THE OAKLEIGH GHOST.

Lyttelton Times, Volume CIII, Issue 12242, 30 June 1900, Page 3

THE OAKLEIGH GHOST.

: (By A. AEMITT.) Author of “The Garden at Mqnkholme, i , etc., etc.) 4 i'i «? i .. ■ j*i

CHAPTER I. Letter from. Miss Connie Wharton to an ’intimate friend: — - * c, Dcar Maggie,'—A most dreadful thing has happened. Either we have got a ghost at Oakleigli, or Nellie thinks we have, ■" yvhich is just as bad, or maybe worse. : ?1 ' “ “ I told you that I was coming to Nellie s lor her birthday. ' She is my cousin, and an awfully nice girl, but rather spoilt, you faiow; because she has no mother,' and Unde just allures her. However, he can’t give ■ flray■ to; her in 'everything. ■ There was a ■ ' -young man whom she wanted, to marry; ' his name was Randolph .Gurney,: he had -• yery little money, and. he had never, settled ' down to anything, so Uncle wouldn’t; ;©f it. The youngman went away to Amen- ■ ca> 'or'- somewhere, and: there was. some .sort ©f a promise not to correspond-' for two " - years. I’m sure I thought that Nellie'had forgotten all about it, but it seems * she ihadn’t. • ' . ‘., . “ You’ll think that I am wandering from my point, from the ghost, in fact, but I m nob; for the young man is the ghost, which yn.i.Vp.s the matter so much more serious. “You know that there always‘has been talk of a ghost at Oakleigh, not a nice, permanent, comfortable one that-you Can. get fcsed to, bur. one of the most disagreeable jcrt—a death-warning. u There is a very old room in the house—gloomy—with oak panels, and all the properties’ of such a place; and when a. per- ■ son belonging to the family was just dead, -.or just going to die,-he or she had the un■pleasant • habit of putting in an appearance Jn\tS^rc<?m ; -and saying something-more or less—to the point. “We i ’to •boflst,, about tbis baun't'Ou )ropm> 'out we none of us believed in it in '£h®leaet- . ' “Well, on, Nelly’s birthday ever so many , people were staying' in the house, and Nelly to shop in this room, because it was e.v rather out of the way/and she wouldn’t put - anyone else in it. It’s at the-end of a long ■passage. She’s slept there before, and always said-she liked it. But this night she was rather excited. She’d had a good many. presents, some of them anonymous, and she ’fancied one -bad come from Randolph, but - she didn’t know which'. I expect this set Juer thinking of him, ‘ and ‘ dream--ing 'of him. At anyrate, she, woke juat as the clock struck twelve—a most unfortunate moment; and there' he was, at least'his voice was—wishing her many happy returns! . . . " ' ' 1 I tell her that it was just a dream, but tibe vows that it wasn’t. She woke out of as dead sleep; she had a horrid little clock by her bedside that startled her by striking twelve, and as soon as that was done, the Voice spoke. She says it was Randolph’s Voice, and nobody elsa’s.' , “The room wasn’t quite dark, because there was a night-light burning in the'bei-jfade-clock that she had received by parcelpost that day—a most intricate little ma-. chine it was; we conMn’t find' out bow to wind it up for a long time. And I wish we hadn’t found out, because then! it couldn’t have awakened her by striking twelve just in the middle of her dream. The worst of it is that she has dreamed it two nights running, only, the ghost dddh’t-.say the same thing the second night, but something mono intimate, some pet name that she says no • om knew except her and Randolph. .“I say she, dreamed it, but as a‘matter of-fact she didn’t; she must have fancied it. instead, a much mere serious thing. I got bar to sleep with me the second night, And thought the trouble was over; but I #woike in the dead of'the night to find that ehe had stolen away to meet her ghost. ißeally I - don’t know that it is /quite ' the , proper thing, is it ?—i ito have clandestine meetings with a ghost. [’And the ghost had kept the appointment, |!though she had lighted all the candles in the Wa, .and stojd in,a regular glare,- begging voice to’ speak "again; bnb'ib 'w’dulan’t. ■ She, said I was just .too late. - The clock, . struck twelve and" then the ghost spoke. ■/ ’“I try tolaugh at her, but I don’t like ithe thing one bit. She takes it so seriously, and declares that Randolph must be dead. She hasn’t his address, so she can’t writ© ito ask Mm—if he’s alive, I mean. I think Pncle ought to' be told, but Nelly won’t let 'are speak to. him.• She begs me to wait for another night, because three is the fatal ■' cumber.

“Ami if Tm Hot afraid, aM don’t turn up 'the candles,'perhaps he’ll tell me more to night,’ she says. So siHy of her ! However, if she sleeps there again I steep there too. The ghost shan’t have the game all to himself any more. All tfco visitors havegone away, so that there is no reason to use the ihoriid room: but -tha ghost has bewitched ]Jser; site says that it’s really Randolph, and ■he’s dead. She keeps on saying that, and .very uncomfortable' it is. I’U let yon know fo-manw what has happened. ; “ Yours 'affectionately, “ Connie Wharton. “P.S-—I needn’t wait nnltil to-morrow. !We have seen Randolph's death in the , Times.” He was on a steamer that went down in a storm two nights ago, about mid- . night, just at the time when Nelly first dreamt the voica You may imaging, whalb she thinks now. I don’t know myself what to believe. But I think that dead people ought to stay where they, are, and not to come Worrying other people whom they pretend to be fond of. And being so incoherent, too ! Why can’t they speak plain:Jy if thiey must speak at all ? But I have told [Uiid'e-— Nelly was quite willing—and he’s [bound to do eamethSng.” CHAPTER H. ' ; ' Vr r3£ f' ■ ErvEsiXGintoNs'. Wharton.did something immediately. ;!He took his daughtenup. to 'town that, very 1 - j«fteroooar to - see a in nefvqiis dis!eases. Nelly’s assurances and .explanations .were thrown away upon 'him As lor the •'loss of.the liner, that was a mere coincidence. ■

k “She’s been thinking of that.fellow, and (dreaming of him. This happens, and she |Bopposes she had a warning. - She told you, ;uid she, beforehand? That’s nothing. Girls are,always,talking.to one another of these Icings. Trollope makes ’em do it, and -Trollope knew. I wish Td had the ghost |of an idea—dear, dear, dear! I’m afraid to .tee the word ghostmow. It’s no use you’re .talking, Connie; just get her ready and ‘yourself too. You’ve got to come'. The ■ivery sight and sound, of a lot of sane folks talking about will do her good. ” , 1 So to Bondon they went, but the great could not be* seen .until the following ; Way. They slept at a London hotel, but jrtwas very, little sleep that Nelly had. She [fretted this time, because she couldn’t hear jtae voice. h “He’ll think I’ve run away from him,” whs complained. j_The specialist thought that hers was a jcistmctly nervous case. Change of air and Scene—travel—society—these were to be [twcommended. She only heard, the voice in theonaroom? Quite so, quite so. The influence of association or an expectant mood would be sufficient. She’d-better -not go back to that 'VSeae; of'iftit'was necessary to prove the Stuaion let-somebody sleep with her there. He prescribed a ,nerve tonic, and suggested fc 'journey, abroad. . I .They returned; to . OaMeigk, and Nelly {wok possession again of the haunted room. (Remonstrances were useless. She was sis (eager now to .bear the voice as she Lad before been afraid of it. Perhaps she herself Ifcardly -knew whether it was a relief or a [vexation to her that Connie was to share ®er room. Connie did not like the idea at ■*ll when it came to the point. \ “Nelly may have got used to ghosts,” »ha said to her uncle, “but I haven’t.” f “Upon my word, you don’t mean to say jChat you believe there’s anything in it?” tried ■ Mr Wharton. i “ I don’t know. I hope there isn’t; bat [llte coincidence was odd, after all.” ' j And the -next morning Connie declared that there was something in it. ■ “ She doesn’t dream it," she said. “ The ,*joice speaks. That horrid clock strikes, W does it-«ay?’’ ! you,

know. It sounded quite, natural, and didn’t frighten me half so much as I expected. But it’s very, very strange'to hear somebody talking away just as you can, and not a creature there.” “Had you a light?’ “ The night-light,* in the clock. ■ I wanted Nelly to send the stupid thing away, but she said she must know when, twelve was near: and really it was better than being in the dark; and Nelly wouldn’t have a bigger light, for fear the ghost shouldn t come.” • “ Who wanted the ghcist?” said- Mr W carton in wrath. “ Well, she did. She was horridly vexed that I was there to hear when he began to be —affectionate. And she asked questions and begged him to answer, but he said his say and was silent. So stupid of him. If people can speak from -another world like that they ought to explain themselves and be caiisiderate.” ... ... • . . “ Can’t'you tell me anything about it—' that'you thought you heard?” ■ “0, the thing was;:. ‘.You"darling, our separation, will tsoon : be ended,’ and, of course, Nelly thinks' she’s going to die directly. I call it horrid of him—if he isdead.”

Mr Wharton gazed at his niece incredulously. He thought she couldn’t be quite sane.

“ It’s been too much for you,” he said. “ I ought not. to have get you to Bleep in that room. I’ve heard of an epidemic of illusions, and you’ve caught this.” “ You’d better try yourself,” she answered flushing. “ You’d probably catch it too.” “That’s just what. I’ll do,” ho declared ; “hut you mustn’t say a word to. Nelly till the last minute, dr she’ll after something in the room and say it was that. I’ll have everything just as it is. Then I’ll lock myself in to-night; and you’ll take her to your room to sleep.” . v “ It won’t satisfy her if you hear nothing, said Connie, “because the'ghost'isn’t likely to speak to you.” ■ “If the ghost’s such a fcol as you make him out to be, that’s exactly what he will do,” said her uncle. So Nelly, wefeping and protesting against “treachery” and' “cruelty,” and saying “ What will he think *of- nie?” was locked out of the haunted room that night. < The next imrning’the Squire’s face was a right to see, for its mingled expression of rage, ' insulted , dignity, perplexity, and fright. ' ' ' • . ' V“I see,” ;said Connie spitefully, “that you’ve caught the epidemic.” “It’s a trick/a trick! I’ll pull every srick down to find bow it’s done.” “So vou heard the voice?”

“The impudence of it,” blustered the Squire. “ To pom- out all that sentimental stuff upon me ——” ,‘jTh© ghost must have gone blind since the first night,” said Connie. “Fancy not knowing the difference between you and Nelly!” , “ And then :to talk of my tyranny; and fco ask if I remember—l- should say if she

remembers—getting me to drive her hjalfway to some private meeting place they had in the wood.” : ’/; ■ • ' “Well, if it is a ghost, he-is a- tool, Connie said, her calmness growing with-her ■uncle’s excitement. “ I don’t believe she ever'did such, a thing, but I’ll ask her,’.’ said Mr Wharton. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” said Connie with significance/ _■ Nevertheless he did, and Nolly did not show on-e moment’s remorse or shame, except for the fact of her “ treachery ’’ ''to Randolph in letting others bear his voice., | “Now you’ll believe ms,’ sue said. “There’s hot a creature in the world except myself and Randolph who knows about that. Oh, why did you turn me out of the room last n’ght?” “If an epidemic, there’s three of us got it how,” .said Connie with more emphasis than grammar. “I .wonder who’ll take itr next. Shall w© send for Dr Griggs,' and see if he stands firm?” But Nellie turned proudly away. . V “ I dou’t know how you can laugh at/' such a thing,” she said, “ when Randolph s dead.” . “Oh, my poor little girl!” said her father, forgetting her faults, “ I wish he wasn’t. You should marry him to-morrow.” CHAPTER HI. Another letter from Connie Wharton, ' and its sequel: “ Dear Maggie,—When I last wrote to you we were in great trouble because we’d got a ghost, now we’re in rather wor^, because the ghost has left us. First he frightened us all by talking, and now he grieves us all by silence. “ I really don’t know whether I’m standing on my head or my heels, nor what I believe and what I don’t believe. . j “I told you how the ghost talked about unsuitably—to Uncle in the middle of the night, and after that Uncle believed no more in Dr Griggs. He had carpenters instead, and people of that sort, to poke round and take up boards. But they discovered nothing. Nelly would sleep in that room, she didn’t sleep at all if we kept her out of it; and the ghost went on talking. She wouldn’t even do- without the ghostly clock, -because after' Randolph’s 1 death appeared in the papers, a friend of his wrote to tell her that the clock had come from Randolph himself —that the friend had forwarded it for him on the right day. having received it beforehand., And I believe she got quite to rely on the clock to wake her up at the proper time, so that after two or three nights she would drop off to sleep and start up when it began to strike, ■ and then, after a time, fall asleep again. What worried -her, however, was the fact that the- voice never answered her questions, but just'talked on to itself, and then stopped. “ Uncle was nearly crazy about it, but Nelly got to take it quite calmly niter a few nights. Then the voice ceased altogether. '

“ And now then she isn’t to be consoled.

.She says, the voice - has been driven away because she wasn’t allowed to hear it alone. . She think’s she’s hurt the. ghost’s feelings or something. “Undo was so mad at his having been the victim of a delusion that he preferred to believe in spiritualism. We’ve had all sorts of mediums down here trying to communicate with the other, world.- Some of them failed; the rest shammed. We know they shammed, because Nelly said it wasn’t -the right voice, and it didn’t say the right things. We all knew that she was ready enough to believe. But. she wasn’t going to be taken in evidently.

“ Then Uncle got another clue, and he believe it’s the right one. He Las turned to the Theosophists and been reading their books, and some of the theories fit exactly. Major Soyth, who took up Esoteric Bud'dliism some years ago, has been to see us; and he explains 'every thing. It seems that it is quite natural—Randolph’s greatest desire having been to see Nelly again—that ‘hiS frailer and more perishable part should r&aoiit liter vicinity, and; utter words of affection. His higher identity has already—so I think I understand, hut a good deal is vague—passed on to loftier- spheres. The disappearing of his voice, means the gradual fading away of his; earthly shell —not his body.fthat is quite, different. '/The absence of attention on the ghost’s part to what was said to him, the irrelevancy of his own remarks, his indifference to Nelly’s entreaties, his idiotic blabbing of secrets —all this is explicable when you conceive the visitation, to be a mere vocal embodiment, of last memories and last desires hovering' round the person who excited them. I can’t express myself properly, but if you could hear Major South, you would know how reasonable ii> sounds. “Do I believe it myself? I don’t know what I believe. But anything is better than supposing that I am off my head, and Uncle is off his head, and'Nelly is off her head, and we are all going, to remain so for the rest of our lives. “ There, is a kind of idea that if we go to Thibet, or some equally impossible-place, and find a Mahatma, or some other equally impossible person—very old, very wise, very good—then we may get into communication with Randolph’s real spirit. Nelly thinks this would be comforting, but I really don’t know. I

“However, Uncle is willing to go anywhere, and to do everything to clear up the mystery; and I can’t, desert .Nelly. “ I do think, though, that if Randolph had been properly fond of Nelly, he never would .have come haunting herein this way. But she says it was kind of him! •

“ Your most! distracted “CONNIE.”

Having finished this epistle, and dropped it in the letter-box in the hall, Connie put on her hat and sallied forth in search of a little fresh air. She thought it would clear her mind of phantoms. And the first person she mot after turning a bend in the drive was the ghost himself. • She had not known Randolph very well, but there was no mistaking him. He walked briskly, looked plump and in good health,, and as soon as he perceived her, lifted his,hat to her, smiling. She pinched herself to be sure that she was awake; then she 1 poked up at the. sky, and down at the ground. -No ghostly hour, no ghostly place thik , “ Air Gurney, is it—you ?” • , “ Nobody else ” —and he laughed I 'joyously. “ You didn’t expect to see me, did you ?” “Not here,” she murmured. “If it had been- in Thibet !”

“In Thibet ? Is that a joke ? Won’t you shake hands with me ■?” “I don’t know that I —dare. Axe you alive ?”

“ Rather. Why—” with sudden consternation ; “you don’t mean to say that you saw the notice of my uncle’s death and thought it was me ?”

“We saw somebody’s death, but whether it was your uncle’s qr not I can’t say. fhen you weren’t drowned ?” - “ Not I. I hope Nolly never thought so for a moment. If anything had happened course I couldn’t' have in that case.”

“ That’s just what you did,” Connie cried, wrathfuliy. “And what I want to know is --why, when a man’s unde gets drowned, the ghost’s nephew comes and haunts people that the ghost never'knew;” ■ “ Aren’t you talking a little oddly ?' Is it a joke, anyway ? But I must go on to the house.”

“ You’d better not ! Suppose anyone saw you ! Do step out of the way into this path !” . “0h ; it’s all right. The old gentleman won’t mind a. bit; My fortune is secured now. He only objected because' I was poor.”. “I wasn’t thinking of the dd gentleman. It’s Nelly I mind about. Consider the shock to her! Sbe’s fancied you dead for ever so long, and when you know ail that’s happened since—” “ You don’t mean to say that she’s got engaged to someone else ? She’s been rather in a hurry, I must say.” . “ She’s, nob likely to have engaged herself to anyone else, with you coming and talking to her (I’m sure I didn’t know how you did it if you were dead, but i!t’s queerer if you’re alive); coming in the most ghostly manner, and calling her all sorts of pet names in the middle of the night.” Randolph stared for a minute and then began to laugh.

“ Oh, that’s it, is it ?” he said. “ Somebody heard, and got talking. But surely Nelly never told what I said ?”, “How could she do anything else?” Connie asked in growing indignation. “The poor girl was frightened ■ out of her wits. She thought it was a sign of your death. And then, when we saw your name among the passengers drowned, that settled it,” “Oh, I say, how dreadful! But Nelly knew. , There was the paper of directions how to wind up the machine.” “ What .machine?” _ “ The phonographic clock.”

“ What ? That horrid little beast that always woke her at twelve o’clock before the voice began to speak?” “Of course it would. I thought 12 p.m, was a sate time for it to begin—when she was all alone. Then she’d know who it came from. And she could regulate the other utterances afterwards, according to directions.” •

“I —begin to understand; though ■we found some paper of directions, and I didn’t know there was such a machine,” said Connie, forgetting her cousin’s trouble, burst suddenly-.into a .peal of laughter. “ .have guessed,” she said, “when you said all those things into that machine,; who would listen to them!” =' “ Blit Nelly never would be so treacherous ” —Randolph began, getting quite red in the face.

“The poor dear thing couldn’t help it. We all thought that she was out of her mind, add turned her by force from the room, that we might listen’ to the ghost ourselves. Oh, the lovely things yon isaid to Unde! And the" way you abused .him to his lace! ' And the secrets you blabbed about yourself and ■ Nelly. I wonder you dage to come back again.” “ I thought it was all right. That phonograph was an invention of a, friend of minfiKobody’s ever done the thing into such, a , handy form before. I put all my little capital into patenting it; for the fellow hadn’t a penny of his own. I’m his partner, and onr fortune’s made. , We've had orders for nearly half a million in the States since I sent that thing off. It’s just turned me from a poor man into a rich one. I waited until I was sure that the boom had begun. Then I came straight oyer.”

“ But you sent that thing first.” “ Well, we’d promised not to write, and that wasn’t writing. I never thought it would turn out like this. But I don’t care. I’ve got to face it up. And if poor Nelly fancies me dead I’ll hurry on and reassure her.”

“ I wouldn’t if I were you. You’ve dona enough mischief already. You'd better let m.c break it to her first.” “Surely she’ll ba glad to see me.” “ It’ll be an awful shock, when she thinks you’re dead. You don’t know what she’s gone through. WoVe had her* up to London to see a specialist. And wo’ve.had. mediums. s .^d< r .,all. .of.

strange folks: here to explain tire—machine. If you’d been a week later wo might have all been off to Central Asia to interview your disembodied spirit.” “ It’ll save a journey then to meet me here.”

“ I wonder you dare,” answered Connie, giving the reins to her feelings in the sudden relief. “When a girl’s idealised you as girls do idealise dead people, when she’s thought of you As a spirit in a superior world, someone to dream of and look up to, how can you burst upon her all at once, and let her see you as you are?” “You do put it in an awful way. But if she’s fond of me really—” “ She’s too fond of you; that’s the danger. How can she bear to find out- —goodness! Here she comes! Do step behind that tree, and let me give her a moment’s •warning.' ■ ' /■ Connie was now in a genuine plight, and pnlled violently at bis sleeve to get Mm out of the way. Perhaps it was this'very undignified action which changed Nelly’s, expression from one of awed wonder to perplexity and wide-eyed inquiry. “ Oh, Randolph,” she said, “is it you?” “ I’m awfully sorry,” said the young man humbly, “but it really is.” “And are you alive?” “I guess I oughtn’t to be from all accounts. But I’m afraid I am. I hope you won’t mind very much.” “Mind very much! Oh, Randolph!” He put out his hands towards her, and she' ran to take them. “ This isn’t a voice. Tkcs isn’t a dream. It is you, really, really!'' “And you aren’t sorry?” . “ Sony?” '“lt was only that Connie saadr—” “What does it matter what Connie said?” Nelly asked ungratefully.

■ Connie waited to hear no more'. She hurried to the house to tell her uncle that it was no longer necessary to go to Thibet.