THE SHADE OF DARELL.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXVIII, Issue 8, 22 February 1900, Page 23

THE SHADE OF DARELL.

A few miles west of the town of Credition in Devonshire, there is a picturesque and unpretentious house standing in a cluster of oaktrees that bear the evidence of extreme age. The spot has been for centuries the home ot the Darells. The only portion of the aueieut family mansion now remaining lies about fifty yards from the present dwelling, and with a modern adjunct forms the stabling. There is a weird incongruity in the aspect of the place. Ths piece of grey ruin and the ancient oaks rise towering above their surroundings, the stubborn survivors of a pist age, the memories of which overshadow the present with an influence that dominates the minds of all living within a radius of many miles of the homestead. No Darell during the last two centuries has permitted an oak to be felled, or a stone of the ruin to be dislodged, for their clings to these relics of his house a ghostly tradition which is cherished by the family with as sedulous a care as they guard the rust-eaten sword and suit of armour that once belonged to the founder of their race. In the year 1549, when ten thousand of the people of Devon marched on Exeter, bearing crosses before them, in execution of their resolve to ' keep the old and ancient religion as their forefathers before them had done,' Reginald Darell rorle with them by the side of Humphry Arundel, the Governor of St. Michael's Mount. When the rising had been suppressed, and his kinsman, the vicar of St. Thomas, had been hanged on the tower of his own church in his vestments, with his b3ads at his girdle, Darell lay in hiding from the State messengers. He had moie than an average share of the quality that ha i given their name to his race — 'Dare-all' and though a price was on his head, he refused to quit the country, vowing that neither Protector, nor Prince, nor pursuivant would prevent him from hearing Mass in the home of his ancestors on the following Christmas Day. He kept his vow, but was surprised at night in his home through the treachery of one of his retainers. Weakened by his wounds in the fierce struggle with his intending captors, he placed one hand, wet with his own blood, against the wall of the room for support, and, gripping with the other the hair of his traitorous servant, he sank in death on the floor. When the body was moved it was found that the servant, who had fallen with his master, was lifeless too. with a red stain of Darell's blood in the centre of his forehead. One of the pursuivants before departing had hewn in rough characters on the stons of the wall the following lines The laws defyed Here Darell dyed. And beneath were five red marks made by the tinger-tip-* of Darell's hand. The scroll and the marks have survived the wasting effect of time, and are still faintly discernible on the wail ot the chamber Tradition tells that it was the first time a liegeman of the house had been false to the Darell motto of ' True to you,' and that during the centuries that succeeded, no Darell had ever maintained an unfaithful dependent. Any act of dishonesty committed by one of them had been sure to rouse the troubled spirit of Reginald Darell. and some ghost'y portent had revealed the deed, and driven the unworthy servitor from the house. * * * ' He's restless to-nigh*".' said old Mr Darell. as a weird note, sounding like a distant cry of rage that ended in a wail, startled the ears of those asteinbltd at the dinner-table. ' Jle'.-i \ery restless to-night.' ' What on eirlh is it said one of the guests. 'Mr. Reginald, sir,' solemnly responded the grey-haired butler, who was at the moment presenting a dish to him. The inquirer looked at his host for an explanation. 'The spirit of my ancestor lieginald Darell,' he replied. ' Oh, that's it,' said the guest, with a laugh ; and the old servant bestowed on him a look of undisguised contempt. 'Yes,' continued Mr. Darell gravely, 'at this season he always reminds us of his presence. But that's only natural, if one may way so of the supernatural. You know his history, lie never fails to keep his Christmas with us.' ' Really,' snd another gentleman — he wr.s a member of the Psychical Research Society — 'that's most interesting. It would be very gratifying now if you would tell us something ot the phenomena of the case, and the character of the evidence on which it is based.' 'Ah,' replied Mr. Darell, ' I'm sorry I can't satisfy you. What you ask just indicates the mibtake \ou make. You modern investigators approach the matter from an utterly wrong standpoint. A little of the experience that men with my privileges po^ws-s would teach your society that no spirit in ghostdom with any p r e ensions to respectability would bubin t himself to your m« thodH. Your modern '• spooks " — the very name you give tbein is an insult to their order — may allow themselves to be examined and crossexamined like an arranging debtor in a bankruptcy case, but no spectre with claims to a lineage or a history would subject himself to the gross indignity to satisfy some prying sceptic's curiosity. No, a reverent spirit is an essential condition of mind in the mortal who hopes to bridge the gulf thut lies between the material world and the higher order of spirits ; but he who has once succeeded can never afterwards harbour a shadow of doubt as to the reality of the manifestation. But those thus favoured are the few —the chosen fnw. And jtt.' continued Mr. Darell, with a reminisent smile, "I have seen the shade of a I'arell myself, iv the haunted room, and I hid not likely to forget it.' And then, at the general request, he contented to relate his experience.

' Down to the days of my own early youth,' he began, ' the tradition of the Darell ghost still held such sway over the neighbouring country as to be occasionally a source of some slight embarrassment to our family. Servants left our employment, sometimes on the shortest notice, from no other reason than that, being of a timid or imaginative disposition, they refused to submit themselves and their acts to the vigilant care with which the Bpirit of Reginald Darell was supposed to guard the interests of our house, and it was often a matter of difficulty to fill their places. My father, though true to the traditions of his race, had imbibed somewhat of the spirit of cultured scepticism that gave its tone to the thought of the latter half of the eighteenth century ; and, partly from this tendency, and partly from a desire to avoid the inconveniences that sprang from an exaggerated belief in the spectre's powers, he did his best to allay the feeling. But in vain did he argue that the waitings of Darell were nothing more than the nortL winds of winter sighing through the secret recesses of the old ruin, and that most ghostly experiences had their origin in atmospheric or gastronomic disturbances : the memory of his ancestor was too strong for him. I myself, who had been bred on the traditions of our house from my infancy, remained quite unaffected by his reasoning. In the year 1848 our old coachman died, and we had to look for someone to succeed him. This was a matter of unusual difficulty, as the coachman's dwelling was in the stable-building adjoining the haunted room, and we were at length compelled to accept the services of a man named Crump, who had not much in the matter of references to recommend him. The family records told that each hundredth anniversary of DareH's death had been marked by ghostly manifestations of the most aweinspiring kind, and, as this period was approaching, it was generally believed that Crump's frequent visits to the neighbouring inns were made with a view to fortifying himself against the dread of disembodiei spirits by spirits of another kind. He was a morose, disagreeable man, and, before many months' service, he had proved himself thoroughly unsatisfactory. ' The year 1S41) came, and with it the supernatural terrors that had been anticipated. The coachman reported nightly disturbances in the haunted room. Each morning, with terrified looks, he told of unearthly sounds and mysterious occurrences — the displacement of furniture, and the disappearance of oats from the bins — that threw the household into a state of keen nervous agitation. Among the servants there was a young Irishman — Denis O'Connor — whose vivid Celtic imagination, nurtured on tales of the fairies, or "Good People." of his own land, yielded a respect to the tradition of the Darell ghost that bordered on veneration. Yet, strange to say, he was now the one member of the household who showed an inclination to be sceptical. He was no friend of Crump's, and, having formed a bad opinion of his character, wan sorely puzzled at the man's hardihood in facing the alleged terrors of his situation. ' " Ye see, sir," he said to me in one of his confidences, "there was never a man with a bad conscience that could face any spirit, let alone Mr. Reginald, the terr >r of bad servants. It's just lies the man's tellin', so it is, to keep a hnlt on the place he's not fit to be in. At the whieper of a real ghost he'd be off in the shake of a duck's tail." ' Now, here was a matter touching the honour of the family. The possibility of our faith in my ancestor's ghost being thus exploited by one of our own dependents for a dishonest purpose, and turned in a manner against ourselves, was an idea I could not brook. I was a youngster of eighteen at the time, and O'Connor's wor.is suggested to me a boy's method for testing the truth of his suhpicion. I determined to play the ghost myself, to see the effect it would have upon Crump, and I arranged my plans with O'Connor. ' One night, when all was quiet, and the usual hour for Crump's return from the nearest inn was approaching, I stole from the hou^e in ray ghostly habiliments. '\\ hen I had gone a few steps I paused. The black stillness of the night seemed to close in upon me, and I was seized with a sense of lonely isolation from everything human that filled we with a sudden awe. What if the coachman's reports were true ? Would the spirit of Darell permit the spot hallowed by his death to be desecrated by an irreverent fraud .' A vision of the haunted room, garnished as in the past, rose before me, and I saw the old tragedy re-enacted. Then a horrible revulsion of feeling took possession of me. I felt myself powerles-s to advance. An invisible influence sen ed forcing me back to the house. But there was nothing in life 1 sodieaded as the thought of yielding to fear : I could not belie my name, and I vowed that, come what might, I would carry out my revive. Mastering my repugnance by a strong effort, I drew near to the stables. The hideous whiteness of my attire heightened my nervous foreboding by a strange, fanciful dread. It seemed to me the garb of a doomed man — the livery of death, in which he is clothed to be led to his fate. The silence was unbroken by the rustling of a leaf, and I would bave welcomed any sound, even the moaning of Darell, to relieve the acute tension of my nerves. I reached the door of the building and pushed back the bolt, and, without a pause, though the grating of the rusty iron made my pulses throb. I entered the stable. As I passed a stall that was used for one of the horses. I stretched out my hand and felt for him in the darkness — I sought for a scrap of comfort in the thought that anything that breathed was near me. The horse started violently at my touch, and stood trembling under my hand ; then I passed into the haunted room. Placing myself as nearly as I could judge in the centre, I stood with my back to the dreaded wall, while in front, to the right and left, were two doors through which Crump should pass on his way to his bedchamber. Had the place not been in utter darkness I could not, I think, have supported the strain of my overwrought feelings. It was a kind of relief to me that I could 6ee nothing. But even as it was, as I stood breathlessly awaiting the moment for the performance of my part, the terror of my surroundings gradually overmastered me, and I could scarcely resist an impulse to fly from the building. Then a slight sound

from without told me of Crump's approach. As he entered the stable, and the walls of the chamber became dimly visible from the rays of his lantern. I raised my arms and held them outstretched. He appeared at the door to the right and came in rapidly on his way to the other. When he was half across the room, he saw me and stopped. Raising his lantern by an apparently half -conscious effort, he peered at me through the gloom, the picture of mortal fear. With a face of stony horror, he kept his gaze on me for some moments. Then his eyes dilated, and he seemed to look through me and beyond me, as his whole frame shook. ' " My God," he breathed at last, in an awestruck whisper, ' two of them, two of them ' " 'At his words I was seized with a thrill of terror. 1 became conscious of some awful presence that cauped my pulses to throb and my limbs to shake at the same moment with a mingling of heat and cold. By an involuntary movement I turned my head, and the blood rushed back to my heart. A tall, black figure stood behind me, bending slightly over me with open arms as if about to seize me in its grapp, with something in its indefinite, wavering outline that told me it was nothing human. I felt myself powerless to move, and stood as if I had been turned into stone. A low, unearthly laugh sounded through the chamber. Then Crump's voice rose in a shriek : "•Two of you," he cried again — in the frenzy of bis terror he seemed beside himself — " two of you ! But. devils or Darells, I don't fear you ! " ' Then I felt an overpowering shock ; how or whence it came, I knew not. Sick and dizzy I felt myself reeling under it, and my senses left me. • » • ' When I became conscious again I was lying on the floor of the chamber, which was faintly lighted by the morning twilight. Crump's lantern was near me, with the glass shattered. It was some time before I had strength to rise from the ground ; then I dragged my faltering feet to the house, and stole up to my bedroom. A ghastly image faced me as I stood before the looking-glass. My white clothing was spattered with blood, and my face looked haggard and colourless, save for a red stain in the centre of my forehead. 'And that,' concluded Mr. Darell, 'was the manner in which the spirit of my ancestor punished the impiety of his descendant. You may see a alight mark on my forebeal where the wound healed. ' What became of Crump ? Oh, he disappeared, and was never heard of again. It was said that the following morning a man answering his description was seen more than 10 miles from the house speeding across the country like a hunted animal. But he never reappeared, and Denis O'Connor became our coachman, and is our coachman still. ' You think it was courageous of hi-n to take the post,' he continued, in response to a nervous lady, who seemed much impressed by the recital. ' Well, so everyone thought at the time, except my father, who had nothing but scoffs for my ghostly experience. He said that, through some dark hints thrown out by O'Connor, Crump had anticipated the trick that I was going to play ; that his awe at sight of the ghost was feigned, and, seeing in the situation an opportunity for displaying his resolution in the face of supernatural terrors, and at the same time of taking a safe revenge on me, he had attached me with his lantern, and that, my face being half averted at the moment, I had been stunned by the assault, without knowing whence it came ; and that then, in dismay at the belief that he had killed me, Crump had fled.' ' But the real ghost V inquired the lady. ' Ah,' replied Mr Darell, 'my father had his theory about that too. He said it was only my own shadow thrown on the wall behind me, which my heated imagination had tranformed into the black figure of Reginald Darell .But then,' he added, with a whimsical smile, ' even if he was right, it irax the shade of a Darell still.' — St. Frier's.