The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXX, Issue 33, 14 August 1902, Page 23

The Storyteller

THE QHOST.

' And did your honor sleep well last night ? ' old Shawmus asked, aa h» had asked every evening since I had come.

And every evening I had invar iaib'ly answered him .

' Excellently, Shawnrus, as becomes a man who has ridden far and prow cured an excellent appetite and had it honestly satisfied.'

But this night |I answered him no such tiling.

Looking round I caught the gjint of his watery eye, which I had, thougiht at my first coming to bo sinister, but later traced to its soiurce as the eager curiosity of a lonely and friendly old man. This night I answered : ' No, Shawmius, for I heard the ghost.'

' Lord save your honor,' he saidl, trembling so that he nearly let fall) the flagon of out glass in its silver coaster which held my port wine. ' I have been at Killmanus Abbey, man ajid boy, for a matter of s)jxt|y years, and no ghost have i heard or

' What ! said I, ' not heard a liquid lap, lap, of a silk train as if it fell from one stair to another, and! the dainty tapping of high-heeled shoes ? '

"No such thing, your honor,' ha said, obstinately. ' There is no ghost at Killmanus Abbey. Your honor but dreamed it ; or it was tho bats and owls in the upper floor swooping by on their wings ; or maybe the seagulls, for the furrows are white with them and the hunger drives them indoors. Sure your honor doesn't believe in ghosts.'

* I am a Highlander,' said IT, 'and nono of your unbelieving Sassenachs. The Camerons have the second sight)* and 1 have heard my mother, ElspethCameron, say '

I broke off with a laugh. Was T going to exchange superstitions with) tho old man ? Then I would talk till midnight.

' I saw the lady, Shawmus,' T went on, ' for I rose from my bed and threw my plaid around me, and followed her till she disappeared somewhere down tho back staircase.'

' 'Twould have been no ghost of the Ayliners, then,' he said with a curious conviction ; ' for no lady of tho Aylmers would demean herself byj going to tho kitchen, dead on alive ' The pride of the old fellow amused and pleased me.

■' It occurs to mo now," I went 0n,,, ' that by the fashion of her garments sho would have been a living wopian about the time you first came to Killmanus. Her dress belonged to 50 or 60 years ago I have seen a picture of the Princess Clementina attired in such a gown. It was yellow satin, looped and embroidered with pearls.'

' Your honor got close to t>he ghost? ' the old fellow asked with a> leor which I thought carried some apprehension.

' So close that I might have easily' overtaken her,' said I. ' But 'tis no) business of mine, though the fortune of war has made mo the unwelcome guest of the house, to spy on a lady, living or dead." ' I wish madame could hear your honor,' said Shawmaus. Sho wouldn't grudge you the shelter of her house then.'

' Sho would grudge it now ? '

' Not to your honor any moro than tho people in the valley grudge tho shelter of their roof trees to your honor's Highlanders. There was ter-i riblo tales before you came. The women were for hiding themselves in tho vaults of the old abbey.' ' Alas,' said I, ' if others had come in our place they would have had too much cause.'

' Would your honor know tho ghost again if you were to see it ? ' asked Shawmus with a sly look which covered the fear of a timid and meek old man.

' Tho garments,' I returned. I caught no glimpse of her face.' ' Would your honor come with me ? ' he asked, his smile all different, his old hand inclined toward one of the silver candlesticks.

I rose and followed him. At tho head of the first flaght of stone steps he unlocked a door. The place struck chill and the candle was but a glowworm lamp amid all that} darkness.

I followed him down the long^ stately room. Tho moon came from behind a cloud and mildly illumi~< nated it. Pictures were ranged! along -fihe walls. There wene cabinets between the long windows fullj of china and glass and silver. ItJ was well the Highlanders had come here and not the Hessians. The house had great treasures, although it was falling to ruin.

Half way down the gallery Shawmus paused and lifted the light in his shaky hand. It illuminated a picture.

'It is Madame Bridget,' he said, ' the mother of Sir Hugh. It was painted when she was newly wed, and I but newly come to Killmanua.'

' It; is the lady,' I cried, ' or it is her gown.' Theno was no mistaking the thick yellow silk, so closely threaded with seed-pearls, which well became that) lady, ripe as a peach for all heri youth. Never had I seen anything; so glowing. Her cheek was tho bloom of a peach where tho sun had kissed it, but her face browner and warmer than any peach. Her hair was brownj, with a glow m it, almost a hint of red. The brown eyes looked on me as thoiugh sho yet lived. Indeed, as I stood there gazing in the blown candlelight, tho eyes seemed alive. I stared am instant. Then a sigh broke fro;m mo to think that she was dead.

' r She died young, ? i' I asked/ as; wo left tho gallery.

' Scarcely older than your honor saw her in tho picture ' I was glad of it I could not have thought of her old and sad.

Now, night after night 1 lay .awake listening for the lap, lap of tho lady's silks on tho staircase, and tho night I did not hear it was a lost night for mo. Tho old housci amid its woods, with the ruined abbey and its centuries of graves close by, and the wild and troubled time it was, and the mists of thq winter, doubtless bred fancies , for hero was 1, Roland Cameron, fasti falling in love with a dead woman or her ghost.

I kept out of doons as long as iti was possible each day, but while L visited my men and rode from picket to picket — for it was a time of war — the old house or something within it yet drew me back.

I would not think of it ; yet when I came home at nightfall with thd snow heavy on my pliftd I was glad as any husband coming to tho kiss of a fond wife ; albeit thero waited for me none but tho old servant;, and tho lonely meal in the ga.unt| library, so ancient and faded, and| full of precious things beautiful and tarnished. I know nothing of tho family but what the house told ma or what I gathered from the garrulity of tho old servant , but 1 knew that it was very proud and very poor. I also knew that it was suspected of disloyalty, and that the) madamo and her daughter weno m France, and the son was more than suspected of complicity in tho troubles, for which heaven knows I

blame him not, nor would the King's Majesty have blamed him if he had known what things were done in hia name in this unhappy land. Night after night as I sat in the; library and read and wrote, my sword on the table by me, my pistols at hand— for those were wild times— the face of Madame Bridget would como between me and tho page. I fought against the possession of it, and time after time I refused to be dnagged, as my heart would havo dragged me, to the picture gallery to gaze upon her face, since there was something unholy, and to be feared, I thought, in thia sudden passion for the dead.

But presently thero came a proof that the ghost lived.

One night, after I had tossed for hours, I yielded to the desire that) beset mo for a sight of the picture, feeling that, once I had seen it, I might perhaps sleep. I, therefore, rose, dressed myself and went down stairs. It was full moon, and I knew just the hour when it would shine on the face of the picture, sol that I needed no light. I had gazed my fill and was about! to return t/o my chamber, Alas, looking on the pictured face had: notl assuaged my desire to behold the living woman. My heart cried out within me as I tnirned away because fiho was dead. And then I remem v bered odd ballads my mother used to sing of unhappy knigihts who trysted with dead ladies in impenetrable forests, and lost their souls thereby. Yet one thing I was sure of, that she was no lost soul, the gay a,nd tender lady of the picture.

As I left the gallery I heard a sudden swish, swish of silks in bhM great hall below me, and drew back into the shadow of the curtain that) overhung the door. The ghostJ of the lady was ascending. I should look upon her close at hand. Perhaps when I had seen her face in the quiet composure of death I should ceaso to be haunted by the face of tho living woman.

Up sho came, swish, swish, with her silks all rustling softly, and a light came with her. A second moro and her face showed above the upper step. She carried a silver branch of three wax candles, and their light was full on her face. It was pale, paler than the face of the portrait, yet tho minute I saw it I knew it was the face of no ghost, but of a warm, living woman.

Hardly had my blood begun to rush tumultuously through my veins at the knowledge than it was 1 frozen again. Had I made an unconscious movement ? ' Hush ! ' said the lady, in the softest of whispers, and then drew back a little.

Then I saw that sho was notJ alone An extremely handsome youth was with her,_ following closelyi behind.

' Did you hean anything, Harry'? 5 sho asked in a whisper.

' Nothing, sweetheart,' he replied. ' Tho old house was always a placo for strange noises at night.'

His face came into the Ugjht of tha candles He wore his hair unpowdered, and it fell over the collar of a soldier's cloak. Under the. cloak I saw the glitter of uniform. He had fine blue eyes and features ofl a classical delicacy and dignity finely set off with his night-black hair. 110 looked pale and harassed and I thought he held a hand to hisl aide.

So much I recalled afterwards, and wondered how I had carried so clear an impression from the black passionj of rago and jealousy which swept) over me at the sight of her lover.

As sho stood thero, slhe hesitating, he slipped an arm about hen neck. My hand wont to my sword. I would have killed him without ascruple. Then her words saved him.

' Your wound! ' she began. So he was wounded and unarmed. I turned away, setting my teeth, in the darkness. When I looked again they had passed up the stairs.

Now, even then in the extremity of my jealousy, I did the lady no wrong. So it was a lie old Shawmus had told me, and the famlily yet hid in the wilderness of the oldf house, which I had never thought to explore. So much consideration hadi I shown them, though I believed it empCy. Doubtless they had thought the coming of the soldiery menaced them with unspeakable things, as it had done elsewhere ; and so they burrowed away from one poor Highland gentleman, who would not have; hurt a hair of their heads.. And tho lady's lorver — a nebel, doubtless — came to see her by nightfall.

I tossed on my bed sleepless till morning. I, who had not known a sleepless night till I came to Killmanus Abbey, found my bed that) night a place of torture. Indeed, my looks and the sorry breakfast I mado roused the commiseration of old Shawmus, who appeared at my horse's head as I mounted, with a flagon of spiced wine.

' A stirrup-cup, your honour ! ' he said. ' Your honor looks this morning as though you had seen a ghost,'

I took the wine and it warmed me. As I rode over the frosty ground I resolved within myself to leave the place which had worked so evilly upon me. There was another house of some consideration in the glen which* would receive me, and I should be among loyalists. I had chosen Kill-, manus Abbey because thq house should be safe — for me.

When I returned late at night and told old Shawmus that he was about to be quit of me, I saw first a light of relief in the; rascal's- face. Then it was followed quickly by en deeper shadow.

' 'Twere better your honor stayed,' said he, ' for we may get a worse in your place.'

I had no thought to sleep that night. The fire went low in the library ; 1 replenished it. The candles burned to the socket. I had the full moon and the firelight. So I sat in the deep chair within the screen of Spanish leather by the fire, and, with my chin on my breast, thought my bitter and jealous* thoughts.

It was about two of the clock ajid bitter cold when I heard the lap, lap of the lady's silks gliding down tho stairs, and the hurried tapping of her little heels. She came hiurniedly, to admit her lover, I did not doubt,, a business which admitted of no delay.

Suddenly there was a little shriek, so soft and quiet that I hardly knew if I had really heard it. But I went to the door and looked out. There was the lady, sitting on the lower step, pale to tho lip 6. Tho branch ot candles beside her fluttered in the wind. As she saw me, her lips) opened, as though to speak, and closed. Her eyes looked at mo as" though they prayed me for. mercy. It was the girl of the picture with a shadow of fear over all her joy.

g,ouig nejaren,,

' Madame,' sjaid I, ' what is the matter ? '

1 I have twisted my foot,' said she. 'My heel turned beneath me. I cannot stir. What am I to do. ? '

Kneeling down by her I felt about) the ankle. I am the seventh son of a seventh son, and know something of medicine.

' 'Tis a strain,' said I. ' You had better let me lift you to a couch. You will not be able to stand ujpon it.'

Only then >T noticed that she wone a large, feathered hat, and a cloak of velvet that hid her finery.

* What am I to do ? ' she cried, wringing her hands. -*< It is not myself, sir, but some one needs help. Will you find old Shawmus and send him for a doctor ? There is a horse! in the Abbey ready to be ridden.'

If the case is urgent,' I saibV you* had better tnust me. I know something of medicine. It is seven miles to the nearest town.'

' Sir,' she replied, ' the old man, ShAwmus, has learned to love you.

We have not dared to trust his report of you. But now I cannot helfl it. So I will trust you in the najme, of God- Upstairs a gentleman lies! bleeding, for all we know, to death. We cannot stanch the wound.'

1 Show me the way,' I said, and then added, ' I ask your pardon ; there is nothing else to bo done.' And with that I took her in my arms and ascended the staircasei iwith) her.

She said nothing at all, but guided me with a pointing finger this 1 way an,d thjat through a maze of c,oru ridors. At last we entered a roojm — a library — well walled with book«. No one had thought the shelves to be anything but what they seemed, but at one point a door opened to them, from which we passed into a warm corridor, with rugs below our feet.

A light streamed through a distant) door. Wo reached it ajid passed within.

' The lady has had a hurt,' I said, laying her down tenderly upon a sofa* ' She has trusted me. Let me see the wound.'

An elderly lady, with a very stately powdered head-, sat on a couch by the fireplace. Along the coudh the body of a young man, partly unH dressed, was laid. His head was in, her lap. Her face was the face o| Mater Dolonosa of the Italian paint-* ers. I dressed the wound and then bandaged it.

' The bleeding is stanched,' I said,, ' and with my lotion the wound will) heal.'

' Oh, sir,' she said, ' a mother's; prayers and thanks are yours.'

' And a sister's,' said a low voicp near me.,

I turned then and saw the lady of the picture smiling at me, though her face was pale. The thing, flashed; on mo then like lightning from a cloud.

' I thought you first to bo a ghost,' I said ; ' the ghost of the lady in the picture gallery. Afterward I thought you to be ' *•

' Tho picture is my grandmother, from whom I am called,' she replied. ' I am Bndo Aylmer.'

' And now, sir, at last accept our hospitality at hands most willing, tof give it,' said the elder lady.

' Nay,' said I, ' because I am a King's officer. I can stanch aJ sick man's wound, but presently I should bo asking questions. Let mo go H in happier times I will return.'

In happien times I won Mistress Bride Aylmer to be my own ; ajid dear to mo as my own mother and brother are tho lady of Killmanua and her son. — Katharine Tynan.

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