A True Horror Tale pt 2

The chamber to which I removed was a dim little triangular room in the western wing,and was only to be reached by traversing the picture-gallery, or by mounting a littlt flight of stone stairs which led directly upward from the low-browed arch of a door that opened into the garden. There was one more room on the same landing-place, and this was a mere receptacle for broken furniture, shattered toys, and all the lumber that will accumulate in a country-mansion. The room I was to inhabit for a few night was a tapestry-hung apartment, with faded green curtains of some costly stuff, contrasing oddly with a new carpet and bright, fresh hangings of the bed, which had been hurridly erected. The furniture was half old, half new; and on the dressing table stood a very quaint oval mirror, in a frame of black wood-unpolished ebony. I can remember the very pattern of the carpet, the number of chairs, the situation of the bed, the figures on the tapestry. I can recollect not only the colour of my dress I wore on that fated night, but the arrangement of every scrap of lace and ribbon, of every flower, every jewel, with a memory but too perfect.

Scarely had my maid finished spreading out my various articles of attire for the evening (when there was to be a great dinner-party) when the rumble of a carriage announced that Lady Speldhurst had arrived. The short winters day drew to a close, and a large number of guests were gathered together in the ample drawing-room, around the blaze of the wood-fire, after dinner. My father, I recollect, was not with us at first. There was some squires of old, hard-riding, hard-drinking stamp still lingering over thier port in the dining-room, and the host, of course, could not leave them. But the ladies and all the youger gentlemen - both those who slept under our roof, and those who would have a dozen miles of fog and mire to encounter on their road home - were all together. Need I say that Reginald was there? He sat near me - my accepted lover, my plighted future husband. we were to be married in the spring. My sisters were not far off; they too had founf eyes that sparkled and softened in meeting theirs, had founf hearts that beat responsive to their own. And in their cases, no rude frost nipped the blossom ere it became the fruit; there was no canker in their flowerets of young hope, no cloud in their sky. Innocent and loving, they were beloved by men worthy of their esteem.

The room - a large and lofty one, with an arched roof - had somewhat of a somber character, from being wainscoted and ceiled with polished black oak of a great age. There were mirrors, and there were pictures on the walls, and handsome furniture, and marble chimney - pieces, and a Tournay carpet; but these merely appeared as bright spots on the dark background of the Elizabethan woodwork. Many lights were burning, but the blackness of the walls and roof seemed absolutely to swallow up their rays, like the mouth of a cavern. A hundred candles could not have given that apartment the cheerful lightness of a modern drawing room. But the gloomy richness of the panels matched well with the ruddy gleam from the enormous wood-fire, in which crackling and glowing now lay the mighty yule log. Quite a blood-red luster poured forth from the fire, and quivered on the walls and the groined roof. We had gathered round the vast antique hearth in a wide circle. The quivering light of the fire and candles fell upon us all, but not equally, for some were in shadow. I remember still how tall and manly and handsome Reginald looked that night, taller by the head than any there, and full of high spirits and gayety. I too was in the highest spirits, never had my bosom felt lighter, and I believe it was my mirth that gradually gained the rest, for I recollect what a blithe, joyous company we seemed. All save one. Lady Speldhurst, dressed in gray silk and wearing a quaint head-dress, sat in her arm-chair, facing the fire and very silent, with her hands and her sharp chin propped on a sort of ivory-handled crutch that she walked with (for she was lame), peering at me with half-eyes shut.she was a little spare old woman, with very keen delicate features of the French type. Her gray silf dress, her spotless lace, old-fashioned jewels, and prim neatness of array, were well suited to the intelligence of her face, with its thin lips, and eyes of a piecring black, indimmed by age. Those eyes made me uncomfortable, in spite of my gayety, as they followed my every movement with curious scrutiny. Still I was very merry and gay; my sisters even wondered at my ever-ready mirth, which was almost wild in its excess. I have heard sonce then of the Scottish beleif that those doomed to some great calamity become fey, and are never so disposed for merriment and laughter as just before the blow falls. If ever mortal was fey, then I was so on that evening. Still, though I strove to shake off, the pertinacious observation of the old Lady Spledhurst's eyes DID make an impression on me of avaguely disagreeable nature. Others, too, noticed her scrutiny of me, but set it down as a mere eccentricity of a person always reputed whimsical, to say the least of it.

However this disagreeable sensation lasted but a few moments. After a short pause my aunt took part in the conversation, and we found ourselves listerning to a weird legend, which the old lady told exceedingly well. One tale led to another. Everyone was called on in turn to contibute to the public enterainment, and story after story, always relating to demonology and witchcraft, succeeded. It was christmas, the season for such tales, and the old room, with its dusky walls and pictures, and vaulted roof, drinking up the light so greedily, seemed just fitted to give effect to such legendary lore. The huge logs crackled and burned with the glowing warmth; the blood-red glare of the yule log flashed on the faces of the listerners and narrator, on the portraits, and the holly wreathed about their frames, and the upright old dame, in her antiquated dress and trinkets, like one of the originals of the pictures, stepped from the canvas to join the circle. It threw a shimmering luster of an ominously ruddy hue upon the oaken panels. No wonder that the blood of the more timid grew chill and curdled, that their flesh crept, that their hearts beat irreguarly and the girls peeped fearfully over their shoulders, and huddled close together like frightened sheep, and half fancied they beheld some impish and malignant face gibbering at them from the darkling corners of the old room. By degree my high spirits died out, and I felt the childish tremors, long latent, long forgotton coming over me. I followed each story with painful interest; i did not ask myself if I believed the dismal tales. I listerned, and fear grew upon me-the blind, irrational fear of our nursery days. I am sure that most of the other ladies present, young or middle-aged, were affetced by the circumstances under which these traditions were heard, no less than by the wild and fantastic character of them. But with them the impression would die out next morning, when the bright sun should shine on the frosted boughs, and the rime on the grass, and the scarlet berries and green spikelets of the holly; and with me - but, ah! what was to happen ere another day dawn? Before we had made an end of this talk my father and the other squires came in, and we ceased our ghost stories, ashamed to speak of such matters before these new-comers-hard-headed, unimaginative men, who had no sympathy with idle legends. There was now a stir and bustle.

Servants were handling round tea and coffee, and other refreshments. Then there was alittle music and singing. I sang a duet with Reginald, who had a fine voice and good musical skill. I remember that my singing was much praised, and indeed I was suprised at the power and pthos of my own voice, doubtless due to my excited neives and mind. Then I heard someone say to another that I was by far the cleverest of the squires daughters, as well as the prettiest. It did not make me vain. I had no rivalry with Lucy and Minnie. But Reginald whispered some soft, fond words in my ear a little before he mounted his horse to set off homeward, which DID make me happy and proud. And to think that the next time we met-but I forgave him long agao. Poor Reginald! And now shawls and cloaks were in request, and carriages rolled up to the porch, and the guests gradually departed. At last no one was left but those visitors staying in the house. Then my father, who had been called out to speak with the bailiff of the estate, came back with a look of annoyance on his face.

"A strange story I have just been told" said he; "here has been my bailiff to inform me of the loss of four of the choicest ewes out of the little flock of Southdowns I set such store by, and which arrived in the north but two months since. And the poor creatures have been destroyed in so strange a manner, for their carcasses are horribly mangled".

Most of us uttered some expression of pity or suprise, and some suggested that a vicious dog was probably the culprit.

"It would seem so", said my father; " it certainly seems the work of a dog; and yet all the men agree that no dog of such habits exists near us, where, indeed, dogs are scarce, excepting the shephards collies and the sporting dogs secured in yards. yet the sheep are gnawed and bitten, for they show the marks of teeth. something has done this, and has torn their bodies wolfishly; but apparently it has been only to suck the blood, for little or no flesh is gone".

"How strange!" cried several voices. Then some of the gentlemen remembered to have heard of cases when dogs addicted to sheep-killing had destroyed whole flocks, as if in sheer wantonness, scarcely deigning to taste a morsel of each slain wether."

My father shook his head. "I have heard of such cases, too," he said; "but in this instance I am tempted to think the malice of some unknown enemy has been at work. The teeth of a dog have been busy, no doubt, but the poor sheep have been mutilated in a fantastic manner, as strange as horrible; their hearts, in especial, have been torn out, and left at some paces off, half gnawed. Also, the men pesist that they found the print of a naked human foot in the soft mud of the ditch, and near it - this." And held up what seemed a broken link of a rusted iron chain.

Many were the ejaculations of wonder and alarm, and many and shrewd the conjectures, but none seemed exactly to suit the bearings of the case. And when my father went on to say that 2 lambs of the same valuable breed had perished in the same sigular manner three days previously, and that they also were found mangled and gore-stained, the amazement reached a higher pitch. Old Lady Speldhurst listened with carm, intelligent attention, but joined in none of our exclamations. At length she said to my father, "Try and recollect-have you no enemy among your neighbours?" My started and knit his brow. "Not one that I know of," he repiled; and indeed he was a popular man and a kind landlord. "The more lucky you," said the old dame, with one of her grim smiles. It was now late, and we retired to rest before long. One by one the guests dropped off. I was the member of the family selected to escort old Lady Speldhurst to her room-the room I had vacated in her favour. I did not much like the office. I felt a remarkable repugnance to my godmother, but my worthy aunts insisted so much that I should ingratiate myself with one who had to leave that I could not comply. The visitor hobbled up the broad oaken stairs actively enough, propped on my arm and her ivory crutch. The room never had looked more geniaal and pretty, with its brisk fire, moderm furniture, and the gay French paper on the walls. "A nice room my dear, and I ought to be much obliged to you for it, since my maids tells me it is yours, " said her ladyship; "but I am pretty sure you repent your generosity to me, all after these ghost stories, and tremble to think of a strange bad and chamber"" I made some common place reply. The old lady arched her eyebrows. "Where have they put you, child?" sha asked. "in some cock-loft of the turrets? or in a lumber-room - a regular ghost - trap? I can hear your haert beating with fear this moment. you are not fit to be alone. I tried to call up my pride, and laugh off the accusation against my courage, all the more, perhaps, because I felts its truth. "Do you want anything more that I can get you, Lady Speldhurst?" I asked, trying to feign a yawn of sleepiness. The old dame's keen eyes were upon me. "I rather like you, my dear" she said, "and I like your mamma well enough before she treated me so shamefully about the christening dinner. Now, I know you are frightened and fearful, and is an owl should but flap your window tonight, it might drive you into fits. There is a nice little soft-bed in this dressing closet-call your maid to arrange it for you, and you can sleep there snugly, under the old witch's protection, and then no goblin dare harm you, and nobody will be a bit the wiser, or quiz you for being afraid. " How little I knew what hung in the balance of my refusal or acceptance of that trivial proffer! Had the veil of the future been lifted for one instant! but that veil is impenetrable to our gaze.

I left her door. As I crossed the landing a bright gleam came from another room, whose door was left ajar; it (the light) fell like a bar of golden sheen across my path. As I approached the door opened and my sister Lucy, who had been watching for me, came out. she was already in a white cashmere wrapper, over which her loosened hair hung darkly and heavily, like tangles of silk. "Rosa, love," she whispered, "Minnie and I cant bear the idea of your sleeping out there, all alone, in that solitary room - the very room too Nurse Sherrard used to talk about! so, as you know Minnie has given up her room, and come to sleep in mine, still we should so wish you to stop with us tonight at any rate, and I could make up a bed on the sofa for myself or you - and " I stopped Lucy's mouth with a kiss. I declined her offer. I would not listern to it. In fact, my pride was up in arms, and I felt I would rather pass the night in the churchyard itself than accept a proposal dictated, I felt sure, by the notion that my nerves were shaken by the ghostly lore we had been raking up, that I was weak, superstitious creature, unable to pass a night in a strange chamber. So I would not listern to Lucy, but kissed her, bade her good-night, and went on my way laughing, to show my light heart.

Yet, as I looked back in the dark corridor, and saw the friendly door still ajar, the yellow bar of light crossing from wall to wall, the sweet, knid face still crossing from wall to wall, the sweet, kind face still peering after me from amidst its clustering curls, I felt a thrill of sympathy, a wish to return, a yearning after human love and companionship. False shame was strongest, and conquered. I waved a gay adieu. I turned the corner, and peeping over my shoulder, I saw the door close; the bar of yellow light was there no longer in the darkness of the passage. I thought at that instant that I heard a heavy sigh. I looked sharply around. No one was there. No door was open, yet I fancied, and fancied with a wonderful vividness, that I did hear an actual sigh breathed not far off, and plainly distinguishable from the groan of the sycamore branches as the wind tossed them to and fro sigh for sorrow, not sin, mine had cuause to mourn that night. But imagination plays us strange tricks and my nervous system was not over-composed or very fitted for judicial analysis. I had to go through the picture gallery. I had never entered this apartment by candle-light before and I was struck by the gloomy array of the tall portraits, gazing moodily from the canvas on the lozenge-paned or painted windows, which rattled to the blast as it swept howling by. Many of the faces looked stern, and very different from their daylight expression. In others a furtive, flickering smile seemed to mock me as my candle illumised them; and in all, the eyes, as usual with artistic portraits, seemed to follow my motions with a scrutiny and an interest the more marked for the apathetic immovability of the other features. I felt ill at ease under this stony gaze, though conscious how absurd were my apprehensions; and I called up a smile and an air of mirth, more as if acting a part under the eyes of human beings than of their mere shadows on the wall. I even laughed as I confronted them. No echo had my short-lived laughter but from the hollow armor and arching roof, and I continued on my way in silence.

By a sudden and not uncommon revulsion of feeling I shook off my aimless terrors, blushed at my weakness, and sought my chamber only too glad that I had been the only witness of my late tremors. As I entered my chamber I thought I heard something stir in the neglected lumber-room, which was the only neighbouring apartment. But I was determined to have no more panics, and resolutely shut my eyes to this slight and transient noise, which had nothing unnatural in it; for surely, between rats and wind, an old manor-house on a stormy night needs no sprites to disturb it. So I entered my my room, and rang for my maid. As I did so I looked around me, and a most unaccountable repugnance to my temporary abode came over me, in spite of my efforts. It was no more to be shaken off than a chill is to be shaken off when we enter some damp cave. And, rely at first sight, certain places and people was not implanted in us without some wholesome purpose. I grant it is irrational - mere animal instinct - but is not instinct God's gift, and it is for us to despise it? It is by instinct that childern know their friends from their enemies- that they ditinguish with such unerring accuracy between those who like them and those who only flatter and hate them. Dogs do the same; they will fawn on one person, they slink snarling from another. Show me a man whom children and dogs shrinks from, and I will show you a false, bad man - lies on his lips, and murder at his heart. No; let none despise the heavan-sent gift of innate antipathy, which makes the cattle scent the shambles from afar, and low in terror and disgust as their nostrils snuff the blood-polluted air. I felt this antipathy strongly as I looked around me in my new sleeping room, and yet I could find no reasonable pretext for my dislike. A very good room it was, after all, now that the green damask curtains ere drawn, the fire burning bright and clear, candles burning on the mantle-piece, and the various familiar articles of toilet arranged as usual. The bed, too, looked peaceful and inviting - a pretty little white bed, not at all the guant funeral sort of couch which haunted apartments generally contain.

My maid entered, and assisted mt to lay aside the dress and ornaments I had worn, and arranged my hair, as usual, prattling the while, in Abigail fashion. I seldoem cared to converse with servants; but on that night a sort of dread of being left alone - a longing to keep some human being near me possessed me - and I encouraged the girl to gossip, so that her duties took her half an hour longer to get through than usual. At last, however she had done all that could be done, and all my questions were answered, and my orders for the morrow reiterated and vowed abedience to, and the clock on the turret struck one. Then Mary, yawning a little, asked if I wanted anything more, and I was obiled to answer no, for very shame's sake; and she went. The shutting of the door, gently as it closed, affected me unpleasantly. I took a dislike to the curtains, the tapestry, the dingy pictures - everything. I hated the room. I felt a temptation to put on a cloak, run, half-dressed, to my sister's chamber, and say I had changed my mind and come for shelter. But they must be asleep, I thought, and I could not be so unkind as to wake them. I said my prayers with unusal earnestness and a heavy heart. I extinguished the candles and was just about to lay my head on my pillow, when the idea seized me that I would fasten the door. The candles were extinguished, but the firelight was amply sufficient to guide me. I gained the door. There was a lock, but it was rushy and hampered; my utmost strength could not turn the key. The bolt was broken and worthless. Balked of my intention, I consoled myself by remembering that i had never had need of fastenings yet, and returned to my bed. I lay awake for a good while, watching the red glow of the burning coals in the grate. I was quite now, and more composed. Even the light gossip of the maid, full of petty human cares and joys, had done me good - diverted my thoughts from brooding. I was on the point of dropping asleep, when I was twice disturbed. Once, by an owl, hooting in the ivy outside - no unaccustomed sound, but harsh and melancholy; once, by a long and mournful howling set up by the mastiff, chained in the yard beyond the wing I occupied. A long-drawn, lugubrious howling was this latter, and much such a note as the vulgar declare to herald a death in the family. This was a fancy I had never shared; but yet I could not help feeling that the dog's mournfulmoans were sad, and expressive of terror, not at all like his fierce, honest bark of anger, but rather as if something evil and unwanted was abroad.
But soon I fell asleep!!!



End of Part Two






[Edited on 22-7-2003 by blackwidow666]

[Edited on 23-7-2003 by blackwidow666]

[Edited on 23-7-2003 by blackwidow666]

[Edited on 23-7-2003 by blackwidow666]