"But it was in vain that he argued with her. She was a strong-minded, self-willed woman, with one idea—one monomania—love for 'Old Virginia,' and especially for her own portion of the soil. She absolutely rejected the plan of emigration, and told Ernest, in the most decided manner, that, go where he might, she never would desert her birthplace.
"She was the stronger of the two, and she prevailed. Ernest embarked nearly all his means in the doubtful enterprise of restoring the old, worn-out fields and rebuilding the mansion, or rather, I should say, repairing it, and building a new house beside it.
"Madeleine, on her part, kept her word. She executed a deed conveying the whole property to her husband. And after he, in a fit of generous abandonment, tore that deed and threw it in the fire, she made a second one, caused it to be recorded, and thus rendered it irrevocable, before she told him anything about it.
"She went even further than this, and aided him in every possible way in his work of restoration. To retrench expenses, so that every spare dollar should go to that enterprise, she discharged her housekeeper, reduced her establishment of servants, and took upon her own shoulders the additional burdens lately borne by those whom she had discharged from her service. She worked hard and constantly. No one knew how severely she toiled—not even her husband, until her labors seriously affected her health. Then Ernest Van Der Vaughan remonstrated. But she smiled and pointed to the growing fields and to the rising mansion.
"Yet the restoration of the lands and the elevation of the house was a work of years. Often progress was arrested by the want of funds, and then, though it cost the mistress many severe heart pangs, one after another of the old family servants were sold to raise the necessary amount, and their places in the field had to be supplied by fresh drafts upon the small household establishment, until at last the mistress was reduced to one maid-of-all-work about her person.
"I do not think your citizens, Agnes, dream of how much labor devolves upon the mistress of a large plantation in circumstances such as these. Even when assisted by an efficient housekeeper, and many well-trained servants, the duties are onerous, sometimes oppressive, Madeleine Van Der Vaughan had deprived herself of nearly all help; but most willingly she bore her self-assumed burden, only showing distress when some financial exigency compelled her to wound humanity. She gave her heart, her life, to one object of her ambition. Yes—literally, this was so; for it was observable that as the carefully tended land recovered, she lost vitality, and as the mansion arose, she sank.
"It was in glorious autumn, when the richest wheat harvest that had ever been reaped in the State was gathered into the barns of Wolfbrake, and the finest corn crop that had ever grown in the valley, stood ripe in the fields, that the house was finished.
"So much money had been spent and so many debts remained to be paid, that there was but little to expend upon furniture, and Mrs. Van Der Vaughan could not appoint her house in a style so gorgeous as would have satisfied her ambition. However, it was furnished in the manner that you now see, which, after all, is much handsomer than anything that was known to the grand old Van Der Vaughans in their grandest days of, no doubt, fabulous grandeur.
"It was about the first of November that the last of the Van Der Vaughans removed into this house.
"The plastering of the sleeping-rooms was not so well dried as had been supposed. This was soon ascertained by Mr. Van Der Vaughan, who advised and entreated his wife to delay the removal.
"But when had Madeleine Van Der Vaughan yielded to any will but her own? With the impatience and fever of a long desire, she hastened to take possession of her new residence.
"Although the weather had continued fine, with westerly or southerly winds, up to the day of removal, yet then the wind shifted to the east, blowing up masses of dark clouds and cold mists, followed by rain and even sleet.
"Alas! worn out by self-assumed, unnecessary burdens, Madeleine Van Der Vaughan was in no condition successfully to meet a change of weather and other circumstances. Moreover, she, so earnest in her ambition, so zealous for ostentation, was fatally careless in regard to her own personal comforts. There was no grate or stove in her chamber, or in any other room in the house; all depended upon open fireplaces, which, however handsome, cheerful and poetic they may look, are not always just the very best things for damp houses in severe weather.
"Mrs. Van Der Vaughan's chamber could not be properly dried and heated. The consequence was that she took a severe cold, which fell upon her lungs, and from which she, in her enfeebled state, had not power to recover. She dropped into a rapid consumption, and in six weeks from her triumphantentréeinto her new house, she was borne thence to the family burial-ground, that you may see from your windows."
"Poor lady! What room did she occupy?"
"Yours."
"And—she died there?"
"Yes; she died there, a victim, I am sure, of her own impatient, feverish ambition."
"Do not judge her harshly."
"I do not. This is the reputation she has left behind her."
"Yet it may not have been her true character. Reputation is one thing, character is another," said I, falling into thought, and then reflecting that much yet must remain to be told, to give me a sure clew to the household mystery.
"Well, what else?" I inquired.
"What else, my dear? Why, nothing else. I have told you all her story to her death," said Mathilde, uneasily.
"But, after all," said I, "one of the most interesting things in the connection, is your father's purchase of this fine property."
"Ah, true! Well, after the death of his lady, Ernest Van Der Vaughan removed back into the old house, and closed up the new one. In the course of a few weeks he advertised the property for sale, but months passed, and no purchaser appeared willing to give him the price set upon the estate.
"A year went by, and Mr. Van Der Vaughan made the acquaintance of a young lady, Alice Brightwell, who was, it is said, as strong a contrast as possible to his late wife; for Alice was young, and fair and gay, loved music, dancing and company, and had not a regret, a care, or an ambition in the world.
"It must have been the attraction of antagonism that united the hearts of this dark and sombre man of thirty, and this laughing, careless girl of nineteen, for it is said that they were greatly attached to each other.
"At all events, after a brief courtship, and a briefer engagement they were married; and when Mr. Van Der Vaughan proposed to her, as he had to his first wife, that they should emigrate to the West, she, in her gay, adventurous love of novelty, eagerly assented, notwithstanding that to go with him thither, she must leave her parents, brothers and sisters.
"Once more the property came into the market, and my father, seeing the advertisement, and desiring to remove to Virginia, opened a correspondence with the proprietor, then made a visit of inspection, and finally became the purchaser of the estates.
"When the transfer was about to be made, my father, pointing to the family graveyard, inquired of Mr. Van Der Vaughan whether he did not feel an unwillingness to sell that piece of ground, and told him that he might readily make an exception of that plot, and retain it in his own right.
"But Mr. Van Der Vaughan replied that he did not really care to own a foot of ground on the estate.
"My father then told him that if he would like to retain the graveyard it should make no difference in the price of the whole already agreed upon—for my father, you see, Alice, felt a sort of hesitation in buying the place without exempting the bones of the old family from the purchase.
"But Mr. Van Der Vaughan had no scruples of the sort.
"'No,' he said, 'Mr. Legare, if I were to retain possession of the graveyard, I and my heirs after me, would own an acre of ground in the very midst of your estate, which, as it stands now, might make no difference, as I shall never return to claim it, and could make no use of it if I did; but which might embarrass you very much should you ever wish to sell the property.'
"That was good reasoning enough, I suppose, and, at all events, the sale was completed without the exception.
"We moved into the house, and Mr. Van Der Vaughan and his bride departed for Kansas."
"And he really, when he might just as easily have avoided it, sold the bones of his wife and her ancestors to a stranger!"
"Even so, my dear Agnes, and believe me, that we all felt as much shocked as you look."
"But," said I, fixing my eyes upon her face, where the flickering firelight made the shadows play, "the stranger has not been able to retain the peaceable possession of his purchase!"
"What—what mean you, Agnes!" exclaimed Mathilde, in alarm.
"I mean that the late proud lady of Wolfbrake still carries the keys, and unlocks doors at will!"
"Heavens! do you know that?"
"Ay! I know much more than that. I know the portrait that performed the humiliating office of firescreen in the next room is the likeness of the haughty Madeleine Van Der Vaughan! I know, beside——"
"What more do you know?"
"That our travelers have arrived!" I said, as the sound of footsteps and voices at the hall door fell upon my ear.
It was true. We were interrupted.
As if "borne on the wings of love," the slow old stage-coach was so much earlier that evening that our friends arrived an hour earlier than we had expected them, while Mrs. Legare was still superintending the arrangement of her supper-table, and Mr. Legare was grating nutmeg over his huge bowl of eggnog, so there was no one to welcome the visitors except Mathilde and myself.
As they entered the parlor we arose and advanced to meet them.
"Mathilde! Miss Legare! Can it be possible! This is, indeed, indeed, a joyous surprise," exclaimed Frank Howard, as he recognized his ladylove, and with an eager smile extended his hand; while my brother, without ceremony, embraced me cordially.
"I thought you knew to whom you were coming," said Mathilde, with simple candor.
"No! I scarcely dared to hope for such happiness!"
"Hey-day! Hal-loe!—do you know anybody here, Frank?" exclaimed my wild and thoughtless brother.
But before Mr. Howard had time to answer, I pinched Jack's arm, turned him around, and presented him to Miss Legare.
The refined and elegant presence of Mathilde immediately brought my rude cadet to order, and he gracefully expressed the pleasure and honor he felt in being permitted to make her acquaintance.
Miss Legare welcomed my brother with more cordiality than she had bestowed upon her lover.
And I turned to receive Frank Howard's offered hand, and responded to his expressions of satisfaction at the present opportunity of renewing our acquaintance.
When these rather commonplace ceremonies were over Miss Legare invited her guests to be seated, and we resumed our chairs. A deep blush settled upon the beautiful face of Mathilde.
But, whatever might have been the emotions of Mr. Howard, he suppressed them through that regnant self-control that ever distinguished his manners. And he was the first to perceive the entrance of Mr. and Mrs. Legare, and to arise and advance to receive them.
My brother presented Mr. Howard to Mr. Legare, who received him with cordial politeness, and in his turn introduced him to Mrs. Legare, who smilingly welcomed him to Virginia.
Certainly Howard had nothing to complain of in his reception. There was not the slightest lack of respect and kindness, and not the least over-doing of ceremony, which would have been still more offensive. All was natural and genial, as if there had not once existed a strong hostility to Frank Howard, the machinist. I was charmed at the manner with which my dear host and hostess completely overcame their prejudices, or at least suppressed them, and treated Mr. Howard in all respects as an honored and welcome guest, and did this assuredly not in the spirit of hypocrisy, but of hospitality, as they understood its requirements.
Soon Rachel Noales and the other young persons of the Christmas party came in, were introduced, seated, and conversation became general and free. This afforded me the coveted opportunity of having a moment's talk aside with my brother.
"Johnny! tell me now, and tell me quickly, and truly—was there any design on you or your friend's part to get him invited here?"
"Design! bless you, no!" replied my brother, opening wide his great gray eyes.
"I thought not; for, if the truth must be told, honest Johnny was anything but a diplomat."
"Well, there was no conscious manœuvring on your part, but was there not on his?"
"Why, bless you, no! Why should there have been?" "'Why should there have been?' Oh, Johnny! Johnny! where are your perceptive faculties? You will never be wideawake enough for a soldier!"
"I don't know what you would be at."
"I suppose not. But did you observe nothing interesting in the meeting between Mr. Howard and Miss Legare?"
"Oh, oh, oh, oh! Whew ew-ew-ew! Is that it?"
"Yes."
"That's what you meant when you pinched my arm black and blue?"
"Yes."
"A sorry dog. He never hinted one word about this to me."
"He had no right to do so, nor must you speak of it."
"Eh! why?"
"Because—but I had better tell you all about it. They met about three years ago for the first time. It was at Saratoga, where he was making quite a figure. The acquaintance had ripened to friendship, and something more when 'papa' bethought himself to inquire who this very distinguished-looking gentleman might be at home among his own people, and was informed that he was—a machinist by trade! Recall to mind the passion of Desdemonia's proud patrician 'pa' on discovering that he had a black-a-moor for a son-in-law, and you may be able remotely to conceive the consternation of Mr. Legare. He hurried his family away from Saratoga, and forbid the name of Howard to be mentioned in his presence. The lovers never corresponded, and never met until this evening! You may judge how much cause for speculation there is in this meeting."
"Yes—but within these three years great changes have taken place. Mr. Howard is a distinguished man—a man of fortune, and of acknowledged talent—one of the lawgivers of the nation. And Mr. Legare and his family are reduced from wealth to a moderate competency."
"Yes, I know; but that does not change the old aristocrat's manner of regarding the affair. He contends that a gentleman born is always a gentleman, and a peasant always a peasant, notwithstanding the vicissitudes of fortune, that may enrich the one and impoverish the other."
"Or rather, he contended so—it belongs to the past tense. Look at him now—see what deference he pays to Mr. Howard's opinions."
"The mere politeness of the host. Take nothing for granted from that."
"Nay, but Frank Howard is a gentleman of whom any father might be proud as a son-in-law."
"Very likely. But Mr. Legare is not 'any' father. However, what I wish to know is, whether Frank Howard did not use you to procure the 'bid' that brought him hither?"
"No, indeed!"
"How came it, then, you artful boy, that you took just the course, and the only course, by which you could procure him an invitation?"
"I don't understand you."
"You innocent! How came it, then, that you wrote to Mr. Legare, you would be very happy to obey his summons, and spend the holidays at Wolfbrake, but that you had a friend with you whom you could not leave, and whom you took care not to mention by name?"
"Oh, because I never gave the matter a moment's thought. When I got Mr. Legare's letter, I just sat down and answered it right off, and mentioned my friend merely as my friend. If I had, as you seem to think, been fishing for an invitation for him also, I certainly should have mentioned him by name and title as the Hon. Frank Howard, of Massachusetts, etc., etc., etc."
"In which case you certainly would not have been invited to bring him here."
"Probably not, but I did not know that. What knew I of the hostility, or even of the acquaintance, between the parties? I acted only in simple honesty."
"The best way to act, my dear Johnny."
"And so blundered into helping the lovers."
"Not so. You were providentially led."
"Well, as soon as ever I received the invitation, I hastened to write and give the name of my friend to our host, as I should have done at first, if I had dreamed of his being invited to accompany me. And as for Frank Howard, he was as innocent of design as myself. He knew nothing about the matter until I showed him Mr. Legare's last letter, and pressed him to go with me. He then asked me if Mr. Legare was any relation of the Legares, of Louisiana. I said I believed he had brothers in Louisiana, but I was not certain, as I knew very little of the family. Then he told me that he had had the pleasure of meeting a Mr. Legare, of Louisiana, at Saratoga, and should feel happy in making the acquaintance of any of his family; and there the conversation stopped. Frank was evidently as much astonished as delighted at the unexpected meeting with his ladylove."
"I am glad to know it," said I.
And then, not to continue the rudeness of an aside conversation, I took my brother to Rachel Noales, and left him with her, while I joined my kind old host.
Supper was soon after announced, and we were all marshaled into the dining-room, where a sumptuous feast was spread, over which we lingered, eating and drinking, with epicurean leisure, and talking and laughing for more than an hour. I said we—but I should rather say they—for I could not eat, or talk, or laugh. At last the long-drawn meal came to an end.
The company adjourned to the drawing-room, and an hour was passed in pleasant conversation, and then, in consideration of the fatigue of the newly-arrived guests, we separated for the night.
In the hall I noticed a diminutive page, of the African race, who rejoiced in the chivalric name of Emmanuel Philibert, which was adapted to daily and popular use by the abbreviative of Phlit. Phlit was standing, and solemnly holding a light in one hand and a bootjack in the other, waiting to attend the two gentlemen to their bedroom.
But Mr. Legare took upon himself the office of groom of the chambers, and accompanied his latest guests to their apartment.
Rachel Noales and myself reached ours about the same time. We heard the voice of Mr. Legare taking leave of the gentlemen for the night; we heard him and the little waiter Phlit, go downstairs and out at the hall door, fastening it after them.
"I will take care that this is secured to-night," said Rachel, going and carefully locking our door, and then trying it to be sure that it was fast. "That will do," she said, when she had satisfied herself of its security.
Then, as we were very weary, we prepared to retire. We were soon in bed.
Rachel was soon asleep.
Not so myself. I lay perfectly still, almost breathless, waiting the developments of the night. And, reader, it was while lying thus wide awake, and gazing straight out through the window to the spot where the family tombstones gleamed white and spectral in the moonlight among the dark firs, that my ear was struck by the click of the recoiling lock, and, turning, I saw the door swing slowly open and my dark-robed midnight visitant enter. Though wide awake as at this moment, I was deprived, by excess of awe, of the power of speech or motion. Slowly the spectre advanced and stood as before, pointing to the dark-red spot hid beneath the carpet under her feet. I essayed once more to speak to her, but such terror as her presence had never before inspired froze my utterance. I listened, wondering if my companion in the other bed was conscious of this supernatural presence in the room; but the deep and regular breathing of Rachel assured me that she was sleeping soundly, the deep sleep of fatigue.
And all this while the black-robed woman stood holding my eyes with her fixed and burning gaze, and pointing to the spot on the floor. Then, letting her arm fall slowly to her side, she passed, in measured steps, from the room, and through the door that swung to, gradually, and closed behind her. Again I essayed to cry out, but the spell was still upon me, and no sound escaped my paralyzed lips. While lying thus, I heard once more the recoiling click of a lock, and the swing of a door upon its hinges; but this time it was not our own but another door—that of the opposite chamber, where my brother and his friend slept.
"Who's there?" I heard John call out, in no pleasant voice, and seeming evidently annoyed at the disturbance.
There was no answer.
"Who's there?" he repeated.
No answer.
"Who's there?"
Continued silence.
"Phlit!"
No reply.
"Phlit!"
No reply.
"Phlit!"
Dead silence.
"Jet! Is that you?"
The silence of the grave continued; until at last the calling of my brother awoke his companion in the other bed.
"What is the matter, John?" I heard him ask.
"Why, some one has unlocked our door and entered, and I can't make them speak; but shoot me if I don't find them out!" said my brother, jumping out of bed and beginning to strike a light.
"You have been dreaming."
"Have I? Look there, then!"
"Well, I see the door is open; but you probably forgot to lock it."
"I'll make sure of it now, then," said John, banging the door violently, locking it with a resonant force and proceeding to search for the supposed intruder. Of course the search was fruitless, and, with many grumbles and threats, he went back to bed.
My brother had not seen the supernatural visitant to his room, who, go where she might, appeared only to me.
While turning these things over in my mind, again I heard John's lock turn and his door swing open, and almost simultaneously his voice called out:
"What the demon does this mean? Who are you then?" as he jumped out of bed, relocked the door, struck a light and proceeded once more vainly to examine the room.
"Well, this is certainly the most inexplicable thing I ever knew in my life!" exclaimed John, with an intonation between astonishment and indignation.
"Oh! I really suppose you did not lock the door properly," replied Howard, getting up and going to ascertain the state of the case. And I heard him unlock and lock the door several times, and finally locking it fast, he said:
"There! now I will guarantee that it will stay shut!" and went back to his couch.
I do not think that more than fifteen minutes had passed before I heard, for the third time, their lock fly back and their door swing open.
"By Jupiter! This is past belief!" exclaimed Mr. Howard, while my brother, without speaking, jumped out of bed and struck a light.
They searched the room. They came out thence and searched the hall. They went up into the garret and searched the rooms over our heads. And, finding no one, they returned, wondering and conjecturing to their chamber, and for the third time that night fast locked their door.
"Take the key out, John," said Mr. Howard. And John withdrew the key and took it to bed with him.
About fifteen minutes more passed and then—"click!" flew the lock, open swung the door, and out of bed jumped John, in a state of mind between affright and rage.
"John, never mind! It is clear that the door will not remain closed; leave it open; to-morrow I will look at the lock and see what is amiss," said Mr. Howard.
And for the fourth time that night I heard my brother muttering like distant thunder, go back to his bed.
But I do not think that he slept that night, and I am sure that I did not.
In the morning I felt weary, and certain that if this mysterious visitation continued, I should go mad. As I was dressing before the toilet mirror, the reflection of my own face in the glass startled and terrified me, it looked so pale, wild and haggard, and not unlike the awful face of the midnight spectre. When Rachel and myself were dressed and ready to go down, I opened the door. And just at that moment my brother and Mr. Howard came out of their chamber and bade us "Good-morning."
"Were you at our door last night, Agnes?" John asked me.
"At your door, John? Certainly not."
"Wasn't you, though?"
"Assuredly not. What should have brought me there?"
"Well, somebody was, that's all!" said my brother, while Mr. Howard silently looked what he did not say.
We all went down together to the parlor, where a fine fire was burning, and Mathilde, in her fresh morning beauty, waited to welcome us.
And soon our host and hostess entered, and in a few moments the breakfast was announced, and we all adjourned to the table.
Breakfast was served long before the usual hour, that the gentlemen of our party might make an early start upon the fox hunt that Mr. Legare had arranged for that day.
While we were still at the table, Mrs. Legare bethought herself to hope that the gentlemen had rested well; when my brusque and thoughtless brother John said:
"No, indeed, my dear madam! We were 'fashed wi' a bogle' all night long."
"Sir?"
"He means, madam, that we could not by any means keep our door locked, and had finally to give up the attempt," explained Mr. Howard.
A deathly paleness overspread Mrs. Legare's face. I knew she regretted the question that she had been tempted to ask, and now she receded from the subject.
Mr. Legare, who had kept his eyes averted and turned a deaf ear to the disclosure, now adroitly changed the topic by speaking of the hunt.
The horses were neighing with impatience in the yard, and as soon as the gentlemen arose from the breakfast-table, they prepared themselves, mounted and rode off to their day's sport.
It proved a very successful chase, for they took the brush before twelve o'clock and returned with fine appetites to the excellent dinner set upon the table at two in the afternoon.
The evening was passed in quiet hilarity, and we separated at a comparatively early hour.
But that night, reader! It passes all my powers of description. I had always been in the habit of "saying" my prayers before retiring; but of late, since I had been habitually haunted, I had taken to praying devoutly before going to bed. I prayed with unusual earnestness this night, and then I retired to my couch. So wearied out in body was I that, despite of mental excitement, I soon fell asleep.
I do not know how long I had slept, probably several hours, for it was near day, when I was awakened by a strong light and a great noise.
I opened my eyes and collected my senses to find that both proceeded from the opposite bedroom, where Mr. Howard and John were up with a lighted candle, looking about for the mysterious and persevering intruder upon their slumbers. The light from their room streamed across the hall and through the open door into ours and fell upon the tall, dark-robed, stern-visaged haunter of my chamber, where she stood pointing her spectral finger to the spot upon the floor. A moment she stood thus, and then, as before, passed slowly from the room and through the open door, that, without hands, closed behind her.
The silvery beams of the full moon poured through the two east windows, and in its light I now saw Rachel Noales sitting up straight, stark and still in her bed.
"Rachel! Rachel!" said I, "what is the matter?"
"Heaven and earth, Agnes, we are haunted!" she gasped, rather than spoke.
"Have you seen anything, Rachel?" I asked, now hoping that she had, for I felt it terrible to be alone in my spectral experiences.
"No, no, I have not seen anything! But that door! that door! that I am sure I fastened so carefully, was unlocked without a key, and opened without hands! I heard and saw it, for I was laying awake!"
"Let us hope that you were mistaken, Rachel."
"No, no, impossible! Oh, I would not sleep another night in this house for the wealth of the Indies!"
While we were talking, the fruitless search proceeded in, the opposite room, until at length it was given up and the friends retired.
Rachel left her bed and came into mine, where she lay and trembled.
Scarcely fifteen minutes of peace and silence passed ere the lock of both doors flew back, and the doors swung open.
Rachel began screaming; the occupants of the opposite chamber started up, exclaiming in every variety of interjection. I arose and donned my double wrapper, and put my feet in slippers, to go and procure restoratives, for Rachel had fallen into spasms.
"For Heaven's sake, what is the matter, Agnes?" inquired my brother, who had put on his dressing-gown and come to the door.
"Oh, the Lord only knows!"
I had seized a bottle of cologne from the dressing-table and began to deluge the face and hands of Rachel, while my brother went and brought his candle and put it inside of our door.
"Do go and wake up Mrs. Legare, John; I can do nothing for Rachel; I never saw anybody in hysterics before, if this is hysterics!" said I, feeling both frightened at the condition and angry at the weakness of my patient.
But, even while I spoke, Mr. Howard, who during this time had been hastily dressing himself, went downstairs to the old house in search of assistance.
The family were speedily aroused. Mr. and Mrs. Legare hurried into the new house. The lady herself entered the chamber where Rachel, as often as her eyes opened in the haunted chamber, fell into new spasms.
"She will not recover until she is removed from this, Mrs. Legare," I said.
"Perhaps not; assist me to put her wrapper on, and we will take her down, and lay her on the parlor sofa," my hostess replied.
And after we had dressed our patient, we carried her down stairs, where the fire was still smoldering, and only needed replenishment.
When the wood was brought and thrown on, and the fire blazed up brightly, lighting and warming the whole room, and the shutters were unclosed, and the rising sun smiled in upon us all, I felt that the gladsome scene was enough to put to flight all the ghosts in Hades, and all the superstitious terrors that ignorance is heir to. I almost began to doubt that I was haunted; and would have done so, but for the sombre and disturbed countenance of my host, who, as soon as Rachel Noales was soothed and put to sleep on the sofa, turned to us and inquired:
"Now, my friends, will you be so good as to explain the cause of your disturbance?"
"A mere trifle, sir," said my brother, brusquely; "the house is haunted."
"You, of course, do not speak seriously; you cannot credit such absurdities."
"My dear, sir, I never believed in ghosts until within the last two nights; but now, with such evidence before me, I should be the most unbelieving of infidels to refuse credence," said my brother, with a mixture of gravity and banter in his tone, that made it impossible to think him in earnest.
"Will you be so kind, Mr. Howard, as to enlighten us?" inquired Mr. Legare, turning toward that gentleman.
"Since you desire me to do so, my dear sir. Well, then, for the two nights we have passed beneath your very hospitable and delightful roof, our rest has been somewhat disturbed——"
"Somewhat disturbed! It has been altogether broken up!" interrupted my brother.
"Be silent, John," I whispered, pinching him.
Mr. Howard went on:
"By an inexplicable circumstance, namely, the flying open of the doors, after we had carefully and securely locked them."
"We haven't slept a wink since we have been in the house. We have spent the nights in jumping up out of bed to lock the doors, and only to have them unlocked and fly open in our faces," said John.
"I thank you, gentlemen, for the information you have given me. Agnes, my dear, have you been disturbed?"
"Yes, sir."
"How?"
"In the same manner, sir, by the unaccountable flying open of the door after I had locked it," said I, suppressing the fact, or fancy, of the mysterious midnight visitant.
"My dear, you have never complained of this before."
"No, sir."
"Why?"
"Because it was more an affair of interest than of complaint. I wished first to investigate alone."
"And have you done so?"
"As far as was possible."
"With what result, my dear Agnes?"
"With no satisfactory one, sir."
"Friends," said the old gentleman, turning toward the assembled guests, "it is vain to deny that a mystery does exist, and for the whole term of my residence here, if not before, has existed in this house, that has, heretofore, defied all investigation. Many of you have heard of the circumstances under which the transfer of property was made. You have heard that Madeleine Van Der Vaughan, the last inheritrix of this estate, was a high-spirited, haughty, self-willed woman, with one idea—the regeneration of her patrimonial estate; that everything—money, health, peace, conscience, life itself, was sacrificed to her monomania; that at last she died a victim to her own ruling passion; that her husband married again, sold the estate, even unto the very graveyard where her body lay, and left the neighborhood; that I became the purchaser; and, finally, that since I have lived in the house not one chamber door has been secure from a seemingly supernatural opening.
"The superstitious among my servants, and poor, ignorant neighbors, ascribe all these mysteries to the presence of Madeleine Van Der Vaughan's restless ghost, still haunting the scene of her toils, ambitions and disappointments. Modern spiritualists would, without doubt, ascribe it to the agency of spirits. I believe in none of these absurdities. But the annoying mystery remains unexplained, and I would give 'the half of my kingdom' to him who should elucidate it."
The old gentleman, at the conclusion of his speech, looked around for an answer among his audience.
"Do you not think that there may be a defect in the locks, sir?" inquired Mr. Howard.
"Oh, 'I cry you, mercy,' sir! Such a possibility did not in the very first instance escape us. The locks have been taken off and examined, and no perceptible defect could be discovered. The half—'the half of my kingdom' to the knight who shall rid me of this mysterious key-bearer."
I saw, by the twinkle of Mr. Howard's eyes, that he possessed a clew to the mystery. I saw him exchange glances with Mathilde, who had just joined us, looking blooming as Hebe in her fresh morning toilet.
Now, I was always a bashful girl—I mean moderately so; therefore, I never could account for the spirit that entered and moved me to say and do what I soon said and did. I happened to be standing beside Mr. Legare, and his hand rested caressingly upon my head, when he repeated:
"'The half of my kingdom' to the knight that shall deliver my castle from this dragon."
I answered:
"Oh, your majesty! Never offer the half of your kingdom! None but a mercenary wretch would undertake the enterprise for such a bribe! Offer the hand of your princess, and a thousand lances shall be laid in rest for such a prize!"
I do not know whether he discovered the serious meaning under my lightly-spoken words, for he fell into the humor of the jest, patted me on the head, and said:
"Agreed! the hand of my princess to the brave knight who shall deliver me from this plague!"
"I accept the challenge!" said Mr. Howard, "and promise that in twenty-four hours the mysterious carrier of the keys shall be vanquished!"
"It is a treaty! It is a treaty!" exclaimed one after another of the young men and maidens who were present.
Mr. Legare looked around in some confusion at being taken up so seriously, and then laughing, said:
"Very well—agreed! I ratify the compact, Mr. Howard; though I don't believe your part of it can be fulfilled. And now to breakfast!"
We adjourned to the old house—all who were in the secret wondering in what manner Mr. Howard would undertake to exorcise the key-demon; but all discussion was waived for the present, while we dispatched the necessary business of the table.
After breakfast, Frank Howard asked for a horse and rode up to Frost Height.
He was absent two hours, at the end of which time he returned, bringing with him a set of locksmith's tools, and flat piece of board, such as show-locks are sometimes screwed upon for a sign.
When he had brought these things into the new house he challenged Mr. Legare and all who wished to see the mystery evolved, to accompany him to the chambers above.
Of course, everybody accepted the invitation.
We all went first into the gentlemen's room, and stood around in a semi-circle, with our faces toward the door, and our eyes fixed upon the lock and Frank Howard. First he turned the key, and begged that we would observe that all was fast, and watch the result. Then he came away, and we waited with our eyes fixed upon the lock.
In a little less than fifteen minutes we both heard and saw the catch fly back, and the door swing open!
I cannot tell you with what a superstitious thrill we all shuddered, though this was in broad daylight, and in the mutually supporting presence of a dozen persons, and, though there was a machinist on the spot, professing himself ready to demonstrate that this was a purely mechanical phenomenon!
"There! ladies and gentlemen, you all see the action!"
"We all see!"
"No hand near the lock!"
"None!"
"There could have been no deception."
"Assuredly not," we all declared.
"Oh, certainly not—I have seen the thing twenty times," said Mr. Legare.
"And I indorse your declarations, sir; you were right. There was no deception—there is none! It is a purely mechanical phenomenon! But, listen! Spiritual powers reside in mechanical forces. Every year we live elucidates this mystery, though none but the deepest thinkers see this truth in all its importance. Look you! a savage thinks that there is a diabolism in the self-action of a watch—in the reflection of a looking-glass. We think both mysteries to be simple mechanical combinations! Pray look at the lock before us. I observe that it is Harmon's patent. Poor Harmon, a demented machinist, scarcely knew what he would be at, and so undertook to make an invaluable improvement in the common door-lock. This is one of his; its intricate machinery has got out of order, and hence 'the fantastic tricks before high heaven' that these rooms have witnessed! I am about to take off the lock, to prove what I have stated, as well as to remedy the evil."
"Oh, sir, that has been tried—I have seen it done—hope nothing from that!" exclaimed Mr. Legare.
"Patience, my dear sir!" said Frank Howard, taking up the tools with so much of the air of a man accustomed to the handling of them that old Mr. Legare winced and fidgeted.
But Frank speedily took off the lock, and brought it to us for inspection.
"Here! you notice that nothing seems amiss," he said.
"Nothing in the world—I told you that before," replied Mr. Legare.
"Furthermore, if now I were to turn the key, it would remain turned."
"Certainly, while the lock is off the door, it looks exactly right, and behaves exactly right; but just put it on the door and lock it, and in from ten to thirty minutes, more or less, it will fly open."
"Exactly; that is what I am about to explain," said Frank Howard, taking up a flat, smooth piece of board, and laying it upon the table; and then he took the lock, laid it on the board, screwed it tightly, turned the key and said:
"It is not the circumstance of this lock being attached to the door that has caused it to act in this manner; for I will prove to you that if the same lock be screwed tightly to any other resisting object—as, for instance, this board—it will act in the same irregular manner. Watch it now, and you will see."
We did so, and in a few minutes we saw the catch fly back, as before.
"I will tell you the reason," said Mr. Howard, unscrewing the lock from the board and inviting us to look on.
"Now, though there seems to be no defect whatever in this lock, yet in truth the whole inside machinery has started slightly outward. This does not affect its right action while detached; but when attached, the continued pressure of the board to which it is fastened, gradually acts upon the spring, and causes the catch in a given time to fly back, and unlock, and the force with which this occurs opens the door. I can well imagine that such unexplained movements, occurring in the middle of the night, should have rather a supernatural effect. But the evil can be remedied in a few minutes."
And then, while we were all dumb with astonishment, Frank Howard took up his tools, went to work, and in about twenty minutes fixed the inside of the lock, and replaced it on the door.
"Now," said he, "if ever this door comes open again without hands, I will consent to forfeit the fair reward of my triumph. And now, friends, I will go to work and mend the other."
And, inviting us to precede him, he passed out, locked the door, gave the key to Mr. Legare, and begged him to take notice that the door would remain fast until he (Mr. Legare) might choose to open it, or to give up the key.
We reached the other chamber door, where twenty minutes' work served to rectify the error. Then, locking that, as he had done the other, he called me to witness that it should remain fast until I should use, or give up the key that he placed in my charge.
We then went downstairs, Mr. Legare having one key safe in his pocket—I having the other secure in mine.
It was the last day of the old year, and company were expected in the evening—not to dance, but to watch it out.
Mrs. Legare went to attend to her extra housekeeping duties, and the young ladies retired to their chambers to arrange their dresses for the next day.
Mr. Legare, Frank Howard, my brother John, and the other gentlemen, took their guns and game-bags, called their dogs, and started off "birding."
I went into the parlor where Rachel Noales still lay upon the sofa, in the state of exhaustion that had succeeded her fright in the morning, and told her that the mystery of the locks was discovered, and explained, as far as I could, the process of demonstration. And Rachel rallied from that hour.
I had reassured her, but who should reassure me? I was still very deeply disturbed. True, the mystery of the opening doors was satisfactorily explained. True, that my midnight visitor might have been an optical illusion, produced by the mysterious surroundings acting upon my highly-susceptible temperament. And true, also, that the resemblance between my visionary woman and the portrait of Madeleine Van Der Vaughan, might have been a mere fancy. But the spot of blood on the floor. Who should explain that?
From time to time, during that day, I slipped upstairs to examine the state of the doors; they remained fast.
The gentlemen dined out, but joined us at an early tea. Nothing was said of the event of the morning, until, as we arose from the table, little Phlit sidled up to his master, and asked for the keys so that he might make fires in the bedrooms, "for de ladies an' gemlen to dress for ebenin.'"
"The deuce! You tell me that the doors remain fast?" demanded Mr. Legare, turning around upon us all.
I assured him that they did. He was too polite to doubt my statement; but he wished to see for himself.
We followed him, and found him in a state of admiration before Mr. Howard's door. When he had gazed some time at that, and tried it in various ways, he turned about and went to mine, which he proved in the same manner. And having found that both remained fast locked, without mistake, he extended his hand to Frank, and said:
"Candidly, Mr. Howard, I did not believe in your success until this moment. You have fairly vanquished the ghosts!"
Frank Howard took the offered hand, and bowed gravely and silently, as he again resigned it. The doors were then opened, and Phlit admitted to do his duties. And we separated to prepare for the evening watch-party.
It was eight o'clock when our friends from the neighborhood came in; and after partaking of a bowl of eggnog in the dining-room, we adjourned to the parlor, where we passed four hours in very pleasant social intercourse, conversing, singing and reading. And as the clock neared the stroke of twelve, Mr. Howard took a volume of Tennyson, and in an affecting manner read his tender and beautiful "Requiem of the Dying Year." All were moved, and as the reader finished, the tears were running down the cheeks of Mathilde, who said:
"Oh! I do not know how any one, even the most thoughtless, can bear to 'dance out the old year!' I could no more do it than I could dance beside the deathbed of a dear old friend! But I must not greet the infant New Year with tears," she exclaimed, and dashing aside the sparkling drops that spangled the roses of her cheeks, and turning to her parents, she said:
"Dearest father! Dearest mother! Let me be the first to wish you a Happy New Year, and many, ever happier returns of it!"
"You make our anniversaries happy, best child; now tell us truly what shall be our New Year's gift to you?" said Mr. Legare, while Mrs. Legare silently embraced her daughter.
Blushing deeply, Mathilde whispered one word to her father, who repressed a rising sigh, and asked:
"Is this so? Must this be so, my dearest child?"
"Yes, my father."
"Then am I doubly bound to do what I am about to do, Mr. Howard!"
Frank Howard stepped eagerly forward.
"Mr. Howard! I always settle outstanding debts at the first of the year," said Mr. Legare, taking the hand of Mathilde and placing it in that of Frank Howard, who gently pressed it, as he answered:
"Sir, I believe that for years, I have possessed the priceless heart of this dear maiden, but her fair hand, I would prefer to owe to her father's approval and good-will, rather than to a mere accident."
"Sir, there are no such things as accidents! I am sixty years old who say it! And as for the rest, sir, 'her father's approval and good-will' always follows his esteem and respect, and now goes with his consent! God bless you! Be true to Mathilde!"
"May Heaven deal with me as I with her!" said Frank Howard, earnestly.
While this important little family aside was going on the other guests were wishing each other a "Happy New Year," and chatting and laughing too merrily and noisily to hear what was there passing.
And now they asked for their cloaks and hoods, which Rachel Noales and I flew to bring; and in less than half an hour all the evening visitors had departed, and the returning sound of their sleighbells died away in the distance.
We that were left separated and retired. When we reached our chamber Rachel and I locked the door and went to bed.
We were sufficiently wearied out to go fast asleep, and sleep until late in the morning, when the loud knocking of little Jet at our chamber door aroused us. I jumped up and went and opened it.
"De doors do stay shet fas' 'nuff now!" exclaimed my little maid, with a broad grin, as she entered.
"Yes, Jet; thanks to Mr. Howard."
"Ain't him a smart gemlan, dough? Wunner if him's a wizard?"
"I really do not know, Jet. You must ask your Miss Mathilde."
"Law! Do she know?"
"Yes, indeed."
"Den I ax her, sure."
And so my little maid proceeded to light the fire.
This was a New Year's day, and a large company was expected to dinner. And it was upon this occasion that the engagement of the Hon. Frank Howard, of Massachusetts, and Miss Mathilde Legare, was announced.
But little is left to be told. For the remainder of my stay I rested in undisturbed peace, suffering no recurrence of opening doors and midnight visitors. I was almost sorry that my ghostly mysteries had found so commonplace a solution—a mechanical defect taking the place of the phantom key, and an optical illusion explaining my midnight vision!—all was accounted for except the spot of blood upon the floor! Upon the morning of my departure, I called Mathilde into the room, and striking an attitude like that of the woman of my vision, I silently pointed to the hidden spot, and gazed at Mathilde, to discover consciousness in her countenance.
But Mathilde first looked back in innocent surprise, and then recollecting herself, said:
"Oh! you allude to a stain there; yes, it is a pity! The men who were painting red lines on the doors over-turned the paint-pot and made a deep, ugly, crimson stain; and, like the spot of blood on Bluebeard's key, 'the more we scrub it the brighter it grows!' The next time a carpenter happens to be at work here, mamma intends to have it planed out."
So much for my last hold upon the supernatural! Let me repeat—the phantom key, a mere mechanical defect; the spot of blood, a mere stain of paint; and the midnight spectre, an optical illusion!
But the reader may ask, how I account for the resemblance between the woman of my vision and the portrait of the ill-fated Madeleine Van Der Vaughan? I answer, that at this distance of time, I regard it as the effect of imagination only, as was the whole vision!
It was about two months after the conclusion of my Christmas visit that I was summoned to Wolfbrake to act as bridesmaid for Mathilde, for it was immediately after the rising of Congress upon the fourth of March, that Mr. Howard went up to claim the hand of his betrothed. They were married upon the seventh. It was a wedding in the fine, old-fashioned country style, with a ball and supper the same evening, and dinner parties and dancing parties, given successively by the neighbors, in honor of the bride, almost every day and night for the next two weeks.
They have now been married several years, and have several children—boys and girls. Frank Howard now holds a "high official" position in the present administration. And old Mr. Legare is justly proud of his gifted son-in-law. As Mathilde is too much of a Creole to bear the rigor of a New England climate they divide the year, spending the summer in Massachusetts and the winter in Virginia "with the old folks at home."
And year after year I have visited them there, and slept in the haunted chamber, but never, since the locks were mended, have I been troubled by an opening door, or a midnight ghost!