CHAPTER LXVI.THE GHOST REAPPEARSSo soon as he was alone the real horror of his situation overpowered William Maubray.“They won’t say so, but the rector and Doctor Drake, from totally different points—with minds constituted as dissimilarly as minds can be—have both come to the conclusion that these persecutions are supernatural. No jury on their oaths, having all the facts before them, could find otherwise. I see and know that they are unaccountable, except in this way; and go where I will, I am dogged by the same cruel influence. Five years’ bondage! Where shall I be at the end of that time? What will have become of Violet Darkwell? I must abandon all my hopes—honestly abandon them—it is the price I must pay for the removal of this curse, which otherwise will extend itself, if there be meaning in the threat, to the unconscious object of my hopes.”So raved William, “pacing up and walking down” in his despair.That night he had his old nightmare again, and was visited by what poor Miss Perfect used to call “the spirit key.” In a horror he awaked, and found his wrist grasped by a cold hand precisely as before. This time the gripe was maintained for a longer time than usual,and William traced the hand to its real owner of flesh and blood. Thus was there a gleam of light; but it served him no further.In the evening, still agitated by his discovery, he visited Doctor Drake, who listened first with surprise, and then with downcast thoughtful look, and a grim smile.“I’ll think it over,” said he. “I must be off now,” and he poked his finger toward the window, through which were visible his cob and gig; “they don’t leave me much time; but I’ll manage to be with you by nine this evening, and—and—I don’t care if we try that old Tom,” and the doctor winked comfortably at William. “We’ll be more to ourselves, you know; our rector’s all for tea. Good-bye, and I’ll turn it over carefully in my mind. I have an idea, but—but I’ll consider it—and—nine o’clock to-night, mind.”Thus said the doctor as he climbed into his gig, and nodding over his shoulder to William Maubray, away he drove.Like a restless soul as he was, William toiled hither and thither through the little town of Saxton with his hands in his pockets, and his looks on the pavement, more like an unfortunate gentleman taking his walk in a prison yard, than the proprietor of Gilroyd pacing the High Street of Saxton, where he ranked second only to Trevor, Prince of Revington.Repose is pleasant, but that of Saxton is sometimes too much for the most contemplative man who is even half awake. There are in the town eleven shops, small and great, and you may often look down the length of the High Street, for ten minutes at a time, and see nothing in motion but the motes in the sunshine.William walked back to Gilroyd, and paid himself asit were a visit there, and was vexed tofind he had missed the rector, who had called only half an hour before. The loss of this little diversion was serious. The day dragged heavily. Reader, if you repine at the supposed shortness of the allotted measure of your days, reside at Saxton for a year or two, and your discontent will be healed.Even Doctor Drake was half an hour late for his appointment, and William was very glad to see that pillar of Saxton society at last.When they had made themselves comfortable by the fire, and the physician had adjusted his grog, and William had got his cup of tea by him, after a little silence the doctor began to ask him all sorts of questions about his health and sensations.“I don’t think,” said William, “except perhaps my spirits a little, and my appetite perhaps, this thing has affected my health at all.”“No matter, answer my questions,” said the doctor, who after a while fell into a mysterious silence, and seemed amused, and after a little time further, he expressed a great wish to remain and watch as on the former occasion.“But,” said William, very glad of the offer, “the rector is not coming, and you would wish some one with you.”“No—no one—I don’t mind,” said the doctor, smiling with half-closed eyes into his tumbler. “Or,yes, we’ll have your man up when you go to bed; that will do.”“I missed Dr. Wagget to-day; he called here,” said William.“Not after nightfall, though,” said the physician, with a screw of his lips and eyebrows. “I saw him early to-day;he’s awfully frightened, and spoke like a sermon about it.”William looked sorely disquieted at this confirmation of his estimate of Dr. Wagget’s opinion of the case. He and Drake exchanged a solemn glance, and the doctor lowering his eyes sipped some grog, and bursting into a mysterious fit of laughter which rather frightened William, who helplessly stood at the tea-table, and gazed on the spectacle. Everything began to puzzle him now; the doctor was like an awful grotesque in a dream. How could a good-natured and shrewd man laugh thus, amid suffering and horrors such as he had witnessed?“I beg your pardon, but I could not help laughing when I thought of the rector’s long face to-day, and his long words, by Jove,” and in a minute or two more, the doctor exploded suddenly again, with the old apology on recovering his gravity, and William’s bewilderment increased.The doctor insisted on William’s adhering strictly to his tea and his hours, precisely as if he were alone.And Tom came in, and the doctor, who was in nowise ceremonious, made him sit down by the fire, and furnished him with a glass of the grog he so recommended.He then delivered to Tom a brief popular lecture on the subject he desired him to comprehend, and, having thus charged him, silence reigned; and then the doctor, after an interval, smoked half a dozen pipes, and by the time the last was out it was past three o’clock.The doctor had left the study door open. The moon was shining through the great hall window.“Put off your shoes, make no noise, and follow me close, with the candle, wherever I go. Don’tstirtill I do,” whispered the doctor, repeating the directions he had already given—“Hish!”The doctor had seen a tall, white figure in the hall—in the shade beyond the window.“Hish!” said the doctor again, seizing Tom by the arm, and pointing, with a mysterious nod or two, towards the figure.“Lawk!—Oh! oh!—Lawbless us!” murmured the man; and the doctor with another “Hish,” pushed him gently backward a little.
CHAPTER LXVI.
THE GHOST REAPPEARS
THE GHOST REAPPEARS
THE GHOST REAPPEARS
So soon as he was alone the real horror of his situation overpowered William Maubray.
“They won’t say so, but the rector and Doctor Drake, from totally different points—with minds constituted as dissimilarly as minds can be—have both come to the conclusion that these persecutions are supernatural. No jury on their oaths, having all the facts before them, could find otherwise. I see and know that they are unaccountable, except in this way; and go where I will, I am dogged by the same cruel influence. Five years’ bondage! Where shall I be at the end of that time? What will have become of Violet Darkwell? I must abandon all my hopes—honestly abandon them—it is the price I must pay for the removal of this curse, which otherwise will extend itself, if there be meaning in the threat, to the unconscious object of my hopes.”
So raved William, “pacing up and walking down” in his despair.
That night he had his old nightmare again, and was visited by what poor Miss Perfect used to call “the spirit key.” In a horror he awaked, and found his wrist grasped by a cold hand precisely as before. This time the gripe was maintained for a longer time than usual,and William traced the hand to its real owner of flesh and blood. Thus was there a gleam of light; but it served him no further.
In the evening, still agitated by his discovery, he visited Doctor Drake, who listened first with surprise, and then with downcast thoughtful look, and a grim smile.
“I’ll think it over,” said he. “I must be off now,” and he poked his finger toward the window, through which were visible his cob and gig; “they don’t leave me much time; but I’ll manage to be with you by nine this evening, and—and—I don’t care if we try that old Tom,” and the doctor winked comfortably at William. “We’ll be more to ourselves, you know; our rector’s all for tea. Good-bye, and I’ll turn it over carefully in my mind. I have an idea, but—but I’ll consider it—and—nine o’clock to-night, mind.”
Thus said the doctor as he climbed into his gig, and nodding over his shoulder to William Maubray, away he drove.
Like a restless soul as he was, William toiled hither and thither through the little town of Saxton with his hands in his pockets, and his looks on the pavement, more like an unfortunate gentleman taking his walk in a prison yard, than the proprietor of Gilroyd pacing the High Street of Saxton, where he ranked second only to Trevor, Prince of Revington.
Repose is pleasant, but that of Saxton is sometimes too much for the most contemplative man who is even half awake. There are in the town eleven shops, small and great, and you may often look down the length of the High Street, for ten minutes at a time, and see nothing in motion but the motes in the sunshine.
William walked back to Gilroyd, and paid himself asit were a visit there, and was vexed tofind he had missed the rector, who had called only half an hour before. The loss of this little diversion was serious. The day dragged heavily. Reader, if you repine at the supposed shortness of the allotted measure of your days, reside at Saxton for a year or two, and your discontent will be healed.
Even Doctor Drake was half an hour late for his appointment, and William was very glad to see that pillar of Saxton society at last.
When they had made themselves comfortable by the fire, and the physician had adjusted his grog, and William had got his cup of tea by him, after a little silence the doctor began to ask him all sorts of questions about his health and sensations.
“I don’t think,” said William, “except perhaps my spirits a little, and my appetite perhaps, this thing has affected my health at all.”
“No matter, answer my questions,” said the doctor, who after a while fell into a mysterious silence, and seemed amused, and after a little time further, he expressed a great wish to remain and watch as on the former occasion.
“But,” said William, very glad of the offer, “the rector is not coming, and you would wish some one with you.”
“No—no one—I don’t mind,” said the doctor, smiling with half-closed eyes into his tumbler. “Or,yes, we’ll have your man up when you go to bed; that will do.”
“I missed Dr. Wagget to-day; he called here,” said William.
“Not after nightfall, though,” said the physician, with a screw of his lips and eyebrows. “I saw him early to-day;he’s awfully frightened, and spoke like a sermon about it.”
William looked sorely disquieted at this confirmation of his estimate of Dr. Wagget’s opinion of the case. He and Drake exchanged a solemn glance, and the doctor lowering his eyes sipped some grog, and bursting into a mysterious fit of laughter which rather frightened William, who helplessly stood at the tea-table, and gazed on the spectacle. Everything began to puzzle him now; the doctor was like an awful grotesque in a dream. How could a good-natured and shrewd man laugh thus, amid suffering and horrors such as he had witnessed?
“I beg your pardon, but I could not help laughing when I thought of the rector’s long face to-day, and his long words, by Jove,” and in a minute or two more, the doctor exploded suddenly again, with the old apology on recovering his gravity, and William’s bewilderment increased.
The doctor insisted on William’s adhering strictly to his tea and his hours, precisely as if he were alone.
And Tom came in, and the doctor, who was in nowise ceremonious, made him sit down by the fire, and furnished him with a glass of the grog he so recommended.
He then delivered to Tom a brief popular lecture on the subject he desired him to comprehend, and, having thus charged him, silence reigned; and then the doctor, after an interval, smoked half a dozen pipes, and by the time the last was out it was past three o’clock.
The doctor had left the study door open. The moon was shining through the great hall window.
“Put off your shoes, make no noise, and follow me close, with the candle, wherever I go. Don’tstirtill I do,” whispered the doctor, repeating the directions he had already given—“Hish!”
The doctor had seen a tall, white figure in the hall—in the shade beyond the window.
“Hish!” said the doctor again, seizing Tom by the arm, and pointing, with a mysterious nod or two, towards the figure.
“Lawk!—Oh! oh!—Lawbless us!” murmured the man; and the doctor with another “Hish,” pushed him gently backward a little.