LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume V, Issue 552, 25 March 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

CHANTRY MANOR HOUSE. A Ghost Story. BY MRS HARTLEY, AUTHOR OP * HILDA AND I,’ ETC. CHAPTER 11. ( Continued.) When I awoke the next morning, the words which had comforted me the night before rose to my mind again, * Why should we stay V I argued j if the place does not suit us, plenty of people might be found glad of such a chance.' And i resolved to write to ‘ friends at a distance’—particularly at a distance—giving them glowing accounts of the neighborhood, but stating at the same time that the situation was rather exposed, and therefore I feared to allow my wife to spend another winter there, after the climate of India, which had made her very susceptible to cold. In the hunting field the next day I chanced to encounter the man who chaffed me about the ‘ phantom carriage.’ ‘Are you alone, Montrose?’ he said ; come and dine with us to-morrow, and we can give you a bed.’ I accepted most thankfully. I was not particularly enjoying my solitude, either in retrospection or anticipation, and I determined to avail myself of the opportunity of questioning my friend as to any legend which might be connected with Chantry. I did not even then believe in the supernatural, but whatever the noises proceeded from they were not pleasant ; and I dreaded my wife’s return, for I knew her to be of a nervous temperament, and I could not tell how soon she might be so similarly alarmed. That night I resolved I would not go to bed until after midnight, but sit up and watch.

Shall I confess to feeling tempted more than once to make my servant sit up also. Hut on second thoughts I did not do so, thinking what a ‘ hubbub’ there would be

through the house if it was known that the master had. heard the much-dreaded ghostes.’ Punctually at ten o’clock I retired, after a glass of brandy and water to strengthen my nerves; and then I made a good lire, drew my arm chair close to it, and, with my pistol by my side, felt prepared for the worst.

I would watch. All very fine to say so Whether it was the day’s hunting, or the book I was reading, or the brandy and water, or a combination of all three, I knew not; but certain it is that I fell asleep. When I awoke it was with an uudefinable feeling that something or somebody was near me.

If you ask me what I heard I cannot say. It was not a rustle, not a step, nothing definite. One of those sounds of silence which it is quite impossible to describe—more like a buzz of innumerable insects in the air than anything else.

My tire was almost out—it had just come to that stage when the dying cinders part with a sort of crack and drop ; my candle had burnt down in its socket, and was quivering there with a pale blue light. I rubbed my eyes and looked round the room ; there was nothing to be seen or heard : and yet I knew that something was there.

Ah! what was that? I felt my blood curdling, and growing cold ; for I saw', not in the room—l could distinguish no object there—but in the mirror, a reflection of a tall dark figure. It was vague and shadowy, yet something seemed to dance and glitter upon it, like steel in sunshine. Even as I looked it vanished ; but at the same moment I heard the chain again, or what I had thought was a chain, the night before; hut now it sounded more like the clanking sound of an officer’s sword dragging at his side. Farther and father it went dowm on the corridor, and then died away. I waited a few moments to recover myself, to feel sure I was not dreaming, aud then rushed out info the darkness, too eager for pursuit to feel fear ; but all was still. _ There was not a sound save the monotinous ticking of the clock at the stair-head.

I did not know 1 was a coward, but I suppose I am. I groped my way back again, struck a light, and going down-stairs, unloosed Bruin’s collar, and brought him up to my room; then locking my door, laid down, but not to sleep. The next day, nothing loth, I packed my portmanteau, and drove away to my friend’s house, where I slept in peace, heartily wishing that Chantry and I were separated for ever.

What could I do about letting my wife come back again ? Perhaps it was all nonsense after all; I must be out of health, bilious, feverish, and so these visions came to me with all the semblance of reality, yet were in very truth nothing. So I tried to reason with myself. But then the words of my present host came back to me; ‘I would not live where you do if I was paid to do it.’ That must mean something, and I longed more than ever to talk the matter over with him in all seriousness.

There were several guests beside myself, and I did not broach the subject in the smoking room that night, as I had intended. But the next morning he and I strolled out alone to the stables to see a horse he had for sale, and then, with my arm linked in his, I drew him away through the shrubberies and made a clean breast of it.

To my relief he did not turn my story into ridicule, but seem only surprised that I had never heard the legend connected with the place.

He then related to me the story as follows :

In the time of King Charles there was a cavalier who was secretly affianced to the daughter of a colonel, who was one of the judges of the Earl of Derby, and had distinguished himself at the battle of Worcester. The engagement of the young people was clandestine, because the families took opposite sides in the Civil War, though out" wardly they continued on good terms. The young man, who was in the army, was selected by the commanding officer to be the bearer of private and confidential letters to the King, who was encamped on a certain heath.

He was charged on no account to loiter by the way, and to reach the appointed place if possible under cover of the twilight. Unfortunately for him, however, his way lay by Chantry Manor-house, where his fair fiancee resided ; and love being stronger than duty, he called in to see her as he passed, and was too easily persuaded to accept the proffered hospitality for the night. In those days the gallant sons of Mars were apt to linger longer over their wine cups than was good for them, and after supper the young cavalier talked with more eloquence than prudence of the letters with which he was entrusted, hinting mysteriously at their importance. The curiosity, if not the suspicion, of his hostess was excited, and she made the bold resolve that she would be the master of their contents before she slept that night, (To be continued.)