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A VISION OF THE NIGHT.

HE rain splashed down, straight, heavy, and pitiless, while the November twilight closed in rapidly. The clouds hung dull and lowering overhead.

I was an artisb, my blood then ran warmly in my veins, and my heart beab high with ambibion and enbhusiasm. I could make lighb of hardships, and even love them for bheir own sake. Bub as I trudged along bhab dreary night bhrough bhe stiff clay mud of a narrow country lane, hungry and soaked to the skin, between hedges of tall holly bushes which streamed rain water upon my head from little reservoirs formed by their polished concave leaves, I thought much less of my intellectual and artistic aspirations than of my chances of a warm supper and a comfortable night's lodgings. For I was wandering on foot through one of the remote districts of the North of England, with the objecb of at once filling my sketch-book and satisfy ing the Bohemian restlessness of my nature staying a day here and a week there, as it pleased me ; sleeping at village inns, or in hospitable farmhouses, free as the breeze and almost as capricious.

I had walked that day some thirty miles over swampy moorland paths and through deeply-rubted cart tracks, where the mud clung tenaciously to my boots and sucked at them as though it would tear them from my feet at every step, and I was anxious to find some homestead that would afford me a shelter before darkness set in. It was much to my relief, therefore, that, just as bhe curtain of misb wu3 thickening impenetrably around me I espied a glimmer through the hollies on my right, and pressing forward, turned a corner and saw the lights of a large farmhouse immediately before me. The lane 1 had followed ran straight into the farmyard and and there came to a a end.

It was a cul-de-sac, and clearly my chance of a night’s lodging depended on the hospitality of thß inmates of the long, low building with the high-pitched thatched roof, of which the outline could be dimly discerned through the gathering gloom. A stream of mellow firelight issued from an open door, and revealed an interior that was rude and homely, but most inviting to a shivering and famished wayfarer. It was a large old-fashioned kitchen, paved with flags of the rough grey stone of the district and lighted by the flames of an enormous coal and wood fire, burning in a huge open grate, under a manblepiece formed of heavy slabs of freestone. Beside it stood a big semi-circular settle, or rough seat of painted wood, a common object in that neighbourhood, its distinctive feature being a screenlike curved back. The rafters of the room before me were adorned with the ( family store of bacon, smoked hams wrapped in sacking, bladders of lard, strings of onions, and bunches of dried herbs. One corner was apparently the saddle-room, and was hung with rows of shining bits, curb-chains, and bridles.

heShE was wat tea through theOofe? and several big earthenware mugs on the long deal table, flanked by pewter spoons, hornhandled knives, and murderous-looking tv/o-pronged steel forks, showed bhab preparations were in progress for the evening meal.

Bending over the fire to turn the hissing and spluttering contents of a shallow fryingpan stood a woman, young and vigorous, though ungraceful. Her figure was square and awkward, her plain gown was bucked up clumsily round her thick waist under a rough apron, her hair was untidy, and her arms red and muscular.

I was disappointed. The piquant contrast between the cheery kitchen and the cold rain without had raised my spirits, and 1 should have been pleased bo be welcomed by some presiding genius more attractive than this too stalwart damsel. I stood irresolute, hesitating to make her burn and disclose the homely features which must needs accompany such a form, till bhe chill trickle of rain-drops falling down my neck from the brim of my hat, washed away my msthetic scruples, and I raised my voice to ask her if she would direct me to the nearest inn,

The woman started and turned sharply round, letting the fab run over into the fiie. She was pleasanter to look at than I expecte'd. Her movements were awkward, her clothes dingy, and her hands coarse, but her face was prettily flushed with the heat of the fire, and her expression had an appealing timidity—a startled nervousness, thab interested and excited sympathy. Bub above all, and as an atonemenb for every other shortcomings, she possesssed a pair of magnificent liquid dark eyes, soft as velvet —eves for which a duchess might have bartered her jewel-box and been a gainer by the bargain, so full and tender were they, and richly fringed with thickly-set curling lashes. The girl’s voice was mellow and deep, of pleasant quality, but quite uneducated. There was no inn within three miles, she said. Theirs was a lone house, and they had no neighbours. I inusb have come sadly out of my way this wild night before I came to their door ; and, glancing compassionately at my dripping clothes, Bhe bade me enter and sit by the fire to dry myself, and wait till her father came in. Nothing loth, I accepted her invitation, and, seating myself under the hospitable shelter of the settle, I spread my chilled hands to the blaze.

What glorious eyes they were, so lustrous and so expressive, and bow strangely out of keeping with the rough setting of the girl’s face and figure: The incongruity between them and the personality of their owner annoyed me. I should have liked to remove them, and fit them into some ideal face that should be worthy of them. I was roused from my fantastic dreaming by the entrance of the farmer and his three sons, who came in with a deafening clatter of heavy nailed boots on the stone floorfour massive forms, bowed with labour, slouching in their loose blouses and clumsy cords. There was little need to proffor my humble petition for shelter. Before I had half told my tale, Dorcas, my velvet-eyed friend, was bid light a fire in the.guest chamber, and I was welcomed to a share of the supper and a pull at the home-brewed ale. .

I watched Dorcas with interest as she moved aboub. She appeared to be the only

female in the household, and at once mistress and servant. Her plate and mug was laid ab our table, and, in the intervals of serving us, she sat down and snatched a hasty meal. “ She is your daughter ’ ” I enquired of the farmer, when Dorcas left the room .for a moment, carrying a big brown jug to be re-filled with beer from the cellar. .

“ Aye,” answered the farmer, gruffly, shooting a suspicious glance at me from beneatli his shaggy brows. The old man’s manner was not encouraging. and I asked no further questions.

I was losing myself in thought when I was aroused by the old mams voice inviting me to retire. Thev wentv to bed betimes, he said, and “ happen ” I should be glad bo do the same. I wasdaken up a short flight of shallow stone steps, along a draughty passage, to a bedroom in a remote part of the building. Here olso a huge fire was burning in the old-fashioned grate, and the big rain drops were coming straight down the wide open chimney, and falling with a splutter on the glowing embers. It was a large, low room, with a damp, unused smell and an air of having been inhabited by people in a superior rank of life to those amongst whom I now found myself.

The furniture was spare bub solid ; the bed a large four-poster, with columns of carved black oak, standing opposite the fireplace. It was unusually large and wide, and was hung with ancient and oftenwashed white dimity curtains, edged with a narrow braiding of faded red. I could nob repress a shiver as I looked at this dreary apartment, and Dorcas, who was making up the fire by piling on dry, crackling logs, looked round quickly, and I fancied I caught a gleam of compassion in her marvellous eyes. However, when she spoke, I understood that bhe impression arose from the natural and unconscious expressiveness of the organs themselves.

“ Ye needn’t be oneasy about t’bed,” she remarked stolidly, in the broad accent which made me start every time she spoke. “ I mosbings keep the faybher bed under my own, and the shoights and blankets have all been to b'foire and,arranging bhe last billet, she prepared to leave the room. “ You are taking a great deal too much trouble about me,” I said warmly. “ This is a delightful room, just the sorb of place to be haunted and have a capital ghost story belonging to it. Some fellow rattling his chain, or a wailing lady, or supernatural business of that sort.”

The girl dropped the poker with a clatter, and stood staring at me. She seemed inclined to take my suggestion quite seriously ; so much so that I suspected 1 must be near the truth, and that there was a story to tell about the grim old chamber. She stood looking at me dubiously as if about to speak, but thought better of it, and with a muttered “ Good-noighl to ye ! ” and a scared glance around, hurried away, closing the door after her with a bang which resounded queerly through the echoing passages. “So the room is haunted ! ” I thought with a smile, and I liked it the better for that. It gave it dignity and interest, I told myself, as 1 gazed forlornly at bhe tattered blue and yellow walls.

A. high-backed chair stood near the fire, •gRBSiStI closely in a aawi'ir 1 . and looking like a stray stall from some dismantled cathedral,which, perverted from its proper uses, had assumed a disguise before adapting itself to secular occupations.

With an effort, I drew this pondrous piece of furniture still closer to the friendly blaze, and, sitting down, began to muse over the strange quarters in which I found myself. Why had the girl looked so scared? The mention of a wailing lady appeared to startle her—was it possible that I had hit, by accident, on the actual legend attached to that dreary old room ? By Jove, what eyes sire had ! What a pity they should be so thrown away ! So I sat, till finding myself thoroughly toasted, and beginning to nod, with a slightly-advonturous thrill 1 plunged into the shadowy recesses of the huge four-poster. It was a bed to be remembered,thotgianb relic of former days ! I did nob fully gauge its size till I had obliterated myself in one corner of its ample pile of feathers, abundant enough for any number of ghostly bed-fellows. Bub the downy pillows were comfortable, and I was wearied with my hard day, and soon dropped into a sound and luxurious slumber. I do nob know how long I had slept, when 1 suddenly awoke with a disagreeable impression that some unnatural sound had broken my rest. I felt disturbed and uneasy, and u queer cold shiver was running down my back, in spite of the warm feathers in which I lay almost buried. The rain had ceased pattering on the window panes, and the wind was now howling round the house. It must have been a blast in the chimney that had wakened me, I thought ; and I composed myself to sleep, when the strange sounds which had mingled in mydreams rang painfully in my ears. It was the wailing of a child, a young child, sounding far away as if in some remote part of the house, but still quite unmistakable, and as I recognised it an unaccountable sensation ran over my skin. Again it was repeated, each time sounding nearer, till at last it appeared to issue from the passage outside my beo’room door. Thoroughly aroused, I started iip, and and looked round the darkening room. My fire was burning low, but the hearth was still covered with wood embers, emitting a sullen glow, while round a single blackened log a fantastic blue flame still flickered, and sent strunge shadows into the gloomy corners. The high-backed chair stood as I had left it, drawn close to the fire, as though some ghostly occupant were cowering there, spreading its chilly hands to the warmth. Again the low wail was heard, evidently close at hand, yet, at the same time, sounding veiled and hollow, like an echo. What could there bo in that child’s voice to thrill me so strangely, making my heart and pulses leap, and cold beads of perspiration rise on my brow as I lay in my-warm bed ? The cry came again, and this time there could be no mistake ! it was at my very door. I closed my eyes involuntarily, and a faint, sick shudder ran through me. Then came a deep sigh and a gentle rustle, and, with a start, I opened them again, and stared fascinated at the strange vision before me.

I dimly distinguished a female figure draped in some loose and flowing garment, and holding a shapeless white bundle care-

fully in its arms. There was a faint) whispering rustle, but no other sound ; not a board creaked under her footstep.

As she stepped into the firelight I could see she was young and graceful. Stie wore a dressing-gown of old-fashioned damask, fanciful in design, but subdued in colour, and daintily finished with ruffles of delicate lace. A long Watteau sacque fell from her shoulders, and her soft, dull-looking powdered hair was piled high over a cushion. The bundle in her arms was made up of fine cambric and lace of a delicate make, though stained and yellowed aB if it had lain by during long years. Her face was turned from me. so that all I could distinguish were bhe graceful contouis of her back and the proud pose of her head as she glided forward in her quaint clinging dress, swaying gently .with an undulating rhythmic motion.

I tried bo speak, but the words seemed to dry in my mouth, and I lav dumbly gazing with a. dull sensation of stupor arid astonishment. My fair visitant went straight to bhe fire and seated herself on the great chair, laying her bundle on her lap, and sat there halfburied in the shadow, while the uncertain firelight danced palely over bhe white mass extended on her knees. She remained motionless, and 1 was beginning to recover from my bewilderment and to ask myself how in the name of wonder this delicately refined figure came to be in a rough farmhouse, when suddenly my heart stood still and my blood chilled in my veins ; for the wailing infant’s cry sounded again, unearthly and appalling, as if heard through some medium, out proceeding beyond possibility of mistako from the midst of that white heap on the woman’s knees.' Yes, the child was evidently there ; and it would be ridiculous to describe the horror which took possession of me'as 1 realised that simple fact. The woman sab still, vaguely seen in the shadow, her head bent, and her long thin hands resting absently on the lace of the infant’s robes. She made no effort to soothe the child or to still its cries, though the maddening wail grew more frequent, and at the same time fainb gasping, as if from exhaustion.and want of breath.

Ab length, however, she seemed to become conscious of the distressful sound, and turning back the lace which covered it, gazed steadily down on the little face, which 1 could dimly make out in the firelight. Then for the first time she turned her own towards me, but rather as if to avoid the sight of bhe child than from any recognition of my presence. Good heavens ! what passions were expressed in that averted face. The concentrated hatred of that look still lives in my memory as a revelation.

I saw a young face, which ought to have been splendidly handsome, for it was oval in shape, delicately featured, and framed in an abundance of soft powdered hair. Bub it was the eyes which arrested my atten-tion-lustrous velvet eyes, almond-shaped and fringed with thick dark lashes—the very eyes I had dreamt of as I closed my own ; those of the girl Dorcas ; only matched with their appropriate face and figure, no longer puzzling and misplaced, bub supremely right, and the crown of an almost perfect beauty. That is, at least, what they would have been but for bheir fearful expression—a wild bunted look of oo.frv’ixi ns*fl with nance, that distorted the lovely countenance. Though I lay right in the line of vision, bhe strange eyes looked past me with an unseeing gaze, wholly absorbed in aiu.ovennastering emotion. A louder cry from the child seemed to rouse the woman, for she stood up and began to walk to and fro in the room, always carrying the infant, but with no attempt to appease it or hush itn wail Presently she paused in her walk, bent over the infanb and drew the lace veil down with Olaobrate care well over its puny lace; then, turning, she slowly approached bhe great bed on which I lay. Breathless I watched her as she silently drew near and deposited her burden on the side furthest from me, close to one of the heavy carved pillars at the foot of the bedstead. She moved deliberately with an air of diabolical determination on her white face, dimly seen by the fitful light of the dying fire, though she stood so near to me bhab I fanoied I could distinguish the lashes on her cheek and trace out the pattern of the infant’9 yellow lace, outlined on the white counterpane. What did she mean to do next, and why did she stand there with such fierce hatred in her eyes, glaring down upon the shapoless heap of tumbled cambric. Gathering her forces together, as if suddenly yielding to an evil suggestion, she snatched up a large square pillow which lay on the bed, though I had nob observed it till that moment, and with a demoniac gesture raised it in the air, held it for a momenb hovering over the child, and then swiftly pressed it down upon bhe baby form below, and held it there with all the strength of her slender frame. The child’s cry stopped abruptly ; there was a smothered groan, und then a fearful silence. But yet the woman stood bhero, still and terrible, weighing on the pillow with all her force, making certain that her unnatural crime should nob fail in its result. With an exclamation of horror, I broke through the spell which bound me, and started forward ; bub as I did so, woman, and child, and pillow dissolved and faded away, and I found mysolf frantically clutching the carved bed-post, trembling with agitation, a cold sweat standing on my limbs and forehead. The grey lighb of early dawn was stealing bhrough the window and feebly lighting the room. The old chair stood-where I had placed it ; but there was no sign of any creature bub myself in the great gloomy chamber; and no spare pillow.

Strangely bewilderejl, I crept back under the bed-clothes, and lay until the day had fully dawned trying to explain to myself the vision 1 had seen, and to resume my usual mood of light-hearted recklessness. Had some ghostly visitant appeared to me from another world, and by some fearful constraint repeated her crime before me on the very scene of its committal ? Or could it be merely a dream born of a feverish brain which had wrought a fanciful web of horrible mystery out of an old chair, a gloomy room, and a pair of beautiful eyes, misplaced in the homely countenance of of a household drudge ? How strangely vivid and real it had seemed to me ? Mv nerves still quivered at the recollection, and 1 half dreaded to see the heavy door tuin noiselessly on its hinges and the beautiful shadow steal gently into the room, carefully holding her detested burden.

I did not tell my tale to the people of the house. I reasoned that I should either have to endure their ridicule, or leave a shadow of terror and mystery to dwell with them under bhe roof that had sheltered me. So I kept my counsel, and, deeply pondering went my way.

The following spring my picture made its mark, and my fellow artists never tired of asking me where I had found the model from which I took that strange face with the pale hair, nor in what nightmare of beauty or horror bhe fiendish expression in her wondrous eyes had first been revealed to

Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/GBARG19010912.2.3

Bibliographic details

Golden Bay Argus, Volume VII, Issue 67, 12 September 1901, Page 2

Word Count
3,490

A VISION OF THE NIGHT. Golden Bay Argus, Volume VII, Issue 67, 12 September 1901, Page 2

A VISION OF THE NIGHT. Golden Bay Argus, Volume VII, Issue 67, 12 September 1901, Page 2

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