed with his own impulsiveness, +stiffened again.</p> + +<p>"You are determined not to reveal your +secret," he began, "but I want to come to an +understanding with you on one point. If I guess +it, if I put my finger on it, will you give me +the satisfaction of owning that I have done so."</p> + +<p>Lingard hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "I will do so on one condition—your +word of honour, your oath, never to tell +it to any human being."</p> + +<p>"Not to—her—Daisy?"</p> + +<p>"Least of all."</p> + +<p>Philip groaned. This did not look very promising +for the meeting with Daisy, which at the +bottom of his heart he believed in as his last—his +trump card.</p> + +<p>Still, he had gained something.</p> + +<p>"Then, my first question seems, in the face of +that, almost a mockery. I was going to ask +you," and he half gasped—"it is nothing—nothing +about her that is at the root of all this +misery? No fancy," again the gasp, "that—that +she doesn't care for you, or love you enough? +No nonsense about your not being suited to each +other, or that you couldn't make a girl of her +sensitive, high-strung nature happy?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Arthur, and the word seemed to +ring through the room. "No, I know she loves +me as I love her. Oh, no, not quite like that, I +trust," and his voice was firm through all the tragedy +of the last sentence. "And I believe I could have +made her very happy. Leave her name out of it +now, Phil, once for all. It has nothing to do +personally with the woman who is, and always +will be, to me my perfect ideal of sweetness and +excellence and truth and beauty."</p> + +<p>"Then it has to do with yourself," murmured +Keir. "Come, the radius is narrowing. I flew +out at poor Trevannion when he suggested it, but +all the same, it's nothing in your past you're +ashamed of that's come to light, is it? The best +fellows in the world make fools of themselves +sometimes, you know. Don't mind my asking."</p> + +<p>"I don't mind," said Arthur wearily, "but it's +no use. No, it's nothing like that. I have done +nothing I am ashamed of. I am not secretly +married, nor have I committed forgery," with a +very ghastly attempt at a smile.</p> + +<p>"Then," said Philip, "is it something about +your family. Have you found out that there's a +strain of insanity in the Lingards perhaps? People +exaggerate that kind of thing now-a-days. There's +a touch of it in us all, I take it."</p> + +<p>"No," said Arthur, again "my family's all +right. I've no very near relations except my +sister, but you know her, and you know all about +us. We're not adventurers in any sense of the +word."</p> + +<p>"Far from it," agreed Philip warmly. Then +for a moment or two he relapsed into silence. +"Does your sister—does Lady West know about—about +this mysterious affair?" he asked abruptly, +after some pondering.</p> + +<p>"Nothing whatever. I, of course, was bound +by every consideration not to tell her—to tell no +one anything till it was understood by—the +Trevannions. And I had no reason for consulting +her or—any friend," Arthur replied.</p> + +<p>He spoke jerkily and with effort, as if he were +putting force on himself to endure what yet he was +convinced was absolutely useless torture.</p> + +<p>But his words gave Keir a new opening, which +he was quick to seize.</p> + +<p>"That's just it," he exclaimed eagerly. "That's +just where it strikes me you've gone wrong. You +should have consulted some one—not myself, not +your sister even; I don't say whom, but some one +sensible and trustworthy. I believe your mind has +got warped. You've been thinking over this +trouble, whatever it is, till you can't see it rightly. +You've exaggerated it out of all proportion, and +you shouldn't trust your own morbid judgment."</p> + +<p>Lingard did not answer. He stood motionless, +his eyes fixed upon the ground. For an instant +a wild hope dashed through Philip that at last he +had made some impression. But as Arthur slowly +raised his dim, worn eyes, and looked him in the +face, it faded again, even before the young man +spoke.</p> + +<p>"To satisfy you, I will tell you this much. I +have consulted one person—a man whom you +would allow was trustworthy and wise and good. +From him I have hidden nothing whatever, and +he agrees with me that I have no choice—that duty +points unmistakably to the course I am pursuing."</p> + +<p>Again a flash of suggestion struck his hearer.</p> + +<p>"One person—a man," he repeated. "Arthur, +is it some priest? Have they been converting or +perverting you, my boy? Are you going over to +Rome, fancying yourself called to be a Trappist, +or a—those fellows at the Grande Chartreuse, you +remember?"</p> + +<p>For the second time during the interview, Arthur +smiled, and his smile was a trifle less ghastly this +time.</p> + +<p>"No, again," he said. "You're quite on a +wrong tack. I have not the slightest inclination +that way. I—I wish I had. No, my adviser is no +priest. But he's one of the best of men, all the +same, and one of the wisest."</p> + +<p>"You won't tell me who he is?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot."</p> + +<p>"And"—Philip was reluctant to try his last +hope, and felt conscious that he would do it clumsily—"Arthur," +he burst out, "you will see her—Daisy—once +more? She has a right to it. You +are putting enough upon her without refusing this +one request of hers."</p> + +<p>He stood up as he spoke. He himself had +grown strangely pale, and seeing this, as he glanced +at him, Lingard's own face became ashen.</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Good God!" he said, "I think this might +have been spared me. No, I will not see her +again. The only thing I can do for her is to +refuse this last request. Tell her so, Philip—tell +her what I say. And now leave me. Don't shake +hands with me. I don't wish it, and I daresay you +don't. If—if we never meet again, you and I—and +who knows?—if this is our goodbye, thank +you, old fellow, thank you for all you have tried to +do. Perhaps I know the cost of it to you better +than you imagine. Good-bye, Phil!"</p> + +<p>Keir turned towards the door. But he looked +back ere he reached it. Arthur was standing as he +had been—motionless.</p> + +<p>"You're not thinking of killing yourself, are +you?" he said quietly.</p> + +<p>Arthur looked at him. His eyes had a different +expression now—or was it that something was +gleaming softly in them that had not been there +before?</p> + +<p>"No, no—I am not going to be false to my +colours. I—I don't care to talk much about it, +but—I am a Christian, Phil."</p> + +<p>"At least I can put that horrid idea out of the +poor child's head, then," thought Keir to himself. +Though to Arthur he did not reply, save by a bend +of his head.</p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="minimal" /> +<p> </p> +<p>Time passed. And in his wings there was +healing.</p> + +<p>At twenty-four, Daisy Trevannion, though her +face bore traces of suffering of no common order, +was yet a sweet and serene woman. To some +extent she had outlived the strange tragedy of her +earlier girlhood.</p> + +<p>It had never been explained. The one person +who might naturally have been looked to, to +throw some light on the mystery, Lingard's +sister, Lady West, was, as her brother had +stated, completely in the dark. At first she had +been disposed to blame Daisy, or her family; +and though afterwards convinced that in so +doing she was entirely mistaken, she never became +in any sense confidential with them on the matter. +And after a few months they met no more. For +her husband was sent abroad, and detained there +on an important diplomatic mission.</p> + +<p>Now and then, in the earlier days of her broken +engagement, Daisy would ask Philip to "try to +find out if Mary West knows where he is". +And to please her he did so. But all he learnt +was—what indeed was all the sister had to tell—that +Arthur was off again on his old travels—to +the Capricorn Islands or to the moon, it was +not clear which.</p> + +<p>"He has promised that I shall hear from him +once a year—as near my birthday as he can +manage. That is all I can tell you," she said, +trying to make light of it.</p> + +<p>And whether this promise was kept or no, one +thing was certain—Arthur Lingard had entirely +disappeared from London society.</p> + +<p>At twenty-five, Daisy married Philip. He +had always loved her, though he had never +allowed her to suspect it; and knowing herself +and her history as he did, he was satisfied with +the true affection she could give him—satisfied, +that is to say, in the hope and belief that his own +devotion would kindle ever-increasing response +on her side. And his hopes were not disappointed. +They were very happy.</p> + +<p>Now for the sequel to the story—such sequel, +that is to say, as there is to give—a suggestion +of explanation rather than any positive <i>dénoument</i> +of the mystery.</p> + +<p>They—Philip and Daisy—had been married +for two or three years when one evening it +chanced to them to dine at the house of a rather +well-known literary man with whom they were +but slightly acquainted. They had been invited +for a special reason; their hosts were pleasant +and genial people who liked to get those about +them with interests in common. And Keir, +though his wings were now so happily clipt, still +held his position as a traveller who had seen and +noted much in his former wanderings.</p> + +<p>"We think your husband may enjoy a talk +with Sir Abel Maynard, who is with us for a +few days," Mrs. Thorncroft had said in her +note.</p> + +<p>And Sir Abel, not being of the surly order of +lions who refuse to roar when they know that +their audience is eager to hear them, made himself +most agreeable. He appreciated Mr. Keir's intelligence +and sympathy, and was by no means indifferent +to Mrs. Keir's beauty, though "evidently," he +thought to himself, "she is not over fond of +reminiscences of her husband's travels. Perhaps +she is afraid of his taking flight again."</p> + +<p>During dinner the conversation turned, not +unnaturally, on a subject just at that moment +much to the fore. For it was about the time of +the heroic Damien's death.</p> + +<p>"No," said Sir Abel, in answer to some inquiry, +"I never visited his place. But I have seen lepers—to +perfection. By-the-by," he went on suddenly, +"I came across a queer, a very queer, story a while +ago. I wonder, Keir, if you can throw any light +upon it?"</p> + +<p>But at that moment Mrs. Thorncroft gave +the magic signal and the women left the +room.</p> + +<p>By degrees the men came straggling upstairs +after them, then a little music followed, but it +was not till much later in the evening than was +usual with him that Philip made his appearance +in the drawing-room, preceded by Sir Abel +Maynard. Philip looked tired and rather "distrait," +thought Daisy, whose eyes were keen with the +quick discernment of perfect affection, and she +was not sorry when, before very long, he whispered +to her that it was getting late, might they not leave +soon? Nor was she sorry that during the interval +before her husband made this suggestion, Sir Abel, +who had been devoting himself to her, had avoided +all mention of his travels, and had been amusing +her with his criticism of a popular novel instead. +She could never succeed altogether in banishing +the painful association of Arthur Lingard from +allusion to her husband's old wanderings.</p> + +<p>Poor Arthur! Where was he now?</p> + +<p>"Philip, dear," she said, slipping her hand into +his when they found themselves alone, and with a +longish drive before them, in their own little +brougham, "there is something the matter. You +have heard something? Tell me what it is."</p> + +<p>Keir hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "I suppose it is best to tell you. +It is the strange story Sir Abel alluded to before +you left the room."</p> + +<p>"About—about Arthur? Is it about Arthur?" +whispered she, shivering a little.</p> + +<p>Philip put his arm round her.</p> + +<p>"I can't say. We shall perhaps never know +certainly," he replied. "But it looks very like it. +Listen, dear. Some little time ago—two or three +years ago—Maynard spent some days at one of +those awful leper settlements—never mind where. +I would just as soon you did not know. There, +to his amazement, among the most devoted of the +attendants upon the poor creatures he found an +Englishman, young still, at least by his own +account, though to judge by his appearance it +would have been impossible to say. For he was +himself far gone, very far gone in some ways, in +the disease. But he was, or had been, a man of +strong constitution and enormous determination. +Ill as he was, he yet managed to tend others with +indescribable devotion. They looked upon him +as a saint. Maynard did not like to inquire what +had brought him to such a pass—he, the poor +fellow, was a perfect gentleman. But the day +Sir Abel was leaving, the Englishman took him +to some extent into his confidence, and asked him +to do him a service. This was his story. Some +years before, in quite a different part of the world, +the young man had nursed a leper—a dying leper—for +some hours. He believed for long that he +had escaped all danger, in fact he never thought of +it; but it was not so. There must have been an +unhealed wound of some kind—a slight scratch +would do it—on his hand. No need to go into the +details of his first misgivings, of the horror of the +awful certainty at last. It came upon him in the +midst of the greatest happiness; he was going to +be married to a girl he adored."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Philip, Philip, why did he not tell?" +Daisy wailed.</p> + +<p>"He consulted the best and greatest physician, +who—as a friend, he said—approved of the course +he had mapped out for himself. He decided to +tell no one, to break off his engagement, and die +out of her—the girl's—life; not once, after he +was sure, did he see her again. He would not +even risk touching her hand. And he believed +that telling would only have brought worse agony +upon her in the end than the agony he was forced +to inflict. For he was a doomed man, though +they gave him a few years to live. And he did +the only thing he could do with those years. He +set off to the settlement in question. Maynard +was to call there some months later on his way +home, and the young man knew he would be dead +then, and so he was. But he showed Maynard a +letter explaining all, that he had got ready—all but +the address—<i>that</i>, he would not add till he was in +the act of dying. There must be no risk of +her knowing till he was dead. And this letter +Maynard was to fetch on his return. He did so, +but—there had been no time to add the address—death +had come suddenly. All sorts of precautions +had been ordered by the poor fellow as +to disinfecting the letter and so on. But it did +not seem to Maynard that these had been taken. +So he contented himself by spreading out the +paper on the sea-shore and learning it by heart, +and then leaving it. The sum total of it was +what I have told you, but not one name was +named."</p> + +<p>Daisy was sobbing quietly.</p> + +<p>"Was it he?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I feel sure of it," Philip replied. "For +I can supply the missing link. The one time I +really quarrelled with Arthur was when we were +in Siberia. He <i>would</i> spend a night in a dying +leper's hut. I would have done it myself, I +believe and hope, had it been necessary. But by +riding on a few miles we could have got help for +the poor creature—which indeed I did—and more +efficient help than ours. But Lingard was determined, +and no ill seemed to come of it. I had +almost forgotten the circumstance. I never associated +it with the mystery that caused you such +anguish, my poor darling."</p> + +<p>"It was he," whispered Daisy. "Philip, he +was a hero after all."</p> + +<p>"Not even you can feel that, as I do," Keir +replied.</p> + +<p>Then they were silent.</p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="minimal" /> +<p> </p> +<p>A few weeks afterwards came a letter from +Lady West, in her far-off South American home. +Daisy had not heard from her for years.</p> + +<p>"By circuitous ways, I need not explain the +details," she wrote, "I have learnt that my darling +brother is dead. I thought I had better tell you. +I am sure his most earnest wish was that you +should live to be happy, dear Daisy, as I trust you +are. And I know you have long forgiven him +the sorrow he caused you—it was worse still for +him."</p> + +<p>"I wonder," said Daisy, "if she knows more?"</p> + +<p>But the letter seemed to add certainty to their +own conviction.</p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="minimal" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="st_VI" id="st_VI"></a>THE CLOCK THAT STRUCK THIRTEEN.</h3> + +<p>"You misunderstand me wilfully, Helen. I +neither said nor inferred anything of the kind."</p> + +<p>"What did you mean then, for if words to you +bear a different interpretation from what they do +to me, I must trouble you to speak in <i>my</i> language +when addressing me," angrily retorted a young +girl, with what nature had intended to be a very +pretty face with a charming expression, but which +at the present moment was far from deserving the +latter part of the description. Eyes flashing, cheeks +burning and hands clenched in the excess of her +indignation, stood Helen Beaumont by the window +of her pretty little sitting-room, or "studio" as +she loved to call it, presenting a striking contrast +to the peaceful scene without; where a carefully +tended garden still looked bright with the remaining +flowers of late September. Her companion, +standing in the attitude invariably assumed now-a-days +by novelists' heroes, namely, leaning against +the mantelpiece, was a young man of equally prepossessing +appearance with her own. At first +glance no one would have suspected him of +sharing any of the young lady's excitement, for +his expression was so calm as almost to merit +the description of sleepy. Looking more closely, +however, the signs of some unusual disturbance +or annoyance were to be descried, for his face was +slightly flushed and his blue eyes had lost the look +of sweet temper evidently their ordinary expression.</p> + +<p>"What I meant to say, Helen, was not, as you +choose to misinterpret it, that I blame you for +proper womanly courage and spirit, than which, I +consider few things more admirable, nor as you +are well aware do I admire the sweetly silly and +affectedly timid order of young ladies. But this +I do mean and repeat, that I think your persistence +in this foolish scheme a piece of sheer bravado and +foolhardiness, totally unworthy of any sensible +person's approval, and what is more<span class="nowrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Malcolm, or rather Mr. Willoughby, +I have heard quite enough,"—and as she spoke, +Helen turned from the window out of which she +had been gazing while Malcolm spoke, with, it must +be confessed, very little interest in the varied tints +of the dahlias blooming in all their rich brilliance +on the terrace,—"I have heard quite enough, and +think myself exceedingly fortunate in having heard +it now before it is too late. You may imagine," +she continued, "that I am speaking in temper, +but it is not so. I have for some time suspected, +and now feel convinced, that we are not suited to +each other. Your own words bear witness to your +opinion of me, 'self-willed, foolhardy, unwomanly,' +and I know not what other pretty expressions you +have applied to me, and for my part I tell you +simply that I cannot and will not marry a man +whose opinion of what a woman should be is like +yours; and who insults me constantly as you do, +by telling me how far short I fall of his ideal. +Marry your ideal, Malcolm Willoughby, and I shall +wish you joy of her. Some silly little fool who +dares not move a step alone in her bewitching +helplessness. But do not think to convert <i>me</i> into +such a piece of contemptible inanity," and so saying +she turned towards the door.</p> + +<p>"Helen," said Malcolm quietly, so quietly that +Helen was arrested in spite of herself, "you are +unjust, unreasonable and ungenerous. You know +that I never cared for any woman but you, you +know that nothing pleases me more than to witness +your superiority in numberless particulars to the +general run of girls, and you know too the pride +and pleasure I take in your skill as an artist; +but blinded by self-will you will not see the +perfect reasonableness of my request that you +will abandon this absurd expedition. If not +for your own sake, at least do so for Edith's, +who is as you know left in your special charge by +Leonard."</p> + +<p>The first part of this speech seemed, to judge +by Helen's transparent countenance, likely to +soften and move her, but the unlucky word +"absurd" and the tone in which Malcolm spoke, +as if it was necessary to remind her of her duty, +effectually did away with any good result that his +remonstrance might have worked. She turned, +with her hand on the door, and saying, "I have +told you my decision, Mr. Willoughby, and I +wish you good-evening," left the room. Malcolm +remained behind, lost in thought of no pleasurable +nature. At last he too left the little sitting-room, +after first ringing the bell and ordering his horse +to be brought round. Making his way to the +front entrance he there "mounted and rode away," +his spirits, poor fellow, by no means the better for +his visit.</p> + +<p>It is time, I think, to explain the cause of the +lovers' quarrel above described. Helen and Edith +Beaumont were orphans, left to the guardianship of +their brother Leonard, in whose house we have seen +the former. Delicacy, induced by a severe illness +some months previously, had obliged Mr. Beaumont, +accompanied by his wife, to go for the +autumn and winter months to the south of France, +leaving his sisters at home under the nominal +chaperonage of an elderly aunt, who performed +her duty to the perfect satisfaction of her nieces +by letting them do exactly as they liked. More +correctly speaking, perhaps, exactly as Helen liked, +for the younger of the two, Edith, a girl of seventeen +and four years her sister's junior, could hardly +be said to have likes or dislikes distinct from those +of Helen. Possibly Mr. Beaumont might not +have left the two to their own devices with so +easy a mind, had he not quitted home happy in +the knowledge of Helen's engagement to his +friend and neighbour Malcolm Willoughby. The +gentleman in question lived within a few miles of +our heroine's home, having succeeded some years +before to his father's property. His only sister, +Mrs. Lindsay, was at this time living with him +for a few months while awaiting her husband's +return from India, and though some years older, +was, next to her sister, Helen's most valued friend +and companion. Malcolm Willoughby was a +man of high character, peculiarly fitted, by his +unusual amount of sterling good sense, to be the +guide of an impulsive, enthusiastic girl like +pretty Helen Beaumont, whom to know was to +love, and who would have been altogether +charming but for her inordinate amount of self-will +and inveterate dislike to being, as she expressed +it, "ordered" to do or not to do whatever +came into her head. She and her sister had +real talent as artists, and their spirited and +well-executed landscapes bore but little resemblance +to the insipid productions of most young +lady painters. To improving herself in this +direction Helen had devoted much time and +labour. Unfortunately, it had so absorbed her +thoughts and desires that in its pursuance she +was inclined sometimes to forget what were for +her more important avocations. Helen's fortunate +engagement to Mr. Willoughby had for +some time past corrected these only objectionable +tendencies in her character, and all had gone +smoothly and happily till the date at which our +story commences, when, unluckily, some artist +friends had filled her head with their descriptions +of the exquisite autumn scenery, "effects +of foliage," etc., to be seen in a mountainous +and hitherto little explored part of Wales. +Her imagination, and through her that of her +sister Edith, ran wild on the subject, and now +nothing would satisfy her but a journey to the +spot in question, by themselves, in order that they +might enjoy their freedom to the utmost, and revel +in the delight of painting some of the wonderful +Welsh scenery described to them. The idea had +at first been mooted half in joke, but an impolitic +expression of strong disapprobation on the part of +Mr. Willoughby had done more to determine +Helen on carrying it out than all the anticipated +artistic enjoyment.</p> + +<p>"It will be just the opportunity I wanted," +thought the foolish girl, "of showing him that +I do not intend to be a silly nonentity of a wife +with no opinion of my own, and hedged in by all +the absurd old-fashioned conventionalities which +will not allow a woman to have an existence of her +own or give her opportunity to cultivate what +talents she may possess."</p> + +<p>And once determined, Miss Helen remained +inflexible. In vain Mr. Willoughby remonstrated, +in vain even their indulgent old aunt expressed +her horror at the idea of "two young girls scouring +the country by themselves," her own feebleness +rendering her accompanying them out of the +question. Go to Wales Helen and Edith must, +and go they would, till at last the discussion with +her <i>fiancé</i> terminated in the disastrous manner +above recorded.</p> + +<p>I will not undertake to describe Helen's +feelings, when, in the solitude of her own room, +she thought over what she had done. Had she +herself been obliged to put them into words, I +believe she would have repeated that she had not +acted in temper and that the stand she had made +for her womanly freedom, as she would have expressed +it, had been an act of supreme heroism +and devotion to the cause of right. She said all +this to herself and tried hard, very hard to believe +it; and to stifle the little voice at the very bottom +of her heart which whispered that she had behaved +like a silly, self-willed, petted child, and shown +herself undeserving of so good a gift as the +love of a man like Malcolm Willoughby. The +little voice was smothered for the time by exaggerated +anticipations of the delights of their tour +and attempted self-congratulations at her newly +regained liberty to do as she chose; for Malcolm +did not come near her again, and it took all her +pride to hide from herself and others the shock +she felt through all her being when, in the course +of a few days, she heard accidentally that Mr. +Willoughby was leaving home for an uncertain +length of time.</p> + +<p>"He has taken me at my word," thought she, +"but of course I meant him to do so," and she +hurried on the preparations for their journey +which they were now on the eve of.</p> + +<p>"You will at least take Maxwell," said Aunt +Fanny timidly.</p> + +<p>"Maxwell, aunt! No, thank you," said Helen +ironically; "she would be crying for her spring +mattress the first night and thinking she was going +to die if she heard the wind howl. No, thank +you, I mean to be independent for once in my +life, and so does Edith."</p> + +<p>Other twenty-four hours saw our two young +ladies on their way. Unaccustomed as they were +to travelling alone they got on very well for the +greater part of their journey, till they arrived at a +certain railway station in Wales, of name unpronounceable +by civilised tongue, but which sounded +to them like that of the place where they were to +leave the railway. Never doubting but what they +were right in so doing Helen and Edith calmly +descended from their carriage, watched the train +disappear in the tunnel hard by, and then began +to make inquiries for a conveyance to transport +themselves and their luggage, white umbrellas, +easels and all, the five or six miles which they +imagined were all that divided them from their +destination. A colloquy ensued with the most +intelligible of two or three fly-drivers, carmen, +or whatever these personages are called in Wales; +but what was Helen's consternation on learning +that fifteen miles at least remained to be traversed; +they having left the railway at Llanfar, two stations +too soon, instead of remaining in it till they reached +Llanfair, the point nearest to the farm-house where +lodgings had been taken for them. No chance of +a train to Llanfair till to-morrow morning, for the +line was a new one, and the traffic as yet but small. +No prospect of a night's accommodation where +they were. Nothing for it but to trust to the +driver's assurance that he and his unpromising-looking +horse could easily convey them to the +farm-house, with the inevitably unpronounceable +name. With some unconfessed misgivings Helen +and Edith mounted the vehicle awaiting them, +and drove off along a muddy, jolting lane into +the quickly gathering gloom.</p> + +<p>Shivering on her uncomfortable seat, did Helen +wish herself at home again in her own little sitting-room, +with Aunt Fanny peacefully knitting, Edith +kneeling on the hearth-rug, and Malcolm's face +bright with the reflection of the ruddy log fire so +welcome in autumn evenings; all together as was +their wont, enjoying "blind man's holiday"?</p> + +<p>I think we had better not press the question too +closely. However, "it's a long lane that has no +ending," and even this dreary journey gradually +drew to a close. They passed but few houses of +any kind, one or two straggling hamlets were left +behind, and for some two or three miles the road +had been perfectly solitary, when they suddenly +heard wheels advancing to meet them, and in a +few minutes a car like their own drove towards +them, and being hailed by their driver, drew up +at their side. A jabbering ensued of directions +asked and given, and they again drove on.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure you know the way?" said Helen +timidly.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, miss," the driver answered confidently, +and further informed them that the car they had +met, had just returned from their own destination +(being translated), the Black Nest Farm, having +there deposited a traveller who had taken the +middle course of leaving the railway at the intermediate +stoppage between Llanfar and Llanfair. +Other three-quarters of an hour and they pulled +up at last before a house which the darkness prevented +their seeing more of than that it was long +and low. They stumbled up the rough garden +path, and in answer to their knock, the door was +opened by a tidy, clean-looking old woman, with +a flickering candle in her hand, evidently surprised +at their appearance. She had, she said, quite +given up thoughts of their coming that night, +and feared the fire in the sitting-room was out. +Thankful to have reached the Black Nest at last, +a chilly room seemed a smaller evil than the two +girls would have considered it at home; and +after all, things were not so bad, for the fire in +the little farmhouse parlour, to which their landlady +conducted them, was not quite out, and a +little judicious coaxing soon brought it round.</p> + +<p>Their hostess's and their own first idea was of +course <i>tea</i>. What a blessing, by the way, it is that +British womankind in general, high and low, rich +and poor, old and young, have this <i>one</i> taste in +common! Refreshed by the homely meal speedily +set before them, Helen and Edith proceeded, +under the guidance of the old woman (apparently +the only inhabitant of the house), and the flickering +candle, to inspect their sleeping apartment. The +result was not eminently satisfactory, for it struck +them as gloomy, ill-ventilated, and a long way from +their parlour, though but few rooms appeared to +intervene between the two. This puzzled them +at the time, but was afterwards explained by the +fact that Black Nest Farm-house had originally +consisted of two one-storeyed cottages standing at +some yards distance from each other, and which, +on becoming the property of one owner, had been +united by a long passage; which arrangement was +looked upon in the neighbourhood as a triumph +of architectural ingenuity. On returning to their +sitting-room Helen's eye fell on a door beside their +own which she had not before noticed, and she +inquired if that was a bedroom. To which the +old woman replied in the affirmative, but added +that they could not have it, as it and a small +sitting-room opening out of it were engaged by a +"strange gentleman". And besides this, she added, +the bedroom was not so desirable for ladies, having +a second, or rather third door to the outside of +the house. The only other room they could have +was so small that she did not think they would +like it, but they should see for themselves, and so +saying she turned towards a recess in the passage. +Helen followed her, but the flickering candle +suddenly throwing light in a new direction, she +gave a little exclamation of alarm at what appeared +at the first moment to be a very ugly grinning +portrait high up on the wall.</p> + +<p>"It's only the clock, miss," said the old woman. +"Though, to be sure, it is quare," and as she +spoke she threw the light more fully upon the +object that had startled Helen, which she now +perceived to be a very antique clock, standing high +in a dark wooden case, and with the face she +had seen, peeping at you as it were from behind +the dial-plate. An ugly, coarsely painted face, +with a disagreeably mocking expression it seemed +to Helen; nor was it the only repulsive feature +in this very remarkable clock, for the artist +appeared to have outdone himself in the grotesquely +hideous devices at the bottom of the +dial. Death's heads, cross-bones, and other +equally unpleasant objects of various kinds, +curiously intermingled with a condensed solar +system, in which sun, moon and stars appeared +jumbled together haphazard. The general object +of the whole evidently being to bring before the +spectator the ghastly side of his future, and to +read him a wholesome, but certainly not attractive, +homily on the shortness of life, and the speed with +which time was ticking away. Helen felt half +fascinated by its hideousness.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, what a very curious clock!" she +ejaculated, and the old woman repeated, with a +little inward chuckle at what she evidently considered +the admiration drawn forth by her heirloom:—</p> + +<p>"Yes, sure it <i>is</i> quare."</p> + +<p>An uncanny object it certainly was, and Helen +felt relieved that the room in its immediate +vicinity was so small as to be out of the question +for the accommodation of her sister and herself. +Re-entering the sitting-room she found poor +Edith looking so utterly worn-out that she proposed +that they should at once go to bed; which +they accordingly did, followed by the old woman +with offers of assistance. Passing the door of +"the strange gentleman's" room, they heard +sounds of some one moving inside, and Edith +sleepily remarked that she wondered what could +have brought a gentleman to an outlandish place +like the Black Nest, unless, like themselves, he +came to take views in the neighbourhood. Helen +pricked up her ears at this and inquired of Mrs. +Jones if their fellow-lodger was an artist. Mrs. +Jones thought not, but seemed unwilling to pursue +the topic of the strange gentleman further. In +rather a forced manner she changed the subject by +inquiring if the young ladies would like to hire +her pony while there, as it was rough walking, and +her grandson Griffith, the only other inhabitant of +the cottage, a little lad of twelve, could lead it +for them, and show them the way whenever they +chose. Helen gladly closed with the offer.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, Mrs. Jones," she exclaimed "how +very lonely you must be living here with no one +but a little boy. Have you no near neighbours?"</p> + +<p>"None nearer than three miles ma'am, for the +farm-men live at a distance, save old Thomas in +the last cottage you passed, but he is bed-ridden. +My widow daughter, Griffith's mother, was with +me till she took ill, two winters ago, and died +before the doctor could get to her. Yes, it is +lonesome like in winter to be sure. It's not +often that gentry like you, miss, care to be in +these parts so late in the year."</p> + +<p>Further inquiries elicited that the nearest church +was a good five miles off, that there was no doctor +nearer than Llanfar, that the butcher only came in +the winter once a fortnight and that irregularly; +in consequence of which the Black Nesters had +often to depend upon their own scanty resources, the +roads being almost impassable in stormy weather.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think it feels rather dreary, Helen?" +said Edith, as she was falling asleep.</p> + +<p>"<i>Eerie</i>, rather, I should say," replied her sister, +"but that, you know, is the beauty of it. In the +morning, I daresay, it will look bright enough, +but I confess I do not like that clock. Listen, +can't you hear its ticking, faintly, even here, at the +end of that long passage?"</p> + +<p>"What clock do you mean? I saw no clock," +said Edith, but almost before Helen could answer, +her soft regular breathing told that she was asleep. +Helen however, could not so quickly compose herself. +She felt excited and vaguely uneasy; and when +she at last fell asleep, it was only to have her discomfort +increased, by absurd, yet alarming dreams. +With them all the ugly clock was grotesquely +intermingled. Sometimes it was herself, sometimes +Edith, and once Malcolm, whom she fancied +in some position of terrible peril, always associated +with the clock, and at last she awoke with a half-smothered +scream of horror at the most frightful +dream of all; in which the "strange gentleman," +their fellow-lodger, was pursuing her with a veil +over his face, which just as he caught her fell off, +and disclosed, horrible to relate, the face on the +clock.</p> + +<p>Edith started up as Helen convulsively clutched +her, and exclaiming, "What in the world is +the matter?" really thought Helen was going +out of her mind when she replied, "That horrible +clock;" and as she spoke, as if invoked, the clock +began to strike: "One, two, three, four," and so +on. "Is it never going to stop?" said Helen. +Poor Edith, half asleep still, listened with her.</p> + +<p>"Edith, I am almost certain that clock struck +<i>thirteen</i>," said Helen in an awe-struck voice; and +then they heard a door shut at the end of the +passage.</p> + +<p>"Helen, you have been dreaming, and you are +only half awake now," said Edith. "It is not +like you to waken me in this frightening way, +please let me go to sleep."</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry," said Helen penitently, and +she too closed her eyes and tried hard to go to +sleep, which of course she did, as soon as she left +off trying, and had made up her mind to lie awake +till daylight.</p> + +<p>The morning broke clear and fresh; and, as +Helen had said, things in general bore a very +different aspect to that of the night before. Indoors, +the quaint old house now looked simply +picturesque, and Mrs. Jones the <i>beau idéal</i> of a +cheery old hostess. Even the face of the clock, +when Helen pointed it out to Edith, seemed to +have lost its mocking grin, and to be merely +bidding them good-morning, with a comical smile +at the consternation it had awakened the night +before.</p> + +<p>Out-of-doors they soon turned their steps. +There was no view from the house, but a short +voyage of discovery quickly explained to them +their locality. Black Nest Farm stood at the foot +of a hill close on to the high road, or what passed +for such in that hitherto little frequented neighbourhood. +On the opposite side of the road but +little was to be seen, as the meadows were soon lost +in a thick belt of wood; but immediately behind +the house was a tempting prospect, for there a +little winding path led up the hill to one of the +spots Helen and Edith most ardently desired to +paint, and of which their friends had given them +a glowing description. It was rather a long walk +to the Black Lake, Mrs. Jones informed them, but +their enthusiasm knew no bounds, and hardly permitted +them to do justice to their breakfast of +ham and eggs, home-made bread and home-churned +butter. See them then starting on their +expedition,—their painting materials, and some +creature comforts in the shape of sandwiches and +hard-boiled eggs, safely packed on the pony's back, +Griffith leading him and acting as guide. A pretty +stiff pull it was, enthusiasm notwithstanding, and +rather hard work for the little feet, sensibly shod +in good strong boots it is true, but unaccustomed +nevertheless to mountain scrambling. But at last +their circuitous path brought them to the summit, +and there a curious prospect broke upon them. +They stood at the edge of the great Welsh tableland. +There it stretched away before them, miles and +miles beyond their view; a vast expanse of wild, +brown moor, unrelieved by tree or shrub, but here +and there dotted by great patches of what Edith +at first sight took to be "lovely emerald moss". +Treacherous loveliness, for it told, as they learnt +from Griffith, of fearful bog-pits, down whose +slimy sides once slipped no man or beast could +ever regain firm ground.</p> + +<p>"What a horrible death that would be," said +Helen, shuddering, "far worse than regular +drowning in clean water. It would be slow +suffocation in nasty, dirty mud."</p> + +<p>A few minutes' careful walking brought them +in sight of the Black Lake, the special object of +their excursion. And it certainly was well worth +coming to see, if not to paint; probably too, +better seen in the greyness of a late autumn day +than in the summer sun, whose bright rays +reflected on its surface would have little harmonised +with its character of gloom and loneliness. +The lake was equal to several acres in +extent, but from where they stood could not all +be seen, as its farther end was hidden by the +undulations of the land. In colour it was a dull, +leaden grey, and looking at it, one's mind spontaneously +reverted to travellers' descriptions of +the Dead Sea, for <i>dead</i> was essentially the word +by which to describe it. There were no fish to +be caught in it Griffith told them, and as for +its depth he had never heard tell of any one's +sounding it. The effect of the whole scene was +very peculiar, and so Helen and Edith felt it to +be, as they stood gazing at the leaden water and +the great, apparently boundless moorland. It +was difficult to realise that they were so far above +the ordinary haunts of men, for there was nothing +in that great plain to remind them of the existence +even of hills and mountains, except a steady-blowing +breeze of that peculiar freshness pertaining +only to sea or mountain air. Pleasantly invigorating +at first, but soon becoming too chilly to +make one care to stand about, or, worse still, +to <i>sit</i>, as our young ladies now prepared to +do.</p> + +<p>"We are very lucky in the weather," remarked +Helen, as they prepared for their sketching. "I +should fancy it is just the day to see the lake +to the best advantage."</p> + +<p>"Or disadvantage," said Edith, "for I do think +it is the most horrible place I ever saw. I don't +know," added she dreamily, "but what it would +seem even more desolate on a bright, sunny day. +I don't know why."</p> + +<p>"I understand how you mean," replied her +sister, "the contrast would be so strange. Like +a skeleton dressed in a golden robe. Dear me, +I am becoming quite poetical. But look, Edith, +how do you like this?" And a consultation on +their work ensued.</p> + +<p>Very cold work it became, as it grew to afternoon, +notwithstanding the pleasurable excitement +of their occupation, and Edith, for one, was not +sorry when Helen at last thought it time to pack +up their painting materials and turn homewards. +A drizzling rain began to fall as they neared the +foot of the hill, and they both felt thankful to +reach the farm-house,—tired, muddy and damp, +and in not <i>quite</i> such high spirits as when they set +off on their expedition. A savoury odour meeting +them on their entrance, Helen suddenly bethought +herself that she had utterly forgotten to order +anything for their "high tea," or whatever one +likes to call the said incongruous meal. It was +therefore an agreeable surprise to her after +remembering her neglect to see on entering their +little sitting-room the brightest of fires, and the +table daintily set out with evident preparation for +a tempting repast; part of which, in the shape of +a delicious-looking ham, "a new-made pat of +butter and a wheaten loaf so fine," had already +made its appearance. Damp clothes and muddy +boots discarded, they sat down with an excellent +appetite to their meal, and the savoury odour +which had greeted them was soon explained by +the appearance of Mrs. Jones bearing a chicken +stewed in mushrooms.</p> + +<p>"Mushrooms!" exclaimed Helen, "the thing +of all others I like. How clever you are, Mrs. +Jones, to get us all these good things! I shall +leave our food to your providing, I think, in +future."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones laughed and said a friend had sent +some things from Llanfar, and a friend also had +gathered the mushrooms, the last of their season, +thinking the young ladies might like them.</p> + +<p>"Your friends are as good as yourself then, +Mrs. Jones," said Helen; but as she spoke she +was startled by what sounded like a half-smothered +laugh or exclamation of some kind just outside +the door. Almost at the same moment her friend +the clock began to strike, and she therefore fancied +the sound she had heard must have come from it. +"Its internal arrangements are, I daresay, as peculiar +as its outside," thought she to herself, and refrained +therefore from mentioning to Edith what she +thought she had heard. All the rest of the +evening, however, though she would hardly have +owned it to herself, she felt a little nervous and +uneasy, particularly when she heard the clock +strike.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what our fellow-lodger does with +himself all day," said Edith that evening.</p> + +<p>"I am sure I don't know, or care either," said +Helen, "indeed, I hardly believe there is such a +being at all."</p> + +<p>They went early to bed, and fell quickly asleep. +After having slept, it seemed to her for several +hours, Helen woke suddenly with the feeling that +something had wakened her, and found that the +clock was busy striking, and to her confused fancy +had been striking for ever so long before she +woke. Its strokes ceased before she was sufficiently +awake to count them, but a moment or +two afterwards she heard a door shut as it had +done the night before.</p> + +<p>"It is very annoying that I can't get a good +night's rest here," thought she. A whispered +"Helen," told her that Edith too was awake.</p> + +<p>"The clock <i>did</i> strike thirteen," said Edith, +"and there <i>must</i> be somebody in that room, for +I heard the door shut again."</p> + +<p>"And so did I," said Helen, whereupon they +lay still in awe-struck silence, till they both fell +fast asleep again.</p> + +<p>The next day was Saturday, and though somewhat +stiff and tired with their exertions, Friday's +programme was repeated. The sketches proceeded +satisfactorily, but our heroines were less fortunate +in other respects, for just as they were about to +leave the Black Lake in the afternoon, the rain +came on in torrents. Long before they got back +to the farm-house the poor girls were thoroughly +drenched. Edith escaped with no ill results, but +Helen sat shivering over the fire all the evening, +passed an uneasy night in which it seemed to her +that the clock never left off striking at all, and +woke on Sunday morning with every symptom of a +delightfully bad cold. The prospect outside was +not cheering. Rain, rain, rain. Down it came +in torrents. No chance of making their way to +the five miles' off church, no chance even of a +quiet stroll along the lanes; and, worst of all, no +books to read, for such a possibility as a whole +day in the house had never presented itself to their +inexperienced imaginations! It was very dull. +Helen was almost cross with Edith for being so +exceedingly sympathetic. It was kind of course, +but provoking nevertheless, as to Helen's sensitiveness +it seemed to convey a tacit reproach. She +would not allow to herself that they were at all to +be pitied. All the same she was not sorry when +the time came at last for them to go to bed.</p> + +<p>"I wish we had brought some sherry with us," +said Edith. "A little white wine whey would +have been the very thing for your cold."</p> + +<p>"What's the good of wishing," replied her +sister rather snappishly, "you had better call +Mrs. Jones and ask her to make me some gruel." +But on Mrs. Jones's appearance, and when the +request had been made, both the girls felt rather +surprised at her volunteering the very thing they +had been wishing for.</p> + +<p>She had, she said, "some very nice sherry wine, +given her by a friend," and many years ago, when +she was in service in Chester, she had learnt to +make white wine whey. Sure enough a tempting-looking +basinful shortly after made its appearance.</p> + +<p>Thanks to its soporific influence Helen soon +fell asleep, but woke (as she had got strangely into +the habit of doing) just at midnight, or as Edith +had taken to calling it, "thirteen o'clock". The +clock was half-way through its striking when she +woke, and a sudden impulse seized her to jump up, +and, opening the door slightly, to peep out and +either see who it was that always shut a door after +the clock struck, or, by seeing nothing, satisfy herself +that the sound had all along been merely the +creation of her own and Edith's imagination.</p> + +<p>She opened the door very cautiously, and +instantly perceived that there was a light at the +end of the passage in the recess where stood the +clock. Helen's heart beat more loudly, and she +wished devoutly that she had allowed her curiosity +to remain unsatisfied, when to her horror the light +moved out of the recess, and she saw that it was +held by a tall dark figure with its back turned +towards her. The passage was so long and the +light flickered so much that it was impossible for +her to distinguish anything but the general outline +of the person who held it. Not Mrs. Jones or +Griffith, assuredly, but poor Helen was too +frightened to do more than lock the door with +her trembling fingers and leap back into bed, +thereby awakening Edith, who on hearing Helen's +story calmly assured her that she had either been +dreaming, or had seen the strange gentleman their +fellow-lodger whose existence Helen had rashly +dared to question. Oddly enough she had forgotten +all about him, and felt somewhat relieved +by Edith's matter-of-fact solution.</p> + +<p>"Only what should he be doing at the clock at +this time of night? I hope he is not out of his +mind;"—to which Edith replied:—</p> + +<p>"I do believe he gets up to make it strike +thirteen on purpose to tease us."</p> + +<p>Monday morning wore a more promising aspect +than Sunday, for such clouds as there were, +bespoke nothing worse than showers, and our young +ladies succeeded in obtaining an hour or two's +sketching at the lake. Helen, however, felt still +considerably the worse of her terrible wetting, and +was actually the first to propose that they should +return to the farm-house. Somewhat weakened +by her cold, and tired too, she mounted the little +pony at Edith's suggestion, and they were proceeding +cheerily enough on their way—Griffith, +loaded with their painting materials, some little +distance behind—when a stumble on the pony's +part brought him suddenly to the ground. Helen +had been paying little attention to her steed, and, +unprepared for the shock, fell on her side with +some little force. A most undignified procedure +had there been any one to witness it, but which +would have drawn forth nothing but a laugh had +it not been that in the fall her foot caught in the +stirrup. Her sharp cry of pain terrified Edith, +who, however, soon succeeded in disentangling +her, as the poor little pony remained perfectly +quiet, but a moment's examination, and a vain +attempt to stand, showed them that the ankle was +badly sprained. All that could be done was to +mount Helen again as well as Edith and Griffith +could manage, and to make the best of their way +home. Arrived there, hot applications soon reduced +the pain, but it was easy to be seen, even +by their inexperienced eyes, that Helen must not +attempt to move for several days to come.</p> + +<p>Here was a charming ending to their expedition! +Helen, even, felt woefully disconcerted, +and poor Edith fairly began to cry.</p> + +<p>"If it were not that you would not like it, I +would write to Mrs. Lindsay to come and nurse +you," said Edith, "she is so good and kind, and I +know she would come in a minute, for she has +nothing to prevent her."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Lindsay! Edith," exclaimed Helen indignantly, +"the very last person I would apply to, +however good and kind she may be. Do you +really think that. I would put myself under such an +obligation to the sister of the man I have<span class="nowrap">——</span>" +"Quarrelled with for nothing at all," said the little +voice at the bottom of her heart. Edith said +nothing, but for the first time in her life took an +independent resolution and acted upon it. Her +love for Helen conquered her fear of displeasing +her. What this resolution was we shall not disclose, +nor shall we tell whose hand addressed a +letter to Mrs. Lindsay carried that evening by the +post-boy to Llanfar. The strangest coincidence +was that <i>two</i> letters bearing the same direction +left the Black Nest Farm that evening.</p> + +<p>Tired out with the pain of her ankle, Helen, +for the first time since their arrival, slept past +midnight and only woke to hear the clock strike +five. All too soon for her comfort, for her +thoughts were none of the brightest, as she lay +waiting for the daylight. Her folly, her headstrong +determination, right or wrong, to carry out +her own way, began to show themselves to her +more clearly; or rather, she began to allow herself +to see them in their true light. And when at last +the morning came, and she was established +for the day on the hard little horse-hair sofa in +their sitting-room, her spirits were not improved +by the perusal of a letter from her Aunt Fanny. +The good old lady, after deploring their absence +and pathetically describing her anxiety on their +behalf, made mention of a visit from Mrs. Lindsay, +who had come to tell her how unhappy she was +about her brother. "He left home," wrote Aunt +Fanny, "two days after that unfortunate conversation +with you without telling his sister what was +the matter. At least she only gathered that something +unpleasant had happened from his saying +that you were leaving home, and that he did not +expect to see you before you went. He left +no direction beyond telling her to write to his +club, which she has done two or three times, but +got no answer. She says he looked so unlike +himself that she fears he has fallen ill somewhere +and cannot write to tell her. Oh, Helen, I do +wish you had never thought of this expedition."</p> + +<p>"How very silly Mrs. Lindsay is to be so +fanciful," said Helen, in which view of the case +tender-hearted little Edith did not at all agree, +though she hardly dared to say so. They spent a +dull day, for Edith would not consent to leave her +sister, and their paintings were at a standstill for +want of another day's sketching from the original.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, Edith," said Helen, "you might +go to the lake for an hour or so without me and +finish your sketch, and I might go on with mine +from yours," to which Edith made no objection.</p> + +<p>By night Helen's feverish uneasiness had increased, +and Edith secretly congratulated herself +on her resolute step of the day before. And a +wretched night followed. In reality Helen was +very anxious and unhappy about Malcolm Willoughby, +and her dreams were full of terrors that +something had befallen him. Through all, the +disagreeable clock again thrust forward its ugly +face, and she woke in an indescribable state of +horror, fancying that the clock was standing by her +bedside, striking loudly in her ears to a kind of +"refrain" of the words: "I told you so. I told +you so." Of course the clock <i>was</i> striking, and +had evidently awakened her by so doing.</p> + +<p>"Thirteen again," whispered Edith, "it is +really very disagreeable."</p> + +<p>"It sounds to <i>me</i> like the voice of my conscience," +said Helen, "warning me that some +terrible punishment is coming upon me for my +wicked folly. Yes, Edith, I see it all now, and +as soon as ever I can move we shall go home, and +I shall ask poor Aunt Fanny to forgive me. I +wish every other consequence of my wrong-doing +could be done away with as easily as her displeasure." +And all her pride broken down, poor +Helen burst into tears, and Edith's affectionate +words of soothing were of no avail to stop her +sobs. She felt rather better in the morning +however, partly, perhaps, because the day was +bright and sunny. About mid-day she fell into +a doze on her sofa, and waking after an hour's +sleep was surprised to miss Edith. A note in +pencil pinned to the table-cover caught her attention. +It bore these words: "You are so nicely +asleep I don't like to waken you. I shall come +back as early as I can, but don't be alarmed if I +am a little later than you expect."</p> + +<p>"She has gone to finish the sketch," thought +Helen uneasily. "I wish I had not asked her to +do so, it looks dull and overcast."</p> + +<p>She rang the hand-bell for Mrs. Jones, who +appeared with a basin of soup, and told her that +the young lady had set off a quarter of an hour +before.</p> + +<p>"It can't be helped now," said Helen, "but I +wish I had not proposed it."</p> + +<p>The afternoon seemed long and dull, and yet +Helen felt sorry when it began to close in, for +no Edith had yet appeared. Still it was not later +than they had been out together more than once. +Helen tried to think it was not yet dusk outside, +but felt this comfort fail her when it gradually +grew so indisputably dark that Mrs. Jones brought +in candles without her asking for them.</p> + +<p>"Are you not uneasy about my sister and +Griffith, Mrs. Jones?" said Helen; but her +anxiety was tenfold increased when Mrs. Jones +replied calmly:—</p> + +<p>"Griffith is not with the young lady to-day. I +had to send him a message to Llanfair, and as like +as not he will stay at his uncle's till the morning. +The young lady said it did not matter, and I +saddled the pony for her myself."</p> + +<p>"Griffith not with her!" exclaimed Helen. +"Oh, Mrs. Jones, what will become of her?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be alarmed, miss," said the old woman, +"the pony is very steady, and the darkness comes +on so sudden-like, it seems later than it is."</p> + +<p>And with this scanty consolation Helen was +obliged to remain satisfied. Mrs. Jones stirred +up the fire and set the tea all ready, but Helen +grew sick at heart as the time went on, and still +no Edith. Six, struck the clock, and ticked on +again to seven. Helen could bear it no longer.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Jones," cried she, "can you not get any +one to go to look for my sister? She may be on +her way down the hill, and have got into some +difficulty with the pony."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, miss, I don't know what I can do. +There's no one nearer than old Thomas and he +can't move."</p> + +<p>"The strange gentleman!" said Helen suddenly; +"your other lodger. Would he not help +me?"</p> + +<p>"He has been out since early this morning," +replied Mrs. Jones, "and he told me he was not +sure of being back to-night. He has gone to +meet a friend."</p> + +<p>Helen felt more in despair than before. It +seemed an aggravation of her anxiety to have to +lie still on the sofa doing nothing. Indeed had +she been able to do so, nothing would have prevented +her making her way to the Black Lake, +and too probably losing her own life in the endeavour +to save her sister's. As it was, she +managed at last to drag herself to the door in +hopes of hearing footsteps up the path, but nothing +broke the silence save the tick, tick of the clock. +It wore on to nine, despite her wretchedness and +indescribable anxiety. She pictured to herself her +sister, her dear little Edith, left so specially in her +charge, cowering on the moor, alone in that dreary +darkness, sobbing in despair of ever finding her +way out of that frightful desert. Or, worse still, +lying cold and dead in one of those fearful pits +under the mockingly beautiful moss; whence, in +all probability, her poor body even would never +be recovered. It was too frightful. Helen almost +shrieked aloud: "Oh, my darling, my little sister, +come back, do come back. Oh, Malcolm, if only +you were here. How terribly I am punished for +my self-will!" And terribly punished she was, +for the memory of that night's suffering was too +painful to recall in after years without a shudder. +Mrs. Jones was in helpless distress, though in +hopes of every moment hearing the pony and the +young lady at the gate, and she returned to her +own domains saying she had better have hot water +ready as Miss Edith would be fainting for her +tea. Helen remained alone at the window of the +sitting-room.</p> + +<p>The night was fine but very dark. Darker +than she had ever seen a night before, it seemed to +Helen. She was almost in a stupor of despair. +She sank down half-unconsciously before the fire +and never knew how long she had lain there when +she was roused by the clock striking. "One, two, +three, four,"—she counted aloud as if bewitched, +till when it got to the fatal <i>thirteen</i>, her +over-strained nerves gave way, and with a scream she +ran or stumbled, she knew not how, along the +passage to seek for Mrs. Jones. As she passed +the front-door she was arrested by the sharp sounds +of steps coming quickly up the garden path. The +door was pushed open. The only light was what +came through the open door of the room she had +just left, and she could distinguish nothing but a +tall dark figure hurrying towards her. She +screamed with terror but stood, unable to move, +when to her intense relief a voice from behind the +person she saw, exclaimed eagerly: "Helen, dearest +Helen, don't be frightened. I am quite safe," +and some one rushed past the tall person, now +close to her, and kissing her passionately, Helen +felt, rather than saw, that it was Edith.</p> + +<p>"Malcolm! Malcolm! she is fainting!" called +Edith, and the tall person pressed forward, caught +her up in his arms like a baby, and, unconscious +now of everything, Helen was carried back into +the sitting-room, laid on the hard little sofa, and +there held tenderly by the strong yet gentle arms +whose protecting care she, poor foolish child, had +fancied she could so well dispense with.</p> + +<p>It was the first time in her life that Helen +Beaumont had ever fainted, and it was not long +before she began to recover.</p> + +<p>"Malcolm! oh, Malcolm!" were her first words +on returning consciousness (and it seemed to her +afterwards as if some one else had spoken them +for her, her good angel perhaps!), "can you +ever forgive me?"</p> + +<p>"My darling," was the whispered answer, "you +know you need not ask it." And then Helen felt +as if she were just going to die, but was too happy +to care, and too languid to ask even how all this +had come about. But now a third person came +forward saying:—</p> + +<p>"Malcolm, let me stay beside her," and, wonderful +to tell, the sweet voice and kind face were Mrs. +Lindsay's. Helen thought she must be dreaming, +but lay still as she was told, and then drank something +or other Mrs. Lindsay brought her; so +before long she was able to sit up and begin to +wonder what was the meaning of it all.</p> + +<p>"Are you not amazed, Helen?" said Edith; +"but first of all you must forgive me for frightening +you so, for indeed I have been nearly as +wretched as you, thinking of what you must +have been feeling." And before Helen could +reply the eager girl ran on with her explanations. +"Who do you think has been our fellow-lodger +all this time, Helen? Who do you think is the +'strange gentleman'? Only fancy Malcolm's +having been here ever since we came! It was +he that travelled by the same train, and seeing as it +moved off at Llanfar that we had got out, he did +so at the next station, and arrived here before us. +He had inquired about Mrs. Jones, and heard +what a good creature she was; and he had time +to have a talk with her, and to take her to some +extent into his confidence."</p> + +<p>Helen looked at first, as this recital went on, as +if she were wavering between a return to her old +dislike to being interfered with, and gratitude to +Malcolm for his undeserved devotion. The good +angel triumphed, as Malcolm, who was watching +her anxiously, quickly perceived.</p> + +<p>"I did not interfere with you, Helen," he said +in a low voice, "but it was the greatest comfort +to me to be able to protect and care for you, even +though you did not know it."</p> + +<p>The tears started to Helen's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Malcolm, I know how good you are, +but<span class="nowrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Never mind any 'buts,'" said Mrs. Lindsay +brightly, catching the last word. "'All's well, +that ends well.'"</p> + +<p>"I know now who foraged for us so successfully," +said Edith. "Who was the mysterious +friend that gave Mrs. Jones the mushrooms!"</p> + +<p>"And nearly betrayed myself by laughing at +the door, when passing I heard Helen's enthusiastic +thanks to Mrs. Jones," said Malcolm.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and frightened me horribly by so doing," +added Helen, "as I really began to think that +clock was bewitched, and had a special ill-will +against me. In fact it took the place of my conscience +for the time being."</p> + +<p>"I have the very greatest regard for the clock," +said Malcolm demurely, "and I intend to make +Mrs. Jones an offer for it forthwith."</p> + +<p>"Please don't," said Helen piteously. "I daresay +it is very silly, but I really don't quite like +that clock, though, after all, its warning of ill-luck +has brought the very reverse to me. But I have +not heard yet what kept Edith out so late, or how +in the world you and Mrs. Lindsay met her at the +Black Lake."</p> + +<p>"The Black Lake?" said Mrs. Lindsay, "what +do you mean?"</p> + +<p>Whereupon Edith hastened on with that part +of her story relating to her own adventures. +She, it appeared, feeling confident in Mrs. +Lindsay's ready kindness, and never doubting +but what she would at once respond to her +appeal by coming to nurse Helen, instead of +going to the Black Lake to sketch, as Helen +imagined, set off on the pony to meet her friend +at the station, having proposed to her to come by +a certain train. Overtaking Griffith on the road +to Llanfair, as she expected from Mrs. Jones's +account, he accompanied her to the village, where +she gave over the pony to his care. As she +entered the station she saw a return train about +to start for the Junction about half an hour's +journey from where she was. Finding by her +watch that she was in ample time, it struck her +that she might as well go so far to meet her +friend, but on arriving at the Junction she was +startled to find that with the new month a change +had taken place in the trains, and that consequently +Mrs. Lindsay could not arrive till late in +the evening. Worse still she herself could not now +get back to Helen till she was frightened to think +what hour, the evening train in question not going +farther than Llanfar, the station near the Junction +at which she and her sister had by mistake got out +on their arrival, and which was fifteen miles from the +Black Nest. It is needless to describe her distress +of mind all the long hours she had to sit in the +little waiting-room at the Junction; or her corresponding +delight when, on the train coming up, she +descried looking out of a window the familiar +face of Malcolm Willoughby, and found that he +was accompanied by his sister whom he had gone +to meet half-way on her journey.</p> + +<p>Helen woke at noon the next day feeling +indescribably happy, she could not tell why till +the sight of Mrs. Lindsay's sweet face recalled to +her mind all her misery of the night before and +the relief and happiness with which it had ended.</p> + +<p>"How little I deserve it!" thought she humbly +and gratefully, "and how can I ever repay Malcolm +for his goodness?"</p> + +<p>Their dull little parlour looked very different +now that it was enlivened by the presence of the +two newcomers; and Helen could scarcely believe +it to be the same room in which, but yesterday, she +had passed hours of such agonising suspense. So +thoroughly penitent and softened did she feel that +she offered no opposition to anything proposed, +and it was therefore arranged that as soon as +Helen was well enough to travel they should all +return home together to relieve poor Aunt Fanny's +anxiety.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," said Helen, with a little sigh, a +few days afterwards, when they were packing up +their painting materials, "I wonder if I shall ever +finish my sketch of the Black Lake."</p> + +<p>"I don't like to make rash promises," said +Malcolm, "but if somebody I know is <i>very</i> good +perhaps next summer she may see the Black Lake +again, provided she will neither catch cold nor +tumble off her pony."</p> + +<p>Edith laughed and Helen blushed.</p> + +<p>"But there's one thing still," said Edith, +"which I don't understand. Why, Malcolm, did +you always shut your door as the clock struck +thirteen?"</p> + +<p>"Very simply explained," replied he. "The +first night I was here I was sitting up reading +till midnight and thought I heard it strike +thirteen. I thought it very odd, and for a night +or two I listened till it began to strike and then +opened my door to make sure I was not mistaken. +And one night I went out with my candle to +examine the clock, trying to make out the cause +of it, and to see if I could put it right. No man, +they say, can resist meddling with a clock even +though he is no mechanical genius."</p> + +<p>"All the same," said Edith triumphantly, +"notwithstanding your examinations, you and no +one else can tell the reason why that clock does +strike thirteen."</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>THE END.</h4> +<h5>ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS</h5> +<p> </p> +<hr class="minimal" /> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" style="background-color: #E6F6FA; margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="6" summary="NOTES"> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> + <div class="center">TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE</div> + +<p class="noindent" style="background-color: #E6F6FA"> +Hyphenation is inconsistent; in a small number of instances, missing +punctuation has been added.<br /> +<br /> +Several obvious misspellings have been corrected. The following +additional change was made to punctuation in keeping with the logic +of the plot (original is on the left):</p></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="w50" align="left" valign="top">The more I thought it over the more striking grew the + <i>coincidences at Finster. It</i> had been on one of the closed doors + that the shadow seemed to settle, as again here in our own hall.</td> +<td align="left" valign="top">The more I thought it over the more striking grew the + <i>coincidences. At Finster it</i> had been on one of the closed doors + that the shadow seemed to settle, as again here in our own hall.</td> +</tr> + +</table> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Uncanny Tales, by Mary Louisa Molesworth + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNCANNY TALES *** + +***** This file should be named 35641-h.htm or 35641-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/6/4/35641/ + +Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: Uncanny Tales + +Author: Mary Louisa Molesworth + +Illustrator: Fred Hyland + +Release Date: April 25, 2011 [EBook #35641] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNCANNY TALES *** + + + + +Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + + + + + + + + + Uncanny Tales + + BY MRS MOLESWORTH + + LONDON: HUTCHINSON & CO + Paternoster Row + + FRED HYLAND + + + + + TO + AN OTHERWISE UNACKNOWLEDGED "COLLABORATEUR" + IN THESE STORIES, + J. C. P. + + 19 SUMNER PLACE, S.W., + + _October, 1896._ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PAGE + + THE SHADOW IN THE MOONLIGHT 1 + + "THE MAN WITH THE COUGH" 82 + + "HALF-WAY BETWEEN THE STILES" 112 + + AT THE DIP OF THE ROAD 141 + + "---- WILL NOT TAKE PLACE" 153 + + THE CLOCK THAT STRUCK THIRTEEN 183 + + + + +UNCANNY TALES. + + + + +THE SHADOW IN THE MOONLIGHT. + +PART I. + + +We never thought of Finster St. Mabyn's being haunted. We really never +did. + +This may seem strange, but it is absolutely true. It was such an +extremely interesting and curious place in many ways that it required +nothing extraneous to add to its attractions. Perhaps this was the +reason. + +Now-a-days, immediately that you hear of a house being "very old," the +next remark is sure to be "I hope it is"--or "is not"--that depends on +the taste of the speaker--"haunted". + +But Finster was more than very old; it was _ancient_ and, in a modest +way, historical. I will not take up time by relating its history, +however, or by referring my readers to the chronicles in which mention +of it may be found. Nor shall I yield to the temptation of describing +the room in which a certain royalty spent one night, if not two or three +nights, four centuries ago, or the tower, now in ruins, where an even +more renowned personage was imprisoned for several months. All these +facts--or legends--have nothing to do with what I have to tell. Nor, +strictly speaking, has Finster itself, except as a sort of prologue to +my narrative. + +We heard of the house through friends living in the same county, though +some distance farther inland. They--Mr. and Miss Miles, it is convenient +to give their name at once--knew that we had been ordered to leave our +own home for some months, to get over the effects of a very trying +visitation of influenza, and that sea-air was specially desirable. + +We grumbled at this. Seaside places are often so dull and commonplace. +But when we heard of Finster we grumbled no longer. + +"Dull" in a sense it might be, but assuredly not "commonplace". Janet +Miles's description of it, though she was not particularly clever at +description, read like a fairy tale, or one of Longfellow's poems. + +"A castle by the sea--how perfect!" we all exclaimed. "Do, oh, do fix +for it, mother!" + +The objections were quickly over-ruled. It was rather isolated, said +Miss Miles, standing, as was not difficult to trace in its name, on a +point of land--a corner rather--with sea on two sides. It had not been +lived in, save spasmodically, for some years, for the late owner was one +of those happy, or unhappy people, who have more houses than they can +use, and the present one was a minor. Eventually it was to be overhauled +and some additions and alterations made, but the trustees would be glad +to let it at a moderate rent for some months, and had intended putting +it into some agents' hands when Mr. Miles happened to meet one of them, +who mentioned it to him. There was nothing against it; it was absolutely +healthy. But the furniture was old and shabby, and there was none too +much of it. If we wanted to have visitors we should certainly require to +add to it. This, however, could easily be done, our informant went on to +say. There was a very good upholsterer and furniture dealer at Raxtrew, +the nearest town, who was in the habit of hiring out things to the +officers at the fort. "Indeed," she added, "we often pick up charming +old pieces of furniture from him for next to nothing, so you could both +hire and buy." + +Of course, we should have visitors--and our own house would not be the +worse for some additional chairs and tables here and there, in place of +some excellent monstrosities Phil and Nugent and I had persuaded mother +to get rid of. + +"If I go down to spy the land with father," I said, "I shall certainly +go to the furniture dealer's and have a good look about me." + +I did go with father. I was nineteen--it is four years ago--and a +capable sort of girl. Then I was the only one who had not been ill, +and mother had been the worst of all, mother and Dormy--poor little +chap--for _he_ nearly died. + +He is the youngest of us--we are four boys and two girls. Sophy was then +fifteen. My own name is Leila. + +If I attempted to give any idea of the impression Finster St. Mabyn's +made upon us, I should go on for hours. It simply took our breath away. +It really felt like going back a few centuries merely to enter within +the walls and gaze round you. And yet we did not see it to any advantage, +so at least said the two Miles's who were our guides. It was a gloomy +day, with the feeling of rain not far off, early in April. It might have +been November, though it was not cold. + +"You can scarcely imagine what it is on a bright day," said Janet, +eager, as people always are in such circumstances, to show off her +_trouvaille_. "The lights and shadows are so exquisite." + +"I love it as it is," I said. "I don't think I shall ever regret having +seen it first on a grey day. It is just perfect." + +She was pleased at my admiration, and did her utmost to facilitate +matters. Father was taken with the place, too, I could see, but he +hummed and hawed a good deal about the bareness of the rooms--the +bedrooms especially. So Janet and I went into it at once in a +business-like way, making lists of the actually necessary additions, +which did not prove very formidable after all. + +"Hunter will manage all that _easily_," said Miss Miles, upon which +father gave in--I believe he had meant to do so all the time. The rent +was really so low that a little furniture-hire could be afforded, I +suggested. And father agreed. + +"It is extremely low," he said, "for a place possessing so many +advantages." + +But even then it did not occur to any of us to suggest "suspiciously +low". + +We had the Miles's guarantee for it all, to begin with. Had there been +any objection they must have known it. + +We spent the night with them and the next morning at the furniture +dealer's. He was a quick, obliging little man, and took in the situation +at a glance. And _his_ terms were so moderate that father said to me +amiably: "There are some quaint odds and ends here, Leila. You might +choose a few things, to use at Finster in the first place, and then to +take home with us." + +I was only too ready to profit by the permission, and with Janet's +help a few charmingly quaint chairs and tables, a three-cornered wall +cabinet, and some other trifles were soon put aside for us. We were just +leaving, when at one end of the shop some tempting-looking draperies +caught my eye. + +"What are these?" I asked the upholsterer. "Curtains! Why, this is real +old tapestry!" + +The obliging Hunter drew out the material in question. + +"They are not exactly curtains, miss," he said. "I thought they would +make nice _portieres_. You see the tapestry is set into cloth. It was so +frail when I got it that it was the only thing to do with it." + +He had managed it very ingeniously. Two panels, so to say, of old +tapestry, very charming in tone, had been lined and framed with dull +green cloth, making a very good pair of _portieres_ indeed. + +"Oh, papa!" I cried, "do let us have these. There are sure to be +draughty doors at Finster, and afterwards they would make _perfect_ +"_portieres_" for the two side doors in the hall at home." + +Father eyed the tapestry appreciatively, but first prudently inquired +the price. It seemed higher in proportion than Hunter's other charges. + +"You see, sir," he said half apologetically, "the panels are real +antique work, though so much the worse for wear." + +"Where did they come from?" asked father. + +Hunter hesitated. + +"To tell you the truth, sir," he replied, "I was asked not to name the +party that I bought it from. It seems a pity to part with _h_eir-looms, +but--it happens sometimes--I bought several things together of a family +quite lately. The _portieres_ have only come out of the workroom this +morning. We hurried on with them to stop them fraying more--you see +where they were before, they must have been nailed to the wall." + +Janet Miles, who was something of a connoisseur, had been examining the +tapestry. + +"It is well worth what he asks," she said, in a low voice. "You don't +often come across such tapestry in England." + +So the bargain was struck, and Hunter promised to see all that we had +chosen, both purchased and hired, delivered at Finster the week before +we proposed to come. + +Nothing interfered with our plans. By the end of the month we found +ourselves at our temporary home--all of us except Nat, our third +brother, who was at school. Dormer, the small boy, still did lessons +with Sophy's governess. The two older "boys," as we called them, +happened to be at home from different reasons--one, Nugent, on leave +from India; Phil, forced to miss a term at college through an attack +of the same illness which had treated mother and Dormy so badly. + +But now that everybody was well again, and going to be very much better, +thanks to Finster air, we thought the ill wind had brought us some very +distinct good. It would not have been half such fun had we not been a +large family party to start with, and before we had been a week at the +place we had added to our numbers by the first detachment of the guests +we had invited. + +It was not a very large house; besides ourselves we had not room for +more than three or four others. For some of the rooms--those on the top +story--were really too dilapidated to suit any one but rats--"rats or +ghosts," said some one laughingly one day, when we had been exploring +them. + +Afterwards the words returned to my memory. + +We had made ourselves very comfortable, thanks to the invaluable Hunter. +And every day the weather grew milder and more spring-like. The woods on +the inland side were full of primroses. It promised to be a lovely +season. + +There was a gallery along one side of the house, which soon became a +favourite resort; it made a pleasant lounging-place, in the day-time +especially, though less so in the evening, as the fireplace at one end +warmed it but imperfectly, and besides this it was difficult to light +up. It was draughty, too, as there was a superfluity of doors, two of +which, one at each end, we at once condemned. They were not needed, as +the one led by a very long spiral staircase, to the unused attic rooms, +the other to the kitchen and offices. And when we did have afternoon +tea in the gallery, it was easy to bring it through the dining or +drawing-rooms, long rooms, lighted at their extreme ends, which ran +parallel to the gallery lengthways, both of which had a door opening on +to it as well as from the hall on the other side. For all the principal +rooms at Finster were on the first-floor, not on the ground-floor. + +The closing of these doors got rid of a great deal of draught, and, as I +have said, the weather was really mild and calm. + +One afternoon--I am trying to begin at the beginning of our strange +experiences; even at the risk of long-windedness it seems better to do +so--we were all assembled in the gallery at tea-time. The "children," +as we called Sophy and Dormer, much to Sophy's disgust, and their +governess, were with us, for rules were relaxed at Finster, and Miss +Larpent was a great favourite with us all. + +Suddenly Sophy gave an exclamation of annoyance. + +"Mamma," she said, "I wish you would speak to Dormer. He has thrown +over my tea-cup--only look at my frock!" "If you cannot sit still," she +added, turning herself to the boy, "I don't think you should be allowed +to come to tea here." + +"What is the matter, Dormy?" said mother. + +Dormer was standing beside Sophy, looking very guilty, and rather white. + +"Mamma," he said, "I was only drawing a chair out. It got so dreadfully +cold where I was sitting, I really could not stay there," and he +shivered slightly. + +He had been sitting with his back to one of the locked-up doors. Phil, +who was nearest, moved his hand slowly across the spot. + +"You are fanciful, Dormy," he said, "there is really no draught +whatever." + +This did not satisfy mother. + +"He must have got a chill, then," she said, and she went on to question +the child as to what he had been doing all day, for, as I have said, he +was still delicate. + +But he persisted that he was quite well, and no longer cold. + +"It wasn't exactly a draught," he said, "it was--oh! just icy, all of a +sudden. I've felt it before--sitting in that chair." + +Mother said no more, and Dormer went on with his tea, and when bed-time +came he seemed just as usual, so that her anxiety faded. But she made +thorough investigation as to the possibility of any draught coming up +from the back stairs, with which this door communicated. None was to be +discovered--the door fitted fairly well, and beside this, Hunter had +tacked felt round the edges--furthermore, one of the thick heavy +_portieres_ had been hung in front. + +An evening or two later we were sitting in the drawing room after +dinner, when a cousin who was staying with us suddenly missed her fan. + +"Run and fetch Muriel's fan, Dormy," I said, for Muriel felt sure it had +slipped under the dinner table. None of the men had as yet joined us. + +"Why, where are you going, child?" as he turned towards the farther +door. "It is much quicker by the gallery." + +He said nothing, but went out, walking rather slowly, by the gallery +door. And in a few minutes he returned, fan in hand, but by the _other_ +door. + +He was a sensitive child, and though I wondered what he had got into his +head against the gallery, I did not say anything before the others. But +when, soon after, Dormy said "Good night," and went off to bed, I +followed him. + +"What do you want, Leila?" he said rather crossly. + +"Don't be vexed, child," I said. "I can see there is something the +matter. Why do you not like the gallery?" + +He hesitated, but I had laid my hand on his shoulder, and he knew I +meant to be kind. + +"Leila," he said, with a glance round, to be sure that no one was within +hearing--we were standing, he and I, near the inner dining-room door, +which was open--"you'll laugh at me, but--there's something queer +there--sometimes!" + +"What? And how do you mean 'sometimes'?" I asked, with a slight thrill +at his tone. + +"I mean not always, I've felt it several times--there was the cold the +day before yesterday, and besides that, I've felt a--a sort of +_breaving_"--Dormy was not perfect in his "th's"--"like somebody very +unhappy." + +"Sighing?" I suggested. + +"Like sighing in a whisper," he replied, "and that's always near the +door. But last week--no, not so long ago, it was on Monday--I went round +that way when I was going to bed. I didn't want to be silly. But it was +moonlight--and--Leila, a shadow went all along the wall on that side, +and stopped at the door. I saw it waggling about--its _hands_," and here +he shivered--"on that funny curtain that hangs up, as if it were feeling +for a minute or two, and then----" + +"Well,--what then?" + +"It just went out," he said simply. "But it's moonlight again to-night, +sister, and I daren't see it again. I just _daren't_." + +"But you did go to the dining-room that way," I reminded him. + +"Yes, but I shut my eyes and ran, and even then I felt as if something +cold was behind me." + +"Dormy, dear," I said, a good deal concerned, "I do think it's your +fancy. You are not _quite_ well yet, you know." + +"Yes, I am," he replied sturdily. "I'm not a bit frightened anywhere +else. I sleep in a room alone you know. It's not _me_, sister, its +somefing in the gallery." + +"Would you be frightened to go there with me now? We can run through the +dining-room; there's no one to see us," and I turned in that direction +as I spoke. + +Again my little brother hesitated. + +"I'll go with you if you'll hold hands," he said, "but I'll shut my +eyes. And I won't open them till you tell me there's no shadow on the +wall. You must tell me truly." + +"But there must be some shadows," I said, "in this bright moonlight, +trees and branches, or even clouds scudding across--something of that +kind is what you must have seen, dear." + +He shook his head. + +"No, no, of course I wouldn't mind that. I know the difference. No--you +couldn't mistake. It goes along, right along, in a creeping way, and +then at the door its hands come farther out, and it _feels_." + +"Is it like a man or a woman?" I said, beginning to feel rather creepy +myself. + +"I think it's most like a rather little man," he replied, "but I'm not +sure. Its head has got something fuzzy about it--oh, I know, like a +sticking out wig. But lower down it seems wrapped up, like in a cloak. +Oh, it's _horrid_." + +And again he shivered--it was quite time all this nightmare nonsense was +put out of his poor little head. + +I took his hand and held it firmly; we went through the dining-room. +Nothing could have looked more comfortable and less ghostly. For the +lights were still burning on the table, and the flowers in their silver +bowls, some wine gleaming in the glasses, the fruit and pretty dishes, +made a pleasant glow of colour. It certainly seemed a curiously sudden +contrast when we found ourselves in the gallery beyond, cold and +unillumined, save by the pale moonlight streaming through the +unshuttered windows. For the door closed with a bang as we passed +through--the gallery _was_ a draughty place. + +Dormy's hold tightened. + +"Sister," he whispered, "I've shut my eyes now. You must stand with +your back to the windows--between them, or else you'll think it's our +own shadows--and watch." + +I did as he said, and I had not long to wait. + +It came--from the farther end, the second condemned door, whence the +winding stair mounted to the attics--it seemed to begin or at least +take form there. Creeping along, just as Dormy said--stealthily but +steadily--right down to the other extremity of the long room. And then +it grew blacker--more concentrated--and out from the vague outline came +two bony hands, and, as the child had said, too, you could see that they +were _feeling_--all over the upper part of the door. + +I stood and watched. I wondered afterwards at my own courage, if courage +it was. It was the shadow of a small man, I felt sure. The head seemed +large in proportion, and--yes--it--the original of the shadow--was +evidently covered by an antique wig. Half mechanically I glanced +round--as if in search of the material body that _must_ be there. But +no; there was nothing, literally _nothing_, that could throw this +extraordinary shadow. + +Of this I was instantly convinced; and here I may as well say once +for all, that never was it maintained by any one, however previously +sceptical, who had fully witnessed the whole, that it could be accounted +for by ordinary, or, as people say, "natural" causes. There was this +peculiarity at least about our ghost. + +Though I had fast hold of his hand, I had almost forgotten Dormy--I +seemed in a trance. + +Suddenly he spoke, though in a whisper. + +"You see it, sister, I know you do," he said. + +"Wait, wait a minute, dear," I managed to reply in the same tone, though +I could not have explained why I waited. + +Dormer had said that after a time--after the ghastly and apparently +fruitless _feeling_ all over the door--"it"--"went out". + +I think it was this that I was waiting for. It was not quite as he had +said. The door was in the extreme corner of the wall, the hinges almost +in the angle, and as the shadow began to move on again, it _looked_ as +if it disappeared; but no, it was only fainter. My eyes, preternaturally +sharpened by my intense gaze, still saw it, working its way round the +corner, as assuredly no _shadow_ in the real sense of the word ever did +nor could do. I realised this, and the sense of horror grew all but +intolerable; yet I stood still, clasping the cold little hand in mine +tighter and tighter. And an instinct of protection of the child gave me +strength. Besides, it was coming on so quickly--we could not have +escaped--it was coming, nay, it _was behind_ us. + +"Leila!" gasped Dormy, "the cold--you feel it now?" + +Yes, truly--like no icy breath that I had ever felt before was that +momentary but horrible thrill of utter cold. If it had lasted another +second I think it would have killed us both. But, mercifully, it passed, +in far less time than it has taken me to tell it, and then we seemed in +some strange way to be released. + +"Open your eyes, Dormy," I said, "you won't see anything, I promise you. +I want to rush across to the dining-room." + +He obeyed me. I felt there was time to escape before that awful presence +would again have arrived at the dining-room door, though it was +_coming_--ah, yes, it was coming, steadily pursuing its ghastly round. +And, alas! the dining-room door was closed. But I kept my nerve to some +extent. I turned the handle without over much trembling, and in another +moment, the door shut and locked behind us, we stood in safety, looking +at each other, in the bright cheerful room we had left so short a time +ago. + +_Was_ it so short a time? I said to myself. It seemed hours! + +And through the door open to the hall came at that moment the sound +of cheerful laughing voices from the drawing-room. Some one was coming +out. It seemed impossible, incredible, that within a few feet of the +matter-of-fact pleasant material life, this horrible inexplicable drama +should be going on, as doubtless it still was. + +Of the two I was now more upset than my little brother. I was older and +"took in" more. He, boy-like, was in a sense triumphant at having proved +himself correct and no coward, and though he was still pale, his eyes +shone with excitement and a queer kind of satisfaction. + +But before we had done more than look at each other, a figure appeared +at the open doorway. It was Sophy. + +"Leila," she said, "mamma wants to know what you are doing with Dormy? +He is to go to bed at once. We saw you go out of the room after him, +and then a door banged. Mamma says if you are playing with him it's very +bad for him so late at night." + +Dormy was very quick. He was still holding my hand, and he pinched it to +stop my replying. + +"Rubbish!" he said. "I am speaking to Leila quietly, and she is coming +up to my room while I undress. Good night, Sophy." + +"Tell mamma Dormy really wants me," I added, and then Sophy departed. + +"We musn't tell _her_, Leila," said the boy. "She'd have 'sterics." + +"Whom shall we tell?" I said, for I was beginning to feel very helpless +and upset. + +"Nobody, to-night," he replied sensibly. "You _mustn't_ go in there," +and he shivered a little as he moved his head towards the gallery; +"you're not fit for it, and they'd be wanting you to. Wait till the +morning and then I'd--I think I'd tell Philip first. You needn't be +frightened to-night, sister. It won't stop you sleeping. It didn't me +the time I saw it before." + +He was right. I slept dreamlessly. It was as if the intense nervous +strain of those few minutes had utterly exhausted me. + + +PART II. + +Phil is our soldier brother. And there is nothing fanciful about _him_! +He is a rock of sturdy common-sense and unfailing good nature. He was +the very best person to confide our strange secret to, and my respect +for Dormy increased. + +We did tell him--the very next morning. He listened very attentively, +only putting in a question here and there, and though, of course, he was +incredulous--had I not been so myself?--he was not mocking. + +"I am glad you have told no one else," he said, when we had related the +whole as circumstantially as possible. "You see mother is not very +strong yet, and it would be a pity to bother father, just when he's +taken this place and settled it all. And for goodness' sake, don't let a +breath of it get about among the servants; there'd be the--something to +pay, if you did." + +"I won't tell anybody," said Dormy. + +"Nor shall I," I added. "Sophy is far too excitable, and if she knew, +she would certainly tell Nannie." Nannie is our old nurse. + +"If we tell any one," Philip went on, "that means," with a rather +irritating smile of self-confidence, "if by any possibility I do not +succeed in making an end of your ghost and we want another opinion about +it, the person to tell would be Miss Larpent." + +"Yes," I said, "I think so, too." + +I would not risk irritating him by saying how convinced I was that +conviction awaited _him_ as surely it had come to myself, and I knew +that Miss Larpent, though far from credulous, was equally far from +stupid scepticism concerning the mysteries "not dreamt of" in ordinary +"philosophy". + +"What do you mean to do?" I went on. "You have a theory, I see. Won't +you tell me what it is?" + +"I have two," said Phil, rolling up a cigarette as he spoke. "It is +either some queer optical illusion, partly the effect of some odd +reflection outside--or it is a clever trick." + +"A trick!" I exclaimed; "what _possible_ motive could there be for a +trick?" + +Phil shook his head. + +"Ah," he said, "that I cannot at present say." + +"And what are you going to do?" + +"I shall sit up to-night in the gallery and see for myself." + +"Alone?" I exclaimed, with some misgiving. For big, sturdy fellow as he +was, I scarcely liked to think of him--of _any one_--alone with that +awful thing. + +"I don't suppose you or Dormy would care to keep me company," he +replied, "and on the whole I would rather not have you." + +"I wouldn't do it," said the child honestly, "not for--for nothing." + +"I shall keep Tim with me," said Philip, "I would rather have him than +any one." + +Tim is Phil's bull-dog, and certainly, I agreed, much better than +nobody. + +So it was settled. + +Dormy and I went to bed unusually early that night, for as the day wore +on we both felt exceedingly tired. I pleaded a headache, which was not +altogether a fiction, though I repented having complained at all when I +found that poor mamma immediately began worrying herself with fears +that "after all" I, too, was to fall a victim to the influenza. + +"I shall be all right in the morning," I assured her. + +I knew no further details of Phil's arrangements. I fell asleep almost +at once. I usually do. And it seemed to me that I had slept a whole +night when I was awakened by a glimmering light at my door, and heard +Philip's voice speaking softly. + +"Are you awake, Lel?" he said, as people always say when they awake you +in any untimely way. Of course, _now_ I was awake, very much awake +indeed. + +"What is it?" I exclaimed eagerly, my heart beginning to beat very fast. + +"Oh, nothing, nothing at all," said my brother, advancing a little into +the room. "I just thought I'd look in on my way to bed to reassure you. +I have seen _nothing_, absolutely nothing." + +I do not know if I was relieved or disappointed. + +"Was it moonlight?" I asked abruptly. + +"No," he replied, "unluckily the moon did not come out at all, though +it is nearly at the full. I carried in a small lamp, which made things +less eerie. But I should have preferred the moon." + +I glanced up at him. Was it the reflection of the candle he held, or did +he look paler than usual? + +"And," I added suddenly, "did you _feel_ nothing?" + +He hesitated. + +"It--it was chilly, certainly," he said. "I fancy I must have dosed a +little, for I did feel pretty cold once or twice." + +"Ah, indeed!" thought I to myself. "And how about Tim?" + +Phil smiled, but not very successfully. + +"Well," he said, "I must confess Tim did not altogether like it. He +started snarling, then he growled, and finished up with whining in a +decidedly unhappy way. He's rather upset--poor old chap!" + +And then I saw that the dog was beside him--rubbing up close to Philip's +legs--a very dejected, reproachful Tim--all the starch taken out of him. + +"Good-night, Phil," I said, turning round on my pillow. "I'm glad +you are satisfied. To-morrow morning you must tell me which of your +theories holds most water. Good-night, and many thanks." + +He was going to say more, but my manner for the moment stopped him, and +he went off. + +Poor old Phil! + +We had it out the next morning. He and I alone. He was _not_ satisfied. +Far from it. In the bottom of his heart I believe it was a strange +yearning for a breath of human companionship, for the sound of a human +voice, that had made him look in on me the night before. + +_For he had felt the cold passing him._ + +But he was very plucky. + +"I'll sit up again to-night, Leila," he said. + +"Not to-night," I objected. "This sort of adventure requires one to be +at one's best. If you take my advice you will go to bed early and have a +good stretch of sleep, so that you will be quite fresh by to-morrow. +There will be a moon for some nights still." + +"Why do you keep harping on the moon?" said Phil rather crossly, for +him. + +"Because--I have some idea that it is only in the moonlight that--that +anything is to be _seen_." + +"Bosh!" said my brother politely--he was certainly rather +discomposed--"we are talking at cross-purposes. You are satisfied----" + +"Far from satisfied," I interpolated. + +"Well, convinced, whatever you like to call it--that the whole thing is +supernatural, whereas I am equally sure it is a trick; a clever trick I +allow, though I haven't yet got at the motive of it." + +"You need your nerves to be at their best to discover a trick of this +kind, if a trick it be," I said quietly. + +Philip had left his seat, and walked up and down the room; his way of +doing so gave me a feeling that he wanted to walk off some unusual +consciousness of irritability. I felt half provoked and half sorry for +him. + +At that moment--we were alone in the drawing-room--the door opened, and +Miss Larpent came in. + +"I cannot find Sophy," she said, peering about through her rather +short-sighted eyes, which, nevertheless, see a great deal sometimes; "do +you know where she is?" + +"I saw her setting off somewhere with Nugent," said Philip, stopping +his quarter-deck exercise for a moment. + +"Ah, then it is hopeless. I suppose I must resign myself to very +irregular ways for a little longer," Miss Larpent replied with a smile. + +She is not young, and not good looking, but she is gifted with a +delightful way of smiling, and she is--well, the dearest and almost the +wisest of women. + +She looked at Philip as he spoke. She had known us nearly since our +babyhood. + +"Is there anything the matter?" she said suddenly. "You look fagged, +Leila, and Philip seems worried." + +I glanced at Philip. He understood me. + +"Yes," he replied, "I am irritated, and Leila is----" he hesitated. + +"What?" asked Miss Larpent. + +"Oh, I don't know--obstinate, I suppose. Sit down, Miss Larpent, and +hear our story. Leila, you can tell it." + +I did so--first obtaining a promise of secrecy, and making Phil relate +his own experience. + +Our new _confidante_ listened attentively, her face very grave. When +she had heard all, she said quietly, after a moment's silence:-- + +"It's very strange, very. Philip, if you will wait till to-morrow night, +and I quite agree with Leila that you had better do so, I will sit up +with you. I have pretty good nerves, and I have always wanted an +experience of that kind." + +"Then you don't think it is a trick?" I said eagerly. I was like Dormer, +divided between my real underlying longing to explain the thing, and get +rid of the horror of it, and a half childish wish to prove that I had +not exaggerated its ghastliness. + +"I will tell you that the day after to-morrow," she said. I could not +repress a little shiver as she spoke. + +She _had_ good nerves, and she was extremely sensible. + +But I almost blamed myself afterwards for having acquiesced in the plan. +For the effect on her was very great. They never told me exactly what +happened; "You _know_," said Miss Larpent. I imagine their experience +was almost precisely similar to Dormy's and mine, intensified, perhaps, +by the feeling of loneliness. For it was not till all the rest of +the family was in bed that this second vigil began. It was a bright +moonlight night--they had the whole thing complete. + +It was impossible to throw off the effect; even in the daytime the four +of us who had seen and heard, shrank from the gallery, and made any +conceivable excuse for avoiding it. + +But Phil, however convinced, behaved consistently. He examined the +closed door thoroughly, to detect any possible trickery. He explored +the attics, he went up and down the staircase leading to the offices, +till the servants must have thought he was going crazy. He found +_nothing_--no vaguest hint even as to why the gallery was chosen by the +ghostly shadow for its nightly round. + +Strange to say, however, as the moon waned, our horror faded, so that we +almost began to hope the thing was at an end, and to trust that in time +we should forget about it. And we congratulated ourselves that we had +kept our own counsel and not disturbed any of the others--even father, +who would, no doubt, have hooted at the idea--by the baleful whisper +that our charming castle by the sea was haunted! + +And the days passed by, growing into weeks. The second detachment of +our guests had left, and a third had just arrived, when one morning as I +was waiting at what we called "the sea-door" for some of the others to +join me in a walk along the sands, some one touched me on the shoulder. +It was Philip. + +"Leila," he said, "I am not happy about Dormer. He is looking ill again, +and----" + +"I thought he seemed so much stronger," I said, surprised and +distressed, "quite rosy, and so much merrier." + +"So he was till a few days ago," said Philip. "But if you notice him +well you'll see that he's getting that white look again. And--I've got +it into my head--he is an extraordinarily sensitive child, that it has +something to do with the moon. It's getting on to the full." + +For the moment I stupidly forgot the association. + +"Really, Phil," I said, "you are too absurd! Do you actually--oh," as he +was beginning to interrupt me, and my face fell, I feel sure--"you don't +mean about the gallery." + +"Yes, I do," he said. + +"How? Has Dormy told you anything?" and a sort of sick feeling came +over me. "I had begun to hope," I went on, "that somehow it had gone; +that, perhaps, it only comes once a year at a certain season, or +possibly that newcomers see it at the first and not again. Oh, Phil, +we _can't_ stay here, however nice it is, if it is really haunted." + +"Dormy hasn't said much," Philip replied. "He only told me he had _felt +the cold_ once or twice, 'since the moon came again,' he said. But I can +see the fear of more is upon him. And this determined me to speak to +you. I have to go to London for ten days or so, to see the doctors about +my leave, and a few other things. I don't like it for you and Miss +Larpent if--if this thing is to return--with no one else in your +confidence, especially on Dormy's account. Do you think we must tell +father before I go?" + +I hesitated. For many reasons I was reluctant to do so. Father would be +exaggeratedly sceptical at first, and then, if he were convinced, as I +_knew_ he would be, he would go to the other extreme and insist upon +leaving Finster, and there would be a regular upset, trying for mother +and everybody concerned. And mother liked the place, and was looking so +much better! + +"After all," I said, "it has not hurt any of us. Miss Larpent got +a shake, so did I. But it wasn't as great a shock to us as to you, +Phil, to have to believe in a ghost. And we can avoid the gallery +while you are away. No, except for Dormy, I would rather keep it to +ourselves--after all, we are not going to live here always. Yet it is so +nice, it seems such a pity." + +It was such an exquisite morning; the air, faintly breathing of the sea, +was like elixir; the heights and shadows on the cliffs, thrown out by +the darker woods behind, were indeed, as Janet Miles had said, +"wonderful". + +"Yes," Phil agreed, "it is an awful nuisance. But as for Dormy," he went +on, "supposing I get mother to let me take him with me? He'd be as jolly +as a sand-boy in London, and my old landlady would look after him like +anything if ever I had to be out late. And I'd let my doctor see +him--quietly, you know--he might give him a tonic or something." + +I heartily approved of the idea. So did mamma when Phil broached +it--she, too, had thought her "baby" looking quite pale lately. A London +doctor's opinion would be such a satisfaction. So it was settled, and +the very next day the two set off. Dormer, in his "old-fashioned," +reticent way, in the greatest delight, though only by one remark did the +brave little fellow hint at what was, no doubt, the principal cause of +his satisfaction. + +"The moon will be long past the full when we come back," he said. "And +after that there'll only be one other time before we go, won't there, +Leila? We've only got this house for three months?" + +"Yes," I said, "father only took it for three," though in my heart I +knew it was with the option of three more--six in all. + +And Miss Larpent and I were left alone, not with the ghost, certainly, +but with our fateful knowledge of its unwelcome proximity. + +We did not speak of it to each other, but we tacitly avoided the +gallery, even, as much as possible, in the daytime. I felt, and so, she +has since confessed, did she, that it would be impossible to endure +_that cold_ without betraying ourselves. + +And I began to breathe more freely, trusting that the dread of the +shadow's possible return was really only due to the child's overwrought +nerves. + +Till--one morning--my fool's paradise was abruptly destroyed. + +Father came in late to breakfast--he had been for an early walk, he +said, to get rid of a headache. But he did not look altogether as if he +had succeeded in doing so. + +"Leila," he said, as I was leaving the room after pouring out his +coffee--mamma was not yet allowed to get up early--"Leila, don't go. I +want to speak to you." + +I stopped short, and turned towards the table. There was something very +odd about his manner. He is usually hearty and eager, almost impetuous +in his way of speaking. + +"Leila," he began again, "you are a sensible girl, and your nerves are +strong, I fancy. Besides, you have not been ill like the others. Don't +speak of what I am going to tell you." + +I nodded in assent; I could scarcely have spoken. My heart was beginning +to thump. Father would not have commended my nerves had he known it. + +"Something odd and inexplicable happened last night," he went on. +"Nugent and I were sitting in the gallery. It was a mild night, and the +moon magnificent. We thought the gallery would be pleasanter than the +smoking-room, now that Phil and his pipes are away. Well--we were +sitting quietly. I had lighted my reading-lamp on the little table at +one end of the room, and Nugent was half lying in his chair, doing +nothing in particular except admiring the night, when all at once he +started violently with an exclamation, and, jumping up, came towards me. +Leila, his teeth were chattering, and he was _blue_ with cold. I was +very much alarmed--you know how ill he was at college. But in a moment +or two he recovered. + +"'What on earth is the matter?' I said to him. He tried to laugh. + +"'I really don't know,' he said; 'I felt as if I had had an electric +shock of _cold_--but I'm all right again now.' + +"I went into the dining-room, and made him take a little brandy and +water, and sent him off to bed. Then I came back, still feeling rather +uneasy about him, and sat down with my book, when, Leila--you will +scarcely credit it--I myself felt the same shock exactly. A perfectly +_hideous_ thrill of cold. That was how it began. I started up, and then, +Leila, by degrees, in some instinctive way, I seemed to realise what had +caused it. My dear child, you will think I have gone crazy when I tell +you that there was a shadow--a shadow in the moonlight--_chasing_ me, +so to say, round the room, and once again it caught me up, and again +came that appalling sensation. I would not give in. I dodged it after +that, and set myself to watch it, and then----" + +I need not quote my father further; suffice to say his experience +matched that of the rest of us entirely--no, I think it surpassed them. +It was the worst of all. + +Poor father! I shuddered for him. I think a shock of that kind is harder +upon a man than upon a woman. Our sex is less sceptical, less entrenched +in sturdy matters of fact, more imaginative, or whatever you like to +call the readiness to believe what we cannot explain. And it was +astounding to me to see how my father at once capitulated--never even +_alluding_ to a possibility of trickery. Astounding, yet at the same +time not without a certain satisfaction in it. It was almost a relief to +find others in the same boat with ourselves. + +I told him at once all _we_ had to tell, and how painfully exercised we +had been as to the advisability of keeping our secret to ourselves. I +never saw father so impressed; he was awfully kind, too, and so sorry +for us. He made me fetch Miss Larpent, and we held a council of--I +don't know what to call it!--not "war," assuredly, for none of us +thought of fighting the ghost. How could one fight a shadow? + +We decided to do nothing beyond endeavouring to keep the affair from +going further. During the next few days father arranged to have some +work done in the gallery which would prevent our sitting there, without +raising any suspicions on mamma's or Sophy's part. + +"And then," said father, "we must see. Possibly this extraordinary +influence only makes itself felt periodically." + +"I am almost certain it is so," said Miss Larpent. + +"And in this case," he continued, "we may manage to evade it. But I do +not feel disposed to continue my tenancy here after three months are +over. If once the servants get hold of the story, and they are sure to +do so sooner or later, it would be unendurable--the worry and annoyance +would do your mother far more harm than any good effect the air and +change have had upon her." + +I was glad to hear this decision. Honestly, I did not feel as if I +could stand the strain for long, and it might kill poor little Dormy. + +But where should we go? Our own home would be quite uninhabitable till +the autumn, for extensive alterations and repairs were going on there. I +said this to father. + +"Yes," he agreed, "it is not convenient,"--and he hesitated. "I cannot +make it out," he went on, "Miles would have been _sure_ to know if the +house had a bad name in any way. I think I will go over and see him +to-day, and tell him all about it--at least I shall inquire about some +other house in the neighbourhood--and _perhaps_ I will tell him our +reason for leaving this." + +He did so--he went over to Raxtrew that very afternoon, and, as I quite +anticipated would be the case, he told me on his return that he had +taken both our friends into his confidence. + +"They are extremely concerned about it," he said, "and very +sympathising, though, naturally, inclined to think us a parcel of very +weak-minded folk indeed. But I am glad of one thing--the Rectory there, +is to be let from the first of July for three months. Miles took me to +see it. I think it will do very well--it is quite out of the village, +for you really can't call it a town--and a nice little place in its way. +Quite modern, and as unghost-like as you could wish, bright and cheery." + +"And what will mamma think of our leaving so soon?" I asked. + +But as to this father reassured me. He had already spoken of it to her, +and somehow she did not seem disappointed. She had got it into her head +that Finster did not suit Dormy, and was quite disposed to think that +three months of such strong air were enough at a time. + +"Then have you decided upon Raxtrew Rectory?" I asked. + +"I have the refusal of it," said my father. "But you will be almost +amused to hear that Miles begged me not to fix absolutely for a few +days. He is coming to us to-morrow, to spend the night." + +"You mean to see for himself?" + +Father nodded. + +"Poor Mr. Miles!" I ejaculated. "You won't sit up with him, I hope, +father?" + +"I offered to do so, but he won't hear of it," was the reply. "He is +bringing one of his keepers with him--a sturdy, trustworthy young +fellow, and they two with their revolvers are going to nab the ghost, so +he says. We shall see. We must manage to prevent our servants suspecting +anything." + +This _was_ managed. I need not go into particulars. Suffice to say that +the sturdy keeper reached his own home before dawn on the night of the +vigil, no endeavours of his master having succeeded in persuading him to +stay another moment at Finster, and that Mr. Miles himself looked so ill +the next morning when he joined us at the breakfast-table that we, the +initiated, could scarcely repress our exclamations, when Sophy, with the +curious instinct of touching a sore place which some people have, told +him that he looked exactly "as if he had seen a ghost". + +His experience had been precisely similar to ours. After that we heard +no more from him--about the pity it was to leave a place that suited us +so well, etc., etc. On the contrary, before he left, he told my father +and myself that he thought us uncommonly plucky for staying out the +three months, though at the same time he confessed to feeling completely +nonplussed. + +"I have lived near Finster St. Mabyn's all my life," he said, "and +my people before me, and _never_, do I honestly assure you, have +I heard one breath of the old place being haunted. And in a shut-up +neighbourhood like this, such a thing would have leaked out." + +We shook our heads, but what could we say? + + +PART III. + +We left Finster St. Mabyn's towards the middle of July. + +Nothing worth recording happened during the last few weeks. If +the ghostly drama were still re-enacted night after night, or only +during some portion of each month, we took care not to assist at the +performance. I believe Phil and Nugent planned another vigil, but gave +it up by my father's expressed wish, and on one pretext or another he +managed to keep the gallery locked off without arousing any suspicion in +my mother or Sophy, or any of our visitors. + +It was a cold summer,--those early months of it at least--and that made +it easier to avoid the room. + +Somehow none of us were sorry to go. This was natural, so far as +several were concerned, but rather curious as regarded those of the +family who knew no drawback to the charms of the place. I suppose it was +due to some instinctive consciousness of the influence which so many of +the party had felt it impossible to resist or explain. + +And the Rectory at Raxtrew was really a dear little place. It was so +bright and open and sunny. Dormy's pale face was rosy with pleasure the +first afternoon when he came rushing in to tell us that there were tame +rabbits and a pair of guinea-pigs in an otherwise empty loose box in the +stable-yard. + +"Do come and look at them," he begged, and I went with him, pleased to +see him so happy. + +I did not care for the rabbits, but I always think guinea-pigs rather +fascinating, and we stayed playing with them some little time. + +"I'll show you another way back into the house," said Dormy, and he led +me through a conservatory into a large, almost unfurnished room, opening +again into a tiled passage leading to the offices. + +"This is the Warden boys' playroom," he said. "They keep their cricket +and football things here, you see, and their tricycle. I wonder if I +might use it?" + +"We must write and ask them," I said. "But what are all these big +packages?" I went on. "Oh, I see, its our heavy luggage from Finster. +There is not room in this house for our odds and ends of furniture, I +suppose. It's rather a pity they have put it in here, for we could have +had some nice games in this big room on a wet day, and see, Dormy, here +are several pairs of roller skates! Oh, we must have this place +cleared." + +We spoke to father about it--he came and looked at the room and agreed +with us that it would be a pity not to have the full use of it. Roller +skating would be good exercise for Dormy, he said, and even for Nat, who +would be joining us before long for his holidays. + +So our big cases, and the chairs and tables we had bought from Hunter, +in their careful swathings of wisps and matting, were carried out to an +empty barn--a perfectly dry and weather-tight barn--for everything at +the Rectory was in excellent repair. In this, as in all other details, +our new quarters were a complete contrast to the picturesque abode we +had just quitted. + +The weather was charming for the first two or three weeks--much warmer +and sunnier than at Finster. We all enjoyed it, and seemed to breathe +more freely. Miss Larpent, who was staying through the holidays this +year, and I congratulated each other more than once, when sure of not +being overheard, on the cheerful, wholesome atmosphere in which we found +ourselves. + +"I do not think I shall ever wish to live in a very old house again," +she said one day. We were in the play-room, and I had been persuading +her to try her hand--or feet--at roller skating. "Even now," she went +on, "I own to you, Leila, though it may sound very weak-minded, I cannot +think of that horrible night without a shiver. Indeed, I could fancy I +feel that thrill of indescribable cold at the present moment." + +She _was_ shivering--and, extraordinary to relate, as she spoke, her +tremor communicated itself to me. Again, I could swear to it, again I +felt that blast of unutterable, unearthly cold. + +I started up. We were seated on a bench against the wall--a bench +belonging to the play-room, and which we had not thought of removing, as +a few seats were a convenience. + +Miss Larpent caught sight of my face. Her own, which was very white, +grew distressed in expression. She grasped my arm. + +"My dearest child," she exclaimed, "you look blue, and your teeth are +chattering! I do wish I had not alluded to that fright we had. I had no +idea you were so nervous." + +"I did not know it myself," I replied. "I often think of the Finster +ghost quite calmly, even in the middle of the night. But just then, Miss +Larpent, do you know, I really _felt_ that horrid cold again!" + +"So did I--or rather my imagination did," she replied, trying to talk in +a matter-of-fact way. She got up as she spoke, and went to the window. +"It can't be _all_ imagination," she added. "See, Leila, what a gusty, +stormy day it is--not like the beginning of August. It really is cold." + +"And this play-room seems nearly as draughty as the gallery at Finster," +I said. "Don't let us stay here--come into the drawing-room and play +some duets. I wish we could quite forget about Finster." + +"Dormy has done so, I hope," said Miss Larpent. + +That chilly morning was the commencement of the real break-up in the +weather. We women would not have minded it so much, as there are always +plenty of indoor things we can find to do. And my two grown-up brothers +were away. Raxtrew held no particular attractions for them, and Phil +wanted to see some of our numerous relations before he returned to +India. So he and Nugent started on a round of visits. But, unluckily, +it was the beginning of the public school holidays, and poor Nat--the +fifteen-year-old boy--had just joined us. It was very disappointing +for him in more ways than one. He had set his heart on seeing Finster, +impressed by our enthusiastic description of it when we first went +there, and now his anticipations had to come down to a comparatively +tame and uninteresting village, and every probability--so said the +wise--of a stretch of rainy, unsummerlike weather. + +Nat is a good-natured, cheery fellow, however--not nearly as clever or +as impressionable as Dormy, but with the same common sense. So he wisely +determined to make the best of things, and as we were really sorry for +him, he did not, after all, come off very badly. + +His principal amusement was roller-skating in the play-room. Dormy had +not taken to it in the same way--the greater part of _his_ time was +spent with the rabbits and guinea-pigs, where Nat, when he himself had +had skating enough, was pretty sure to find him. + +I suppose it is with being the eldest sister that it always seems my +fate to receive the confidences of the rest of the family, and it was +about this time, a fortnight or so after his arrival, that it began to +strike me that Nat looked as if he had something on his mind. + +"He is sure to tell me what it is, sooner or later," I said to myself. +"Probably he has left some small debts behind him at school--only he did +not look worried or anxious when he first came home." + +The confidence was given. One afternoon Nat followed me into the +library, where I was going to write some letters, and said he wanted to +speak to me. I put my paper aside and waited. + +"Leila," he began, "you must promise not to laugh at me." + +This was not what I expected. + +"Laugh at you--no, certainly not," I replied, "especially if you are in +any trouble. And I have thought you were looking worried, Nat." + +"Well, yes," he said, "I don't know if there is anything coming over +me--I feel quite well, but--Leila," he broke off, "do you believe in +ghosts?" + +I started. + +"Has any one----" I was beginning rashly, but the boy interrupted me. + +"No, no," he said eagerly, "no one has put anything of the kind into my +head--no one. It is my own senses that have seen--felt it--or else, if +it is fancy, I must be going out of my mind, Leila--I do believe there +is a ghost here _in the play-room_." + +I sat silent, an awful dread creeping over me, which, as he went on, +grew worse and worse. Had the thing--the Finster shadow--attached itself +to us--I had read of such cases--had it journeyed with us to this +peaceful, healthful house? The remembrance of the cold thrill +experienced by Miss Larpent and myself flashed back upon me. And Nat +went on. + +Yes, the cold was the first thing he had been startled by, followed, +just as in the gallery of our old castle, by the consciousness of the +terrible shadow-like presence, gradually taking form in the moonlight. +For there had been moonlight the last night or two, and Nat, in his +skating ardour, had amused himself alone in the play-room after Dormy +had gone to bed. + +"The night before last was the worst," he said. "It stopped raining, +you remember, Leila, and the moon was very bright--I noticed how it +glistened on the wet leaves outside. It was by the moonlight I saw +the--the shadow. I wouldn't have thought of skating in the evening but +for the light, for we've never had a lamp in there. It came round the +walls, Leila, and then it seemed to stop and fumble away in one +corner--at the end where there is a bench, you know." + +Indeed I did know; it was where our governess and I had been sitting. + +"I got so awfully frightened," said Nat honestly, "that I ran off. Then +yesterday I was ashamed of myself, and went back there in the evening +with a candle. But I saw nothing: the moon did not come out. Only--I +felt the cold again. I believe it was there--though I could not see it. +Leila, what _can_ it be? If only I could make you understand! It is so +_much_ worse than it sounds to tell." + +I said what I could to soothe him. I spoke of odd shadows thrown by the +trees outside swaying in the wind, for the weather was still stormy. I +repeated the time-worn argument about optical illusions, etc., etc., +and in the end he gave in a little. It _might_ have been his fancy. +And he promised me most faithfully to breathe no hint--not the very +faintest--of the fright he had had, to Sophy or Dormy, or any one. + +Then I had to tell my father. I really shrank from doing so, but there +seemed no alternative. At first, of course, he pooh-poohed it at once by +saying Dormy must have been talking to Nat about the Finster business, +or if not Dormy, _some one_--Miss Larpent even! But when all such +explanations were entirely set at nought, I must say poor father looked +rather blank. I was sorry for him, and sorry for myself--the idea of +being _followed_ by this horrible presence was too sickening. + +Father took refuge at last in some brain-wave theory--involuntary +impressions had been made on Nat by all of us, whose minds were still +full of the strange experience. He said he felt sure, and no doubt he +tried to think he did, that this theory explained the whole. I felt glad +for him to get any satisfaction out of it, and I did my best to take it +up too. But it was no use. I felt that Nat's experience had been an +"objective" one, as Miss Larpent expressed it--or, as Dormy had said at +the first at Finster: "No, no, sister--it's something _there_--it's +nothing to do with _me_." + +And earnestly I longed for the time to come for our return to our own +familiar home. + +"I don't think I shall ever wish to leave it again," I thought. + +But after a week or two the feeling began to fade again. And father very +sensibly discovered that it would not do to leave our spare furniture +and heavy luggage in the barn--it was getting all dusty and cobwebby. So +it was all moved back again to the play-room, and stacked as it had been +at first, making it impossible for us to skate or amuse ourselves in any +way there, at which Sophy grumbled, but Nat did not. + +Father was very good to Nat. He took him about with him as much as he +could to get the thought of that horrid thing out of his head. But yet +it could not have been half as bad for Nat as for the rest of us, for +we took the greatest possible precautions against any whisper of the +dreadful and mysterious truth reaching him, that the ghost had _followed +us_ from Finster. + +Father did not tell Mr. Miles or Jenny about it. They had been worried +enough, poor things, by the trouble at Finster, and it would be too bad +for them to think that the strange influence was affecting us in the +_second_ house we had taken at their recommendation. + +"In fact," said father with a rather rueful smile, "if we don't take +care, we shall begin to be looked upon askance as a haunted family! Our +lives would have been in danger in the good old witchcraft days." + +"It is really a mercy that none of the servants have got hold of the +story," said Miss Larpent, who was one of our council of three. "We must +just hope that no further annoyance will befall us till we are safe at +home again." + +Her hopes were fulfilled. Nothing else happened while we remained at the +Rectory--it really seemed as if the unhappy shade was limited locally, +in one sense. For at Finster, even, it had never been seen or felt save +in the one room. + +The vividness of the impression of poor Nat's experience had almost died +away when the time came for us to leave. I felt now that I should rather +enjoy telling Phil and Nugent about it, and hearing what _they_ could +bring forward in the way of explanation. + +We left Raxtrew early in October. Our two big brothers were awaiting us +at home, having arrived there a few days before us. Nugent was due at +Oxford very shortly. + +It was very nice to be in our own house again, after several months' +absence, and it was most interesting to see how the alterations, +including a good deal of new papering and painting, had been carried +out. And as soon as the heavy luggage arrived we had grand consultations +as to the disposal about the rooms of the charming pieces of furniture +we had picked up at Hunter's. Our rooms are large and nicely shaped, +most of them. It was not difficult to make a pretty corner here and +there with a quaint old chair or two and a delicate spindle-legged +table, and when we had arranged them all--Phil, Nugent, and I, were the +movers--we summoned mother and Miss Larpent to give their opinion. + +They quite approved, mother even saying that she would be glad of a few +more odds and ends. + +"We might empower Janet Miles," she said, "to let us know if she sees +anything very tempting. Is that really all we have? They looked so much +more important in their swathings." + +The same idea struck me. I glanced round. + +"Yes," I said, "that's all, except--oh, yes, there are the tapestry +"_portieres_"--the best of all. We can't have them in the drawing-room, +I fear. It is too modern for them. Where shall we hang them?" + +"You are forgetting, Leila," said mother. "We spoke of having them in +the hall. They will do beautifully to hang before the two side doors, +which are seldom opened. And in cold weather the hall is draughty, +though nothing like the gallery at Finster." + +Why did she say that? It made me shiver, but then, of course, she did +not know. + +Our hall is a very pleasant one. We sit there a great deal. The side +doors mother spoke of are second entrances to the dining-room and +library--quite unnecessary, except when we have a large party, a dance +or something of that sort. And the "_portieres_" certainly seemed the +very thing, the mellow colouring of the tapestry showing to great +advantage. The boys--Phil and Nugent, I mean--set to work at once, and +in an hour or two the hangings were placed. + +"Of course," said Philip, "if ever these doors are to be opened, this +precious tapestry must be taken down, or very carefully looped back. It +is very worn in some places, and in spite of the thick lining it should +be tenderly handled. I am afraid it has suffered a little from being so +long rolled up at the Rectory. It should have been hung up!" + +Still, it looked very well indeed, and when father, who was away at some +magistrates' meeting, came home that afternoon, I showed him our +arrangements with pride. + +He was very pleased. + +"Very nice--very nice indeed," he said, though it was almost too dusk +for him to judge quite fully of the effect of the tapestry. "But, dear +me, child, this hall is very cold. We must have a larger fire. Only +October! What sort of a winter are we going to have?" + +He shivered as he spoke. He was standing close to one of the +"_portieres_"--smoothing the tapestry half absently with one hand. I +looked at him with concern. + +"I _hope_ you have not got a chill, papa," I said. + +But he seemed all right again when we went into the library, where tea +was waiting--an extra late tea for his benefit. + +The next day Nugent went to Oxford. Nat had already returned to school. +So our home party was reduced to father and mother, Miss Larpent, Phil +and I, and the children. + +We were very glad to have Phil settled at home for some time. There was +little fear of his being tempted away, now that the shooting had begun. +We were expecting some of our usual guests at this season; the weather +was perfect autumn weather; we had thrown off all remembrance of +influenza and other depressing "influences," and were feeling bright +and cheerful, when again--ah, yes, even now it gives me a faint, sick +sensation to recall the horror of that _third_ visitation! + +But I must tell it simply, and not give way to painful remembrances. + +It was the very day before our first visitors were expected that the +blow fell, the awful fear made itself felt. And, as before, the victim +was a new one--the one who, for reasons already mentioned, we had +specially guarded from any breath of the gruesome terror--poor little +Sophy! + +What she was doing alone in the hall late that evening I cannot quite +recall--yes, I think I remember her saying she had run downstairs when +half-way up to bed, to fetch a book she had left there in the afternoon. +She had no light, and the one lamp in the hall--we never sat there after +dinner--was burning feebly. _It was bright moonlight._ + +I was sitting at the piano, where I had been playing in a rather sleepy +way--when a sudden touch on my shoulder made me start, and, looking up, +I saw my sister standing beside me, white and trembling. + +"Leila," she whispered, "come with me quickly. I don't want mamma to +notice." + +For mother was still nervous and delicate. + +The drawing-room is very long, and has two or three doors. No-one else +was at our end. It was easy to make our way out unperceived. Sophy +caught my hand and hurried me upstairs without speaking till we reached +my own room, where a bright fire was burning cheerfully. + +Then she began. + +"Leila," she said, "I have had such an awful fright. I did not want to +speak until we were safe up here." + +"What was it?" I exclaimed breathlessly. Did I already suspect the +truth? I really do not know, but my nerves were not what they had been. + +Sophy gasped and began to tremble. I put my arm round her. + +"It does not sound so bad," she said. "But--oh, Leila, what _could_ it +be? It was in the hall," and then I think she explained how she had come +to be there. "I was standing near the side door into the library that we +never use--and--all of a sudden a sort of darkness came along the wall, +and seemed to settle on the door--where the old tapestry is, you know. +I thought it was the shadow of something outside, for it was bright +moonlight, and the windows were not shuttered. But in a moment I saw it +could not be that--there is nothing to throw such a shadow. It seemed +to wriggle about--like--like a monstrous spider, or--" and there she +hesitated--"almost like a deformed sort of human being. And all at once, +Leila, my breath went and I fell down. I really did. I was _choked_ with +cold. I think my senses went away, but I am not sure. The next thing I +remember was rushing across the hall and then down the south corridor to +the drawing-room, and then I was so thankful to see you there by the +piano." + +I drew her down on my knee, poor child. + +"It was very good of you, dear," I said, "to control yourself, and not +startle mamma." + +This pleased her, but her terror was still uppermost. + +"Leila," she said piteously, "can't you explain it? I did so hope you +could." + +What _could_ I say? + +"I--one would need to go to the hall and look well about to see what +could cast such a shadow," I said vaguely, and I suppose I must +involuntarily have moved a little, for Sophy started, and clutched me +fast. + +"Oh, Leila, don't go--you don't mean you are going now?" she entreated. + +Nothing truly was farther from my thoughts, but I took care not to say +so. + +"I won't leave you if you'd rather not," I said, "and I tell you what, +Sophy, if you would like very much to sleep here with me to-night, you +shall. I will ring and tell Freake to bring your things down and undress +you--on one condition." + +"What?" she said eagerly. She was much impressed by my amiability. + +"That you won't say _one word_ about this, or give the least shadow of a +hint to any one that you have had a fright. You don't know the trouble +it will cause." + +"Of course I will promise to let no one know, if you think it better, +for you are so kind to me," said Sophy. But there was a touch of +reluctance in her tone. "You--you mean to do something about it though, +Leila," she went on. "I shall never be able to forget it if you don't." + +"Yes," I said, "I shall speak to father and Phil about it to-morrow. +If any one has been trying to frighten us," I added unguardedly, "by +playing tricks, they certainly must be exposed." + +"Not _us_," she corrected, "it was only me," and I did not reply. Why I +spoke of the possibility of a trick I scarcely know. I had no hope of +any such explanation. + +But another strange, almost incredible idea was beginning to take shape +in my mind, and with it came a faint, very faint touch of relief. Could +it be not the _houses_, nor the _rooms_, nor, worst of all, we ourselves +that were haunted, but something or things among the old furniture we +had bought at Raxtrew? + +And lying sleepless that night a sudden flash of illumination struck +me--could it--whatever the "it" was--could it have something to do with +the tapestry hangings? + +The more I thought it over the more striking grew the coincidences. At +Finster it had been on one of the closed doors that the shadow seemed +to settle, as again here in our own hall. But in both cases the +"_portieres_" had hung in front! + +And at the Rectory? The tapestry, as Philip had remarked, had been there +rolled up all the time. Was it possible that it had never been taken out +to the barn at all? What _more_ probable than that it should have been +left, forgotten, under the bench where Miss Larpent and I had felt +for the second time that hideous cold? And, stay, something else was +returning to my mind in connection with that bench. Yes--I had it--Nat +had said "it seemed to stop and fumble away in one corner--at the end +where there is a bench, you know." + +And then to my unutterable thankfulness at last I fell asleep. + + +PART IV. + +I told Philip the next morning. There was no need to bespeak his +attention. I think he felt nearly as horrified as I had done myself at +the idea that our own hitherto bright, cheerful home was to be haunted +by this awful thing--influence or presence, call it what you will. And +the suggestions which I went on to make struck him, too, with a sense of +relief. + +He sat in silence for some time after making me recapitulate as +precisely as possible every detail of Sophy's story. + +"You are sure it was the door into the library?" he said at last. + +"Quite sure," I replied; "and, oh, Philip," I went on, "it has just +occurred to me that _father_ felt a chill there the other evening." + +For till that moment the little incident in question had escaped my +memory. + +"Do you remember which of the "_portieres_" hung in front of the door at +Finster?" said Philip. + +I shook my head. + +"Dormy would," I said, "he used to examine the pictures in the tapestry +with great interest. I should not know one from the other. There is an +old castle in the distance in each, and a lot of trees, and something +meant for a lake." + +But in his turn Philip shook his head. + +"No," he said, "I won't speak to Dormy about it if I can possibly help +it. Leave it to me, Leila, and try to put it out of your own mind as +much as you possibly can, and don't be surprised at anything you may +notice in the next few days. I will tell you, first of any one, whenever +I have anything to tell." + +That was all I could get out of him. So I took his advice. + +Luckily, as it turned out, Mr. Miles, the only outsider, so to say +(except the unfortunate keeper), who had witnessed the ghostly drama, +was one of the shooting party expected that day. And him Philip at +once determined to consult about this new and utterly unexpected +manifestation. + +He did not tell me this. Indeed, it was not till fully a week later that +I heard anything, and then in a letter--a very long letter from my +brother, which, I think, will relate the sequel of our strange ghost +story better than any narration at second-hand, of my own. + +Mr. Miles only stayed two nights with us. The very day after he +came he announced that, to his great regret, he was obliged--most +unexpectedly--to return to Raxtrew on important business. + +"And," he continued, "I am afraid you will all feel much more vexed with +me when I tell you I am going to carry off Phil with me." + +Father looked very blank indeed. + +"Phil!" he exclaimed, "and how about our shooting?" + +"You can easily replace us," said my brother, "I have thought of that," +and he added something in a lower tone to father. He--Phil--was leaving +the room at the time. _I_ thought it had reference to the real reason of +his accompanying Mr. Miles, but I was mistaken. Father, however, said +nothing more in opposition to the plan, and the next morning the two +went off. + +We happened to be standing at the hall door--several of us--for we were +a large party now--when Phil and his friend drove away. As we turned to +re-enter the house, I felt some one touch me. It was Sophy. She was +going out for a constitutional with Miss Larpent, but had stopped a +moment to speak to me. + +"Leila," she said in a whisper, "why have they--did you know that the +tapestry had been taken down?" + +She glanced at me with a peculiar expression. I had not observed it. +Now, looking up, I saw that the two locked doors were visible in the +dark polish of their old mahogany as of yore--no longer shrouded by the +ancient _portieres_. I started in surprise. + +"No," I whispered in return, "I did not know. Never mind, Sophy. I +suspect there is a reason for it which we shall know in good time." + +I felt strongly tempted--the moon being still at the full--to visit the +hall that night--in hopes of feeling and seeing--_nothing_. But when +the time drew near, my courage failed; besides I had tacitly promised +Philip to think as little as I possibly could about the matter, and any +vigil of the kind would certainly not have been acting in accordance +with the spirit of his advice. + +I think I will now copy, as it stands, the letter from Philip which I +received a week or so later. It was dated from his club in London. + + + "MY DEAR LEILA, + + "I have a long story to tell you and a very extraordinary one. I + think it is well that it should be put into writing, so I will + devote this evening to the task--especially as I shall not be + home for ten days or so. + + "You may have suspected that I took Miles into my confidence as + soon as he arrived. If you did you were right. He was the best + person to speak to for several reasons. He looked, I must say, + rather--well 'blank' scarcely expresses it--when I told him of + the ghost's re-appearance, not only at the Rectory, but in our + own house, and on both occasions to persons--Nat, and then + Sophy--who had not heard a breath of the story. But when I went + on to propound your suggestion, Miles cheered up. He had been, + I fancy, a trifle touchy about our calling Finster haunted, + and it was evidently a satisfaction to him to start another + theory. We talked it well over, and we decided to test the + thing again--it took some resolution, I own, to do so. We sat + up that night--bright moonlight luckily--and--well, I needn't + repeat it all. Sophy was quite correct. It came again--the + horrid creeping shadow--poor wretch, I'm rather sorry for it + now--just in the old way--quite as much at home in ----shire, + apparently, as in the Castle. It stopped at the closed library + door, and fumbled away, then started off again--ugh! We watched + it closely, but kept well in the middle of the room, so that + the cold did not strike us so badly. We both noted the special + part of the tapestry where its hands seemed to sprawl, and we + meant to stay for another round; but--when it came to the point + we funked it, and went to bed. + + "Next morning, on pretence of examining the date of + the tapestry, we had it down--you were all out--and we + found--_something_. Just where the hands felt about, there had + been a cut--three cuts, three sides of a square, as it were, + making a sort of door in the stuff, the fourth side having + evidently acted as a hinge, for there was a mark where it had + been folded back. And just where--treating the thing as a + door--you might expect to find a handle to open it by, we found + a distinct dint in the tapestry, as if a button or knob had + once been there. We looked at each other. The same idea had + struck us. The tapestry had been used to conceal a small door + in the wall--the door of a secret cupboard probably. The + ghostly fingers had been vainly seeking for the spring which in + the days of their flesh and bone they had been accustomed to + press. + + "'The first thing to do,' said Miles, 'is to look up Hunter and + make him tell where he got the tapestry from. Then we shall + see.' + + "'Shall we take the _portieres_ with us?' I said. + + "But Miles shuddered, though he half laughed too. + + "'No, thank you,' he said. 'I'm not going to travel with the + evil thing.' + + "'We can't hang it up again, though,' I said, 'after this last + experience.' + + "In the end we rolled up the two _portieres_, not to attract + attention by only moving one, and--well, I thought it just + possible the ghost might make a mistake, and I did not want + any more scares while I was away--we rolled them up together, + first carefully measuring the cut, and its position in the + curtain, and then we hid them away in one of the lofts that no + one ever enters, where they are at this moment, and where the + ghost may have been disporting himself, for all I know, though + I fancy he has given it up by this time, for reasons you shall + hear. + + "Then Miles and I, as you know, set off for Raxtrew. I smoothed + my father down about it, by reminding him how good-natured they + had been to us, and telling him Miles really needed me. We went + straight to Hunter. He hummed and hawed a good deal--he had + not distinctly promised not to give the name of the place the + tapestry had come from, but he knew the gentleman he had bought + it from did not want it known. + + "'Why?' said Miles. 'Is it some family that has come down in + the world, and is forced to part with things to get some ready + money?' + + "'Oh, dear no!' said Hunter. 'It is not that, at all. It + was only that--I suppose I must give you the name--Captain + Devereux--did not want any gossip to get about, as to ----' + + "'Devereux!' repeated Miles, 'you don't mean the people at + Hallinger?' + + "'The same,' said Hunter. 'If you know them, sir, you will be + careful, I hope, to assure the captain that I did my best to + carry out his wishes?' + + "'Certainly,' said Miles, 'I'll exonerate you.' + + "And then Hunter told us that Devereux, who only came into the + Hallinger property a few years ago, had been much annoyed by + stories getting about of the place being haunted, and this had + led to his dismantling one wing, and--Hunter thought, but was + not quite clear as to this--pulling down some rooms altogether. + But he, Devereux, was very touchy on the subject--he did not + want to be laughed at. + + "'And the tapestry came from him--you are certain as to that?' + Miles repeated. + + "'Positive, sir. I took it down with my own hands. It was + fitted on to two panels in what they call the round room at + Hallinger--there were, oh, I daresay, a dozen of them, with + tapestry nailed on, but I only bought these two pieces--the + others were sold to a London dealer.' + + "'The round room,' I said. Leila, the expression struck me. + + "Miles, it appeared, knew Devereux fairly well. Hallinger is + only ten miles off. We drove over there, but found he was in + London. So our next move was to follow him there. We called + twice at his club, and then Miles made an appointment, saying + that he wanted to see him on private business. + + "He received us civilly, of course. He is quite a young + fellow--in the Guards. But when Miles began to explain to him + what we had come about, he stiffened. + + "'I suppose you belong to the Psychical Society?' he said. 'I + can only repeat that I have nothing to tell, and I detest the + whole subject.' + + "'Wait a moment,' said Miles, and as he went on I saw that + Devereux changed. His face grew intent with interest and a + queer sort of eagerness, and at last he started to his feet. + + "'Upon my soul,' he said, 'I believe you've run him to earth + for me--the ghost, I mean, and if so, you shall have my endless + gratitude. I'll go down to Hallinger with you at once--this + afternoon, if you like, and see it out.' + + "He was so excited that he spoke almost incoherently, but after + a bit he calmed down, and told us all he had to tell--and that + was a good deal--which would indeed have been nuts for the + Psychical Society. What Hunter had said was but a small part of + the whole. It appeared that on succeeding to Hallinger, on the + death of an uncle, young Devereux had made considerable changes + in the house. He had, among others, opened out a small wing--a + sort of round tower--which had been completely dismantled and + bricked up for, I think he said, over a hundred years. There + was some story about it. An ancestor of his--an awful + gambler--had used the principal room in this wing for his + orgies. Very queer things went on there, the finish up being + the finding of old Devereux dead there one night, when his + servants were summoned by the man he had been playing + with--with whom he had had an awful quarrel. This man, a low + fellow, probably a professional cardsharper, vowed that he had + been robbed of a jewel which his host had staked, and it was + said that a ring of great value had disappeared. But it was + all hushed up--Devereux had really died in a fit--though soon + after, for reasons only hinted at, the round tower was shut + up, till the present man rashly opened it again. + + "Almost at once, he said, the annoyances, to use a mild term, + began. First one, then another of the household were terrified + out of their wits, just as we were, Leila. Devereux himself had + seen it two or three times, the 'it,' of course, being his + miserable old ancestor. A small man, with a big wig, and long, + thin, claw-like fingers. It all corresponded. Mrs. Devereux is + young and nervous. She could not stand it. So in the end the + round tower was shut up again, all the furniture and hangings + sold, and locally speaking, the ghost laid. That was all + Devereux knew. + + "We started, the three of us, that very afternoon, as excited + as a party of schoolboys. Miles and I kept questioning + Devereux, but he had really no more to tell. He had never + thought of examining the walls of the haunted room--it was + wainscotted, he said--and might be lined all through with + secret cupboards, for all he knew. But he could not get + over the extraordinariness of the ghost's sticking to the + _tapestry_--and indeed it does rather lower one's idea of + ghostly intelligence. + + "We went at it at once--the tower was not _bricked_ up again, + luckily--we got in without difficulty the next morning--Devereux + making some excuse to the servants, a new set who had not heard + of the ghost, for our eccentric proceedings. It was a tiresome + business. There were so many panels in the room, as Hunter had + said, and it was impossible to tell in which _the_ tapestry had + been fixed. But we had our measures, and we carefully marked a + line as near as we could guess at the height from the floor that + the cut in the _portieres_ must have been. Then we tapped and + pummelled and pressed imaginary springs till we were nearly sick + of it--there was nothing to guide us. The wainscotting was dark + and much shrunk and marked with age, and full of joins in the + wood any one of which might have meant a door. + + "It was Devereux himself who found it at last. We heard an + exclamation from where he was standing by himself at the other + side of the room. He was quite white and shaky. + + "'Look here,' he said, and we looked. + + "Yes--there was a small deep recess, or cupboard in the + thickness of the wall, excellently contrived. Devereux had + touched the spring at last, and the door, just matching the + cut in the tapestry, flew open. + + "Inside lay what at first we took for a packet of letters, and + I hoped to myself they contained nothing that would bring + trouble on poor Devereux. They were not letters, however, but + two or three incomplete packs of cards--grey and dust-thick + with age--and as Miles spread them out, certain markings on + them told their own tale. Devereux did not like it, + naturally--their supposed owner had been a member of his house. + + "'The ghost has kept a conscience,' he said, with an attempt at + a laugh. 'Is there nothing more?' + + "Yes--a small leather bag--black and grimy, though originally, + I fancy, of chamois skin. It drew with strings. Devereux pulled + it open, and felt inside. + + "'By George!' he exclaimed. And he held out the most + magnificent diamond ring I have ever seen--sparkling away as if + it had only just come from the polisher's. 'This must be _the_ + ring,' he said. + + "And we all stared--too astonished to speak. + + "Devereux closed the cupboard again, after carefully examining + it to make sure nothing had been left behind. He marked the + exact spot where he had pressed the spring so as to find it at + any time. Then we all left the round room, locking the door + securely after us. + + "Miles and I spent that night at Hallinger. We sat up late + talking it all over. There are some queer inconsistencies about + the thing which will probably never be explained. First and + foremost--why has the ghost stuck to the tapestry instead of to + the actual spot he seemed to have wished to reveal? Secondly, + what was the connection between his visits and the full + moon--or is it that only by the moonlight the shade becomes + perceptible to human sense? Who can say? + + "As to the story itself--what was old Devereux's motive in + concealing his own ring? Were the marked cards his, or his + opponent's, of which he had managed to possess himself, and had + secreted as testimony against the other fellow? + + "I incline, and so does Miles, to this last theory, and when we + suggested it to Devereux, I could see it was a relief to him. + After all, one likes to think one's ancestors were gentlemen! + + "'But what, then, has he been worrying about all this century + or more?' he said. 'If it were that he wanted the ring returned + to its real owner--supposing the fellow _had_ won it--I could + understand it, though such a thing would be impossible. There + is no record of the man at all--his name was never mentioned in + the story.' + + "'He may want the ring restored to its proper owner all the + same,' said Miles. 'You are its owner, as the head of the + family, and it has been your ancestor's fault that it has been + hidden all these years. Besides, we cannot take upon ourselves + to explain motives in such a case. Perhaps--who knows?--the + poor shade could not help himself. His peregrinations may have + been of the nature of punishment.' + + "'I hope they are over now,' said Devereux, 'for his sake and + everybody else's. I should be glad to think he wanted the ring + restored to us, but besides that, I should like to do + something--something _good_ you know--if it would make him + easier, poor old chap. I must consult Lilias.' Lilias is Mrs. + Devereux. + + "This is all I have to tell you at present, Leila. When I come + home we'll have the _portieres_ up again and see what happens. + I want you now to read all this to my father, and if he has no + objection--he and my mother, of course--I should like to invite + Captain and Mrs. Devereux to stay a few days with us--as well + as Miles, as soon as I come back." + +Philip's wish was acceded to. It was with no little anxiety and interest +that we awaited his return. + +The tapestry _portieres_ were restored to their place--and on the first +moonlight night, my father, Philip, Captain Devereux and Mr. Miles held +their vigil. + +What happened? + +_Nothing_--the peaceful rays lighted up the quaint landscape of +the tapestry, undisturbed by the poor groping fingers--no gruesome +unearthly chill as of worse than death made itself felt to the midnight +watchers--the weary, may we not hope repentant, spirit was at rest at +last! + +And never since has any one been troubled by the shadow in the +moonlight. + +"I cannot help hoping," said Mrs. Devereux, when talking it over, "that +what Michael has done may have helped to calm the poor ghost." + +And she told us what it was. Captain Devereux is rich, though not +immensely so. He had the ring valued--it represented a very large sum, +but Philip says I had better not name the figures--and then he, so to +say, bought it from himself. And with this money he--no, again, Phil +says I must not enter into particulars beyond saying that with it he did +something very good, and very useful, which had long been a pet scheme +of his wife's. + +Sophy is grown up now and she knows the whole story. So does our mother. +And Dormy too has heard it all. The horror of it has quite gone. We feel +rather proud of having been the actual witnesses of a ghostly drama. + + + + +"THE MAN WITH THE COUGH." + + +I am a German by birth and descent. My name is Schmidt. But by education +I am quite as much an Englishman as a "Deutscher," and by affection much +more the former. My life has been spent pretty equally between the two +countries, and I flatter myself I speak both languages without any +foreign accent. + +I count England my headquarters now: it is "home" to me. But a few years +ago I was resident in Germany, only going over to London now and then on +business. I will not mention the town where I lived. It is unnecessary +to do so, and in the peculiar experience I am about to relate I think +real names of people and places are just as well, or better, avoided. + +I was connected with a large and important firm of engineers. I had been +bred up to the profession, and was credited with a certain amount of +talent; and I was considered--and, with all modesty, I think I deserved +the opinion--steady and reliable, so that I had already attained a fair +position in the house, and was looked upon as a "rising man". But I was +still young, and not quite so wise as I thought myself. I came very near +once to making a great mess of a certain affair. It is this story which +I am going to tell. + +Our house went in largely for patents--rather too largely, some thought. +But the head partner's son was a bit of a genius in his way, and his +father was growing old, and let Herr Wilhelm--Moritz we will call the +family name--do pretty much as he chose. And on the whole Herr Wilhelm +did well. He was cautious, and he had the benefit of the still greater +caution and larger experience of Herr Gerhardt, the second partner in +the firm. + +Patents and the laws which regulate them are queer things to have to do +with. No one who has not had personal experience of the complications +that arise could believe how far these spread and how entangled they +become. Great acuteness as well as caution is called for if you would +guide your patent bark safely to port--and perhaps more than anything, +a power of holding your tongue. I was no chatterbox, nor, when on a +mission of importance, did I go about looking as if I were bursting +with secrets, which is, in my opinion, almost as dangerous as revealing +them. No one, to meet me on the journeys which it often fell to my lot +to undertake, would have guessed that I had anything on my mind but an +easy-going young fellow's natural interest in his surroundings, though +many a time I have stayed awake through a whole night of railway travel +if at all doubtful about my fellow-passengers, or not dared to go to +sleep in a hotel without a ready-loaded revolver by my pillow. + +For now and then--though not through me--our secrets did ooze out. And +if, as _has_ happened, they were secrets connected with Government +orders or contracts, there was, or but for the exertion of the greatest +energy and tact on the part of my superiors, there _would_ have been, to +put it plainly, the devil to pay. + +One morning--it was nearing the end of November--I was sent for to Herr +Wilhelm's private room. There I found him and Herr Gerhardt before a +table spread with papers covered with figures and calculations, and +sheets of beautifully executed diagrams. + +"Lutz," said Herr Wilhelm. He had known me from childhood, and often +called me by the abbreviation of my Christian name, which is Ludwig, +or Louis. "Lutz, we are going to confide to you a matter of extreme +importance. You must be prepared to start for London to-morrow." + +"All right, sir," I said, "I shall be ready." + +"You will take the express through to Calais--on the whole it is the +best route, especially at this season. By travelling all night you will +catch the boat there, and arrive in London so as to have a good night's +rest, and be clear-headed for work the next morning." + +I bowed agreement, but ventured to make a suggestion. + +"If, as I infer, the matter is one of great importance," I said, "would +it not be well for me to start sooner? I can--yes," throwing a rapid +survey over the work I had before me for the next two days--"I can be +ready to-night." + +Herr Wilhelm looked at Herr Gerhardt. Herr Gerhardt shook his head. + +"No," he replied; "to-morrow it must be," and then he proceeded to +explain to me why. + +I need not attempt to give all the details of the matter with which I +was entrusted. Indeed, to "lay" readers it would be impossible. Suffice +it to say, the whole concerned a patent--that of a very remarkable and +wonderful invention, which it was hoped and believed the Governments +of both countries would take up. But to secure this being done in a +thoroughly satisfactory manner it was necessary that our firm should go +about it in concert with an English house of first-rate standing. To +this house--the firm of Messrs. Bluestone and Fagg I will call them--I +was to be sent with full explanations. And the next half-hour or more +passed in my superiors going minutely into the details, so as to satisfy +themselves that I understood. The mastering of the whole was not +difficult, for I was well grounded technically; and like many of the +best things the idea was essentially simple, and the diagrams were +perfect. When the explanations were over, and my instructions duly +noted, I began to gather together the various sheets, which were all +numbered. But, to my surprise, Herr Gerhardt, looking over me, withdrew +two of the most important diagrams, without which the others were +valueless, because inexplicable. + +"Stay," he said; "these two, Ludwig, must be kept separate. These we +send to-day, by registered post, direct to Bluestone and Fagg. They +will receive them a day before they see you, and with them a letter +announcing your arrival." + +I looked up in some disappointment. I had known of precautions of the +kind being taken, but usually when the employe sent was less reliable +than I believed myself to be. Still, I scarcely dared to demur. + +"Do you think that necessary?" I said respectfully. "I can assure you +that from the moment you entrust me with the papers they shall never +quit me day or night. And if there were any postal delay--you say time +is valuable in this case--or if the papers were stolen in the +transit--such things have happened--my whole mission would be +worthless." + +"We do not doubt your zeal and discretion, my good Schmidt," said Herr +Gerhardt. "But in this case we must take even extra precautions. I +had not meant to tell you, fearing to add to the certain amount of +nervousness and strain unavoidable in such a case, but still, perhaps +it is best that you should know that we _have_ reason for some special +anxiety. It has been hinted to us that some breath of this"--and he +tapped the papers--"has reached those who are always on the watch for +such things. We cannot be too careful." + +"And yet," I persisted, "you would trust the post?" + +"We do not trust the post," he replied. "Even if these diagrams were +tampered with, they would be perfectly useless. And tampered with they +will not be. But even supposing anything so wild, the rogues in question +knowing of your departure (and they are _more_ likely to know of it than +of our packet by post), were they in collusion with some traitor in the +post-office, are sharp enough to guess the truth--that we have made a +Masonic secret of it--the two separate diagrams are valueless without +your papers; _your_ papers reveal nothing without Nos. 7 and 13." + +I bowed in submission. But I was, all the same, disappointed, as I said, +and a trifle mortified. + +Herr Wilhelm saw it, and cheered me up. + +"All right, Lutz, my boy," he said. "I feel just like you--nothing I +should enjoy more than a rush over to London, carrying the whole +documents, and prepared for a fight with any one who tried to get hold +of them. But Herr Gerhardt here is cooler-blooded than we are." + +The elder man smiled. + +"I don't doubt your readiness to fight, nor Ludwig's either. But it +would be by no such honestly brutal means as open robbery that we should +be outwitted. Make friends readily with no one while travelling, Lutz, +yet avoid the appearance of keeping yourself aloof. You understand?" + +"Perfectly," I said. "I shall sleep well to-night, so as to be prepared +to keep awake throughout the journey." + +The papers were then carefully packed up. Those consigned to my care +were to be carried in a certain light, black handbag with a very good +lock, which had often before been my travelling companion. + +And the following evening I started by the express train agreed upon. +So, at least, I have always believed, but I have never been able to +bring forward a witness to the fact of my train at the start being the +right one, as no one came with me to see me off. For it was thought best +that I should depart in as unobtrusive a manner as possible, as, even in +a large town such as ours, the members and employes of an old and +important house like the Moritzes' were well known. + +I took my ticket then, registering no luggage, as I had none but what I +easily carried in my hand, as well as _the_ bag. It was already dusk, if +not dark, and there was not much bustle in the station, nor apparently +many passengers. I took my place in an empty second-class compartment, +and sat there quietly till the train should start. A few minutes before +it did so, another man got in. I was somewhat annoyed at this, as in my +circumstances nothing was more undesirable than travelling alone with +one other. Had there been a crowded compartment, or one with three or +four passengers, I would have chosen it; but at the moment I got in, the +carriages were all either empty or with but one or two occupants. Now, I +said to myself, I should have done better to wait till nearer the time +of departure, and then chosen my place. + +I turned to reconnoitre my companion, but I could not see his face +clearly, as he was half leaning out of the window. Was he doing so on +purpose? I said to myself, for naturally I was in a suspicious mood. And +as the thought struck me I half started up, determined to choose another +compartment. Suddenly a peculiar sound made itself heard. My companion +was coughing. He drew his head in, covering his face with his hand, as +he coughed again. You never heard such a curious cough. It was more like +a hen clucking than anything I can think of. Once, twice he coughed; +then, as if he had been waiting for the slight spasm to pass, he sprang +up, looked eagerly out of the window again, and, opening the door, +jumped out, with some exclamation, as if he had just caught sight of a +friend. + +And in another moment or two--he could barely have had time to get in +elsewhere--much to my satisfaction, the train moved off. + +"Now," thought I, "I can make myself comfortable for some hours. We do +not stop till M----: it will be nine o'clock by then. If no one gets in +there I am safe to go through till to-morrow alone; then there will only +be ---- Junction, and a clear run to Calais." + +I unstrapped my rug and lit a cigar--of course I had chosen a +smoking-carriage--and, delighted at having got rid of my clucking +companion, the time passed pleasantly till we pulled up at M----. The +delay there was not great, and to my enormous satisfaction no one +molested my solitude. Evidently the express to Calais was not in very +great demand that night. I now felt so secure that, notwithstanding my +intention of keeping awake all night, my innermost consciousness had not +I suppose quite resigned itself to the necessity, for, not more than a +hour or so after leaving M----, possibly sooner, I fell fast asleep. + +It seemed to me that I had slept heavily, for when I awoke I had great +difficulty in remembering where I was. Only by slow degrees did I +realise that I was not in my comfortable bed at home, but in a chilly, +ill-lighted railway-carriage. Chilly--yes, that it was--very chilly; but +as my faculties returned I remembered my precious bag, and forgot all +else in a momentary terror that it had been taken from me. No; there it +was--my elbow had been pressed against it as I slept. But how was this? +The train was not in motion. We were standing in a station; a dingy +deserted-looking place, with no cheerful noise or bustle; only one or +two porters slowly moving about, with a sort of sleepy "night duty," +surly air. It could not be the Junction? I looked at my watch. Barely +midnight! Of course, not the Junction. We were not due there till four +o'clock in the morning or so. + +What, then, were we doing here, and what _was_ "here"? Had there been +an accident--some unforeseen necessity for stopping? At that moment a +curious sound, from some yards' distance only it seemed to come, caught +my ear. It was that croaking, cackling cough!--the cough of my momentary +fellow-passenger, towards whom I had felt an instinctive aversion. I +looked out of the window--there was a refreshment-room just opposite, +dimly lighted, like everything else, and in the doorway, as if just +entering, was a figure which I felt pretty sure was that of the man with +the cough. + +"Bah!" I said to myself, "I must not be fanciful. I daresay the fellow's +all right. He is evidently in the same hole as myself. What in Heaven's +name are we waiting here for?" + +I sprang out of the carriage, nearly tumbling over a porter slowly +passing along. + +"How long are we to stay here?" I cried. "When do we start again for +----?" and I named the Junction. + +"For ----" he repeated in the queerest German I ever heard--was it +German? or did I discover his meaning by some preternatural cleverness +of my own? "There is no train for ---- for four or five hours, not +till----" and he named the time; and leaning forward lazily, he took +out my larger bag and my rug, depositing them on the platform. He did +not seem the least surprised at finding me there--I might have been +there for a week, it seemed to me. + +"No train for five hours? Are you mad?" I said. + +He shook his head and mumbled something, and it seemed to me that he +pointed to the refreshment-room opposite. Gathering my things together I +hurried thither, hoping to find some more reliable authority. But there +was no one there except a fat man with a white apron, who was clearing +the counter--and--yes, in one corner was the figure I had mentally +dubbed "The man with the cough". + +I addressed the cook or waiter--whichever he was. But he only shook his +head--denied all knowledge of the trains, but informed me that--in other +words--I must turn out; he was going to shut up. + +"And where am I to spend the night, then?" I said angrily, though +clearly it was not the aproned individual who was responsible for the +position in which I found myself. + +There was a "Restauration," he informed me, near at hand, which I +should find still open, straight before me on leaving the station, and +then a few doors to the right, I would see the lights. + +Clearly there was nothing else to be done. I went out, and as I did so +the silent figure in the corner rose also and followed me. The station +was evidently going to bed. As I passed the porter I repeated the hour +he had named, adding: "That is the first train for ---- Junction?" + +He nodded, again naming the exact time. But I cannot do so, as I have +never been able to recollect it. + +I trudged along the road--there were lamps, though very feeble ones; but +by their light I saw that the man who had been in the refreshment-room +was still a few steps behind me. It made me feel slightly nervous, and I +looked round furtively once or twice; the last time I did so he was not +to be seen, and I hoped he had gone some other way. + +The "Restauration" was scarcely more inviting than the station +refreshment-room. It, too, was very dimly lighted, and the one or two +attendants seemed half asleep and were strangely silent. There was a +fire, of a kind, and I seated myself at a small table near it and asked +for some coffee, which would, I thought, serve the double purpose of +warming me and keeping me awake. + +It was brought me, in silence. I drank it, and felt the better for it. +But there was something so gloomy and unsociable, so queer and almost +weird about the whole aspect and feeling of the place, that a sort of +irritable resignation took possession of me. If these surly folk won't +speak, neither will I, I said to myself childishly. And, incredible as +it may sound, I did _not_ speak. I think I paid for the coffee, but I am +not quite sure. I know I never asked what I had meant to ask--the name +of the town--a place of some importance, to judge by the size of the +station and the extent of twinkling lights I had observed as I made my +way to the "Restauration". From that day to this I have never been able +to identify it, and I am quite sure I never shall. + +What was there peculiar about that coffee? Or was it something peculiar +about my own condition that caused it to have the unusual effect I now +experienced? That question, too, I cannot answer. All I remember is +feeling a sensation of irresistible drowsiness creeping over me--mental, +or moral I may say, as well as physical. For when one part of me feebly +resisted the first onslaught of sleep, something seemed to reply: "Oh, +nonsense! you have several hours before you. Your papers are all right. +No one can touch them without awaking you." + +And dreamily conscious that my belongings were on the floor at my +feet--_the_ bag itself actually resting against my ankle--my scruples +silenced themselves in an extraordinary way. I remember nothing more, +save a vague consciousness through all my slumber of confused and +chaotic dreams, which I have never been able to recall. + +I awoke at last, and that with a start, almost a jerk. Something had +awakened me--a sound--and as it was repeated to my now aroused ears I +knew that I had heard it before, off and on, during my sleep. It was the +extraordinary cough! + +I looked up. Yes, there he was! At some two or three yards' distance +only, at the other side of the fireplace, which, and this I have +forgotten to mention as another peculiar item in that night's peculiar +experiences, considering I have every reason to believe I was still in +Germany, was not a stove, but an open grate. + +And he had not been there when I first fell asleep; to that I was +prepared to swear. + +"He must have come sneaking in after me," I thought, and in all +probability I should neither have noticed nor recognised him but for +that traitorous cackle of his. + +Now, my misgivings aroused, my first thought, of course, was for my +precious charge. I stooped. There were my rugs, my larger bag, but--no, +not the smaller one; and though the other two were there, I knew at +once that they were not quite in the same position--not so close to me. +Horror seized me. Half wildly I gazed around, when my silent neighbour +bent towards me. I could declare there was nothing in his hand when he +did so, and I could declare as positively that I had already looked +under the small round table beside which I sat, and that the bag was not +there. And yet when the man, with a slight cackle, caused, no doubt, by +his stooping, raised himself, the thing was in his hand! + +Was he a conjurer, a pupil of Maskelyne and Cook? And how was it that, +even as he held out my missing property, he managed, and that most +cleverly and unobtrusively, to prevent my catching sight of his face? I +did not see it then--I never did see it! + +Something he murmured, to the effect that he supposed the bag was what I +was looking for. In what language he spoke I know not; it was more that +by the action accompanying the mumbled sounds I gathered his meaning, +than that I heard anything articulate. + +I thanked him, of course, mechanically, so to say, though I began to +feel as if he were an evil spirit haunting me. I could only hope that +the splendid lock to the bag had defied all curiosity, but I felt in a +fever to be alone again, and able to satisfy myself that nothing had +been tampered with. + +The thought recalled my wandering faculties. How long had I been asleep? +I drew out my watch. Heavens! It was close upon the hour named for the +first train in the morning. I sprang up, collected my things, and dashed +out of the "Restauration". If I had not paid for my coffee before, I +certainly did not pay for it then. Besides my haste, there was another +reason for this--there was no one to pay to! Not a creature was to be +seen in the room or at the door as I passed out--always excepting the +man with the cough. + +As I left the place and hurried along the road, a bell began, not to +ring, but to toll. It sounded most uncanny. What it meant, of course, I +have never known. It may have been a summons to the workpeople of some +manufactory, it may have been like all the other experiences of that +strange night. But no; this theory I will not at present enter upon. + +Dawn was not yet breaking, but there was in one direction a faint +suggestion of something of the kind not far off. Otherwise all was dark. +I stumbled along as best as I could, helped in reality, I suppose, by +the ugly yellow glimmer of the woebegone street, or road lamps. And it +was not far to the station, though somehow it seemed farther than when I +came; and somehow, too, it seemed to have grown steep, though I could +not remember having noticed any slope the other way on my arrival. A +nightmare-like sensation began to oppress me. I felt as if my luggage +was growing momentarily heavier and heavier, as if I should _never_ +reach the station; and to this was joined the agonising terror of +missing the train. + +I made a desperate effort. Cold as it was, the beads of perspiration +stood out upon my forehead as I forced myself along. And by degrees the +nightmare feeling cleared off. I found myself entering the station at a +run just as--yes, a train was actually beginning to move! I dashed, +baggage and all, into a compartment; it was empty, and it was a +second-class one, precisely similar to the one I had occupied before; it +might have been the very same one. The train gradually increased its +speed, but for the first few moments, while still in the station and +passing through its immediate _entourage_, another strange thing struck +me--the extraordinary silence and lifelessness of all about. Not one +human being did I see, no porter watching our departure with the +faithful though stolid interest always to be seen on the porter's +visage. I might have been alone in the train--it might have had a +freight of the dead, and been itself propelled by some supernatural +agency, so noiselessly, so gloomily did it proceed. + +You will scarcely credit that I actually and for the third time fell +asleep. I could not help it. Some occult influence was at work upon me +throughout those dark hours, I am positively certain. And with the +daylight it was dispelled. For when I again awoke I felt for the first +time since leaving home completely and normally myself, fresh and +vigorous, all my faculties at their best. + +But, nevertheless, my first sensation was a start of amazement, almost +of terror. The compartment was nearly full! There were at least five or +six travellers besides myself, very respectable, ordinary-looking folk, +with nothing in the least alarming about them. Yet it was with a gasp of +extraordinary relief that I found my precious bag in the corner beside +me, where I had carefully placed it. It was concealed from view. No one, +I felt assured, could have touched it without awaking me. + +It was broad and bright daylight. How long had I slept? + +"Can you tell me," I inquired of my opposite neighbour, a cheery-faced +compatriot--"Can you tell me how soon we get to ---- Junction by this +train? I am most anxious to catch the evening mail at Calais, and am +quite out in my reckonings, owing to an extraordinary delay at ----. I +have wasted the night by getting into a stopping train instead of the +express." + +He looked at me in astonishment. He must have thought me either mad or +just awaking from a fit of intoxication--only I flatter myself I did +not look as if the latter were the case. + +"How soon we get to ---- Junction?" he repeated. "Why, my good sir, you +left it about three hours ago! It is now eight o'clock. We all got in at +the Junction. You were alone, if I mistake not?"--he glanced at one or +two of the others, who endorsed his statement. "And very fast asleep +you were, and must have been, not to be disturbed by the bustle at the +station. And as for catching the evening boat at Calais"--he burst into +a loud guffaw--"why, it would be very hard lines to do no better than +that! _We_ all hope to cross by the mid-day one." + +"Then--what train _is_ this?" I exclaimed, utterly perplexed. + +"The express, of course. All of us, excepting yourself, joined it at the +Junction," he replied. + +"The express?" I repeated. "The express that leaves"--and I named my own +town--"at six in the evening?" + +"Exactly. You have got into the right train after all," and here came +another shout of amusement. "How did you think we had all got in if you +had not yet passed the Junction? You had not the pleasure of our +company from M----, I take it? M----, which you passed at nine o'clock +last night, if my memory is correct." + +"Then," I persisted, "this is the double-fast express, which does not +stop between M---- and your Junction?" + +"Exactly," he repeated; and then, confirmed most probably in his belief +that I was mad, or the other thing, he turned to his newspaper, and left +me to my extraordinary cogitations. + +Had I been dreaming? Impossible! Every sensation, the very taste of +the coffee, seemed still present with me--the curious accent of the +officials at the mysterious town, I could perfectly recall. I still +shivered at the remembrance of the chilly waking in the "Restauration"; +I heard again the cackling cough. + +But I felt I must collect myself, and be ready for the important +negotiation entrusted to me. And to do this I must for the time banish +these fruitless efforts at solving the problem. + +We had a good run to Calais, found the boat in waiting, and a fair +passage brought us prosperously across the Channel. I found myself in +London punctual to the intended hour of my arrival. + +At once I drove to the lodgings in a small street off the Strand which I +was accustomed to frequent in such circumstances. I felt nervous till I +had an opportunity of thoroughly overhauling my documents. The bag had +been opened by the Custom House officials, but the words "private +papers" had sufficed to prevent any further examination; and to my +unspeakable delight they were intact. A glance satisfied me as to this +the moment I got them out, for they were most carefully numbered. + +The next morning saw me early on my way to--No. 909, we will +say--Blackfriars Street, where was the office of Messrs. Bluestone & +Fagg. I had never been there before, but it was easy to find, and had I +felt any doubt, their name stared me in the face at the side of the open +doorway. "Second-floor" I thought I read; but when I reached the first +landing I imagined I must have been mistaken. For there, at a door ajar, +stood an eminently respectable-looking gentleman, who bowed as he saw +me, with a discreet smile. + +"Herr Schmidt?" he said. "Ah, yes; I was on the look-out for you." + +I felt a little surprised, and my glance involuntarily strayed to the +doorway. There was no name upon it, and it appeared to have been freshly +painted. My new friend saw my glance. + +"It is all right," he said; "we have the painters here. We are using +these lower rooms temporarily. I was watching to prevent your having the +trouble of mounting to the second-floor." + +And as I followed him in, I caught sight of a painter's ladder--a small +one--on the stair above, and the smell was also unmistakable. + +The large outer office looked bare and empty, but under the +circumstances that was natural. No one was, at the first glance, to be +seen; but behind a dulled glass partition screening off one corner I +fancied I caught sight of a seated figure. And an inner office, to which +my conductor led the way, had a more comfortable and inhabited look. +Here stood a younger man. He bowed politely. + +"Mr. Fagg, my junior," said the first individual airily. "And now, Herr +Schmidt, to business at once, if you please. Time is everything. You +have all the documents ready?" + +I answered by opening my bag and spreading out its contents. Both men +were very grave, almost taciturn; but as I proceeded to explain things +it was easy to see that they thoroughly understood all I said. + +"And now," I went on, when I had reached a certain point, "if you will +give me Nos. 7 and 13 which you have already received by registered +post, I can put you in full possession of the whole. Without them, of +course, all I have said is, so to say, preliminary only." + +The two looked at each other. + +"Of course," said the elder man, "I follow what you say. The key of the +whole is wanting. But I was momentarily expecting you to bring it out. +We have not--Fagg, I am right, am I not--we have received nothing by +post?" + +"Nothing whatever," replied his junior. And the answer seemed simplicity +itself. Why did a strange thrill of misgiving go through me? Was it +something in the look that had passed between them? Perhaps so. In any +case, strange to say, the inconsistency between their having received no +papers and yet looking for my arrival at the hour mentioned in the +letter accompanying the documents, and accosting me by name, did not +strike me till some hours later. + +I threw off what I believed to be my ridiculous mistrust, and it was +not difficult to do so in my extreme annoyance. + +"I cannot understand it," I said. "It is really too bad. Everything +depends upon 7 and 13. I must telegraph at once for inquiries to be +instituted at the post-office." + +"But your people must have duplicates," said Fagg eagerly. "These can be +forwarded at once." + +"I hope so," I said, though feeling strangely confused and worried. + +"They must send them direct _here_," he went on. + +I did not at once answer. I was gathering my papers together. + +"And in the meantime," he proceeded, touching my bag, "you had better +leave _these_ here. We will lock them up in the safe at once. It is +better than carrying them about London." + +It certainly seemed so. I half laid down the bag on the table, but at +that moment from the outer room a most peculiar sound caught my ears--a +faint cackling cough! I _think_ I concealed my start. I turned away as +if considering Fagg's suggestion, which, to confess the truth, I had +been on the very point of agreeing to. For it would have been a great +relief to me to know that the papers were in safe custody. But now a +flash of lurid light seemed to have transformed everything. + +"I thank you," I replied. "I should be glad to be free from the +responsibility of the charge, but I dare not let these out of my own +hands till the agreement is formally signed." + +The younger man's face darkened. He assumed a bullying tone. + +"I don't know how it strikes _you_, Mr. Bluestone," he said, "but it +seems to me that this young gentleman is going rather too far. Do you +think your employers will be pleased to hear of your insulting us, sir?" + +But the elder man smiled condescendingly, though with a touch of +superciliousness. It was very well done. He waved his hand. + +"Stay, my dear Mr. Fagg; we can well afford to make allowance. You will +telegraph at once, no doubt, Herr Schmidt, and--let me see--yes, we +shall receive the duplicates of Nos. 7 and 13 by first post on Thursday +morning." + +I bowed. + +"Exactly," I replied, as I lifted the now locked bag. "And you may +expect me at the same hour on Thursday morning." + +Then I took my departure, accompanied to the door by the urbane +individual who had received me. + +The telegram which I at once despatched was not couched precisely as he +would have dictated, I allow. And he would have been considerably +surprised at my sending off another, later in the day, to Bluestone & +Fagg's telegraphic address, in these words:--- + +"Unavoidably detained till Thursday morning.--SCHMIDT." + +This was _after_ the arrival of a wire from home in answer to mine. + +By Thursday morning I had had time to receive a letter from Herr +Wilhelm, and to secure the services of a certain noted detective, +accompanied by whom I presented myself at the appointed hour at 909. But +my companion's services were not required. The birds had flown, warned +by the same traitor in our camp through whom the first hints of the new +patent had leaked out. With him it was easy to deal, poor wretch! but +the clever rogues who had employed him and personated the members of the +honourable firm of Bluestone & Fagg were never traced. + +The negotiation was successfully carried out. The experience I had gone +through left me a wiser man. It is to be hoped, too, that the owners of +909 Blackfriars Street were more cautious in the future as to whom they +let their premises to when temporarily vacant. The re-painting of the +doorway, etc., at the tenant's own expense had already roused some +slight suspicion. + +It is needless to add that Nos. 7 and 13 had been duly received on the +second-floor. + +I have never known the true history of that extraordinary night. Was it +all a dream, or a prophetic vision of warning? Or was it in any sense +true? _Had_ I, in some inexplicable way, left my own town earlier than I +intended, and really travelled in a slow train? + +Or had the man with a cough, for his own nefarious purposes, mesmerised +or hypnotised me, and to some extent succeeded? + +I cannot say. Sometimes, even, I ask myself if I am quite sure that +there ever was such a person as "the man with the cough"! + + + + +"HALF-WAY BETWEEN THE STILES." + +(A RIGHT-OF-WAY INCIDENT.) + + +By the road, Scarby village is good three miles from Colletwood, the +nearest town and railway station. But there is a short cut over the +hills for foot passengers. _Over_ the hills they call it, but _between_ +the hills would be more correct, for there is a sort of tableland once +you have climbed a short, steep bit up from the town, which extends +nearly to Scarby, sloping gradually down to the village. + +And on each side of this tableland the hills rise again, north and +south, much higher to the north than to the south. So this flat stretch, +though at some considerable height, is neither bleak nor exposed, being +sheltered on the colder side, and fairly open to the sunshine south and +west. + +It is a pleasant place, and so it must have been considered in the old +days; for a large monastery stood there once, of which the ruins are +still to be seen, and of which the memory is still preserved in the +name--"Monksholdings". + +Pleasant, but a trifle inconvenient, as the only carriage-road makes a +great round from Colletwood, winding along the base of the hill on the +north side till it reaches the village, then up again by the gradual +slope, half a mile or so--a drive in all of three to four miles, +whereas, as the bird flies or the pedestrian walks, the distance from +the town is barely a quarter of that. + +In the old days there was probably no road at all, the hill-path +doubtless serving all requirements. Naturally enough, therefore, it came +to be looked upon as entirely public property, and people forgot--if, +indeed, any one had ever thought of it--that though the monastery was a +ruin, the once carefully kept land round about the old dwelling-place of +Monksholdings was still private property. + +And the sensation was great when suddenly the news reached the +neighbourhood that this "unique estate," as the agents called it, was +sold--sold by the old Duke of Scarshire, who scarcely remembered that +he owned it, to a man who meant to live on it, to build a house which +should be a home for several months of the year for himself and his +family. + +There was considerable growling and grumbling; and this rose to its +height when a rumour got about that the hill-path--such part of it, that +is to say, as lay within the actual demesne--was to be closed--_must_ be +closed, if the site already chosen for the new house was to be retained; +for the house would actually stand upon the old foot-track, and there +could be no two opinions that this position had been well and wisely +selected. + +Things grew warlike, boding no agreeable reception for the newcomers--a +Mr. Raynald and his family, newcomers to England, it was said, as well +as to Scarshire. Every one plunged into questions of right-of-way; the +local legalities raised and discussed knotty points; Colletwood and +Scarby were aflame. But it all ended, flatly enough, in a compromise! + +Mr. Raynald turned out to be one of the most reasonable and courteous of +men. He came, saw, and--conquered. The goodwill of his future neighbours +was won e'er he knew he had risked its loss. Henceforward congratulations, +reciprocated and repeated, on the charming additions to Scarby society +were the order of the day, and the _detour_, skirting the south boundary +of the Monksholdings grounds, which the footpath was now inveigled into +making, was voted "a great improvement". + +And in due time the mansion rose. + +"A great improvement" also, to the aspect of the surrounding landscape. +It was in perfectly good taste--unpretentious and quietly picturesque. +It might have been there always for any jarring protest to the contrary. + +And just half-way along the old foot-track, that is to say, between the +two stiles which let the traveller to or from Scarby in or out of the +Monksholdings demesne, stood Sybil Raynald's grand piano! + +The stiles remained as an interesting survival; but they were made use +of by no one not bound for the house itself. And beside each was a +gate--a good oaken gate, that suited the place, as did everything about +it; and beside each gate a quaint miniature dwelling, one of which came +to be known as the east, and the other as the west, Monksholdings lodge. + +The first time the Raynalds came down to their new home they made but +a short stay there. It was already late in the season, and though the +preceding summer had been a magnificent one for drying fresh walls and +plaster, it would scarcely have done to risk damp or chilly weather in +so recently-built a house. + +They stayed long enough to confirm the favourable impression the head of +the family had already made, and to lead themselves to look forward with +pleasure to a less curtailed stay in Scarshire. + +The last morning of their visit, Sybil, the eldest daughter, up and +about betimes, turned to her father, when she had taken her place beside +him at the breakfast-table, with a suspicion of annoyance on her usually +cheerful face. + +"Papa," she said, "I have seen that old man _again_, leaning on the +stile by the Scarby lodge and looking in--along the drive--_so_ queerly. +I don't quite like it. It gave me rather a ghosty feeling; or else he is +out of his mind." + +Her brother, Mark by name, began to laugh, after the manner of brothers. + +"How very oddly you express yourself!" he said. "I should like to +experience 'a ghosty feeling'. A ghost is just what this place wants to +make it perfect. But it should be the spirit of one of the original +monks." + +Mr. Raynald turned to his son rather sharply. + +"I don't want any nonsense of that kind set about, Mark," he said. "It +would frighten the younger children when they come down here. I will ask +about the old man. It is quite possible he is half-witted, or something +of that sort. I forgot about it when Sybil mentioned it before. But no +doubt he is perfectly harmless. Has no one seen him but you, Sybil?" + +The girl shook her head. + +"None of _us_," she replied. "And I wasn't exactly frightened. There was +something very pathetic about him. He looked at me closely, murmuring +some words, and then shook his head. That was all." + +But just then her father was called away to give some last directions, +and in the bustle of hurry to catch their train the matter passed from +the minds of the younger as well as the elder members of the family. + +It returned to Sybil's memory, however, when she found herself in their +London house again, and called upon by her younger sisters to relate +every detail of Monksholdings and its neighbourhood. But mindful of her +father's warning, she said nothing to Esther or Annis of the figure at +the gate. It was only to Miss March--Ellinor March--the dearly-loved +governess, who was more friend than teacher to her three pupils, that +she spoke of it, late in the evening, when the younger ones had gone to +bed, and her father and mother were busy with Indian letters in Mr. +Raynald's study. + +The two girls, we may say--for Ellinor was still some years under +thirty--were alone in the drawing-room. Ellinor had been playing +something tender and faintly weird--it died away under her fingers, and +she sat on at the piano in silence. + +Sybil spoke suddenly. + +"That is _so_ melancholy," she said, "something so long ago about it, +like the ghost of a sorrow rather than a sorrow itself. I know--I know +what it makes me think of. Listen, Ellinor." + +For out of school hours the two threw formality aside. And Sybil told of +the sad, wistful old face looking over the stile. + +"Now it has come back to me," she said, "I can't forget it." + +Ellinor, too, was impressed. + +"Yes," she said, "it sounds very pitiful. Who knows what tragedy is +bound up in it?" and she sighed. + +Sybil understood her. Miss March's own history was a strange one. + +"We must find out about it when we go down to Monksholdings next year," +she said. + +"And perhaps," added Ellinor, "even if he is half-witted, we might do +something to comfort the poor man." + +Sybil hesitated. + +"Then you don't think he can be a ghost?" she said, looking half ashamed +of the suggestion. + +Miss March smiled--her smile was sad. + +"In one sense, no, I should think it highly improbable; in another, yes, +there must be the ghost of some great sorrow about the face you +describe," she said. + +So there was. + +This is the story. + +At the farther end of Scarby village--the farther end, that is to say, +from Monksholdings and the path between the hills--the road drops +again somewhat suddenly. Only for a short distance, however; Mayling +Farm--"Giles's" as it is colloquially called--which is the first house +you come to when you reach level ground again, being by no means low +lying. + +On the contrary, the west windows command a grand view of the great +Scarshire plain beneath, bordered by the faint hazy blue, scarcely to be +distinguished from clouds, of the long range of hills concealing the +far-off glimmer of the ocean, which otherwise might sometimes be +perceptible. + +Mayling is a very old place, and the Giles's had been there "always," so +to speak--steady-going, unambitious, save as regards their farming and +its success; they had been just the make of men to settle on to their +ground as if it and they could have no existence apart. A fine race +physically as well as morally, though some twenty-five years or so +before the Raynalds bought Monksholdings, a run of ill luck, a whole +chapter of casualties, had brought them down to but one representative, +and he scarcely the typical Farmer Giles of Mayling. + +This was Barnett, the youngest of four stalwart sons; the youngest and +the only survivor. He was already forty when his father died, earnestly +commending to him the "old place," which even at eighty the aged farmer +felt himself better fitted to manage than the somewhat delicate, +sensitive man whom his brothers had made good-natured fun of in his +youth as a "book-worm". + +But Barnett was intelligent and sensible, and he rose to the occasion. +Circumstances helped him. The year after old Giles's death Barnett for +the first time fell in love, wisely and well. His affection was bestowed +on a worthy object--Marion Grover, the daughter of a yeoman in the next +county--and was fully returned. + +Marion was years younger than her lover, fifteen at least, eminently +practical, healthy, and pretty. She brought her husband just exactly +what he was most in need of--brightness, energy, and youth. It was an +ideal marriage, and everything prospered at Mayling. Four years after +the advent of the new Mrs. Giles you would scarcely have recognised the +farmer, he seemed another man. + +He adored his wife, and could hardly find it in his heart to regret that +their child was not a son, even though, failing an heir, the old name +must die out; for if there was one creature the husband and wife loved +more than each other it was their baby girl. + +A month or two after this child's second birthday the singular +catastrophe occurred which changed the world to poor Barnett Giles, +leaving him but a wreck of his former self, physically and mentally. + +Young Mrs. Giles was strong in every way, and from the first she took +the line of saving her husband all extra fatigue or annoyance which +she could possibly hoist on to her own brave shoulders. There was +something quaint and even pathetic in the relations of the couple. For, +notwithstanding Marion's being so much Barnett's junior, her attitude +towards him had a decided suggestion of the maternal about it, though at +times of real emergency his sound judgment and advice never failed her. +It was within a week or two of Christmas; the weather was bitingly, +raspingly cold. And though as yet no snow had fallen, the weather-wise +were predicting it daily. + +"I _must_ go over to Colletwood this week," said Mrs. Giles, "and I must +take Nelly. Her new coat is waiting to be tried at the dressmaker's, and +I must get her some boots and several other things before Christmas. And +there is a whole list of other shopping too--all our Christmas presents +to see to." + +Her husband was looking out of the window, it was still very early in +the day. + +"I doubt if the snow will hold off much longer," he said. + +"And once it begins it may be heavy," his wife replied, "and then I +might not be able to go for ever so long, even by the road,"--for a deep +fall of snow at Scarby was practically a stoppage to all traffic. "I'll +tell you what, Barnett, we'll go to-day and make sure of it. I will put +other things aside and start before noon. A couple of hours, or three at +the most, will do everything, and then Nelly and I will be back long +before dark. You'll come to meet us, won't you?" + +"Of course I will--if you go. But," and again he glanced at the sky. +The morning was, so far, clear and bright, though very cold, but over +towards the north there was a suspicious look about the blue-grey +clouds. "I don't know," he said, "but that you'd better wait till +to-morrow and see if it blows off again." + +But Marion shook her head. + +"I've a feeling," she said, "that if I don't go to-day, I won't go at +all. And I really must. I'll take Betsy to carry the child till we're +just above the town, and then send her home, so as not to be tired for +coming back. Not that I'm _ever_ tired, as you know," with a smile. + +He gave in, only stipulating that at all costs they should start to +return by a certain hour, unless the snow should have already begun, in +which case Marion was to run no risks, but either to hire a fly to bring +her home by the road, or to stay in the town with some of her friends +till the weather cleared again. + +"And I'll meet you," he added. "Let us set our watches together--I'll +start from here so as to be at--let me see----" + +"Half-way between the stiles," said Marion. "We can each see the other +from one stile to the opposite one, you know, even though it's a good +bit of a way. Yes, dear, I'll time it as near as I can to meet half-way +between the stiles." + +And with these words the last on her lips, she set off, a picture of +health and happiness--little Nelly crowing back to "Dada" from over +stout Betsy's shoulder. + +Betsy was home again within the hour. + +But the mother and child--alas and alas! It was the immortal story of +"Lucy Gray" in an almost more pathetic shape. + +Farmer Giles, as I have said, was a studious, often absent-minded man. +There was not much to do at that season and in such weather, and what +there was, some amount of supervision on his part was enough for. After +his early dinner he got out his books for an hour or two's quiet reading +till it should be time to set off to meet his darlings. No fear of his +forgetting _that_ time, but till the clock struck, and he saw it was +approaching nearly, he never looked out--he was unconscious of the rapid +growth of the lurid, steely clouds; he had no idea that the snowflakes +were already falling, falling, more and more closely and thickly with +each instant that passed. + +Then rose the storm spirit and issued his orders--all too quickly +obeyed. Before Barnett Giles had left the village street he found +himself in what now-a-days would be called a "blizzard". And his pale +face grew paler, and his heart beat as if to choke him, when at last he +reached the first stile and stood there panting, to regain his breath. +It was all he could do to battle on through the fury of the wind, the +blinding, whirling snow, which seemed to envelop him as if in sheets. +Not for many and many a day will that awful snowstorm be forgotten in +Scarshire. + + * * * * * + +It was at the appointed trysting place they found him--"half-way between +the stiles". But not till late that evening, when Betsy, more alarmed by +his absence than by her mistress's not returning, at last struggled out +through the deep-lying snow to alarm the nearest neighbours. + +"The missis and Miss Nell will have stayed the night in the town," she +said. "But I misdoubt me if the master will ever have got so far, though +he may have been tempted on when he did not meet them." + +By this time the fury of the storm had spent itself, and they found poor +Giles after a not very protracted search, and brought him home--dead, +they thought at first. + +No, he was not dead, but it was less than half _life_ that he +returned to. For his first inquiry late the next day, when glimmering +consciousness had begun to revive--"Marion, the baby?"--seemed by some +subtle instinct to answer itself truthfully, in spite of the kindly +endeavour to deceive him for the time. + +"Dead!" he murmured. "I knew it. Half-way between the stiles," and he +turned his face to the wall. + +They almost wished he had died too--the rough but kind-hearted +country-folk who were his neighbours. But he lived. He never asked and +never knew the details of the tragedy, which, indeed, was never fully +known by any one. + +All that came to light was that the dead body of Marion Giles was +brought by some semi-gipsy wanderers to the workhouse of a town several +miles south of Colletwood, early on the morning after the blizzard. They +had found it, they said, at some little distance from the road along +which they were journeying, so that she must have lost her way long +before approaching the Monksholdings confines, not improbably, indeed, +in attempting to retrace her steps to the town which she had so +imprudently quitted. But of the child the tramps said nothing, and after +making the above deposition, they were allowed to go on their way, which +they expressed themselves as anxious to do; for reasons of their own, no +doubt; possibly the same reasons which had prevented their returning to +Colletwood with the young woman's corpse, as would have seemed more +natural. + +And afterwards no very special inquiry was made about the baby. The +father was incapable of it, and in those days people accepted things +more carelessly, perhaps. It was taken for granted that "Little Nell" +had fallen down some cliff, no doubt, and lay buried there, with the +snow for her shroud, like a strayed lambkin. Her tiny bones might yet be +found, years hence, maybe, by a shepherd in search of some bleating +wanderer, or--no more might ever be known of the infant's fate! + +Barnett Giles rose from his bed, after many weeks, with all the look of +a very old man. At first it was thought that his mind was quite gone; +but it did not prove to be so. After a time, with the help of an +excellent foreman, or bailiff, he showed himself able to manage his farm +with a strange, mechanical kind of intelligence. It seemed as if the +sense of duty outlived the loss of other perceptions, though these, too, +cleared by degrees to a considerable extent, and material things, +curious as it may appear, prospered with him. + +But he rarely spoke unless obliged to do so; and whenever he felt +himself at leisure, and knew that his work was not calling for him, he +seemed to relapse into the half-dreamy state which was his more real +life. Then he would pass through the village and slowly climb the slope +to the stile, where he would stand for hours together, patiently gazing +before him, while he murmured the old refrain: "'Half-way between the +stiles,' she said. I shall meet them there, 'half-way between the +stiles'." + +Fortunately, perhaps, it was not often he attempted to climb over; he +contented himself with standing and gazing. Fortunately so, for +otherwise the changes at Monksholdings would have probably terribly +shocked his abnormally sensitive brain. But he did not seem to notice +them, nor the new route of the old right-of-way agreed to by the +compromise. He was content with his post--standing, leaning on the +stile, and gazing before him. + +His, of course, was the worn, wistful face which had half frightened, +half appealed to Sybil Raynald. + +But she forgot about it again, or other things put it temporarily +aside, so that when the Raynalds came down to Monksholdings again the +following Easter it did not at once occur to her to remind her father of +the inquiry he had promised to make. + +Miss March was not with her pupils and their parents at first. She had +gone to spend a holiday week with the friends who had brought her up +and seen to her education--good, benevolent people, if not specially +sympathetic, but to whom she felt herself bound by ties of sincerest +gratitude, though her five years with the Raynald family had given her +more of the feeling of a "home" than she had ever had before. + +And her arrival at Monksholdings was the occasion of much rejoicing. +There was everything to show her, and every one, from Mark down to +little Robin, wanted to be her guide. It was not till the morning of the +next day that Sybil managed to get her to herself for a _tete-a-tete_ +stroll. + +Ellinor had some things to tell her quondam pupil. Mrs. Bellairs, her +self-appointed guardian, was growing old and somewhat feeble. + +"I fear she is not likely to live many years," said Miss March, "and she +thinks so herself. She has a curious longing, which I never saw in her +before, to find out my history--to know if there is no one really +belonging to me to whom she can give me back, as it were, before she +dies. She gave me the little parcel containing the clothes I had on when +she rescued me from being sent to a workhouse. They are carefully washed +and mended, and though I was a poor, dirty little object when I was +found, they do not look really as if I had been a beggar child," with a +little smile. + +"You a beggar child!" exclaimed Sybil indignantly. "Of course not. +Perhaps, on the contrary, you were somebody very grand." + +"No, no," said Ellinor sensibly. "In that case I should have been +advertised for and inquired after. No, I have never thought that, and I +should not wish it. I should be more than thankful to know I came of +good, honest people, however simple; to have some one of my very own." + +"I forget the actual details," said Sybil, "though you have often told +me about it. You were found--no, not literally in the workhouse, was +it?" + +"They were going to take me there," said Miss March. "It was at a +village near Bath where Mr. and Mrs. Bellairs were then living, and +one day, after a party of gipsies had been encamping on the common, a +cottager's wife heard something crying in the night, and found me in her +little garden. She was too poor to keep me herself, and felt certain I +was a child the gipsies had stolen and then wanted to get rid of. I was +fair-haired and blue-eyed, not like them. She was a friend or relation +of some of Mrs. Bellairs's servants, and so the story got round to my +kind old friend. And you know the rest--how they first thought of +bringing me up in quite a humble way, and then finding me--well, +intelligent and naturally rather refined, I suppose, I got a really good +education, and my good luck did not desert me, dear, when I came to be +your governess." + +Sybil smiled. + +"And can you remember _nothing_?" + +Ellinor hesitated. + +"Queer, dreamy fragments come back to me sometimes," she said. "I have +a feeling of having seen hills long, long ago. It is strange," she +went on, for by this time they had left the private grounds and were +strolling along the hill-path in the direction of the town, "it is +strange that since I came here I seem to have got hold of a tiny bit of +these old memories, if they are such. It must be the hills," and she +stood still and gazed round her with a deep breath of satisfaction, "I +could only have been between two and three when I was found," she went +on. "The only words I said were 'Dada' and 'Nennie'--it sounded like +'Nelly'. That was why Mrs. Bellairs called me 'Ellinor,' and 'March,' +because it was in that month she took me to her house." + +Sybil walked on in silence for a moment or two. + +"It _is_ such a romantic story," she said at last. "I am never tired of +thinking about it." + +They entered Monksholdings again from the east entrance, Ellinor glanced +at the stile. + +"By-the-bye," she said, "this is one of the two old stiles, I suppose. +Have you ever seen your ghost again, Sybil? Have you found out anything +about him?" + +Sybil looked round her half nervously. + +"It is the other stile he haunts," she said. "I rather avoid it, at +least, I mean to do so now. It is curious you speak of it, for till +yesterday I had not seen him again, and had almost forgotten about it. +But yesterday afternoon, just before you came, there he was--exactly +the same, staring in. I meant to speak to papa about it, but with the +pleasure and bustle of your arrival, I forgot it. Remind me about it. I +am afraid he is out of his mind." + +"Poor old man!" said Ellinor. "I wish we could do something to comfort +him. I feel as if everybody _must_ be happy here. It is such a charming, +exhilarating place. Dear me, how windy it is! The path is all strewn +with the white petals of the cherry blossom." + +"They have degenerated into wild cherry trees," said Sybil. "Long ago +papa says these must have been good fruit trees of many kinds, and this +is a great cherry country, you know." + +The wind dropped that afternoon, but only temporarily. It rose again so +much during the night that by the next morning the grounds looked, to +use little Annis's expression, "quite untidy". + +"And down in the village, or just beyond it," said Mark, who had been +for an early stroll, "at one place it really looks as if it had been +snowing. The road skirts that old farmhouse; you know it, father? I +forget the name--there's a grand cherry orchard there." + +"'Mayling Farm,' you must mean," said Mr. Raynald. "Farmer Giles's. Oh, +by the way, that reminds me, Sybil," but a glance round the table made +him stop short. They were at breakfast. He scarcely felt inclined to +relate the tragic story before the younger children, "they might look +frightened or run away if they came across the poor fellow," he +reflected. "I will tell Sybil about it afterwards." + +Easter holidays were not yet over, though the governess had returned, so +regular routine was set aside, and the whole of the young party, Ellinor +included, spent that morning in a scramble among the hills. + +The children seemed untirable, and set off again somewhere or other in +the afternoon. Sybil was busy with her mother, writing letters and +orders to be despatched to London, so that towards four o'clock or so, +when Miss March, having finished her own correspondence, entered the +drawing-room, she found it deserted. + +Sybil had promised to practise some duets with her, and while waiting on +the chance of her coming, Ellinor seated herself at the piano and began +to play--nothing very important--just snatches of old airs which she +wove into a kind of half-dreamy harmony, one melting into another as +they occurred to her. + +All at once a shadow fell on the keys, and then she remembered having +heard the door softly open a moment or two before--so softly, that she +had not looked round, imagining it to be the wind, which, though fallen +now, still lingered about. + +Now her ideas took another shape. + +"It is Sybil, no doubt," she thought with a smile. "She is going to make +me jump," and she waited, half expecting to feel Sybil's hands suddenly +clasped over her eyes from behind. + +But this was not to be the mode of attack, apparently, though she heard +what sounded like stealthy footsteps. + +"You need not try to startle me, Sybbie," she exclaimed laughingly, +without turning or ceasing to play, "I hear you." + +It was no laughing voice which replied. + +On the contrary, a sigh, almost a groan, close to her made her look +up sharply--a trifle indignant perhaps at the joke being carried so +far--and she saw, a pace or two from her only, the figure of an old +man--a white-haired, somewhat bent form, a worn face with wistful blue +eyes--gazing at her. + +She had scarcely time to feel frightened, for almost instantaneously +Sybil's "ghost" recurred to her memory. + +"He has found his way in, then," she thought, not without a slight +and natural tremor, which, however, disappeared as she gazed, so +pathetically gentle was the whole aspect of the intruder. + +But--his face changed curiously--the sight of hers, now fully in +his view, seemed strangely to affect him. With a gesture of utter +bewilderment he raised his hand to his forehead as if to brush something +away--the cloud still resting on his brain--then a smile broke over the +old face, a wonderful smile. + +"Marion," he said, "at last? I--I thought I was dreaming. I heard you +playing in my dream. It is the right place though, 'Half-way between the +stiles,' you said. I have waited so long and come so often, and now it +is snowing again. Just a little, dear, nothing to hurt. Marion, my +darling, why don't you speak? Is it all a dream--this fine room, the +music and all? Are _you_ a dream?" + +He closed his eyes as if he were fainting. Inexpressibly touched, all +Ellinor's womanly nature went out to him. She started forward, half +leading, half lifting him to a seat close at hand. + +"I--I am not Marion," she said, and afterwards she wondered what had +inspired the words, "but I am"--not "Ellinor," something made her change +the name as he spoke--"I am Nelly." + +He opened his eyes again. + +"Little Nell," he said, "has she sent you down to me from heaven? My +little Nell!" + +And then he fell back unconscious--this time he had fainted. + +She thought he was dead, but it was not so--her cries for help soon +brought her friends, Mr. Raynald first of all. He did not seem startled, +he soothed Ellinor at once. + +"It is poor old Giles," he said. "I know all about him, he has found his +way in at last." + +"But--but----," stammered the girl, "there is something else, Mr. +Raynald. I--I seem to remember something." + +She looked nearly as white as their poor visitor, and as Mr. Raynald +glanced at her, a curious expression flitted across his own face. + +Could it be so? He knew all her story. + +"Wait a little, my dear," he said. "We must attend to poor Giles first." + +They were very kind and tender to the old man, but he seemed to be +barely conscious, even after restoratives had brought him out of the +actual fainting fit. Then Mrs. Raynald proposed that his servants--his +housekeeper if he had one--should be sent for. + +And when faithful Betsy, stout as of old, though less nimble, made her +appearance, her irrepressible emotion at the sight of Ellinor, pale and +trembling though the young governess was, gave form and substance to Mr. +Raynald's suspicions. + +Yes, they had met at last--father and daughter--"half-way between the +stiles". He was "Dada," she was little "Nell". Might it not be that +Marion's prayers had brought them together? + +Every reasonable proof was forthcoming--the little parcel of clothes, +the correspondence in the dates, the strong resemblance to her mother. + +And--joy does not often kill. Barnett was able to understand it all +better than might have been expected. He was never _quite_ himself, but +infinitely better both in mind and body than poor old Betsy had ever +dreamt of seeing him. And he was perfectly content--content to live as +long as it should please God to spare him to his little Nell; ready to +go to his Marion when the time should come. + +And Ellinor had her wish--a home, though not a "grand" one; some one of +her "very own" to care for; a father's devoted love, and, to complete +her happiness, the friends who had grown so dear to her close at hand. + +More may yet be hers in the future, for she is still young. Her father +may live to see his grandchildren playing about the farmstead at +Mayling, so that, though the name be changed, the old stock will still +nourish where so many generations of its ancestors have sown and +reaped. + + + + +AT THE DIP OF THE ROAD. + + +Have I ever seen a ghost? + +I do not know. + +That is the only reply I can truthfully make to the question now-a-days +so often asked. And sometimes, if inquirers care to hear more, I go on +to tell them the one experience which makes it impossible for me to +reply positively either in the affirmative or negative, and restricts me +to "I do not know". + +This was the story. + +I was staying with relations in the country. Not a very isolated or +out-of-the-way part of the world, and yet rather inconvenient of access +by the railway. For the nearest station was six miles off. Though the +family I was visiting were nearly connected with me I did not know much +of their home or its neighbourhood, as the head of the house, an uncle +of mine by marriage, had only come into the property a year or two +previously to the date of which I am writing, through the death of an +elder brother. + +It was a nice place. A good comfortable old house, a prosperous, +satisfactory estate. Everything about it was in good order, from the +farmers, who always paid their rents, to the shooting, which was always +good; from the vineries, which were noted, to the woods, where the +earliest primroses in all the country side were yearly to be found. + +And my uncle and aunt and their family deserved these pleasant things +and made a good use of them. + +But there was a touch of the commonplace about it all. There was nothing +picturesque or romantic. The country was flat though fertile, the house, +though old, was conveniently modern in its arrangements, airy, cheery, +and bright. + +"Not even a ghost, or the shadow of one," I remember saying one day with +a faint grumble. + +"Ah, well--as to that," said my uncle, "perhaps we----" but just then +something interrupted him, and I forgot his unfinished speech. + +Into the happy party of which for the time being I was one, there fell +one morning a sudden thunderbolt of calamity. The post brought news of +the alarming illness of the eldest daughter--Frances, married a year or +two ago and living, as the crow flies, at no very great distance. But +as the crow flies is not always as the railroad runs, and to reach the +Aldoyns' home from Fawne Court, my uncle's place, was a complicated +business--it was scarcely possible to go and return in a day. + +"Can one of you come over?" wrote the young husband. "She is already out +of danger, but longing to see her mother or one of you. She is worrying +about the baby"--a child of a few months old--"and wishing for nurse." + +We looked at each other. + +"Nurse must go at once," said my uncle to me, as the eldest of the +party. Perhaps I should here say that I am a widow, though not old, and +with no close ties or responsibilities. "But for your aunt it is +impossible." + +"Quite so," I agreed. For she was at the moment painfully lamed by +rheumatism. + +"And the other girls are almost too young at such a crisis," my uncle +continued. "Would you, Charlotte----" and he hesitated. "It would be +such a comfort to have personal news of her." + +"Of course I will go," I said. "Nurse and I can start at once. I will +leave her there, and return alone, to give you, I have no doubt, better +news of poor Francie." + +He was full of gratitude. So were they all. + +"Don't hurry back to-night," said my uncle. "Stay till--till Monday if +you like." But I could not promise. I knew they would be glad of news at +once, and in a small house like my cousin's, at such a time, an inmate +the more might be inconvenient. + +"I will try to return to-night," I said. And as I sprang into the +carriage I added: "Send to Moore to meet the last train, unless I +telegraph to the contrary." + +My uncle nodded; the boys called after me, "All right;" the old butler +bowed assent, and I was satisfied. + +Nurse and I reached our journey's end promptly, considering the four or +five junctions at which we had to change carriages. But on the whole +"going," the trains fitted astonishingly. + +We found Frances better, delighted to see us, eager for news of her +mother, and, finally, disposed to sleep peacefully now that she knew +that there was an experienced person in charge. And both she and her +husband thanked me so much that I felt ashamed of the little I had done. +Mr. Aldoyn begged me to stay till Monday; but the house was upset, and I +was eager to carry back my good tidings. + +"They are meeting me at Moore by the last train," I said. "No, thank +you, I think it is best to go." + +"You will have an uncomfortable journey," he replied. "It is Saturday, +and the trains will be late, and the stations crowded with the market +people. It will be horrid for you, Charlotte." + +But I persisted. + +It _was_ rather horrid. And it was queer. There was a sort of uncanny +eeriness about that Saturday evening's journey that I have never +forgotten. The season was very early spring. It was not very cold, but +chilly and ungenial. And there were such odd sorts of people about. I +travelled second-class; for I am not rich, and I am very independent. +I did not want my uncle to pay my fare, for I liked the feeling of +rendering him some small service in return for his steady kindness to +me. The first stage of my journey was performed in the company of two +old naturalists travelling to Scotland to look for some small plant +which was to be found only in one spot in the Highlands. This I gathered +from their talk to each other. You never saw two such extraordinary +creatures as they were. They both wore black kid gloves much too large +for them, and the ends of the fingers waved about like feathers. + +Then followed two or three short transits, interspersed with weary +waitings at stations. The last of these was the worst, and tantalising, +too, for by this time I was within a few miles of Moore. The station was +crowded with rough folk, all, it seemed to me, more or less tipsy. So I +took refuge in a dark waiting-room on the small side line by which I was +to proceed, where I felt I might have been robbed and murdered and no +one the wiser. + +But at last came my slow little train, and in I jumped, to jump out +again still more joyfully some fifteen minutes later when we drew up at +Moore. + +I peered about for the carriage. It was not to be seen; only two or +three tax-carts or dog-carts, farmers' vehicles, standing about, while +their owners, it was easy to hear, were drinking far more than was good +for them in the taproom of the Unicorn. Thence, nevertheless--not to +the taproom, but to the front of the inn--I made my way, though not +undismayed by the shouts and roars breaking the stillness of the quiet +night. "Was the Fawne Court carriage not here?" I asked. + +The landlady was a good-natured woman, especially civil to any member of +the "Court" family. But she shook her head. + +"No, no carriage had been down to-day. There must have been some +mistake." + +There was nothing for it but to wait till she could somehow or other +disinter a fly and a horse, and, worst of all a driver. For the "men" +she had to call were all rather--"well, ma'am, you see it's Saturday +night. We weren't expecting any one." + +And when, after waiting half an hour, the fly at last emerged, my heart +almost failed me. Even before he drove out of the yard, it was very +plain that if ever we reached Fawne Court alive, it would certainly be +more thanks to good luck than to the driver's management. + +But the horse was old and the man had a sort of instinct about him. We +got on all right till we were more than half way to our journey's end. +The road was straight and the moonlight bright, especially after we had +passed a certain corner, and got well out of the shade of the trees +which skirted the first part of the way. + +Just past this turn there came a dip in the road. It went down, down +gradually, for a quarter of a mile or more, and I looked up anxiously, +fearful of the horse taking advantage of the slope. But no, he jogged +on, if possible more slowly than before, though new terrors assailed me +when I saw that the driver was now fast asleep, his head swaying from +side to side with extraordinary regularity. After a bit I grew easier +again; he seemed to keep his equilibrium, and I looked out at the side +window on the moon-flooded landscape, with some interest. I had never +seen brighter moonlight. + +Suddenly from out of the intense stillness and loneliness a figure, a +human figure, became visible. It was that of a man, a young and active +man, running along the footpath a few feet to our left, apparently +from some whim, keeping pace with the fly. My first feeling was of +satisfaction that I was no longer alone, at the tender mercies of my +stupefied charioteer. But, as I gazed, a slight misgiving came over me. +Who could it be running along this lonely road so late, and what was his +motive in keeping up with us so steadily. It almost seemed as if he had +been waiting for us, yet that, of course, was impossible. He was not +very highwayman-like certainly; he was well-dressed--neatly-dressed that +is to say, like a superior gamekeeper--his figure was remarkably good, +tall and slight, and he ran gracefully. But there was something queer +about him, and suddenly the curiosity that had mingled in my observation +of him was entirely submerged in alarm, when I saw that, as he ran, he +was slowly but steadily drawing nearer and nearer to the fly. + +"In another moment he will be opening the door and jumping in," I +thought, and I glanced before me only to see that the driver was more +hopelessly asleep than before; there was no chance of his hearing if +I called out. And get out I could not without attracting the strange +runner's attention, for as ill-luck would have it, the window was drawn +up on the right side, and I could not open the door without rattling the +glass. While, worse and worse, the left hand window was down! Even that +slight protection wanting! + +I looked out once more. By this time the figure was close, close to the +fly. Then an arm was stretched out and laid along the edge of the door, +as if preparatory to opening it, and then, for the first time I saw his +face. It was a young face, but terribly, horribly pale and ghastly, and +the eyes--all was so visible in the moonlight--had an expression such as +I had never seen before or since. It terrified me, though afterwards on +recalling it, it seemed to me that it might have been more a look of +agonised appeal than of menace of any kind. + +I cowered back into my corner and shut my eyes, feigning sleep. It was +the only idea that occurred to me. My heart was beating like a sledge +hammer. All sorts of thoughts rushed through me; among them I remember +saying to myself: "He must be an escaped lunatic--his eyes are so +awfully wild". + +How long I sat thus I don't know--whenever I dared to glance out +furtively he was still there. But all at once a strange feeling of +relief came over me. I sat up--yes, he was gone! And though, as I took +courage, I leant out and looked round in every direction, not a trace of +him was to be seen, though the road and the fields were bare and clear +for a long distance round. + +When I got to Fawne Court I had to wake the lodge-keeper--every one was +asleep. But my uncle was still up, though not expecting me, and very +distressed he was at the mistake about the carriage. + +"However," he concluded, "all's well that ends well. It's delightful to +have your good news. But you look sadly pale and tired, Charlotte." + +Then I told him of my fright--it seemed now so foolish of me, I said. +But my uncle did not smile--on the contrary. + +"My dear," he said. "It sounds very like our ghost, though, of course, +it may have been only one of the keepers." + +He told me the story. Many years ago in his grandfather's time, a young +and favourite gamekeeper had been found dead in a field skirting the +road down there. There was no sign of violence upon the body; it was +never explained what had killed him. But he had had in his charge a +watch--a very valuable one--which his master for some reason or other +had handed to him to take home to the house, not wishing to keep it on +him. And when the body was found late that night, the watch was not on +it. Since then, so the story goes, on a moonlight night the spirit of +the poor fellow haunts the spot. It is supposed that he wants to tell +what had become of his master's watch, which was never found. But no one +has ever had courage to address him. + +"He never comes farther than the dip in the road," said my uncle. "If +you had spoken to him, Charlotte, I wonder if he would have told you his +secret?" + +He spoke half laughingly, but I have never quite forgiven myself for my +cowardice. It was the look in those eyes! + + + + +"---- WILL NOT TAKE PLACE." + + +"'Lingard,' 'Trevannion,'" murmured Captain Murray, as he ran his eye +down the column of the morning paper specially devoted to so-called +fashionable intelligence, "Lingard, Arthur Lingard; yes, I've met him; +a very good fellow. And Trevannion; don't you know a Miss Trevannion, +Bessie?" + +Mrs. Murray glanced up from her teacups. + +"What do you say, Walter? Trevannion; yes, I have met a girl of the name +at my aunt's. A pretty girl, and I think I heard she was going to be +married. Is that what you are talking about?" + +"No," her husband replied. "It's the other way--broken off, I wonder +why." + +"What an old gossip you are," said Mrs. Murray. "No good reason at all, +I daresay. People are so capricious now-a-days." + +"Still, they don't often announce a marriage till it's pretty certain +to come off. This sort of thing," tapping the paper as he spoke, "isn't +exactly pleasant." + +"Very much the reverse," agreed Mrs. Murray, and then they thought no +more about it. + +"I wonder why," said a good many people that morning, when they caught +sight of the announcement. For the two principals it concerned--Arthur +Lingard, especially--had a large circle of friends and acquaintances, and +their engagement had been the subject of much and hearty congratulation. +It seemed so natural and fitting that these two should marry. Both +young, amiable, good-looking, and sufficiently well off. Even the most +cynical could discern no cloud in the bright sky of their future, no +crook in the lot before them. + +And now-- + +No marvel that Captain Murray's soliloquy was repeated by many. + +But who would have guessed that in one heart it was ever ringing with +maddening anguish? + +"I wonder why, oh, I wonder why he has done it. Oh, if he would but tell +me, it could not surely seem quite so unendurable." + +And Daisy Trevannion pressed her aching head, and her poor swollen eyes +on to her mother's loving bosom in a sort of wild despair. + +"Mamma, mamma," she cried, "help me. I cannot be angry with him. I wish +I could. He was so gentle, so sweet--and he is so heartbroken, I can see +by his letter. Oh, mamma, what can it be?" + +But to this, even the devoted mother, who would gladly have given her +own life to save her child this misery, could find no answer. + +This was what had happened. + +They had been engaged about three months, the wedding day was +approximately fixed, when one morning the blow fell. + +A letter to Daisy's father, enclosing one to herself--a letter which +made Mr. Trevannion draw his brows together in instinctive indignation, +and then as the first impulse cooled a little, caused him to turn to his +daughter with a movement of irritation, underneath which, hope had, +nevertheless, found time to reassert itself. + +"Daisy," he exclaimed sharply, "what is the meaning of all this +nonsense? Have you been quarrelling with Lingard? You're a bit of a +spoilt child I know, my dear, but I don't like playing with edged +tools--a man like Arthur won't stand being trifled with. Do you hear, +Daisy--eh, what?" + +For the girl had scarcely caught the sense of his words, so absorbed was +she in those of the short, all too short, but terrible letter she had +just read--the letter addressed to herself, which began "Daisy, my +Daisy, for the last time," and ended abruptly with the simple signature, +"Arthur Lingard". + +She gazed up at her father--her white face all drawn, and as it were, +withered with that minute's agony--her eyes dulled and yet wild. Never +was there such a metamorphosis from the happy, laughing girl who had +hurried in with some pretty excuse for her unpunctuality. + +"Daisy, my child! Daisy," her father repeated, repenting already of his +hasty remarks, "don't take it so seriously." "Margaret," to his wife, +"speak to her." + +And Mrs. Trevannion, as pale almost as her daughter, drew the sheet of +note-paper from the girl's unresisting hands, while her husband held out +to her his own letter. + +"Some complete mistake," she said, "some misplaced quixotry. Daisy, my +own darling, do not take it so seriously. Your father will see him--you +will, will you not, Hugh?" detecting the proud hesitation in her +husband's face. "It is not as if we did not know him well, and all about +him. Your father will find out, Daisy, and make it all right." + +Mr. Trevannion did not contradict her, but murmured some consolatory +words, and then the mother led Daisy away, and to a certain extent the +girl allowed herself to be reassured. + +"I will consult Keir if necessary," said the father when out of hearing +of his daughter. "He is the natural person, both as our own connection +and because he introduced Lingard, and thinks so highly of him. But +first I will see Arthur alone. The fewer mixed up in such a case the +better." + +Mrs. Trevannion agreed. She was constitutionally sanguine, but a painful +idea struck her as her husband spoke. + +"Hugh," she said hesitatingly, "you don't think--it surely is not +possible that his--that Arthur's brain is affected?" + +"His brain--tut, nonsense! What a woman's idea!" replied Mr. Trevannion +irritably. "Why, he is receiving compliments on every side, from the +very highest quarters, too, on that article of his on the Capricorn +Islands. Brain affected, indeed!" + +And to a whisper of, "I was thinking of over-work," which followed him +apologetically, he vouchsafed no reply. + +Some intensely trying days passed. Mr. Trevannion's interview with his +recalcitrant son-in-law-to-be, proved a complete failure. Nothing, +absolutely nothing was to be "got out of the fellow," he told his wife +in mingled anger and wretchedness, for the poor man was a devoted +father. Arthur was gentleness itself, respectful, deferential even, +to the man whose peculiarly disagreeable position he felt for +inexpressibly. But he was as firm, as hard in his decision that all +should be, must be, over between Miss Trevannion and himself, as if his +own heart had suddenly turned to iron, as if he possessed no feelings at +all. He grew white to the lips, with a terrible death-like whiteness, +when he named her; he said with a quiet, deliberate emphasis, more +impressive by far than any passionate declaration, that never, never +while he lived, would he forgive himself for the trouble he had brought +into her young life, but that he was powerless to do otherwise, he was +absolutely without a choice. As to the reason for the breaking off of +the engagement to be given to the world, he left it entirely in the +Trevannions' own hands; he would contradict nothing they thought it best +to say; but, if possible, he grew still whiter when his visitor from +under his shaggy eyebrows glanced at him with a look of contempt while +he replied cuttingly that he had no love of falsehood. For his part he +would tell the truth, and in the end he believed it would be best for +Daisy that all the world should know the way in which she had been +treated. + +"Best for her and worst for you," he repeated. + +And Arthur only said:-- + +"I hope so. It must be as you think well." + +Then Trevannion softened again a little. + +"I shall say nothing to any one at present," he went on. "I must see +Keir; possibly he may understand you better than I can." + +But, "No, it will be no use," the young man repeated coldly, though his +very heart was wrung for the father, crushing down his own pride while +he thought he saw still the ghost of a hope. "It will be no use. No one +can do anything." + +"And you adhere to your determination not to see my--not to see Daisy +again?" + +Lingard bowed his head. + +And Mr. Trevannion left him. + +Philip Keir was no blood relation of the Trevannions, but a cousin by +marriage and a very intimate friend. He was some years older than Mr. +Lingard, and it was through him that the acquaintance resulting in +Daisy's engagement had begun. He was a reserved man, with a frank and +cordial manner. Daisy thought she knew him well, but as to this she was +in some directions entirely mistaken. + +He was away from home when Mr. Trevannion called on him, driving +straight to his chambers from the fruitless interview with Lingard. +Philip did not return for a couple of days, and had left no address. +Hence ensued the painful interval of suspense alluded to. + +But on the third evening a hansom dashed up to the Trevannions' door, +and Mr. Keir jumped out. It was late, but there was no hesitation as to +admitting him. + +"I found your note," he said, as he grasped his host's hand, "and came +straight on. I have only just got back. What is the matter? Tell me at +once." + +He was a self-controlled man, but his agitation was evident. "Daisy?" he +added hastily. + +"Yes," replied the father. The two were alone in his study. "Poor +Daisy!" And then he told the story. + +Keir listened, though not altogether in silence, for broken +exclamations, which he seemed unable to repress, broke out from him more +than once. + +"Impossible----inconceivable!" he muttered, "Lingard, of all men, to +behave like a----" he stopped short, at a loss for a comparison. + +"Then you can throw no light upon it--none whatever?" said Mr. +Trevannion. "We had hoped--foolishly, perhaps--I had somehow hoped that +you might have helped us. You know him well, you see, you have been so +much together, your acquaintance is of old date, and you must understand +any peculiarities of his character." + +His tone still sounded as if he could not bring himself finally to +accept the position. Keir was inexpressibly sorry for him. + +"I know of none," he said. "Frankly, I know of nothing about him that is +not estimable. And, as you say, we have been much and most intimately +associated. We have travelled together half over the world, we have been +dependent on each other for months at a time, and the more I have seen +of him the more I have admired and--yes--loved him. If I had to pick a +fault in him I would say it is a curious spice of obstinacy--I have seen +it very strongly now and then. Once," and his face grew grave, "once, we +nearly quarrelled because he would not give in on a certain point. It +was in Siberia, not long ago," and here Philip gave a sort of shiver, +"it was very horrible--no need to go into details. He, Arthur, got it +into his head that a particular course of action was called for, and +there was no moving him. However it ended all right. I had almost +forgotten it. But he was determined." + +Mr. Trevannion listened, but vaguely. Keir's remarks scarcely seemed to +the point. + +"Obstinate!" he repeated. "Yes, but that doesn't explain things. There +was no question of giving in. They had had no quarrel. Daisy was +perfectly happy. The only thing she can say on looking back over the +last week or two closely, is that Arthur had seemed depressed now and +then, and when she taxed him with it he evaded a reply. You don't think, +Philip, that there is anything of that kind--melancholia, you know--in +his family?" + +"Bless you, no, my dear sir. He comes of the healthiest stock possible. +People one knows all about for generations. No, no, it's nothing of that +kind," Keir replied. "And--what man ever had such happy prospects?" + +"Then what in heaven's name is it?" said Mr. Trevannion, bringing his +hand down violently on the table beside which they were sitting. "Can +you get it out of him, if you can do nothing else for us, Philip? It is +our right to know; it is--it is due to my child, it is----" he stopped, +his face working with emotion. "He won't see her, you know," he added +disconnectedly. + +"I will try," said Philip. "It is indeed the least I can do. If--if I +could get him to see her--Daisy; surely that would be the best chance." + +Mr. Trevannion looked at him sharply, scrutinisingly. + +"You--you are satisfied then--entirely satisfied that there is nothing +we need dread her being mixed up in, so to say? Nothing wrong--nothing +to shock a girl like her? You see," half apologetically, "his refusing +to see her makes one afraid----" + +"I am as sure of him as of myself--surer," said Philip earnestly. "There +is nothing in his past to explain it--nothing." + +"An early secret marriage; a wife he thought dead turning up again," +suggested the father. "It sounds absurd, sensational--but after +all--there must be some reason." + +"Not that," said Keir, getting up as he spoke. "Well then, I will see +him first thing in the morning, and communicate with you as soon as +possible after I have done so. You will tell Mrs. Trevannion and--and +Daisy that I will do my best?" + +"My wife is still in the drawing-room. Will you not see her to-night?" + +Philip shook his head. + +"It is late," he said, "and I am dusty and unpresentable. Besides, there +is really nothing to say. To-morrow it shall be as you all think best. I +will see Mrs. Trevannion--and Daisy," here he flushed a little, but his +host did not observe it, "if you like and if she wishes it. Heaven send +I may have better news than I expect." + +And with a warm pressure of his old friend's hand, Mr. Keir left him. + +The two younger men met the next morning. There was no difficulty about +it, for Lingard, knowing by instinct that the interview must take place, +had determined to face it. So of the two he was the more prepared, the +more forearmed. + +The conversation was long--an hour, two hours passed before poor Philip +could make up his mind to accept the ultimatum contained in the few hard +words with which Arthur Lingard first greeted him. + +"I know what you have come about. I knew you must come. You could not +help yourself. But, Philip, it will save you pain--I don't mind for +myself; nothing can matter now--if you will at once take my word for it +that nothing you can say will do the least shadow of good. No, don't +shake hands with me. I would rather you didn't." + +And he put his right arm behind his back and stood there, leaning +against the mantelpiece, facing his friend. + +Philip looked up at him grimly. + +"No," he said, "I've given my word to--to these poor dear people, and +I'll stick to it. You've got to make up your mind to a cross-examination, +Lingard." + +But through or below the grimness was a terrible pity. Philip's heart +was very tender for the man whose inexplicable conduct was yet filling +him with indignation past words. Arthur was so changed--the last week or +two had done the work of years--all the youthfulness, the almost boyish +brightness, which had been one of his charms, was gone, dead. He was +pale with a strange indescribable pallor, that told of days, and worse +still, of nights of agony; the lines of his face were hardened; the lips +spoke of unalterable determination. Only once had Philip seen him look +thus, and then it was but in expression--the likeness and the contrast +struck him curiously. The other time it had been resolution temporarily +hardening a youthful face; now--what did it remind him of? A monk who +had gone through a life-time of spiritual struggle alone, unaided by +human sympathy? A martyr--no, there was no enthusiasm. It was all dull, +dead anguish of unalterable resolve. + +There was silence for a moment. Keir was choking down an uncomfortable +something in his throat, and bracing himself to the inquisitorial +torture before him to perform. + +"Well," said Arthur, at last. + +And Philip looked up at him again. + +How queer his eyes were--they used to be so deeply blue. Daisy had often +laughed at his changeable eyes, as she called them--blue in the daytime, +almost black at night, but always lustrous and liquid. Now, they were +glassy, almost filmy. What was it? A sudden thought struck Philip. + +"Arthur!" he exclaimed, "Arthur, old fellow, are you going blind? Is +that the mystery? If it is that, good Lord, how little you know her, if +you think that----" + +Arthur's pale lips grew visibly paler. He had been unprepared for attack +in this direction, and for the moment he quailed before it. + +"No," he whispered hoarsely, "it is not that. Would to God it were!" + +But almost instantly he had mastered himself, and from that moment +throughout the interview not even the mention of Daisy's name had power +to stir him. + +And Philip, annoyed with his own impulsiveness, stiffened again. + +"You are determined not to reveal your secret," he began, "but I want to +come to an understanding with you on one point. If I guess it, if I put +my finger on it, will you give me the satisfaction of owning that I have +done so." + +Lingard hesitated. + +"Yes," he said, "I will do so on one condition--your word of honour, +your oath, never to tell it to any human being." + +"Not to--her--Daisy?" + +"Least of all." + +Philip groaned. This did not look very promising for the meeting with +Daisy, which at the bottom of his heart he believed in as his last--his +trump card. + +Still, he had gained something. + +"Then, my first question seems, in the face of that, almost a mockery. I +was going to ask you," and he half gasped--"it is nothing--nothing about +her that is at the root of all this misery? No fancy," again the gasp, +"that--that she doesn't care for you, or love you enough? No nonsense +about your not being suited to each other, or that you couldn't make a +girl of her sensitive, high-strung nature happy?" + +"No," said Arthur, and the word seemed to ring through the room. "No, I +know she loves me as I love her. Oh, no, not quite like that, I trust," +and his voice was firm through all the tragedy of the last sentence. +"And I believe I could have made her very happy. Leave her name out of +it now, Phil, once for all. It has nothing to do personally with the +woman who is, and always will be, to me my perfect ideal of sweetness +and excellence and truth and beauty." + +"Then it has to do with yourself," murmured Keir. "Come, the radius is +narrowing. I flew out at poor Trevannion when he suggested it, but all +the same, it's nothing in your past you're ashamed of that's come to +light, is it? The best fellows in the world make fools of themselves +sometimes, you know. Don't mind my asking." + +"I don't mind," said Arthur wearily, "but it's no use. No, it's nothing +like that. I have done nothing I am ashamed of. I am not secretly +married, nor have I committed forgery," with a very ghastly attempt at a +smile. + +"Then," said Philip, "is it something about your family. Have you found +out that there's a strain of insanity in the Lingards perhaps? People +exaggerate that kind of thing now-a-days. There's a touch of it in us +all, I take it." + +"No," said Arthur, again "my family's all right. I've no very near +relations except my sister, but you know her, and you know all about us. +We're not adventurers in any sense of the word." + +"Far from it," agreed Philip warmly. Then for a moment or two he +relapsed into silence. "Does your sister--does Lady West know +about--about this mysterious affair?" he asked abruptly, after some +pondering. + +"Nothing whatever. I, of course, was bound by every consideration not to +tell her--to tell no one anything till it was understood by--the +Trevannions. And I had no reason for consulting her or--any friend," +Arthur replied. + +He spoke jerkily and with effort, as if he were putting force on himself +to endure what yet he was convinced was absolutely useless torture. + +But his words gave Keir a new opening, which he was quick to seize. + +"That's just it," he exclaimed eagerly. "That's just where it strikes +me you've gone wrong. You should have consulted some one--not myself, +not your sister even; I don't say whom, but some one sensible and +trustworthy. I believe your mind has got warped. You've been thinking +over this trouble, whatever it is, till you can't see it rightly. You've +exaggerated it out of all proportion, and you shouldn't trust your own +morbid judgment." + +Lingard did not answer. He stood motionless, his eyes fixed upon the +ground. For an instant a wild hope dashed through Philip that at last +he had made some impression. But as Arthur slowly raised his dim, worn +eyes, and looked him in the face, it faded again, even before the young +man spoke. + +"To satisfy you, I will tell you this much. I have consulted one +person--a man whom you would allow was trustworthy and wise and good. +From him I have hidden nothing whatever, and he agrees with me that I +have no choice--that duty points unmistakably to the course I am +pursuing." + +Again a flash of suggestion struck his hearer. + +"One person--a man," he repeated. "Arthur, is it some priest? Have they +been converting or perverting you, my boy? Are you going over to Rome, +fancying yourself called to be a Trappist, or a--those fellows at the +Grande Chartreuse, you remember?" + +For the second time during the interview, Arthur smiled, and his smile +was a trifle less ghastly this time. + +"No, again," he said. "You're quite on a wrong tack. I have not the +slightest inclination that way. I--I wish I had. No, my adviser is no +priest. But he's one of the best of men, all the same, and one of the +wisest." + +"You won't tell me who he is?" + +"I cannot." + +"And"--Philip was reluctant to try his last hope, and felt conscious +that he would do it clumsily--"Arthur," he burst out, "you will see +her--Daisy--once more? She has a right to it. You are putting enough +upon her without refusing this one request of hers." + +He stood up as he spoke. He himself had grown strangely pale, and seeing +this, as he glanced at him, Lingard's own face became ashen. + +He shook his head. + +"Good God!" he said, "I think this might have been spared me. No, I will +not see her again. The only thing I can do for her is to refuse this +last request. Tell her so, Philip--tell her what I say. And now leave +me. Don't shake hands with me. I don't wish it, and I daresay you don't. +If--if we never meet again, you and I--and who knows?--if this is our +goodbye, thank you, old fellow, thank you for all you have tried to do. +Perhaps I know the cost of it to you better than you imagine. Good-bye, +Phil!" + +Keir turned towards the door. But he looked back ere he reached it. +Arthur was standing as he had been--motionless. + +"You're not thinking of killing yourself, are you?" he said quietly. + +Arthur looked at him. His eyes had a different expression now--or was +it that something was gleaming softly in them that had not been there +before? + +"No, no--I am not going to be false to my colours. I--I don't care to +talk much about it, but--I am a Christian, Phil." + +"At least I can put that horrid idea out of the poor child's head, +then," thought Keir to himself. Though to Arthur he did not reply, save +by a bend of his head. + + * * * * * + +Time passed. And in his wings there was healing. + +At twenty-four, Daisy Trevannion, though her face bore traces of +suffering of no common order, was yet a sweet and serene woman. To some +extent she had outlived the strange tragedy of her earlier girlhood. + +It had never been explained. The one person who might naturally have +been looked to, to throw some light on the mystery, Lingard's sister, +Lady West, was, as her brother had stated, completely in the dark. At +first she had been disposed to blame Daisy, or her family; and though +afterwards convinced that in so doing she was entirely mistaken, she +never became in any sense confidential with them on the matter. And +after a few months they met no more. For her husband was sent abroad, +and detained there on an important diplomatic mission. + +Now and then, in the earlier days of her broken engagement, Daisy would +ask Philip to "try to find out if Mary West knows where he is". And to +please her he did so. But all he learnt was--what indeed was all the +sister had to tell--that Arthur was off again on his old travels--to +the Capricorn Islands or to the moon, it was not clear which. + +"He has promised that I shall hear from him once a year--as near my +birthday as he can manage. That is all I can tell you," she said, trying +to make light of it. + +And whether this promise was kept or no, one thing was certain--Arthur +Lingard had entirely disappeared from London society. + +At twenty-five, Daisy married Philip. He had always loved her, though he +had never allowed her to suspect it; and knowing herself and her history +as he did, he was satisfied with the true affection she could give +him--satisfied, that is to say, in the hope and belief that his own +devotion would kindle ever-increasing response on her side. And his +hopes were not disappointed. They were very happy. + +Now for the sequel to the story--such sequel, that is to say, as there +is to give--a suggestion of explanation rather than any positive +_denoument_ of the mystery. + +They--Philip and Daisy--had been married for two or three years when one +evening it chanced to them to dine at the house of a rather well-known +literary man with whom they were but slightly acquainted. They had been +invited for a special reason; their hosts were pleasant and genial +people who liked to get those about them with interests in common. +And Keir, though his wings were now so happily clipt, still held his +position as a traveller who had seen and noted much in his former +wanderings. + +"We think your husband may enjoy a talk with Sir Abel Maynard, who is +with us for a few days," Mrs. Thorncroft had said in her note. + +And Sir Abel, not being of the surly order of lions who refuse to roar +when they know that their audience is eager to hear them, made himself +most agreeable. He appreciated Mr. Keir's intelligence and sympathy, and +was by no means indifferent to Mrs. Keir's beauty, though "evidently," +he thought to himself, "she is not over fond of reminiscences of her +husband's travels. Perhaps she is afraid of his taking flight again." + +During dinner the conversation turned, not unnaturally, on a subject +just at that moment much to the fore. For it was about the time of the +heroic Damien's death. + +"No," said Sir Abel, in answer to some inquiry, "I never visited his +place. But I have seen lepers--to perfection. By-the-by," he went on +suddenly, "I came across a queer, a very queer, story a while ago. I +wonder, Keir, if you can throw any light upon it?" + +But at that moment Mrs. Thorncroft gave the magic signal and the women +left the room. + +By degrees the men came straggling upstairs after them, then a little +music followed, but it was not till much later in the evening than was +usual with him that Philip made his appearance in the drawing-room, +preceded by Sir Abel Maynard. Philip looked tired and rather "distrait," +thought Daisy, whose eyes were keen with the quick discernment of +perfect affection, and she was not sorry when, before very long, he +whispered to her that it was getting late, might they not leave soon? +Nor was she sorry that during the interval before her husband made this +suggestion, Sir Abel, who had been devoting himself to her, had avoided +all mention of his travels, and had been amusing her with his criticism +of a popular novel instead. She could never succeed altogether in +banishing the painful association of Arthur Lingard from allusion to +her husband's old wanderings. + +Poor Arthur! Where was he now? + +"Philip, dear," she said, slipping her hand into his when they found +themselves alone, and with a longish drive before them, in their own +little brougham, "there is something the matter. You have heard +something? Tell me what it is." + +Keir hesitated. + +"Yes," he said, "I suppose it is best to tell you. It is the strange +story Sir Abel alluded to before you left the room." + +"About--about Arthur? Is it about Arthur?" whispered she, shivering a +little. + +Philip put his arm round her. + +"I can't say. We shall perhaps never know certainly," he replied. "But +it looks very like it. Listen, dear. Some little time ago--two or +three years ago--Maynard spent some days at one of those awful leper +settlements--never mind where. I would just as soon you did not know. +There, to his amazement, among the most devoted of the attendants upon +the poor creatures he found an Englishman, young still, at least by his +own account, though to judge by his appearance it would have been +impossible to say. For he was himself far gone, very far gone in some +ways, in the disease. But he was, or had been, a man of strong +constitution and enormous determination. Ill as he was, he yet managed +to tend others with indescribable devotion. They looked upon him as a +saint. Maynard did not like to inquire what had brought him to such a +pass--he, the poor fellow, was a perfect gentleman. But the day Sir Abel +was leaving, the Englishman took him to some extent into his confidence, +and asked him to do him a service. This was his story. Some years +before, in quite a different part of the world, the young man had nursed +a leper--a dying leper--for some hours. He believed for long that he had +escaped all danger, in fact he never thought of it; but it was not so. +There must have been an unhealed wound of some kind--a slight scratch +would do it--on his hand. No need to go into the details of his first +misgivings, of the horror of the awful certainty at last. It came upon +him in the midst of the greatest happiness; he was going to be married +to a girl he adored." + +"Oh, Philip, Philip, why did he not tell?" Daisy wailed. + +"He consulted the best and greatest physician, who--as a friend, he +said--approved of the course he had mapped out for himself. He decided +to tell no one, to break off his engagement, and die out of her--the +girl's--life; not once, after he was sure, did he see her again. He +would not even risk touching her hand. And he believed that telling +would only have brought worse agony upon her in the end than the agony +he was forced to inflict. For he was a doomed man, though they gave him +a few years to live. And he did the only thing he could do with those +years. He set off to the settlement in question. Maynard was to call +there some months later on his way home, and the young man knew he would +be dead then, and so he was. But he showed Maynard a letter explaining +all, that he had got ready--all but the address--_that_, he would not +add till he was in the act of dying. There must be no risk of her +knowing till he was dead. And this letter Maynard was to fetch on his +return. He did so, but--there had been no time to add the address--death +had come suddenly. All sorts of precautions had been ordered by the poor +fellow as to disinfecting the letter and so on. But it did not seem to +Maynard that these had been taken. So he contented himself by spreading +out the paper on the sea-shore and learning it by heart, and then +leaving it. The sum total of it was what I have told you, but not one +name was named." + +Daisy was sobbing quietly. + +"Was it he?" she said. + +"Yes, I feel sure of it," Philip replied. "For I can supply the missing +link. The one time I really quarrelled with Arthur was when we were in +Siberia. He _would_ spend a night in a dying leper's hut. I would have +done it myself, I believe and hope, had it been necessary. But by riding +on a few miles we could have got help for the poor creature--which +indeed I did--and more efficient help than ours. But Lingard was +determined, and no ill seemed to come of it. I had almost forgotten the +circumstance. I never associated it with the mystery that caused you +such anguish, my poor darling." + +"It was he," whispered Daisy. "Philip, he was a hero after all." + +"Not even you can feel that, as I do," Keir replied. + +Then they were silent. + + * * * * * + +A few weeks afterwards came a letter from Lady West, in her far-off +South American home. Daisy had not heard from her for years. + +"By circuitous ways, I need not explain the details," she wrote, "I have +learnt that my darling brother is dead. I thought I had better tell you. +I am sure his most earnest wish was that you should live to be happy, +dear Daisy, as I trust you are. And I know you have long forgiven him +the sorrow he caused you--it was worse still for him." + +"I wonder," said Daisy, "if she knows more?" + +But the letter seemed to add certainty to their own conviction. + + + + +THE CLOCK THAT STRUCK THIRTEEN. + + +"You misunderstand me wilfully, Helen. I neither said nor inferred +anything of the kind." + +"What did you mean then, for if words to you bear a different +interpretation from what they do to me, I must trouble you to speak in +_my_ language when addressing me," angrily retorted a young girl, with +what nature had intended to be a very pretty face with a charming +expression, but which at the present moment was far from deserving the +latter part of the description. Eyes flashing, cheeks burning and hands +clenched in the excess of her indignation, stood Helen Beaumont by the +window of her pretty little sitting-room, or "studio" as she loved to +call it, presenting a striking contrast to the peaceful scene without; +where a carefully tended garden still looked bright with the remaining +flowers of late September. Her companion, standing in the attitude +invariably assumed now-a-days by novelists' heroes, namely, leaning +against the mantelpiece, was a young man of equally prepossessing +appearance with her own. At first glance no one would have suspected him +of sharing any of the young lady's excitement, for his expression was so +calm as almost to merit the description of sleepy. Looking more closely, +however, the signs of some unusual disturbance or annoyance were to be +descried, for his face was slightly flushed and his blue eyes had lost +the look of sweet temper evidently their ordinary expression. + +"What I meant to say, Helen, was not, as you choose to misinterpret it, +that I blame you for proper womanly courage and spirit, than which, I +consider few things more admirable, nor as you are well aware do I +admire the sweetly silly and affectedly timid order of young ladies. But +this I do mean and repeat, that I think your persistence in this foolish +scheme a piece of sheer bravado and foolhardiness, totally unworthy of +any sensible person's approval, and what is more----" + +"Thank you, Malcolm, or rather Mr. Willoughby, I have heard quite +enough,"--and as she spoke, Helen turned from the window out of which +she had been gazing while Malcolm spoke, with, it must be confessed, +very little interest in the varied tints of the dahlias blooming in all +their rich brilliance on the terrace,--"I have heard quite enough, and +think myself exceedingly fortunate in having heard it now before it +is too late. You may imagine," she continued, "that I am speaking in +temper, but it is not so. I have for some time suspected, and now feel +convinced, that we are not suited to each other. Your own words bear +witness to your opinion of me, 'self-willed, foolhardy, unwomanly,' and +I know not what other pretty expressions you have applied to me, and for +my part I tell you simply that I cannot and will not marry a man whose +opinion of what a woman should be is like yours; and who insults me +constantly as you do, by telling me how far short I fall of his ideal. +Marry your ideal, Malcolm Willoughby, and I shall wish you joy of her. +Some silly little fool who dares not move a step alone in her bewitching +helplessness. But do not think to convert _me_ into such a piece of +contemptible inanity," and so saying she turned towards the door. + +"Helen," said Malcolm quietly, so quietly that Helen was arrested in +spite of herself, "you are unjust, unreasonable and ungenerous. You know +that I never cared for any woman but you, you know that nothing pleases +me more than to witness your superiority in numberless particulars to +the general run of girls, and you know too the pride and pleasure I take +in your skill as an artist; but blinded by self-will you will not see +the perfect reasonableness of my request that you will abandon this +absurd expedition. If not for your own sake, at least do so for Edith's, +who is as you know left in your special charge by Leonard." + +The first part of this speech seemed, to judge by Helen's transparent +countenance, likely to soften and move her, but the unlucky word +"absurd" and the tone in which Malcolm spoke, as if it was necessary to +remind her of her duty, effectually did away with any good result that +his remonstrance might have worked. She turned, with her hand on the +door, and saying, "I have told you my decision, Mr. Willoughby, and I +wish you good-evening," left the room. Malcolm remained behind, lost +in thought of no pleasurable nature. At last he too left the little +sitting-room, after first ringing the bell and ordering his horse to be +brought round. Making his way to the front entrance he there "mounted +and rode away," his spirits, poor fellow, by no means the better for +his visit. + +It is time, I think, to explain the cause of the lovers' quarrel +above described. Helen and Edith Beaumont were orphans, left to the +guardianship of their brother Leonard, in whose house we have seen the +former. Delicacy, induced by a severe illness some months previously, +had obliged Mr. Beaumont, accompanied by his wife, to go for the autumn +and winter months to the south of France, leaving his sisters at home +under the nominal chaperonage of an elderly aunt, who performed her duty +to the perfect satisfaction of her nieces by letting them do exactly as +they liked. More correctly speaking, perhaps, exactly as Helen liked, +for the younger of the two, Edith, a girl of seventeen and four years +her sister's junior, could hardly be said to have likes or dislikes +distinct from those of Helen. Possibly Mr. Beaumont might not have left +the two to their own devices with so easy a mind, had he not quitted +home happy in the knowledge of Helen's engagement to his friend and +neighbour Malcolm Willoughby. The gentleman in question lived within a +few miles of our heroine's home, having succeeded some years before to +his father's property. His only sister, Mrs. Lindsay, was at this time +living with him for a few months while awaiting her husband's return +from India, and though some years older, was, next to her sister, +Helen's most valued friend and companion. Malcolm Willoughby was a man +of high character, peculiarly fitted, by his unusual amount of sterling +good sense, to be the guide of an impulsive, enthusiastic girl like +pretty Helen Beaumont, whom to know was to love, and who would have been +altogether charming but for her inordinate amount of self-will and +inveterate dislike to being, as she expressed it, "ordered" to do or not +to do whatever came into her head. She and her sister had real talent as +artists, and their spirited and well-executed landscapes bore but little +resemblance to the insipid productions of most young lady painters. To +improving herself in this direction Helen had devoted much time and +labour. Unfortunately, it had so absorbed her thoughts and desires that +in its pursuance she was inclined sometimes to forget what were for +her more important avocations. Helen's fortunate engagement to Mr. +Willoughby had for some time past corrected these only objectionable +tendencies in her character, and all had gone smoothly and happily till +the date at which our story commences, when, unluckily, some artist +friends had filled her head with their descriptions of the exquisite +autumn scenery, "effects of foliage," etc., to be seen in a mountainous +and hitherto little explored part of Wales. Her imagination, and through +her that of her sister Edith, ran wild on the subject, and now nothing +would satisfy her but a journey to the spot in question, by themselves, +in order that they might enjoy their freedom to the utmost, and revel in +the delight of painting some of the wonderful Welsh scenery described to +them. The idea had at first been mooted half in joke, but an impolitic +expression of strong disapprobation on the part of Mr. Willoughby had +done more to determine Helen on carrying it out than all the anticipated +artistic enjoyment. + +"It will be just the opportunity I wanted," thought the foolish girl, +"of showing him that I do not intend to be a silly nonentity of a wife +with no opinion of my own, and hedged in by all the absurd old-fashioned +conventionalities which will not allow a woman to have an existence of +her own or give her opportunity to cultivate what talents she may +possess." + +And once determined, Miss Helen remained inflexible. In vain Mr. +Willoughby remonstrated, in vain even their indulgent old aunt expressed +her horror at the idea of "two young girls scouring the country by +themselves," her own feebleness rendering her accompanying them out of +the question. Go to Wales Helen and Edith must, and go they would, till +at last the discussion with her _fiance_ terminated in the disastrous +manner above recorded. + +I will not undertake to describe Helen's feelings, when, in the solitude +of her own room, she thought over what she had done. Had she herself +been obliged to put them into words, I believe she would have repeated +that she had not acted in temper and that the stand she had made for her +womanly freedom, as she would have expressed it, had been an act of +supreme heroism and devotion to the cause of right. She said all this +to herself and tried hard, very hard to believe it; and to stifle the +little voice at the very bottom of her heart which whispered that +she had behaved like a silly, self-willed, petted child, and shown +herself undeserving of so good a gift as the love of a man like +Malcolm Willoughby. The little voice was smothered for the time by +exaggerated anticipations of the delights of their tour and attempted +self-congratulations at her newly regained liberty to do as she chose; +for Malcolm did not come near her again, and it took all her pride to +hide from herself and others the shock she felt through all her being +when, in the course of a few days, she heard accidentally that Mr. +Willoughby was leaving home for an uncertain length of time. + +"He has taken me at my word," thought she, "but of course I meant him to +do so," and she hurried on the preparations for their journey which they +were now on the eve of. + +"You will at least take Maxwell," said Aunt Fanny timidly. + +"Maxwell, aunt! No, thank you," said Helen ironically; "she would be +crying for her spring mattress the first night and thinking she was +going to die if she heard the wind howl. No, thank you, I mean to be +independent for once in my life, and so does Edith." + +Other twenty-four hours saw our two young ladies on their way. +Unaccustomed as they were to travelling alone they got on very well for +the greater part of their journey, till they arrived at a certain +railway station in Wales, of name unpronounceable by civilised tongue, +but which sounded to them like that of the place where they were to +leave the railway. Never doubting but what they were right in so doing +Helen and Edith calmly descended from their carriage, watched the train +disappear in the tunnel hard by, and then began to make inquiries for a +conveyance to transport themselves and their luggage, white umbrellas, +easels and all, the five or six miles which they imagined were all that +divided them from their destination. A colloquy ensued with the most +intelligible of two or three fly-drivers, carmen, or whatever these +personages are called in Wales; but what was Helen's consternation on +learning that fifteen miles at least remained to be traversed; they +having left the railway at Llanfar, two stations too soon, instead of +remaining in it till they reached Llanfair, the point nearest to the +farm-house where lodgings had been taken for them. No chance of a train +to Llanfair till to-morrow morning, for the line was a new one, and the +traffic as yet but small. No prospect of a night's accommodation where +they were. Nothing for it but to trust to the driver's assurance that he +and his unpromising-looking horse could easily convey them to the +farm-house, with the inevitably unpronounceable name. With some +unconfessed misgivings Helen and Edith mounted the vehicle awaiting +them, and drove off along a muddy, jolting lane into the quickly +gathering gloom. + +Shivering on her uncomfortable seat, did Helen wish herself at home +again in her own little sitting-room, with Aunt Fanny peacefully +knitting, Edith kneeling on the hearth-rug, and Malcolm's face bright +with the reflection of the ruddy log fire so welcome in autumn evenings; +all together as was their wont, enjoying "blind man's holiday"? + +I think we had better not press the question too closely. However, "it's +a long lane that has no ending," and even this dreary journey gradually +drew to a close. They passed but few houses of any kind, one or two +straggling hamlets were left behind, and for some two or three miles the +road had been perfectly solitary, when they suddenly heard wheels +advancing to meet them, and in a few minutes a car like their own drove +towards them, and being hailed by their driver, drew up at their side. A +jabbering ensued of directions asked and given, and they again drove on. + +"Are you sure you know the way?" said Helen timidly. + +"Oh yes, miss," the driver answered confidently, and further informed +them that the car they had met, had just returned from their own +destination (being translated), the Black Nest Farm, having there +deposited a traveller who had taken the middle course of leaving the +railway at the intermediate stoppage between Llanfar and Llanfair. Other +three-quarters of an hour and they pulled up at last before a house +which the darkness prevented their seeing more of than that it was long +and low. They stumbled up the rough garden path, and in answer to their +knock, the door was opened by a tidy, clean-looking old woman, with a +flickering candle in her hand, evidently surprised at their appearance. +She had, she said, quite given up thoughts of their coming that night, +and feared the fire in the sitting-room was out. Thankful to have +reached the Black Nest at last, a chilly room seemed a smaller evil than +the two girls would have considered it at home; and after all, things +were not so bad, for the fire in the little farmhouse parlour, to which +their landlady conducted them, was not quite out, and a little judicious +coaxing soon brought it round. + +Their hostess's and their own first idea was of course _tea_. What a +blessing, by the way, it is that British womankind in general, high and +low, rich and poor, old and young, have this _one_ taste in common! +Refreshed by the homely meal speedily set before them, Helen and Edith +proceeded, under the guidance of the old woman (apparently the only +inhabitant of the house), and the flickering candle, to inspect their +sleeping apartment. The result was not eminently satisfactory, for it +struck them as gloomy, ill-ventilated, and a long way from their +parlour, though but few rooms appeared to intervene between the two. +This puzzled them at the time, but was afterwards explained by the fact +that Black Nest Farm-house had originally consisted of two one-storeyed +cottages standing at some yards distance from each other, and which, on +becoming the property of one owner, had been united by a long passage; +which arrangement was looked upon in the neighbourhood as a triumph of +architectural ingenuity. On returning to their sitting-room Helen's eye +fell on a door beside their own which she had not before noticed, and +she inquired if that was a bedroom. To which the old woman replied in +the affirmative, but added that they could not have it, as it and a +small sitting-room opening out of it were engaged by a "strange +gentleman". And besides this, she added, the bedroom was not so +desirable for ladies, having a second, or rather third door to the +outside of the house. The only other room they could have was so small +that she did not think they would like it, but they should see for +themselves, and so saying she turned towards a recess in the passage. +Helen followed her, but the flickering candle suddenly throwing light in +a new direction, she gave a little exclamation of alarm at what appeared +at the first moment to be a very ugly grinning portrait high up on the +wall. + +"It's only the clock, miss," said the old woman. "Though, to be sure, it +is quare," and as she spoke she threw the light more fully upon the +object that had startled Helen, which she now perceived to be a very +antique clock, standing high in a dark wooden case, and with the face +she had seen, peeping at you as it were from behind the dial-plate. An +ugly, coarsely painted face, with a disagreeably mocking expression it +seemed to Helen; nor was it the only repulsive feature in this very +remarkable clock, for the artist appeared to have outdone himself in the +grotesquely hideous devices at the bottom of the dial. Death's heads, +cross-bones, and other equally unpleasant objects of various kinds, +curiously intermingled with a condensed solar system, in which sun, moon +and stars appeared jumbled together haphazard. The general object of the +whole evidently being to bring before the spectator the ghastly side of +his future, and to read him a wholesome, but certainly not attractive, +homily on the shortness of life, and the speed with which time was +ticking away. Helen felt half fascinated by its hideousness. + +"Dear me, what a very curious clock!" she ejaculated, and the old woman +repeated, with a little inward chuckle at what she evidently considered +the admiration drawn forth by her heirloom:-- + +"Yes, sure it _is_ quare." + +An uncanny object it certainly was, and Helen felt relieved that the +room in its immediate vicinity was so small as to be out of the question +for the accommodation of her sister and herself. Re-entering the +sitting-room she found poor Edith looking so utterly worn-out that she +proposed that they should at once go to bed; which they accordingly did, +followed by the old woman with offers of assistance. Passing the door of +"the strange gentleman's" room, they heard sounds of some one moving +inside, and Edith sleepily remarked that she wondered what could have +brought a gentleman to an outlandish place like the Black Nest, unless, +like themselves, he came to take views in the neighbourhood. Helen +pricked up her ears at this and inquired of Mrs. Jones if their +fellow-lodger was an artist. Mrs. Jones thought not, but seemed +unwilling to pursue the topic of the strange gentleman further. In +rather a forced manner she changed the subject by inquiring if the young +ladies would like to hire her pony while there, as it was rough walking, +and her grandson Griffith, the only other inhabitant of the cottage, a +little lad of twelve, could lead it for them, and show them the way +whenever they chose. Helen gladly closed with the offer. + +"Dear me, Mrs. Jones," she exclaimed "how very lonely you must be living +here with no one but a little boy. Have you no near neighbours?" + +"None nearer than three miles ma'am, for the farm-men live at a +distance, save old Thomas in the last cottage you passed, but he is +bed-ridden. My widow daughter, Griffith's mother, was with me till she +took ill, two winters ago, and died before the doctor could get to her. +Yes, it is lonesome like in winter to be sure. It's not often that +gentry like you, miss, care to be in these parts so late in the year." + +Further inquiries elicited that the nearest church was a good five miles +off, that there was no doctor nearer than Llanfar, that the butcher only +came in the winter once a fortnight and that irregularly; in consequence +of which the Black Nesters had often to depend upon their own scanty +resources, the roads being almost impassable in stormy weather. + +"Don't you think it feels rather dreary, Helen?" said Edith, as she was +falling asleep. + +"_Eerie_, rather, I should say," replied her sister, "but that, you +know, is the beauty of it. In the morning, I daresay, it will look +bright enough, but I confess I do not like that clock. Listen, can't +you hear its ticking, faintly, even here, at the end of that long +passage?" + +"What clock do you mean? I saw no clock," said Edith, but almost before +Helen could answer, her soft regular breathing told that she was asleep. +Helen however, could not so quickly compose herself. She felt excited +and vaguely uneasy; and when she at last fell asleep, it was only to +have her discomfort increased, by absurd, yet alarming dreams. With +them all the ugly clock was grotesquely intermingled. Sometimes it was +herself, sometimes Edith, and once Malcolm, whom she fancied in some +position of terrible peril, always associated with the clock, and at +last she awoke with a half-smothered scream of horror at the most +frightful dream of all; in which the "strange gentleman," their +fellow-lodger, was pursuing her with a veil over his face, which just as +he caught her fell off, and disclosed, horrible to relate, the face on +the clock. + +Edith started up as Helen convulsively clutched her, and exclaiming, +"What in the world is the matter?" really thought Helen was going out of +her mind when she replied, "That horrible clock;" and as she spoke, as +if invoked, the clock began to strike: "One, two, three, four," and so +on. "Is it never going to stop?" said Helen. Poor Edith, half asleep +still, listened with her. + +"Edith, I am almost certain that clock struck _thirteen_," said Helen in +an awe-struck voice; and then they heard a door shut at the end of the +passage. + +"Helen, you have been dreaming, and you are only half awake now," said +Edith. "It is not like you to waken me in this frightening way, please +let me go to sleep." + +"I am very sorry," said Helen penitently, and she too closed her eyes +and tried hard to go to sleep, which of course she did, as soon as she +left off trying, and had made up her mind to lie awake till daylight. + +The morning broke clear and fresh; and, as Helen had said, things in +general bore a very different aspect to that of the night before. +Indoors, the quaint old house now looked simply picturesque, and Mrs. +Jones the _beau ideal_ of a cheery old hostess. Even the face of the +clock, when Helen pointed it out to Edith, seemed to have lost its +mocking grin, and to be merely bidding them good-morning, with a comical +smile at the consternation it had awakened the night before. + +Out-of-doors they soon turned their steps. There was no view from the +house, but a short voyage of discovery quickly explained to them their +locality. Black Nest Farm stood at the foot of a hill close on to the +high road, or what passed for such in that hitherto little frequented +neighbourhood. On the opposite side of the road but little was to be +seen, as the meadows were soon lost in a thick belt of wood; but +immediately behind the house was a tempting prospect, for there a little +winding path led up the hill to one of the spots Helen and Edith most +ardently desired to paint, and of which their friends had given them a +glowing description. It was rather a long walk to the Black Lake, Mrs. +Jones informed them, but their enthusiasm knew no bounds, and hardly +permitted them to do justice to their breakfast of ham and eggs, +home-made bread and home-churned butter. See them then starting on their +expedition,--their painting materials, and some creature comforts in the +shape of sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs, safely packed on the pony's +back, Griffith leading him and acting as guide. A pretty stiff pull it +was, enthusiasm notwithstanding, and rather hard work for the little +feet, sensibly shod in good strong boots it is true, but unaccustomed +nevertheless to mountain scrambling. But at last their circuitous path +brought them to the summit, and there a curious prospect broke upon +them. They stood at the edge of the great Welsh tableland. There it +stretched away before them, miles and miles beyond their view; a vast +expanse of wild, brown moor, unrelieved by tree or shrub, but here and +there dotted by great patches of what Edith at first sight took to be +"lovely emerald moss". Treacherous loveliness, for it told, as they +learnt from Griffith, of fearful bog-pits, down whose slimy sides once +slipped no man or beast could ever regain firm ground. + +"What a horrible death that would be," said Helen, shuddering, "far +worse than regular drowning in clean water. It would be slow suffocation +in nasty, dirty mud." + +A few minutes' careful walking brought them in sight of the Black Lake, +the special object of their excursion. And it certainly was well worth +coming to see, if not to paint; probably too, better seen in the +greyness of a late autumn day than in the summer sun, whose bright rays +reflected on its surface would have little harmonised with its character +of gloom and loneliness. The lake was equal to several acres in extent, +but from where they stood could not all be seen, as its farther end +was hidden by the undulations of the land. In colour it was a dull, +leaden grey, and looking at it, one's mind spontaneously reverted to +travellers' descriptions of the Dead Sea, for _dead_ was essentially the +word by which to describe it. There were no fish to be caught in it +Griffith told them, and as for its depth he had never heard tell of any +one's sounding it. The effect of the whole scene was very peculiar, and +so Helen and Edith felt it to be, as they stood gazing at the leaden +water and the great, apparently boundless moorland. It was difficult to +realise that they were so far above the ordinary haunts of men, for +there was nothing in that great plain to remind them of the existence +even of hills and mountains, except a steady-blowing breeze of that +peculiar freshness pertaining only to sea or mountain air. Pleasantly +invigorating at first, but soon becoming too chilly to make one care to +stand about, or, worse still, to _sit_, as our young ladies now +prepared to do. + +"We are very lucky in the weather," remarked Helen, as they prepared for +their sketching. "I should fancy it is just the day to see the lake to +the best advantage." + +"Or disadvantage," said Edith, "for I do think it is the most horrible +place I ever saw. I don't know," added she dreamily, "but what it would +seem even more desolate on a bright, sunny day. I don't know why." + +"I understand how you mean," replied her sister, "the contrast would be +so strange. Like a skeleton dressed in a golden robe. Dear me, I am +becoming quite poetical. But look, Edith, how do you like this?" And a +consultation on their work ensued. + +Very cold work it became, as it grew to afternoon, notwithstanding the +pleasurable excitement of their occupation, and Edith, for one, was not +sorry when Helen at last thought it time to pack up their painting +materials and turn homewards. A drizzling rain began to fall as they +neared the foot of the hill, and they both felt thankful to reach the +farm-house,--tired, muddy and damp, and in not _quite_ such high +spirits as when they set off on their expedition. A savoury odour +meeting them on their entrance, Helen suddenly bethought herself that +she had utterly forgotten to order anything for their "high tea," or +whatever one likes to call the said incongruous meal. It was therefore +an agreeable surprise to her after remembering her neglect to see on +entering their little sitting-room the brightest of fires, and the table +daintily set out with evident preparation for a tempting repast; part of +which, in the shape of a delicious-looking ham, "a new-made pat of +butter and a wheaten loaf so fine," had already made its appearance. +Damp clothes and muddy boots discarded, they sat down with an excellent +appetite to their meal, and the savoury odour which had greeted them was +soon explained by the appearance of Mrs. Jones bearing a chicken stewed +in mushrooms. + +"Mushrooms!" exclaimed Helen, "the thing of all others I like. How +clever you are, Mrs. Jones, to get us all these good things! I shall +leave our food to your providing, I think, in future." + +Mrs. Jones laughed and said a friend had sent some things from Llanfar, +and a friend also had gathered the mushrooms, the last of their season, +thinking the young ladies might like them. + +"Your friends are as good as yourself then, Mrs. Jones," said Helen; but +as she spoke she was startled by what sounded like a half-smothered +laugh or exclamation of some kind just outside the door. Almost at the +same moment her friend the clock began to strike, and she therefore +fancied the sound she had heard must have come from it. "Its internal +arrangements are, I daresay, as peculiar as its outside," thought she to +herself, and refrained therefore from mentioning to Edith what she +thought she had heard. All the rest of the evening, however, though she +would hardly have owned it to herself, she felt a little nervous and +uneasy, particularly when she heard the clock strike. + +"I wonder what our fellow-lodger does with himself all day," said Edith +that evening. + +"I am sure I don't know, or care either," said Helen, "indeed, I hardly +believe there is such a being at all." + +They went early to bed, and fell quickly asleep. After having slept, it +seemed to her for several hours, Helen woke suddenly with the feeling +that something had wakened her, and found that the clock was busy +striking, and to her confused fancy had been striking for ever so long +before she woke. Its strokes ceased before she was sufficiently awake to +count them, but a moment or two afterwards she heard a door shut as it +had done the night before. + +"It is very annoying that I can't get a good night's rest here," thought +she. A whispered "Helen," told her that Edith too was awake. + +"The clock _did_ strike thirteen," said Edith, "and there _must_ be +somebody in that room, for I heard the door shut again." + +"And so did I," said Helen, whereupon they lay still in awe-struck +silence, till they both fell fast asleep again. + +The next day was Saturday, and though somewhat stiff and tired with +their exertions, Friday's programme was repeated. The sketches proceeded +satisfactorily, but our heroines were less fortunate in other respects, +for just as they were about to leave the Black Lake in the afternoon, +the rain came on in torrents. Long before they got back to the +farm-house the poor girls were thoroughly drenched. Edith escaped with +no ill results, but Helen sat shivering over the fire all the evening, +passed an uneasy night in which it seemed to her that the clock never +left off striking at all, and woke on Sunday morning with every symptom +of a delightfully bad cold. The prospect outside was not cheering. Rain, +rain, rain. Down it came in torrents. No chance of making their way to +the five miles' off church, no chance even of a quiet stroll along the +lanes; and, worst of all, no books to read, for such a possibility as a +whole day in the house had never presented itself to their inexperienced +imaginations! It was very dull. Helen was almost cross with Edith for +being so exceedingly sympathetic. It was kind of course, but provoking +nevertheless, as to Helen's sensitiveness it seemed to convey a tacit +reproach. She would not allow to herself that they were at all to be +pitied. All the same she was not sorry when the time came at last for +them to go to bed. + +"I wish we had brought some sherry with us," said Edith. "A little white +wine whey would have been the very thing for your cold." + +"What's the good of wishing," replied her sister rather snappishly, "you +had better call Mrs. Jones and ask her to make me some gruel." But on +Mrs. Jones's appearance, and when the request had been made, both the +girls felt rather surprised at her volunteering the very thing they had +been wishing for. + +She had, she said, "some very nice sherry wine, given her by a friend," +and many years ago, when she was in service in Chester, she had learnt +to make white wine whey. Sure enough a tempting-looking basinful shortly +after made its appearance. + +Thanks to its soporific influence Helen soon fell asleep, but woke (as +she had got strangely into the habit of doing) just at midnight, or +as Edith had taken to calling it, "thirteen o'clock". The clock was +half-way through its striking when she woke, and a sudden impulse seized +her to jump up, and, opening the door slightly, to peep out and either +see who it was that always shut a door after the clock struck, or, by +seeing nothing, satisfy herself that the sound had all along been merely +the creation of her own and Edith's imagination. + +She opened the door very cautiously, and instantly perceived that there +was a light at the end of the passage in the recess where stood the +clock. Helen's heart beat more loudly, and she wished devoutly that she +had allowed her curiosity to remain unsatisfied, when to her horror the +light moved out of the recess, and she saw that it was held by a tall +dark figure with its back turned towards her. The passage was so long +and the light flickered so much that it was impossible for her to +distinguish anything but the general outline of the person who held it. +Not Mrs. Jones or Griffith, assuredly, but poor Helen was too frightened +to do more than lock the door with her trembling fingers and leap back +into bed, thereby awakening Edith, who on hearing Helen's story calmly +assured her that she had either been dreaming, or had seen the strange +gentleman their fellow-lodger whose existence Helen had rashly dared to +question. Oddly enough she had forgotten all about him, and felt +somewhat relieved by Edith's matter-of-fact solution. + +"Only what should he be doing at the clock at this time of night? I hope +he is not out of his mind;"--to which Edith replied:-- + +"I do believe he gets up to make it strike thirteen on purpose to tease +us." + +Monday morning wore a more promising aspect than Sunday, for such clouds +as there were, bespoke nothing worse than showers, and our young ladies +succeeded in obtaining an hour or two's sketching at the lake. Helen, +however, felt still considerably the worse of her terrible wetting, +and was actually the first to propose that they should return to the +farm-house. Somewhat weakened by her cold, and tired too, she mounted +the little pony at Edith's suggestion, and they were proceeding cheerily +enough on their way--Griffith, loaded with their painting materials, +some little distance behind--when a stumble on the pony's part brought +him suddenly to the ground. Helen had been paying little attention to +her steed, and, unprepared for the shock, fell on her side with some +little force. A most undignified procedure had there been any one to +witness it, but which would have drawn forth nothing but a laugh had it +not been that in the fall her foot caught in the stirrup. Her sharp cry +of pain terrified Edith, who, however, soon succeeded in disentangling +her, as the poor little pony remained perfectly quiet, but a moment's +examination, and a vain attempt to stand, showed them that the ankle was +badly sprained. All that could be done was to mount Helen again as well +as Edith and Griffith could manage, and to make the best of their way +home. Arrived there, hot applications soon reduced the pain, but it was +easy to be seen, even by their inexperienced eyes, that Helen must not +attempt to move for several days to come. + +Here was a charming ending to their expedition! Helen, even, felt +woefully disconcerted, and poor Edith fairly began to cry. + +"If it were not that you would not like it, I would write to Mrs. +Lindsay to come and nurse you," said Edith, "she is so good and kind, +and I know she would come in a minute, for she has nothing to prevent +her." + +"Mrs. Lindsay! Edith," exclaimed Helen indignantly, "the very last +person I would apply to, however good and kind she may be. Do you really +think that. I would put myself under such an obligation to the sister of +the man I have----" "Quarrelled with for nothing at all," said the +little voice at the bottom of her heart. Edith said nothing, but for the +first time in her life took an independent resolution and acted upon it. +Her love for Helen conquered her fear of displeasing her. What this +resolution was we shall not disclose, nor shall we tell whose hand +addressed a letter to Mrs. Lindsay carried that evening by the post-boy +to Llanfar. The strangest coincidence was that _two_ letters bearing the +same direction left the Black Nest Farm that evening. + +Tired out with the pain of her ankle, Helen, for the first time since +their arrival, slept past midnight and only woke to hear the clock +strike five. All too soon for her comfort, for her thoughts were none +of the brightest, as she lay waiting for the daylight. Her folly, her +headstrong determination, right or wrong, to carry out her own way, +began to show themselves to her more clearly; or rather, she began to +allow herself to see them in their true light. And when at last the +morning came, and she was established for the day on the hard little +horse-hair sofa in their sitting-room, her spirits were not improved by +the perusal of a letter from her Aunt Fanny. The good old lady, after +deploring their absence and pathetically describing her anxiety on their +behalf, made mention of a visit from Mrs. Lindsay, who had come to tell +her how unhappy she was about her brother. "He left home," wrote Aunt +Fanny, "two days after that unfortunate conversation with you without +telling his sister what was the matter. At least she only gathered that +something unpleasant had happened from his saying that you were leaving +home, and that he did not expect to see you before you went. He left no +direction beyond telling her to write to his club, which she has done +two or three times, but got no answer. She says he looked so unlike +himself that she fears he has fallen ill somewhere and cannot write to +tell her. Oh, Helen, I do wish you had never thought of this +expedition." + +"How very silly Mrs. Lindsay is to be so fanciful," said Helen, in which +view of the case tender-hearted little Edith did not at all agree, +though she hardly dared to say so. They spent a dull day, for Edith +would not consent to leave her sister, and their paintings were at a +standstill for want of another day's sketching from the original. + +"To-morrow, Edith," said Helen, "you might go to the lake for an hour or +so without me and finish your sketch, and I might go on with mine from +yours," to which Edith made no objection. + +By night Helen's feverish uneasiness had increased, and Edith secretly +congratulated herself on her resolute step of the day before. And a +wretched night followed. In reality Helen was very anxious and unhappy +about Malcolm Willoughby, and her dreams were full of terrors that +something had befallen him. Through all, the disagreeable clock again +thrust forward its ugly face, and she woke in an indescribable state of +horror, fancying that the clock was standing by her bedside, striking +loudly in her ears to a kind of "refrain" of the words: "I told you so. +I told you so." Of course the clock _was_ striking, and had evidently +awakened her by so doing. + +"Thirteen again," whispered Edith, "it is really very disagreeable." + +"It sounds to _me_ like the voice of my conscience," said Helen, +"warning me that some terrible punishment is coming upon me for my +wicked folly. Yes, Edith, I see it all now, and as soon as ever I can +move we shall go home, and I shall ask poor Aunt Fanny to forgive me. I +wish every other consequence of my wrong-doing could be done away with +as easily as her displeasure." And all her pride broken down, poor Helen +burst into tears, and Edith's affectionate words of soothing were of no +avail to stop her sobs. She felt rather better in the morning however, +partly, perhaps, because the day was bright and sunny. About mid-day +she fell into a doze on her sofa, and waking after an hour's sleep was +surprised to miss Edith. A note in pencil pinned to the table-cover +caught her attention. It bore these words: "You are so nicely asleep I +don't like to waken you. I shall come back as early as I can, but don't +be alarmed if I am a little later than you expect." + +"She has gone to finish the sketch," thought Helen uneasily. "I wish I +had not asked her to do so, it looks dull and overcast." + +She rang the hand-bell for Mrs. Jones, who appeared with a basin of +soup, and told her that the young lady had set off a quarter of an hour +before. + +"It can't be helped now," said Helen, "but I wish I had not proposed +it." + +The afternoon seemed long and dull, and yet Helen felt sorry when it +began to close in, for no Edith had yet appeared. Still it was not later +than they had been out together more than once. Helen tried to think it +was not yet dusk outside, but felt this comfort fail her when it +gradually grew so indisputably dark that Mrs. Jones brought in candles +without her asking for them. + +"Are you not uneasy about my sister and Griffith, Mrs. Jones?" said +Helen; but her anxiety was tenfold increased when Mrs. Jones replied +calmly:-- + +"Griffith is not with the young lady to-day. I had to send him a message +to Llanfair, and as like as not he will stay at his uncle's till the +morning. The young lady said it did not matter, and I saddled the pony +for her myself." + +"Griffith not with her!" exclaimed Helen. "Oh, Mrs. Jones, what will +become of her?" + +"Don't be alarmed, miss," said the old woman, "the pony is very steady, +and the darkness comes on so sudden-like, it seems later than it is." + +And with this scanty consolation Helen was obliged to remain satisfied. +Mrs. Jones stirred up the fire and set the tea all ready, but Helen grew +sick at heart as the time went on, and still no Edith. Six, struck the +clock, and ticked on again to seven. Helen could bear it no longer. + +"Mrs. Jones," cried she, "can you not get any one to go to look for my +sister? She may be on her way down the hill, and have got into some +difficulty with the pony." + +"Indeed, miss, I don't know what I can do. There's no one nearer than +old Thomas and he can't move." + +"The strange gentleman!" said Helen suddenly; "your other lodger. Would +he not help me?" + +"He has been out since early this morning," replied Mrs. Jones, "and he +told me he was not sure of being back to-night. He has gone to meet a +friend." + +Helen felt more in despair than before. It seemed an aggravation of her +anxiety to have to lie still on the sofa doing nothing. Indeed had she +been able to do so, nothing would have prevented her making her way to +the Black Lake, and too probably losing her own life in the endeavour to +save her sister's. As it was, she managed at last to drag herself to the +door in hopes of hearing footsteps up the path, but nothing broke the +silence save the tick, tick of the clock. It wore on to nine, despite +her wretchedness and indescribable anxiety. She pictured to herself her +sister, her dear little Edith, left so specially in her charge, cowering +on the moor, alone in that dreary darkness, sobbing in despair of ever +finding her way out of that frightful desert. Or, worse still, lying +cold and dead in one of those fearful pits under the mockingly beautiful +moss; whence, in all probability, her poor body even would never be +recovered. It was too frightful. Helen almost shrieked aloud: "Oh, my +darling, my little sister, come back, do come back. Oh, Malcolm, if +only you were here. How terribly I am punished for my self-will!" And +terribly punished she was, for the memory of that night's suffering was +too painful to recall in after years without a shudder. Mrs. Jones was +in helpless distress, though in hopes of every moment hearing the pony +and the young lady at the gate, and she returned to her own domains +saying she had better have hot water ready as Miss Edith would be +fainting for her tea. Helen remained alone at the window of the +sitting-room. + +The night was fine but very dark. Darker than she had ever seen a night +before, it seemed to Helen. She was almost in a stupor of despair. She +sank down half-unconsciously before the fire and never knew how long she +had lain there when she was roused by the clock striking. "One, two, +three, four,"--she counted aloud as if bewitched, till when it got to +the fatal _thirteen_, her over-strained nerves gave way, and with a +scream she ran or stumbled, she knew not how, along the passage to seek +for Mrs. Jones. As she passed the front-door she was arrested by the +sharp sounds of steps coming quickly up the garden path. The door was +pushed open. The only light was what came through the open door of the +room she had just left, and she could distinguish nothing but a tall +dark figure hurrying towards her. She screamed with terror but stood, +unable to move, when to her intense relief a voice from behind the +person she saw, exclaimed eagerly: "Helen, dearest Helen, don't be +frightened. I am quite safe," and some one rushed past the tall person, +now close to her, and kissing her passionately, Helen felt, rather than +saw, that it was Edith. + +"Malcolm! Malcolm! she is fainting!" called Edith, and the tall person +pressed forward, caught her up in his arms like a baby, and, unconscious +now of everything, Helen was carried back into the sitting-room, laid on +the hard little sofa, and there held tenderly by the strong yet gentle +arms whose protecting care she, poor foolish child, had fancied she +could so well dispense with. + +It was the first time in her life that Helen Beaumont had ever fainted, +and it was not long before she began to recover. + +"Malcolm! oh, Malcolm!" were her first words on returning consciousness +(and it seemed to her afterwards as if some one else had spoken them for +her, her good angel perhaps!), "can you ever forgive me?" + +"My darling," was the whispered answer, "you know you need not ask it." +And then Helen felt as if she were just going to die, but was too happy +to care, and too languid to ask even how all this had come about. But +now a third person came forward saying:-- + +"Malcolm, let me stay beside her," and, wonderful to tell, the sweet +voice and kind face were Mrs. Lindsay's. Helen thought she must be +dreaming, but lay still as she was told, and then drank something or +other Mrs. Lindsay brought her; so before long she was able to sit up +and begin to wonder what was the meaning of it all. + +"Are you not amazed, Helen?" said Edith; "but first of all you must +forgive me for frightening you so, for indeed I have been nearly as +wretched as you, thinking of what you must have been feeling." And +before Helen could reply the eager girl ran on with her explanations. +"Who do you think has been our fellow-lodger all this time, Helen? Who +do you think is the 'strange gentleman'? Only fancy Malcolm's having +been here ever since we came! It was he that travelled by the same +train, and seeing as it moved off at Llanfar that we had got out, he did +so at the next station, and arrived here before us. He had inquired +about Mrs. Jones, and heard what a good creature she was; and he had +time to have a talk with her, and to take her to some extent into his +confidence." + +Helen looked at first, as this recital went on, as if she were wavering +between a return to her old dislike to being interfered with, and +gratitude to Malcolm for his undeserved devotion. The good angel +triumphed, as Malcolm, who was watching her anxiously, quickly +perceived. + +"I did not interfere with you, Helen," he said in a low voice, "but it +was the greatest comfort to me to be able to protect and care for you, +even though you did not know it." + +The tears started to Helen's eyes. + +"Oh, Malcolm, I know how good you are, but----" + +"Never mind any 'buts,'" said Mrs. Lindsay brightly, catching the last +word. "'All's well, that ends well.'" + +"I know now who foraged for us so successfully," said Edith. "Who was +the mysterious friend that gave Mrs. Jones the mushrooms!" + +"And nearly betrayed myself by laughing at the door, when passing I +heard Helen's enthusiastic thanks to Mrs. Jones," said Malcolm. + +"Yes, and frightened me horribly by so doing," added Helen, "as I really +began to think that clock was bewitched, and had a special ill-will +against me. In fact it took the place of my conscience for the time +being." + +"I have the very greatest regard for the clock," said Malcolm demurely, +"and I intend to make Mrs. Jones an offer for it forthwith." + +"Please don't," said Helen piteously. "I daresay it is very silly, but I +really don't quite like that clock, though, after all, its warning of +ill-luck has brought the very reverse to me. But I have not heard yet +what kept Edith out so late, or how in the world you and Mrs. Lindsay +met her at the Black Lake." + +"The Black Lake?" said Mrs. Lindsay, "what do you mean?" + +Whereupon Edith hastened on with that part of her story relating to her +own adventures. She, it appeared, feeling confident in Mrs. Lindsay's +ready kindness, and never doubting but what she would at once respond to +her appeal by coming to nurse Helen, instead of going to the Black Lake +to sketch, as Helen imagined, set off on the pony to meet her friend +at the station, having proposed to her to come by a certain train. +Overtaking Griffith on the road to Llanfair, as she expected from Mrs. +Jones's account, he accompanied her to the village, where she gave over +the pony to his care. As she entered the station she saw a return train +about to start for the Junction about half an hour's journey from where +she was. Finding by her watch that she was in ample time, it struck her +that she might as well go so far to meet her friend, but on arriving at +the Junction she was startled to find that with the new month a change +had taken place in the trains, and that consequently Mrs. Lindsay could +not arrive till late in the evening. Worse still she herself could not +now get back to Helen till she was frightened to think what hour, the +evening train in question not going farther than Llanfar, the station +near the Junction at which she and her sister had by mistake got out on +their arrival, and which was fifteen miles from the Black Nest. It is +needless to describe her distress of mind all the long hours she had to +sit in the little waiting-room at the Junction; or her corresponding +delight when, on the train coming up, she descried looking out of a +window the familiar face of Malcolm Willoughby, and found that he was +accompanied by his sister whom he had gone to meet half-way on her +journey. + +Helen woke at noon the next day feeling indescribably happy, she could +not tell why till the sight of Mrs. Lindsay's sweet face recalled to her +mind all her misery of the night before and the relief and happiness +with which it had ended. + +"How little I deserve it!" thought she humbly and gratefully, "and how +can I ever repay Malcolm for his goodness?" + +Their dull little parlour looked very different now that it was +enlivened by the presence of the two newcomers; and Helen could scarcely +believe it to be the same room in which, but yesterday, she had passed +hours of such agonising suspense. So thoroughly penitent and softened +did she feel that she offered no opposition to anything proposed, and it +was therefore arranged that as soon as Helen was well enough to travel +they should all return home together to relieve poor Aunt Fanny's +anxiety. + +"I wonder," said Helen, with a little sigh, a few days afterwards, when +they were packing up their painting materials, "I wonder if I shall ever +finish my sketch of the Black Lake." + +"I don't like to make rash promises," said Malcolm, "but if somebody I +know is _very_ good perhaps next summer she may see the Black Lake +again, provided she will neither catch cold nor tumble off her pony." + +Edith laughed and Helen blushed. + +"But there's one thing still," said Edith, "which I don't understand. +Why, Malcolm, did you always shut your door as the clock struck +thirteen?" + +"Very simply explained," replied he. "The first night I was here I was +sitting up reading till midnight and thought I heard it strike thirteen. +I thought it very odd, and for a night or two I listened till it began +to strike and then opened my door to make sure I was not mistaken. And +one night I went out with my candle to examine the clock, trying to make +out the cause of it, and to see if I could put it right. No man, they +say, can resist meddling with a clock even though he is no mechanical +genius." + +"All the same," said Edith triumphantly, "notwithstanding your +examinations, you and no one else can tell the reason why that clock +does strike thirteen." + + +THE END. + +ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE + + +Hyphenation is inconsistent; in a small number of instances, missing +punctuation has been added. + +A duplicated word "than" was removed from the sentence "...of a "home" +than she had ever had before." + +Several obvious misspellings have been corrected. The following +additional change was made to punctuation in keeping with the logic of +the plot (original is followed by corrected version): + + The more I thought it over the more striking grew the + coincidences at Finster. It had been on one of the closed doors + that the shadow seemed to settle, as again here in our own hall. + + The more I thought it over the more striking grew the + coincidences. At Finster it had been on one of the closed doors + that the shadow seemed to settle, as again here in our own hall. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Uncanny Tales, by Mary Louisa Molesworth + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNCANNY TALES *** + +***** This file should be named 35641.txt or 35641.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/6/4/35641/ + +Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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