SOME AUTHENTICATED GHOST STORIES.

Observer, Volume 7, Issue 232, 21 February 1885, Page 1

SOME AUTHENTICATED GHOST STORIES.

By H- L. Cowen.

I I. THE DOCToB'S STOIIY. My speciality (said Doctor. Carrington) . is treating soldiers, but in the capital of an Eastern colony where I was once stationed I was often asked to visit other patients. Now, as the story I am about to. relate is substantially true, it will manifestly be unwise to give persons and places their correct designations; the names of the former I shall therefore entirely fictionize, while the latter I intend only so to disguise that anyone happening to know ever so little of the, locality will be able to see through the mystification. First, then, the scene of my narrative, lies in one of the most picturesque and prosperous possessions Great .Britain has in the. lndian Ocean, Once upon a time the Portugese held it, or, speaking by the card, its seaboard portions ; so altfißdid the Dutch, from whom dear old dead-aifd-gone John Company ;tpqk it, in et armis, but ceded it to the Grown -ior a consideration. „ 'I'he Doms have the credit of founding and building the chief city, the Mynheers fortified and strengthened it, and we English have , enlarged, improved, and otherwise made the place commercially a inqst pretentious one. Let me elect . to call the colony ' Pearl Islaud, and its principal town Cocoburg, that appellation being derse*d from the large and dense belts of ' co'coaniit' trees which thickly fringe its shores.; • v-. ."> <• .. ; ,-, ;/,'■: ;.- JSow, in the northern suburb of Cocoburg, there stbod a large (inansioii'j isolated within"' its own grounds. : " -Don't suppose that 4 this said mansion, although imposing after its kind, was a- 'bit* like? ! a V: li6use of the same size and claim' in'.Europei.rOr,_that;its grounds at all 'resembled those of;;a: cpuntry; seat in England. Quite thencontrary.: ■! [The domicile was ; in ,eY,ery respect of the, Anglo> Indian type, and its " grounds " an ' extensiv^ track-r-co,mpound, is the ,- technical , name— of grass and scrub, ,with many^ clumps or'topes <jf palms, fruit, arid other tropibeil trees. ■And. in saying that- from its frontage a | charming; putloqk/ was ,of a s long ! stretch of . sea, alive always with the swift outrigged canoes of the native fish'efmen, and that from its back the eye gazed upon a widespreading landscape of distant fields and-' blue mountains, while niore in the foreground the course of a noble river could be traced, I am done with Seelie House— that is the name 1 choose for the homestead — so far, at least, as description is concerned. It had seen many a tenant, this same habitat, and at one stage of its existence was the residence of ahigh colonial official. -' fi * „ He was a man of tall and gaunt proportions ; his face, sad in expression and naturally void of rosiness, had become almost cadaverously pale from the effects of tropical bleaching ; and with his dark, prominent eyes, thick eyebrows, and sunken ch'eek3, ladies would hardly have designated him " bonnie " or attractive. Two personal peculiarities made hinr%pnspicuous. First, he' wore-a beaifd whicn,-#t the time I speak of, was a'||©st unusual practice among Englishmen;, tfnd.tiext/heihad lost an arm by amputation. ,^n ,h,is presence folk addressed him as Sir Angus "Strongitharm ; behind his back they ' spoke . of Mm ; either as Don Quixote or the Rabbi. People were fond of calling each other nicknames in Pearl Island. . ' Be it known, then, thajb in, the year 186- — Seelie House was inhabited by a barrister, whose patronymic, according to my nomen-: clature, was Chranpneys, and he and 1 his charming wife were entertaining therein, aft Yule-tide, a host of guests, chiefly from the estates up country. " ' - Among these' guests was a young lady, recently arrived in the island; and as she is the heroine of my story, and, moreover, was the belle of Cocoburg society at the time, I should be dubbed ungallant and neglectful if ,

I did not devote a few words to paint her picture, so far as words can do it. Her Christian name was Effie, and until she ' changed at the\ hymeneal altar her present surname for that of a well-beloved captain of my regimentrr-a contingency not very remote, so gossip had it—as Somerville that, surname stood; Effie Somerville, a smooth, liquid, and lovable cognomen, as cognomens generally go.: She was a maiden of about nineteen years of age, full of life and life's, young hopes, as maidens of nineteen.should be. In face, the painter's perfect model, if he wanted one, fpr .Queen Berengaria;; the shade •of whose blue eySs,j%he shape of "whose Grecian nose, the exact sheen of: whose, golden hair, the pearly lustre of whose teeth,-and the i smoothness and purest .whiteness of whole' 5 skin —perhaps the trahsp'arenfrsoap of the Mr Pears, of Richard Cceur de 'Lion's reign madeit so, Lw;no can tell ? —we all know, so why'go over them again piecemeal ? ' In figdr6;;thes sciilptor • would j have exulted ■ over the. marvellousl symmetry* of; her neck, arms;!bust, iatodjtoUrjmre :• \hnd having graven < • these with cunning hand:into the counterfeit presentraent.pf 7the.,fair girl herself, would,, like another" Pygmalion,^ have fallen in love with the image he himself had created., . Well, as afqretqld. Miss Sonierville was one of those who were'enjoying the hospitalities of Seelie ,House, and entering con qmoreintp the gaieties of Gogojkirg at Christmas time. J ; That Anglo-Indian city, dull and depressing ' all the year-;roundj jnvariably broke outinto all sorts and conditions of hilarity during these holidays; not only were there sounds 1 of revelry by night,"'biit-'.by,'day, y als'o. : ;: ' ' '*''-'- &' It was the last night'of the old year, and a grand ..regimental, balLatour, mess was to see * it out,.and to usher the hew one'in. :> ' ! > i ; Effie, J who 'had been; busied for hours with; tarletan and lace, witn: ribbons and flounces, and had fabricated for-herself the'mosiTcapti-yatingof-dance c6stumes, had retired into her. own room, to don the '/ r war-pain#&nd other-! wise arm herself for manslaughter.'' ?i -u '-&- Contrary^ "everyjusrfge' of civilised 1 society, and rude as it no doubt id, I am bound to let you:/peep-into ■ Mftt sac're'cl' >peh'e^i3lia, oth'e'fi 1 - wise you will Hardly realise conljpletely thlsurroundings 9f.niy story. • It was'a'4arjge/ani9l airy apartment, placed/ 1 somewhat away/v'th^ugli :'ye.is;;'^'der the' same ■roof, as the rest of ,the tbunsraiow-r- nay I beeits pardon—mansion. ; ■ ' ' : Severkl = wide slips of'cane- 'matting r covered its floor, upon Avhich the lightest, tread would rustle, ahd.sp.make fooisteps heard.,' ' A low bedstead, a few chairs, a wardrobe or, to. give its proper Indian designation, an altnirah, _ a 'w;ell-app'ointed dressing table— these were the articles of furniture with which the "boSver" wa? gnrnished, save and except.a large cheval gl.iss, of:".European muster,"—that is to say, not manufactured in. Pearl Island. '; : . . In the days of Sir Angus Strongitharm's tenure of Seelie House rthis room had been no sleeping one, but the' snug and favourite lounge of the, >vpr,thy I knight';himself.,'.'', ... Into it, then, I repeat, the young lady had shut herself for her-toilette,'her hostess/ "as she entered, Jieard'<her warble merrily the air of a popular 1 melody;. r: : ; .; An hour, or. so after, Mr.Champneys, waitingimpatiently^ m all the r agonies of a broadcloth dress-suijb'ion; a'h^!trop'icai'iiight the appearance of his wife and guests to set out for our ball,'heard aloud, piercing shriek issue from .the. direction; of .Miss fcjqmeryille's room, and, evidently from that .young lady. h6rself-^no ayah or other native .woman ever. screamed, after that fashion. , . ■ -, , . „ .'._'■ Summoning his spouse, they both rushed to ascertain the' cause; and'going in, found the poor girl, nearly dressed, stretched upon the floor, senseless and, gasping for b'reatli. :','-'. After applying:such restoratives as occurred f to their scared senses, and finding them ineffectual, they sent post haste to beg my presence, and I; was soon with them. '■' Lying upon her bed inanimate was the maiden who-but a few minutes before "was in her very ,zeuithTof health, and loveliness.

Her teeth were firmly pressing upon her lips, so firmly that they had caused them to Weed ; her face was ashy pale, her features were distorted; her eyes were wide open and gazing fixedly on vacancy; the fingers of both hands were rigidly stiff and clenched upon her palms; and from a small wound upon her forehead a few drops of blood had trickled and stained her cheek, neck, and shoulder. Save that she was breathing, and her pulse was beating slowly, she might have • been mistaken for one in death —a death, too, which had occurred amid scenes of violence and horror. At first I was sorely puzzled to account for Miss Somerville's condition; then I established it in my own mind that a sudden and terrible alarm had caused it. But what ?. ' That was undiscoverable; nor could Mr or Mrs Champneys give the slightest cue to it. ■ 9 Up to the moment when her cry had*been heard no one could have been better or merrier, looking forward as she was to the party and her dances and love passages with Dobell of " oufr,," her fiancee. » ' * Waiting as long as I could, and giving my directions for management, I took my way, depressed enough, t° our t>a-ll; for understand that I, being one of the givers, could hardly absent myself from it altogether. The news of Miss Somerville's disaster liad got about, and her non-presence threw quite a Hamper upon the entertainment. ./ Many times during the next forty-eight - hours did I visit and revisit Seeli House. I found little or no change in^EflJe, still half-comatose, still-cataleptic. ?' "" But just as I was beginning to despair utterly of her recovery, nature shook itself, as it were, from the nervous shock, the trance passed away, and Effie awoke to life' and lucidity. I need not allude to th# delicate ana. cautious process by which, after a while, the Champney's and I wormed out the strange cause of Miss Somerville's* state %s %c had discovered it on that New Year's Eve. • ' , ' Better, too, to give the account in her ■\ own words than to trust it to my rejating.. "I was dressing," said she, "my thoughts intent upon how the white rose I was to wear in my hair could be most becomingly arranged. AI had settled the point, and was fixing the flower, standing before the chevalrglass, when, oh, merciful. Heaven! saw behind mey reflected on the mirror, the face and figure of a man —such a remarkable and iiefer-to-be-forgotten man — tall, thin, ghastly white, wearing a beard, and yes !—I s could not possibly Be mistaken —with.;one 1 arm only ! ■■ :f . "He was gazing intently into the glass, and I thought I saw his chest heave as if in " *fche act of sighing. * " Turning round I exclaimed, ' How dare you, sir, come into my room! Leave it! I shall for Mr Champneys,' when, ' without the slightest noise on the mats, he walked slowly before me and disappeared. I hardly realised what I had seen until I flew to the door and found it locked inside as I myself had locked it. ( "Then I shrieked for help —and I know no more." "Nonsense, Miss Effie," said Champneys. "Mere illusion and brain trickery, from excitement or dyspepsia," I observed; " the „ thing is common." '• Illusion, dyspepsia, or whatever else you like to call it, Doctor Carrington, I saw that man as plainly ite|l. now see you; and he was a person I had E^er in my life looked upon before. We got bothered did Champneys and I. " If this be a ghost which has interviewed Effie," tHe lawyer observed, " it is the ghost of old Don Quixote come to have a look at his quondam home, for the girl is perfect to the letter in her description of him. As she says, she never could have seen him, as she . is but recently in Pearl Island, and he left it years ago; is rarely talked about, almost forgotten. Besides, he is alive and well, residing on his little property in Skye. It is marvellous, though, isn't it? Beats me „": altogether. I'll tell you what I shall do, if „•-.*: you 'approve. Old Carolus Vanderbosh, a and a former protege of Strongitjharm's, has an oil-colour portrait of him ; I'll borrow it, and bring it home." " Good," said I; "do so." i>' A night or two after, Champneys. appeared with a fadedf picture under his arm. In a Toundabout way he brought the incident of the illusion on the tapis, and laughingly said, "Oh, by the way, Effie, 1 am going to turn ■detective, and to find out that ill-bred old •chap who disturbed you in your room on New Year's Eve." "How, Mr Champneys?" Miss Somerville ■ asked. . " I have got his portrait. Is this suffi•ciently like to set the police on his track ?" "Oh ! oh! oh !" she cried, as her eyes fell upon the canvas, " the very, very man; the same beard, the same face, the same eyes, the same loss of one arm.' How strange! how startling!, Track him, Mr Champneys? - How, can you? He is dead, and I have seen * his ghost-? " . ■ ■' * # #' # # - If these things are to be believed at all, it, -.. wa-s so*-, ..---. . - arrival of, the next"' mail from it was heard that Sir Angus Strons;- ---*? v 'itharm had died on the very night when Effie

Somerville saw him in her room — once his room — in Seelie House, Pearl Island. Marvellous! and not to be satisfactorily accounted for, philosophy notwithstanding. (To be continued.)