LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2295, 11 August 1881, Page 4

LITERATURE.

THE PHANTOM LIGHT. An Exceedingly True Ghost Story, [“ London Society.”] It was about eleven o’clock at night. Nellie and I were sitting by the bow win dow in our drawing room, which she had thrown wide open. The day had been most oppressively hot, but now a faint braize was coming in from the sea, moat refreshingly welcome after the sultry stifling heat of the day. It waa quite dark, that soft velvety darkness that belongs only to a perfectly mooilesa, starless night. Just down below our window lay the yard or two of garden, then the long straight line of tho promenade, with its aepha’te walk and drive dimly defined by a shadowy row of white posts omnectcd by ornamental chain-. Beyond the embankment Jay the wide desolate waste of sands, stretching away for miles and miles on either hand.

Tho tide was far out, so far, that only a sort of pale-gray gleam on the hotizen showed where the sea was beginning to creep over the shoals and sandbanks off the Southport coast. Seven miles away to the right, feross the estuary of the Kibble, the steady light from the Lytham lighthouse kept vigilant watch and ward over tho dangerous shoal on which many a good ship has gone to its doom of shipwreck and death

Nellie was leaning out of the window, her aibow on the sill, her eyes fixed on the misty soft darkness outside. It was as dark inside as cut; we had no thought of lighting the gas that long summer evening, ‘How still it is!’ she said dream'ly. ‘ Whc.t a spell of solemn silence the night lays on everything !’

As If to contradict her words, a faint sound like a far-off voice seemed suddenly to rise from the sands below, and swept by with a prolonged mournful cry. ‘ What is that?’ she asked, startled. * Some one calling down on the sands,’ I said. ‘ The intense slil'nesa carries the sound a great distance to-night.’ 'I hoard such a wild legend this morning ’ she went on presently, * connected with those great deserts of sand that stretch over towards Lytham. Old Joe, the boatman, says they are haunted by a phantom voioe. ’

‘How thrill!rg !’ I remarked spectlcally. * What does it say ?’ ‘Don’t scoff, Jean,’ said Nellie, a little vexedly. ‘lt is a most pathetic dreadful legend. Years ago, before there waa a town here at all, people used to cross the sands between hero and Lytham on horseback. One stormy evening a traveller had crossed as usual, and had almost reached the shore, when suddenly a bright light appeared, hovered for a moment over a spot a yard or two away, and then vanished. At the satn.e moment a pigeons unearthly cry echoed all around. The horse became wild with terror, and broke loose, throwing his rider to the ground. When he recovered himself, ho found, lying on the ground at his feet, the body of a beantifnl young girl. She waa quite dead, with a ghastly wound in her side, from which the blood had flowed all over her white dress.

‘ The traveller staggered away to the nearest house, got assistance, and had the girl’s body laid in an upper room. ‘ That night an awful storm arose, A ship was wrecked on the Horse bank, and only one man, the captain, saved. Ho was taken to the same house where the traveller hod already found shelter, and, by some mistake, was put into the room where the murdered girl was lying. At the sight of her he gave an appalling shriek, and fell down senseless. When he revived, he was questioned, and confessed that the beautiful young girl was his wife, whom in a moment of rage and jealousy he had stabbed to the heart and oast into the sea. And the sea had given up her dead, and the waves had oast him on shore, and the murderer and his victim were face to face. And now they say the voioe of the murdered girl hannts the place where she was fouud. It seems to rise from the sands and goes echoing and walling along, calling, calling, as if In mortal agony. The old boatman says people have followed It, believing some one in peril, and have been lured on and on, till the tide has overtaken them, and they wore drowned.’ ‘ What a horrible tale 1’ I said, with a shudder. * I wish you had not told it to me.'

‘And he says,’ went on Nellie, unheeding my remark, ‘that whoever hears the voice is In risk of great peril or danger, or some kind of sorrow or trouble is about to happen to him.’

Nellie’s voice had unconsciously taken a tone of awe. The still sombre darkness, the midnight hour, and the weird melancholy legend had infected us both with an undefined sensation of oppression and fear, a presentiment of dread and evil. We kept our places by the window, looking out into the deep velvety darkness, with the far-away solitary light from the lighthouse gleamed like a red spark. Suddenly, while we sat, the sonnd of a voice rose up again from the lonely sands, a moaning piteous voice wailing and imploring as if in unutterable distress. It seemed to mingle with the boom of the distant sea, now rising, now falling, a lonely desolate w il, thrilling through the darkness like a soul iu mortal agony. It was dying away in the distance, In a low faint sob, when Nellie suddenly sprang back into the room.

‘O Jean, look!’ she cried, ‘Look, the phantom light! ’ I leant out of the window, and gazed out along the promenade. Flashing through the sombre darkness like a great star was a brilliant beautiful light. It came rapidly towards na from the right, apparently floating in the air, and illuminating the space before it for several yards. It advanced very swiftly with a steady forward motion, floating along about a yard from the ground. As It came nearer, _we perceived, looking dimly behind it, a giant shadow, weird and grotesque, with outspread wings and misty undefined form, while a sharp rustling whirring sound accompanied its progress. As the phantom approached, the desolate moaning rose again from the sands, and an ept along in low shuddering cries, dying away sad and piteons as before. With the last faint sonnd, the light leaped up for one second into intense brilliancy, and disappeared. ‘O !' cried Nellie fearfully. * What is it, JeonP ’

* I don’t know,’ I replied, a feeling of unaccountable dread and horror taking hold of me. The very demon of fear seemed to possess my senses, an icry grasp of terror laid hold of my heart. The air outside seemed to have become

suddenly clammy and cold, a chilly eerie wind crept in at the window. The very darkness seemed filled with shapes, hideous and Impampable, at which I dared not look, lest they should take form before my eyes. ‘There it is again !’ shuddered Nellie. And with unutterable dread we saw the brilliant star-like light again floating towards ns, this time from the right hand. It oamo on swiftly, with the impalpable fantastic shadow In the air above it, and when exactly opposite vanished. We sat paralysed with terror, not daring to move, a horrible benumbing terror seizing our hearts.

This phenomenon happened several times. The light alternately appearing from the right and left, and always vanishing when exactly opposite to us, and always accompanied by tho moaning voice. The blank darkness and utter silence were appalling ; they might almost be felt, ao thick and oppressive were they to the senses.

Wo kept onr seats by the window, every nerve sharpened, ever sense strained to unnatural tension.

Again the low wailing sounds from the sands, profoundly melancholy, inexpressably monrnfnl, like nothing akin to humanity. No words were uttered, but the agony of the tones was like a voice from the grave. ‘Jean, Jean, here ft is again !’ cried Nellie, cowering in my arms. And once more the brilliant phantom light appeared. This timegit came on more slowly, glancing to and fro unsteadily while the shadowy form behind it seemed more grotesque and misty than ever. ‘ O Jean, if it is true ! If it chines to foretell some loss, some trouble!’ sobbed Nellie, in tears. * Hush, hush, dear !’ I tried to say, reassuringly. ‘lt cannot be. Sorrow may come come to us if God wills it, but not through—’ ‘ I say, old fellow,’ shouted a voioe down below in tho darkness. ‘ You’ll frighten somebody into fi-s with that lantern dodge of yours. Yon and yonr confounded bicycle look like some horrible ghostly spectre, flitting along in the dark. You gave me a precious start I can tell you.’ Nellie and I jumped to our feet and gazid incredulously out of tho window. Down below in the road, a yard or two to the right, the phantom light stood stationary at last, In the glare before i- a young fellow waa standing, while behind loomed tho fantastic mysterious shadow, robbed of all its terrors in a moment.

‘ Isn’t it a stunning dodge ?' oaid the shadow, in moat unghostly slang, ‘ You see, Jack, this asphalt’s first rate to practise on ; but a fellow has no chance io tho daytime for those confounded carriagra ; so I rigged out this dark lantern, and fastened it to my bicycle, and I can spin along in peace now.’ ‘ Take care yon don’t spin away the wits of all the old maids on the promenade,’ returned the other. ‘ Yon look most horribly like some goblin from the lower regions, with your dark lantern Hasting in front, those noiseless wheels, and yonr long legs and arras spread out like great wings behind.’

The other laughed. ‘ The old maids are all fast asleep long ago, bless their old eyes !’ ho returned irreverently. ‘ But I say. Jack, the match for the four oars will have to be put off tomorrow ; we are going to have an awful storm. Liston I how the wind sighs and moans among the girders of the pier ! It sounds for all the world like some one calling out In distress, and it’s a sura sign of rough weather. What a rage Gregory will be in If— ’

The two old maids had heard quite enough. Nel'y and I looked at each other rather sheepishly, It must be confessed, and then burst into a hearty laugh.