FATAL FEAR.

Evening Star, Issue 11893, 22 May 1903, Page 8

FATAL FEAR.

[AD Rights Rewired.]

♦ By The Last Middlbton, Author of 'Alastair Bhan Comyn,' etc. Well do I remember her telling of tbe story, my beautiful great-grandmother! She married very young, and her daughters fol-1 lowed her example; so that, in full possession of all her faculties, when fairly advanced in the eighties, she could sit surrounded by a troop of descendants, many of them in the fourth generation, but old enough to appreciate her wonderful memory and to enjoy her clear and graphic narration of events that had occurred in what to them seemed an almost medieval epoch. Well do I recall the still erect and stately figure, in the large eared-chair, whose red brocade showed up her crow-black satin gown. A- kerchief of lace crossed her bosom, there fixed by a miniature portrait of her husband in diamond setting -, on her brow the silver hair, worn in plain low bands, was bound by a fillet of black velvet, with an ornament consisting—if 1 remember rightly—of a single gem—a dia- i mond, or sapphire, or ruby, at the parting (was t called a Sevigne?); her coif of lace, falling on each s,ide of the sweet old face, lay on her shoulders, and framed those delicate features and bright, dark eyes, making ;i picture no one seeing could soon forShe loved to gather her descendants around her, and one especial Christmas a party had assembled, on the occasion of a daughter (she always called them "the girls" still, though most of them were grandmothers) bringing a son and his bride to the patriarchal atmosphere of Alvesdene Court for introduction. What a jolly lot we were! and how we—' brethren, cousins, uncles, and aunts of ell ages and sizes—delighted to roam about the big house, with its long corridors and their plenishing of armor and pictures, its lengthy, though narrow, living room* surrounding the Great Hall—this was the general sitting room, and a truly delightful one, as, unlike most halls, it had neither a staircase of unrestful suggestions crawling out of it, nor a door to the open air, nor a gallery giving on to bedrooms hangiug round it, where servants pass at morning or evening hours and where gnests and hosts are " restlessing " in and out at all times of the day. No, the great hall at Alvesdene was certainly an ideal room. Fully 50 feet high, its upper part alone carried the windows that gave it light; the lower was panelled in dark oak, on which at intervals hung subjects in richly bright tapestry, removing all impression of gloominess. Above the panelling, and below the windows, tall, narrow portraits, hanging a little forward, told their family history. There hung courtier, soldier, statesmau, mariner, with stiff or gracious or prim dame beside them, looking down on the generations that did them credit, or otherwise (for black sheep will show in every largo flock), but as if nothing really mattered to them any more. The big, oaken chimney stood well out into the room, and the hearth, with its huge heraldic "dogs," bore piles of wood that seemed verily cutup trees, giving a cheery warmth that lacked nothing. Three huge bronze gilt chandeliers, burning gas, hung from the finely architectured and blazoned roof, and when all were alight every nook and cranny of the Hall showed as in sun glare; and the Minstrels' Gallery, that ran across one end of the room, supported by its magnificent prop, a carved stone screen, was the only portion that could conceal anything larger than a cat. The vast Turkey carpet that covered the floor in front of the fire seemed but a rug in space, but warmed and enriched a light-colored matting which comforted the floor of big stone flags. Anything less ghostly than the aspect of the whole apartment could scarcely be imagined ; and yet the group gathered about its glowing hearth were heart and sonl in ghost lore. They had cried off muoh lighting, so only the chandelier at the hall's lower end was lit, but this was enough lo brin? into prominent distinctness ail the elevated ancestry as they gazed impassively down on the score of youngsters whose tongues wagged freely over their ever-popu-lar subject. Story and conjectural discussion had succeeded each other, till backs felt coldly clawed, and throats tightened, and eyes were dilated in awe; when .he door behind a great Japan screen opened, and round its corner, on her grandson's arm, came the noble presence and stately figure of my great-grandmother, Mrs Carmichael—" The Mistress," as uer old retainers' fondly and appropriately called tier. Most of us rose; some pushed the red brocade chair nearer the fire; others went for her footstool, or found her smelling bottle or her shawl, despite her gentle deprecation : "You're much too good to old Grannie, dearies," and when she was settled we grouped round her with a general clamor of "Tell us a story, Grannie." "Yes, tell ns a story, Grannie," said a jollv boy of some twelve springtides, "about when you was young!" " Grammar ! Joey," corrected his elder sister, ignored contemptuously by the " man" at school, who headed the renewed demand for a story. Mrs Carmichael smiled upon her young descendants, and stroking the curly head of a small damsel who had croodled up in affectionate familiarity, and made a backrest .of her ancestress's knee, said: " I'm sure ye've beard all my old havers often eno' already—but if you want it badly, 111 think upon something, when you tell me what you've been cracking away about this last hour and moTe." Mrs Carmichael in her stateV fT=hi.in often used Scottish words and expression*; a habit that somehow gave tone a..a distinction to her speech. We felt rather shy at first of telling her what our subject was, lest we should be chidden for fri. htening the younger ones, or ourselves, with superstitions nonsense; but at length some of the bolder spirits asked if she "really and truly " believed in ghosts! "Ghosts!" she exclaimed. "Ghosts! I am auld enough, bairns, to be very chary of saying what I dont believe in—but I'll tell you what I have realised in my 'ong' lifei: that among the many things barely recked of in our poor human philosophy there are some that should only be approached in a spirit of humble reverence; and of these the reappearance of spirits is the first. It is useless to advise on the subject, because it is one that will often be broached, and become a matter for discussion and talk in the least thoughtful .tnd respectful circles, especially in our own class; but I will tell you, as you all call for a story from Grannie, how such a conversation as you've had to-night brought about results anent which I have had regrets all my after life." A stir among the hearers. Some crept nearer to the speaker, others settled them in more restful or attentive positions; and a « o xt of » igh of "Potation, and a muttered Now! came from tne group of children of aU ages, from twelve to twenty-five The ancient lady arranged her shawl on her knee, and folding her small, fragile hands over each other, began a story few had heard her tell before: "Late in the last century," said my great-grandmother, "when railways were not, and when the only mode of travelling comfortably was in your own chaise, coun-try-house visiting was a serious matter. Nowadays I find my friends think three or lour days visit is handsome, even from a long distance! Then, if you were beyond neighborage, it took so long to reach your destination, and you ran so many riks in reaching the same, that weeks and even months were deemed a fitting sphj, oi \mn to pass beneath the hospitable roofs of near friends and kinsfolk. " One Christmas, just such a snowy time as the one which we are now enjoying for, indeed, modern devices of railroads, and gas, and electrical appliances, and such 'ike nineteenth century luxuries make a 'white Yule' (to those who can profit by them) not only tolerable, but enjoyable—such a Christmas, say I, as this, a large party, of which your Grannie formed one, were stayin ir at a big house in the north. yfg though it was, we packed it; there wasn't a 'gentry' room vacant, as the old housekeeper solemnly informed an exploring party of us youngsters. "' Not one?' queried Tre, with the inquisition of youth. 'Not a livable one!' un-v-arfly responded she at once whettmg the edge of curiosity. Then we set to work, and pestered the good dame, till she admitted there was a fine room, where jonie Sir John, or Lord Robert, bad daia. a

troublesome wife, and that the lady couldn't be depended upon not to walk; and though Mrs O'Moira had never met anyone who had seei her, still it was deemed wise never to nse the room, which was kept as a sort of museum with the ancient bed and medieval furniture, cabinets, stools etc., just as it stood at the time of the traditional tragedy. The housekeeper even promised to show it to us, on the morrow, if we'd • let her be' now!

" Needless to say' :that after the early dinner, that was then modish, we youngsters left the elder members of the party to their card tables, and gossip, and retired into a farther room, where we told j,hosL stories till our scalps tingled, till every creak of tbe spindle-legged chairs and stools we sat on (there wasn't much lounging then-a-days, I can tell you) made our hearts twist; and every corner, Adit by the two feeble wax tapers on the high mantel, or the nameless glow of the pent blocks on the hearth, seemed to be full of nameless ' something ' —suggesting Horror " "Oh. grannie!" here breathed Eome ofl.tr audience, hugging themselves in a sort of crawling rapture. Mrs Carmichael nodded gravely 'hi recognition of this involuntary applause, and resumed :

" 1 was a fearless, meddlesome wench of eighteen or so, and nothing frightened me so much as the suspicion that I knew what fear meant. I listened with no feeljng save amusement, only audibly expressing a wish that I might some dav have a chance of meeting one of these alarming ' returners. " Suddenly we became aware of a stir in the room we had left—an opening of doors, and hurrying of feet—and off we went in a body to see what was happening.

" We soon learned that a serious accident had ocurred at our very gate The snow had drifted heavily al! down the road, which was better than most country roads of the time, as it was that used by the ' stage,' but though steps had been taken tv> cut a. fair way through the wreaths, the fact of there being no moon at this time made a passage very hazardous. It seemed that a lady, travelling in her own carriage, had got off the track owincr to a lamp going wrong, and horses, carriage and contents, were whelmed in drift with no possibility of the vehicle, at anv rate, being got out that nrht. The lady was describe 1 as in very delicate health, and ber servants seemed terribly concerned about her. There was no inn within facile reach, even if our host would have risked his cwn horses and servants. There was nothing for it but that, somehow or other, she and her not very numerous retinue must be lodged with us foi the night. How they were brouuht, I know not; perhaps the ladies on pillions, from the distant gate; but before long the upset party were safely within doors of house and stable, and were being warmed and fed as man and beast, certes, required Borely. " Meantime, by our hosts and their family, the question- of room was discussed. After many plans had been proposed and rejected I came timidly forward—we were far more deferential andi less given to shoving ourselves on notice than seems the fashion today. 'Madam,' I said to the hostess, 'my chamber is commodious, though small; allow me to cede it to this unfortunate traveller and occupy the Museum room myself. "'The maid is over bold,' said my hostess kindly enough. ' Nay, child, yon room is dark and gioomful, and a foolish fancy might lead ye into imaginings, indeed Here she paused, and f made haste to say: 'Truly, madam, I protest 1 have no fears; I know what they say ol the room, and I believe not in such quips, and feel sure that nothing could disturb my slumbers.' The lady still demurred, but my father, himself a man of no superstitions (though Scotch), but very travelled for his time, was proud of his daughters nerve, and backed up my petition, so at the last I got my way. "Therefore the Museum room was arranged for occupation—its great gaunt bed, well sheeted, t and smelling of lavender and herbs, and a cheery fire of wood lighted (a* was indeed often done for airing the fine plenishings), with a pile of peats put amgh for addition in the night. '*My room was assigned .to our unexpected guest, one of whose waiting gentle women was put on a shake-down in a sort of wardrobe closet, not far from her lady, «who, she said, often required attention m j the night; indeed, she volunteered to sit in the bedchamber itself, but this her mistress forbade, saying the woman had need of a good rest. "I caught a glimpse of the coach-wrecked traveller as she was being conveyed to her (my!) apartment, and thought truly she looked wan and frail, as far as a veil, halfraised, would allow of .judgment. "My hostess, with father, took me to my own quarters, and after spending some few minutes admiring the handsome furniture and seeing to my comforts, they kissed me good-night and left me to mv vaunted slumbers. "As the further door (there were two) closed on my visitors, a feeing of gloomy lonesomeness came over my spirit, so rare with me that I hardly acknowledged its possibility, and moving the four big candles to where they best lit up the light-absorb-ing depths of the great apartment, and throwing another couple of logs on to those with which father had replenished the fire, I began to undress. "My thoughts were very busy. They first went to the vision I had seen on the stairs, and I pitied deeply the poor invalid who had met with such a cruel misadventure in her frail condition, and wondered whether the shock or the exposure were the most to be feared in her case. But breakdowns, highwaymen, and such bars to travelling ease were not rare (you armwd your servants when you journeyed from London to the then suburb of Kensington), so my mind floated away to the more mysterious subjects that had occupied our heed before the event of the evening broke up our ghost-lore coterie. "When my night gear was donned, and a warm wrap thrown over it, I drew one of the weird-looking old seats to the fire and sat down, for a good spell of what we used to call the 'thinkums.' " story, every superstition we had told and discussed crowded into my head; to which were added bogies of the nursery days, now rendered almost possible of belief through the workings of a roused imagination, and the magic of the hour and surroundings. Soon trie big, quiet room began to be noisy with those cracks and creaks and faint rustlings that make silence audible. " Despite my scorn of fear and my strong young nerves, I really began to feel eerielike and peopled the long, dark corners with dim eyes and wavings of tapestry; and I saw vampire bats in the heavy cornkes and spectral forms among the dull blue damask hangings. "At last my fears o'erbore my reasoning, and truly terrified, with but scanty finishing of preparation, I carried a pair <f candles to a seat by the bedside, and climbing into that vasty chamber of a couch blew out the lights, and croodled within the bedclothes. The old bed, though hardwas not uncomfortable, and youth and sleepiness stood my friends, and' soon 'fetches,' ghosts, were-wolves, and vampires were whelmed in the waters of Lethe. " Once more I became conscious—l heard the door open, and not very quietly either, and in a moment was broad awake; and as often happens, the subject uppermost m one s mind when one slumbered off became alert and active—Ghosts! " The room was nearly dark, but a faint covered light, that was more after-glow than actual illuming, came from the embers of the once; large fire. I saw quite distinctly a white, limply-clad figure, a woman s, pass from the door and across the difficulty towards the bed, in which I lav qnaW and bathed in the sweat of a hoi rime fear. "The ghost of the murdered woman! « J "Voided? Would it speak? The figure dragged itself slowly along— I remember thinking, half sanely, 'Weak through loss of blood! weak through loss of blood! It seemed now to hesitate as if to see, now it moved its arms as if battling with darkness, but ever slowly decreased the distance between itself and halfparalysed me! "The great bed had one side against the wall, which it did not tonch, because of a broad dado, that held it off, as it were. Now in a half mad, impulse stronger than any planned action, I edged myself to the wall side of the bed, and slipped over its Tiigh edge, on to the dado-flat, which just held me. with liiiJo or no noise. Here

I could of course see nothing, but my sense of hearing, became more intense, and seemed to pulse in my head like an active agent. "I soon heard the soft crush of bare feet _ approaching, and then, merciful Heavens! the great bed vibrated with a shock as gome weight was violently thrown upon it I I heard gaspingg of»labored breath, and a heavy pressure up and down on the mattress, a shake of the ; damask curtains, a beat of helpless arms as they found nought but emptiness everywhere; the>i came a long, low moan of indescribable agony, and then—l fainted. " My next consciousness was of daylight and whispering. But I felt so completely exhausted, so glad to know and be nothing, that I betrayed myself not at all, and it was only when lights were brought into the, room, and a figure (my father's) bent over the bed, that 1 opened my eyes, and said: 'I am awake!' And another form, that of my hostess, laid a gentle hand on my brow, and asked how I felt. "But for many days I had the dazed feeling of one who has undergone a great shock, and was cniy half aware that unusual things were going on in the house; as that once, when my door (they hid moved me to another room) was left aj.ir by mistake, I heard a sound as of many feet treading under a heavy burthen. ''When convalescence was assured they arswered series, and told me the tiuc history of my gho.it. " The poor traveller, whose journey was so rudely brought to an end at our" gate, suffered from some peculiar disease, I think of the heart, that could only be relieved by a special drug, which her attendant knew how to administer, and which ailment, left intended, was likely to prove fatal. The attacks came on periodically, and the servants were not expecting one for some time. Likely, however, the shock of the accident brought it on that night, in whose depths the unfortunate, aware of its oncomin", struggled up and painfully sought tlie room, where she hoped to find her waiting woman, and relief. In the strange house she took a wrong turn, and came to me! Alas, alas! in my normal state of nerve I should have been aiert, and ready to cope with the danger of her case, and probab.y saved her life, but my mind, saturattd with superstitious fears, my imagination rile with bogie horrors, I lapsed from reason, and became utterly useless! When I think of the gasps for breath, the poor beating arms, vainly feeling for the coward help that lay trembling and self-wrapt just out of reach, I despite myself to this day, and feel that no homicide could better de-serve the bitter self-reproach that haunted me for long years. "Evidently the poor sufferer, having found help nowhere on earth, had wandered hopeless and dying back to her room, where she was found laid across the bed cold as the bleak winter's dawn that gave light to the tragedy. "The noise I heard was the bearing of her coffin to the burial" ° As Mrs Carmichael ceased speaking somewhat tired with the long effort, °a gentle "Thank you, Grannie," was all the sound that came from the attentive throng. After a few minutes, the dear o'd lack said: " And this is why lam no friend to *ho sort of talk that has occupied mv family this evening. But I ken fine it's m. use making ptvachment upon it, for on dark mgkts, the whole world over, the lore of the Unknown will ever be the pet subject of the young and old, wise and foolishand the fearful longing for touch with th K spirit world may be, m a measure, due to cur sense of immortality."