Dead Letter — The Little Guest and the Apparition, part 2

-------------- About ten days after my visit to Mrs. Scott, I kept my promise to her, by returning to inquire about the present condition of Moreland villa.

I saw, as soon as I entered the cottage, that her mind was preyed on by the same convictions which had troubled her on the former occasion.

"If there ain't at least one ghost in that house, then there never was such a thing, and there never will be--now!

You've seen for yourself there ain't a human being in it--_and there is something_!

I've seen it and heard it, and you can't convince a person against them two senses, I reckon."

"I don't want to convince you, Mrs. Scott; I only want to convince myself what this thing is which you have seen and heard.

Have you had any new revelations?"

"I've seen the death-light once since, standing over the house; we saw it, too, shinin' out of that room--John and I saw that together.

We was so set on findin' out whether it was spirits or not, we mustered up courage to go through the house ag'in the next day, and as sure as you're settin' there, _something_ had been back and laid down on that bed ag'in--something light, that scarcely made a dent--you needn't tell me't was any human mortal, which it wasn't. We've heard children cryin', too, which is an evil omen, the dream-book says; an' to clap the climax, Mr. Redfield, there's no use keepin' it back--_we've seen the ghost_!"

I was now as interested as the woman could desire; she had stopped, mysteriously, after making this grave declaration, and sat looking me in the eyes.

I returned her gaze with one of silent inquiry, leaning a little forward in my chair.

Mrs. Scott smoothed her apron absently, with her large hands, still looking into my eyes, as if she saw the ghost in their distending pupils.

I made up my mind that I was going to hear either something of ridiculous shadowyness magnified into an apparition, or something which would give some tangible clue to the mystery, if there was a mystery, of Moreland villa.

"You have been fortunate," said I. "What was it like, pray?"

"You've noticed there was a little balcony under the windows of Henry's room?"

"I know there is such a balcony."

"It was there we saw it.

You know how bright the nights have been lately, with the full moon and the snow.

John and I walked out, night before last, to the front of the villa, to see what we could see--and there it was!

It was as light as day, and we both had a good look at it.

I don't know how long it might have stayed if I hadn't screamed.

John clapped his hand over my mouth to stop me, but he was too late; it sort of riz right up and disappeared."

"But what was it like--man, woman, or child?"

"It was like a ghost, I tell you," replied the housekeeper, stoutly.

"I s'pose sperits are dressed purty much alike in the next world, whether they're men or women.

We read in the Bible of the white robes--and I've never heard of a spook that was dressed in any other way.

It may have been Henry in his shroud, for all I know--that's what I believe it was--there now!"

"Henry was never dressed in a shroud," I answered, gravely; "he was buried in a black-broadcloth suit.

So you see that you were not correct there."

"Oh, well, Mr. Redfield, we can't understand these things--it isn't given to us.

I can tell you what John and I saw, and you can make up your own mind.

There was a shape, on the balcony, standing straight up, white all over.

A long white garment hung from its head to its feet;

its face was turned up to the moon, and its arms were raised as if it prayed.

It's eyes was wide open, and it's face as pale as a corpse's. John and I will both make our affydavit to it, in court, if it's necessary."

"Where did it go to when it disappeared?"

"It seemed to me to turn into the air; but that I wouldn't be so sure about.

John thought it went right through the side of the house."

"Was the window open behind it?"

"Wal, really now, I wouldn't swear that it was, or wasn't. The fact is, I was so scaart the minit I saw it, I like to have dropped.

John was for staying 'to see if it wouldn't come ag'in,' but I wouldn't let him, so we both cut and run."

"I am sorry you didn't use your eyes to better advantage."

"When you see a thing like that, I reckon you'll run, too.

It ain't at all likely the window was open, or we would have noticed it.

It was all shut up the next mornin', the same as ever."

"That was yesterday.

I suppose you have not been in the villa since?"

"Lord!

no, sir.

I wouldn't go now for a hundred dollars."

"Have you noticed any thing else peculiar?"

"Yes, sir.

There's been footsteps around the house in the snow."

"Indeed?"

I said, eagerly; "that is more like something.

Can I see them now?"

"No, sir; the sun's melted 'em all off.

But if you think they're the tracks of persons comin' about the house for any purpose, just tell me, will you, sir, how they happened to be just about the porch, and so on, and not a track to it, nor away from it, in no direction?"

"Indeed, I can not explain it, until I've rooted out the mystery from the beginning."

"Nor it can't be explained," cried the housekeeper, triumphantly.

It worried her to think I was so skeptical when she had given such absolute proofs; the idea of the haunted villa was making her really sick, yet she would not give up her cherished belief in its being haunted.

I think she would have been disappointed if any one had come forward and sworn himself the ghost.

I sat a little while pondering her statements.

There had been nothing, on the former occasion, to convince me that any intruder, human or spiritual, had been in the villa--except the shadowy imprint of a form on Henry's bed, and for the proof that it had not been made before the house was cleaned up, I had nothing but her word.

As for the death-light and the wailing sounds, I conceived that, in that lonesome, solitary place, two persons of the class to which these belonged, with their excited imaginations reäcting upon each other, might easily persuade themselves of such marvels.

Even in this last statement, that both of them had clearly and distinctly seen a white form on the balcony of the room, I did not find much to disturb me.

There is nothing better for producing all kinds of shapes and phantoms to a frightened or superstitious eye, than a bright, moonlight night.

It is far better than the deepest darkness.

The earth is full of weird shadows; the most familiar objects take on an unnatural appearance in the gleaming rays, enhanced in their strange effect by the black, fantastic shadows which stretch away from them.

Add to this, a garment of snow spread over every thing.

The landscape on which we have rested our gaze, every day, for years, under these circumstances will be as novel to us, as if it were a bit of scenery transplanted from some strange and far country.

A vivid fancy, predisposed to the work, can make an excellent ghost out of a rose-bush or a fence-post--a fearful apparition out of the shadow of a cornice heaped with snow.

In the present case, not only were the man and his wife in that feverish state in which the eye makes visions for itself, but they were quite ready to link such phantoms with Henry's room, which they had previously decreed to be the favorite abode of the ghost.

A review of the whole case led me rather to be vexed with them, than satisfied there was any reason for the mental "stew" into which they had heated themselves.

The only tangible things of the whole medley were--the footprints.

If there were actually traces of feet walking about the premises, that was enough to satisfy me--not of a ghost, but of a person, engaged in prying about the villa for some unlawful purpose.

I made up my mind to watch for this person, and entrap him.

It occurred to me, at once, that one of those dare-devil spirits, to be found in every community, was purposely getting up scenic effects on the premises, for the amusement of spreading the report that the villa was haunted, and exciting the gossip and credulity of the village.

I was indignant at the heartlessness of the plan, and resolved, should I catch the perpetrator, to inflict such summary chastisement, as would cure him of his taste for practical joking.

The assertion of the woman that the tracks began and ended nowhere--that no one had approached the house, because there were no footsteps coming in from any direction--did not receive entire credit from me.

Were that actually the case, then, it was positive evidence that the person was secreted in the dwelling--an idea foolish and incredible on the face of it, for many reasons.

However, I was in earnest, now, about the matter; I would ascertain the truth or explode the falsehood, and make an end of it, before painful reports should reach the ears of friends, or every idle ragamuffin in the country make that hallowed place, consecrated by the ties and memories of the one now gone, the focus of his vulgar curiosity.

"Where is your husband?"

"He's sortin' pertaters, or tyin' up seeds, in the loft."

"Please call him down, and give me the keys of the house."

The gardener came, following very reluctantly, at my bidding, while I again entered the villa, and went over every room, stationing him in the hall, so that no one could possibly escape during my visit to the lower and upper floors.

I searched from cellar to garret, while Mrs. Scott, with her pale-blue eyes wide open, and affecting a bustling bravery which her looks belied, accompanied me.

Once, at a sudden noise, she seized the skirts of my overcoat, but resigned them when I told her it was caused by John's shutting the front hall-door.

"Dear!

dear!

there's rats in the villa, at last!"

she exclaimed, removing the cover of a flour-barrel which stood in the store-room.

"They've been in this flour!

I'm sorry, for they're an awful pest.

They'll make trouble if I don't watch 'em clost.

I believe I'll pizen 'em.

Mrs. Moreland told me to take this flour home and use it up; but we haven't needed it yet, and I've left it here, and now they've made pretty work with it."

"If there are rats here, I shan't be surprised at all kinds of noises," I remarked.

"Rats are equal to almost any thing.

They will tramp like an army of men, or stalk like a solitary burglar.

They will throw down plates and cups--like this one, broken on the floor here, since we came here last; muss pillows and drag books out of place.

You really will have to keep a sharp lookout."

"They won't cry like a child, nor moan like a sick person, nor stand on balconies dressed in shrouds!"

observed the housekeeper.

"I think they would do the first two," and I smiled, "but as to the latter, I'm not prepared to assert."

"I reckon not.

I only wish you'd seen it, Mr. Redfield."

"I shall stay to-night in the hope of that pleasure, Mrs. Scott."

"I'm right glad to hear you say so, sir.

It's not pleasant to be placed in the situation I am--to know what I know, and not to have my word taken."

It was true; it could not be pleasant for her to have her earnest statements received with so much skepticism; I did not wonder that she felt hurt, almost offended; at the same time I felt as if I, in my turn, should be intensely aggravated if I found out there was nothing in all this flurry.

This second search resulted in nothing, like the first.

It was nearly dark when we returned to the cottage, where Mrs. Scott allowed me to dandle her fat, good-natured baby, Johnny, while she prepared tea in a style befitting the important occasion of "company."

"If you're in earnest about sittin' up to watch, I'll make coffee, instid of tea, if it's agreeable to you, Mr. Redfield.

It's better to keep one awake."

I assented to this assertion, being of a similar opinion myself.

She set her husband to grinding the delectable berry in a hand-mill, and soon an excellent supper, with cold ham and hot biscuits, was placed upon the table.

The night promised to be clear and cold; the moon would not rise until about eleven; I fortified myself against the hardships of my adventure by two cups of strong coffee, with a substantial meal;

passed an hour or two chatting with the couple and singing Johnny to sleep; then, about eight o'clock, I buttoned my overcoat close, tied my muffler about my neck, and went forth to begin picket-duty.

"I'll leave the coffee-pot on the stove, and a good fire," was the parting promise of the good woman, who seemed to think I had rather a solemn time before me.

"Thank you, Mrs. Scott; if I make no discoveries by one or two o'clock, I shall come in to warm myself, and give up the hope for this occasion.

You know midnight is the witching-hour--it will be useless to stay much later."

"The Lord be with you," she said, earnestly.

Armed with a stout walking-stick, with which I intended to inflict punishment upon any intruder of earthly mold, I walked out on the lawn, taking such a survey as I could in the dim light; like the rain in the children's riddle, I went "round and round the house," and finally took station on the front porch, where I walked softly back and forth, listening for sounds within and without.

I heard and saw nothing.

The long hours slipped slowly away.

Just before moonrise the darkness seemed to deepen, as it does before dawn.

My intention was to take up some position on the lawn, where, unseen myself, I could command the approaches to the villa, and also have a view of Henry's room, with the balcony.

It was time now to secrete myself, before the approaching moon should reveal me to the person or persons who might themselves be on the watch.

Accordingly, I selected a seat on the little rustic bench, completely encircled with bushy evergreens, which not only concealed my person, but afforded me considerable protection from the cold.

I can not, to this day, breathe the pungent odor of the spicy trees, without recalling the experiences of that night.

A silence, like that which Dr. Kane speaks of as one of the most impressive features of the long Arctic night, brooded around; over against the hills came gradually stealing the silvery luster of the rising moon, while the valleys yet lay in profoundest gloom; the dimly glimmering stretches of snow broadened into whiter fields; the picturesque villa, with its turrets and porches and pointed roof, stood black and quiet before me.

I could hear a dog barking afar off, as it were some dream-dog barking in some dream-world.

I had almost forgotten the cause of my being there, at that strange hour, in that lone spot, gazing at that dark mass of building, empty of life and warmth as was _her_ heart of joy or hope;

the intense cold, the odor of the pines and hemlock, the trance of thought into which I had fallen, were benumbing me.

Suddenly I saw a shapeless and shadowy brightness hovering amid those dark turrets.

It was the death-light of which Mrs. Scott had told me.

A

warm thrill ran through my fingers and toes, arousing me to the keenest consciousness.

I watched it flutter and move--stand still--flutter again--and disappear.

It lasted perhaps three minutes.

In that time I had made up my mind as to the mysterious appearance--it was the light of a lamp or candle being carried about in a person's hand.

That was what it most resembled; but who carried it, and how was the reflection thrown _there_, over the roof?

There was certainly a mystery about this which, had I been at all superstitious, or even nervous, would have unfitted me for any further cool investigation.

I resolved that if I could not master the marvel then, I would do it by the light of day.

I

watched intently, hoping it would reäppear, and give me some glimpse of its origin.

While I waited, a ray of light pierced through the shutters of Henry's room.

I will acknowledge that for one single instant the hand of the dead seemed laid on my heart; it turned cold, and refused to beat.

The next, I smiled grimly at myself.

I had never been a moral or physical coward.

The solution of the mystery was now in my grasp, and I had no idea of letting it slip.

I was confident that some person was playing the mischief in the deserted house; but if I had really expected to confront the inhabitants of another world, I should not have hesitated.

The key of the main entrance was in my pocket; I walked swiftly to the house, unlocked the door as softly as possible, and grasping my stick firmly in my hand, sprung up the stairs.

It was quite dark in the house, although it was now light out of doors; in my haste, I hit my foot against a chair at the bottom of the stairs, and overthrew it.

I was provoked, for I wished to come upon these midnight prowlers unawares.

Knowing just where the room was situated, I went directly toward it; it was very dark in the upper passage, all the blinds being closed; I groped for the handle of the door--something rustled, something stirred the air--I flung the door open.

There was no light in it.

All was dark and silent.

Before I could fling the shutter open, letting in a peaceful flood of silver moonlight, my hope of detecting the intruder was almost at an end.

I was certain that something had passed me in the obscurity of the hall; I had been conscious of that subtle magnetism which emanates from a human form, perceived in the blackest night.

It might be the magnetism of soul instead of body, and a disembodied spirit might have sent the same electric current through me.

At all events, I had now nothing for my labor.

I did not think that another journey over the house would result in any discovery, since the warning had been given; I had no lamp or lantern with me; I reluctantly, after lingering and listening some time in vain, closed the room and the house, and returned to the cottage, where I drank the coffee which awaited me, laid down on a buffalo-robe before the stove, and slept away my vexation.

I was not very communicative as to my adventures when eagerly questioned by my entertainers the following morning.

They were satisfied, by my very reticence, that I had seen something to puzzle me, and were both alarmed and triumphant.

In answer to their inquiries, which they were too respectful to press, I assured them that I had reason to think, with them, that the villa required attention.

I had not been able to satisfy myself who was disturbing the premises; but that I should not rest until I knew.

I should return that night and sleep in the villa; I wished to enter it very quietly, probably before dark, so as not to alarm the inmate or inmates; and I was confident that I should thus be able to pounce upon the ghost.

Mrs. Scott regarded me with admiring awe.

"She wouldn't go for to sleep in that house alone for all the riches of Solomon," and wouldn't I, at least, provide myself with pistols?

When I went into Mr. Argyll's office that morning, he greeted me with marked coldness.

At last I could not conceal from myself that, not only had his manner changed, but that he wished me to feel that it had.

He gave me, as I entered, a searching, suspicious glance, saying, "Good-morning, Richard," in the most formal tone.

Nothing further.

I

took up a book, hiding my pain and embarrassment in an attempt to read;

but my mind was not on the legal difficulties expounded therein; I was wondering at the causes of the situation in which I found myself.

A

hanger-on!

yes, an unwelcome hanger-on in an office where I no longer had any conceded rights--in a home where I was no longer trusted.

"Has Mr. Argyll placed a spy on my actions?

Does he know already that I was out the entire night?

and does he judge me before he has an explanation?"

I asked myself, indignantly.

"If he thinks I am forming bad habits, doing wrong in any respect, why does he not remonstrate with me--give me a chance to defend myself?"

I had intended to take his advice in the matter of the haunted house;

but now I sat, angry and silent, feeling, oh, so wounded and forlorn.

I

did not stay long in the office; going to my room, I wrote a long letter to my mother, telling her I should come soon to pay her the visit which should have been sooner made had I not been engrossed with the duty to which I had vowed myself.

Yes!

I had pledged my own heart to devote myself to the discovery of Henry Moreland's murderer; and if Eleanor herself had put her foot on that heart, and crushed it yet more, I do not know that I should have held my vow absolved.

I should not have gone to the mansion that day, had not a message been sent, late in the afternoon, that Mr. Burton had arrived, and expected me to meet him at tea.

I went; and had the pleasure of seeing little Lenore enthroned by the side of James, who attended upon her as if she were a princess, and of being treated with bare civility by all save Mr. Burton.

Miss Argyll was ill, and did not come down.

I saw the observant eye of Mr. Burton watching the intimacy between his daughter and her new friend; whether he was pleased or not, I could not decide; the eye which read the secret thoughts of other men did not always betray its own impressions.

I was certain, too, that he observed the change in the demeanor of the family toward me, and my own constrained manner.

CHAPTER XII.