appalled at the number of people; at the dazzling display of plate, at
the multiplicity of the courses (many of the dishes being unknown to
me), at the ceaseless flow of conversation, at the clatter of glasses,
at the wine, at everything; but on this occasion I simply revelled in
it; the greatest formalities appealed to me as pleasantly distracting;
I was poor, my companions wealthy scions of the aristocracy. I had
nothing to do but eat--eat and be silent; be silent and listen; listen
and look, and I saw all that one would have wanted to see in the
atelier of the very best costumière in Paris or the West End.
My own dress was shabby but what of that! No one seemed aware of it,
no one noticed me; I was a nonentity, mute, a consuming machine; in no
one’s way because each of my neighbours was far too engrossed in eating
to care about carrying on a conversation.
Once I thought a lady cast a half enviable glance at my hands; they
are my best point, particularly so, when nicely manicured--and once I
imagined, dear Robert, but there, THAT was only imagination.
Well the dinner, like all good things, came to an end at last. I
enjoyed the dessert most; the bonbons were heavenly; every one ate them
as if they were hungry; I caught myself actually pitying our hostess.
At a signal from miladi, we all got up; I left the other ladies in the
hall; they trooped away to fetch their purses, whilst I, feeling very
much like some poor whipped schoolgirl, slunk off to the ball-room.
It was not until the door closed behind me, I understood the full
horror of the situation; I was alone! for the second time within
twenty-four hours--in that chamber--Alone! Alone save for those foul
pollutions that might rise at any instant from beneath the floor. I
believe, even then, I would have flown had not the stubbornness and
pride innate in all my family restrained me. Come what would, her
ladyship should never call me a coward.
So--I stuck to my post with heroic resolutions. Much as I suffered the
previous day, my sufferings then in comparison with now were small, nor
did the dreadful anticipations that tortured me without cessation as I
sat there, waiting for the boards to part asunder, in any way surpass
the awful realisation. Step by step, detail by detail the psychic drama
was repeated in all its damnable horror; my recovery after witnessing
it being slower on this occasion, accompanied by relapses into a state
of terror too painful even to recall.
Yet I survived and succeeded in so far pulling myself together, that
I met the kindly greeting of her ladyship at breakfast next morning
with a calm and unembarrassed air. She did not suspect me. Once again
the ordeal came and miladi, with a refinement of cruelty worthy of
her steel-blue eyes and thin lips, herself conducted me to the fatal
ball-room.
“To-morrow, you will have company,” she murmured, her face shining
white amid that semi-gloom, “I must apologise for not giving you more
light, but--for some UNEARTHLY reason or other--only one of those gas
jets will ever burn. Odd is it not?” And as her eyes met mine, I walked
to the fire and burst out laughing.
She was disarmed! Could any one laugh who was afraid of ghosts?
She speedily, VERY speedily left me and once again I underwent it ALL.
Suspense--horror--prostration. I think I suffered more this third night
than on either of the other two.
Yet, long before morning I had recovered from the shock.
I saw a look of genuine relief rush into her ladyship’s face as she
encountered my smiling countenance: whatever apprehensions she might
have had with regard to THAT room were now unquestionably removed.
“It must be cleared out without further delay!” I heard her remark
to Robert, “the floor will take some time polishing--and--remember the
incandescent burners!”
The incandescent burners! I chuckled, what effect would THEY have on
GHOSTS. I half expected she would now tell me why she had been anxious
I should remain in the room: she was assured it was no longer haunted,
why trouble about the past?
But a moment’s reflection made me think that after all it might be
“the past” she was most anxious to conceal; hauntings, especially
of so gruesome a nature as this, usually point to some blot on the
escutcheon, to a disreputable something in the history of the house--and
that is why so many people object to seeing their family ghosts appear
in print.
Accordingly, miladi, having the honour of the Wentworths at heart,
would take very good care she did not give me as much as a hint as to
what she herself, quite possibly, attributed to legends.
Webster did indeed favour me with the information, that neither her
ladyship nor any one else, save Lord Wentworth and the old charwoman
(who dusted) were ever known to enter the room, at all events since
SHE had been at the Hall, and that was well nigh ten years; which
information clearly implied that entrance was strictly forbidden.
It was interesting to speculate what course miladi would have adopted,
had I told her what I had seen! She was proud, domineering and
tactful; would she have “pooh-poohed!” the whole thing; commanded me
to be silent; resorted to bribery, or what? I couldn’t imagine her
pleading--and yet--the Honour of the Old Aristocracy is very dear to
them; they sometimes value it more than--life.
* * * * *
The next few days passed agreeably and all too quickly for me. The
non-card playing element, though rather stiff and prudish, were kindly
disposed towards me, no doubt on account of my shy disposition and
impecunious widowhood.
Of Robert I saw very little; the host and hostess in a big house never
have a moment to spare. To prepare the ball-room an extra staff of
servants was employed incessantly for three days, at the end of which
time it was pronounced ready for the occasion.
I can find no words to convey to others the singular way in which the
altered room impressed me. Though stripped of all its massive, gloomy
furniture, brilliantly illuminated with many jets of incandescent
gas (Robert had a strange aversion to electricity) and adorned with
festoons of Oriental flowers, banners, and the gayest coloured
bunting, it still retained an air of sadness, and an indescribable
something, that nothing, nothing short of total annihilation, could
ever eradicate or modify.
Her ladyship clad in a snowy dress of the most costly material trimmed
with the rarest lace, her fair arms and bosom glittering with the
Wentworth diamonds, looked like a fairy queen standing on the threshold
of an enchanted castle.
I looked closely at her but could see no remnant of apprehension either
in her eyes or gestures, she was perfectly at ease and sublimely
unconscious of aught but the enjoyment of those around her and the
importance attached to herself, the well-dressed handsome hostess.
With Robert it was otherwise; in spite of his smiles, his bows, his
many pretty actions of old-world gallantry, I could see that the wan,
grey spirit of unrest stalking at his elbow never left him. He would
have staked his soul to glance occasionally at the spot before the
fireplace, but fear lest some one might see him effectually held him
back. This continual mental struggle, unsuspected even by his wife,
was only too obviously apparent to me, and I seemed to hear a sigh
of relief--of deep and earnest relief--issue from his lips when the
orchestra began.
And now all was symphony and movement. There was much glare and glitter
and piquancy; snake-like evolutions, spasmodic convergences, dexterous
extrications, all performed and repeated with mathematical precision
and untiring repetition.
The music changed--the waltz gave place to a novel and somewhat wildly
executed fandango. It was her ladyship’s whim to include in her
programme exotic dances; a resuscitation of long-forgotten Terpsichore,
they were undoubtedly the distinguishing and characteristic features of
her entertainments, raising them far above the commonplace, and gaining
for miladi a world-wide and much-coveted reputation. She hated anything
merely popular and vulgar.
In this dance that now commenced and which I beheld for the first time,
there was much of the beautiful, the wanton, the _bizarre_, and just
a suspicion of “something” which might have shocked a very exacting
“Grundy.”
As the greater number of the guests, like myself, were unacquainted
with it, the floor was left comparatively free for the performers, the
onlookers lining the walls, the doorway, and the big bay window.
Never had I witnessed such enthusiasm; the dancers, throwing their very
heart and soul into their antics, gyrated and pirouetted in such lively
fashion as evoked spontaneous outbursts of applause from the delighted,
albeit bewildered and somewhat puzzled spectators.
The faster the music, the quicker the feet, the louder the clapping.
And now, at a moment when the revelry had reached its height and the
attention of all was riveted on the dancers, a sudden commotion in
their midst made everybody wonder. What was it? What had happened?
I glanced at the clock, Robert glanced too; our eyes met, and I read in
his a deadly fear; it was the hour for the dead to rise.
The space in front of the fireplace was now deserted, and the dancers,
grouped around on either side, were eagerly peering forward to
ascertain the cause of their alarm.
Curiosity, repulsion, and horror--horror wild and undiluted--were now
depicted on every countenance as the gently heaving boards, slipping
noiselessly asunder, revealed two hideous heads, rising as it were from
the bowels of the earth.
Slowly, very slowly, with a gradation suggestive of machinery, the
phantoms I knew so well at length came into full view. But stupendous
as was the sensation this unlooked-for tableau produced, not a sound
was uttered--and, as if to accentuate the silence, the music broke off
abruptly, dancers, audience, and orchestra being similarly affected.
For a few seconds the female phantom, clutching in one arm its
loathsome burden, paused irresolutely beside its tomb--and then, shaking
a hand in the direction of the Honourable Walter, it made a sudden dart
at the spot where he stood.
A thrill of the most intense horror accompanied this unexpected
movement, all eyes being now transferred to the wretched youth.
I gave one glance at my cousin Robert--I dare not look again--his
expression was frightful--he could do nothing to help his son--his
position was that of the damned.
The crucial moment arrived--no one breathed--the Things from the Grave
reached Walter--there was no hesitation--they passed RIGHT THROUGH him.
I looked at the wall, I rubbed my eyes--the spectres had vanished!
A convulsive throb now ran through the assemblage, the revellers
exchanged frightened and embarrassed glances, there was a general
movement to the door, the room emptied, the dance was over.
* * * * *
I did not see her ladyship again--I merely received a message of
farewell, but Robert came to say good-bye.
“I wonder,” he said, gazing at me with his pensive harrowed eyes, “I
wonder very much if the ghosts appeared to you when alone in that
room? If so you have indeed been brave, and to keep it secret served
us right. The story of the hauntings,” he continued, “has up to the
present been revealed only to the male members of our family, but to
you I feel that an explanation is due. At any rate, you are a Wentworth
and have given me ample proof that you may with safety be entrusted
with a secret.
“It seems years ago that one of my ancestors got entangled in some
way or another with a beautiful gipsy. She begged him to marry her;
he refused; and fearful lest the affair should leak out and so bring
discredit upon the family, he murdered her, burying her body, together
with that of her child, underneath the ballroom floor. At least so the
MS. states, and no one, as far as I am aware, has ever disproved it.
“Tortured with remorse and a victim to the orthodox fears of a
murderer, my unhappy forefather took poison, commanding in his will
‘that the ballroom should never again be used for a frivolous purpose,’
an injunction which, until last night, has been faithfully obeyed.
“The Wentworths, as you may naturally suppose, have kept the story
strictly to themselves--the male heirs alone being usually acquainted
with it.
“I did not altogether credit the story of the haunting though my father
swore he had seen the cursed apparitions. Moreover he told me that they
appeared periodically--every night at 11 P.M. from the 20th to the 31st
of December. He also warned me, and here I am much to blame, on no
account to permit any outsider to be in the room, ‘for if you do,’ he
added, ‘THEN, something terrible will happen.’ I own I was sceptical
and bitterly I regret it now. I had never seen an apparition, and what
my father told me he had seen, I attributed to Suggestion, the natural
consequence of dwelling too much on the horrible details of the story.
“Maud shared my scepticism and when she wanted to use the room, brought
forward the most ingenious arguments to overcome my scruples.
“I declared it was impossible--it would be sheer sacrilege. I was
accused of inconsistency. I disbelieved! how then could there be any
danger!--the injunction in the will was unreasonable and absurd. In
short, I had no peace, I had to yield, so making the stipulation that
we should first find out some means by which we could prove that there
was no foundation for the story of the haunting, I reluctantly gave my
consent.
“Somewhat to my astonishment, Maud had already formed a plan for
testing the room. She had heard me speak of you, you were a Wentworth;
if you discovered anything we could rely on you to keep it secret--and
so my wife suggested that you should be put in the room, ‘just to
sample it.’ I hesitated, I did not speak. I suppose my silence gave
consent: the rest you know. I won’t press you to tell me if you saw
those beastly things, if you did the sequel only serves us right.
Anyhow nothing can excuse my having sanctioned disobedience to that
injunction in the will.
“The fact and the nature of the haunting is a secret no longer--the
cause none but a Wentworth shall ever know.
“I need hardly enjoin you who are one of us to maintain silence on that
point.
“We shall shut up the house for a time, until, in fact, the worst of
the affair has blown over--and--when we meet again, let us hope it will
be under happier circumstances.”
We never met again; within six months of my departure, both Robert and
his son were dead--killed in a motor accident abroad. The property is
now in the hands of distant, of VERY distant relations, and I feel no
compunction in saying what I know about it.
Only--if you repeat this to Mr. Elliott O’Donnell, please substitute
fictitious names.
BURLE FARM, NORTH DEVON
THE HEADLESS DOG AND THE EVIL TREE
Technical form of apparitions: Elemental
Source of authenticity: First-hand evidence
Cause of hauntings: Unknown
Between my exit from the stage in 1900 up till quite recently I had the
great, the very great misfortune to be a teacher in a small town in the
north of England.
I say misfortune because I found the contrasts between exciting
stageland and the monotonous schoolroom, between the generous and
jovial theatrical fraternity and the mean and petty local parents, too
decidedly pronounced to be other than excessively unpleasant.
I had small patience with the mediocre abilities of very mediocre
children, and still less with the continual and unwarrantable
interference of their ill-mannered and doting mothers. No lot in life
could have been more thoroughly uncongenial than mine; indeed, it would
have soon become unbearable had it not been for the constant influx of
strangers whose presence in the town made an oasis in the desert.
It is to one of these visitors--Miss Medley--that I owe the following
story.
“Some years ago,” she began, “I received an invitation to spend August
with a very crochety old aunt of mine residing at Burle Farm, North
Devon.
“There was nothing at all extraordinary in the appearance of the house;
it belonged to a type common in all parts of England. It was a low,
rambling building of yellow stone with a good, substantial, thatched
roof and ample stabling. The rooms, sweet with the scent of jasmine
and honeysuckle, compared more than favourably with the stuffy dens in
which I had been obliged to live in London; whilst the diamond-shaped
window-panes and massive oak beams serving as supports to the ceilings,
struck me as being quite delightfully quaint.
“My aunt, too--a rosy-faced old lady in a mob-cap--appeared quite in
harmony with her surroundings. She was kindness itself--indeed, no one
could have made me feel more thoroughly at home.
“‘Folks do say the house is haunted,’ she laughed, ‘particularly one
room--but there! I have never seen anything, and I don’t suppose you
will.’
“‘A ghost!’ I cried, ‘how awfully exciting! oh! do let me sleep in the
haunted room,’ and I continued to plead till the kind-hearted old lady
reluctantly consented.
“‘You mustn’t blame me if the ghost should visit you, Rosie,’ she said;
‘remember I have warned you.’
“‘There is nothing I should enjoy better than seeing a real _bona-fide_
spook, auntie dear,’ I rejoined, smiling; but my aunt shook her head
reprovingly, and no more was said on the subject until the next day.
“I awoke that night as the clock struck two--indeed, I fancied my
awakening was due to that striking, it seemed so unusually loud and
emphatic.
“It was a fine--indeed, I might say glorious--night, for although there
was no moon, the heavens were so brilliantly illuminated with myriads
of scintillating stars, that I could see every object around me almost
as clearly as if it had been day.
“A sudden movement near the foot of the bed made me recollect my
aunt’s admonition. I listened, experiencing none of those pleasant
anticipations of which I had spoken so boastfully.
“I knew no one could have entered the room, as I had taken the
precaution to lock the door, having first of all looked under the bed
and made a thorough examination of the hanging wardrobe. Consequently
my visitor, unless a mouse or a rat, could be nothing material.
“I devoutly wished I had slept in one of the other rooms.
“A faint and sickly odour now became perceptible whilst the noise
hitherto uninterpretable developed into a series of unequal knocks just
as if some big animal were lying on the floor ‘scratching’ itself.
“Determined not to appear frightened I put my hand out of bed and
called ‘Trot! Trot! is that you?’ (Trot being the name of my auntie’s
retriever.)
“Something instantly jumped up and, coming round the bed, stood by
my side. Wondering whether it could be Trot, though at a loss to
understand how he could have got into the room without being seen,
I stretched out my fingers and to my intense relief touched a furry
coat--the stench at the same time becoming so truly awful that I
retched.
“I could, of course have satisfied myself as to the identity of my
visitor by merely looking, but this, I am ashamed to say, I was too
great a coward to do; a strange feeling telling me that I was in the
presence of something unnatural.
“Running my hand fearfully along the shaggy skin of the animal, I felt
for its head, discovering to my intense horror that it had none, the
neck terminating in a wet mass of something soft and spongy.
“Unable to restrain myself any longer, I now looked, perceiving to my
infinite terror a huge shock-haired spaniel, headless, and in the most
abominable state of decomposition.
“I gazed at it for some seconds too appalled either to stir or utter a
sound--this paralytic condition continuing till an abortive effort of
the phantasm to jump on the bed loosened my tongue and I shrieked for
help.
“The dog immediately vanished.
“My feelings had been, however, so outraged by what I had witnessed
that nothing would have induced me to pass the remainder of the night
in that room--my own idea was to get out of it with the utmost celerity.
“I did so--nor did I ever again--not even by daylight--venture to cross
its threshold.
“My aunt, poor dear, was very much upset at the occurrence.
“She could not imagine how it was other people could see the ghost
while she could not. And her scepticism was but natural; she was unable
to grasp the idea that the psychic faculty is a gift, only granted to
the few, and as rare as that either of music or painting.
“Other reasons for her incredulity in this particular occult
manifestation lay in the enigmatical nature and purport of the
phenomenon.
“In what category of ghosts would one classify a headless dog; Was it
the spirit of a dog that had been decapitated on earth?
“She had never gathered from the Scriptures that beasts had souls--what
then was this phantom of a dog?
“I suggested it might be a Poltergeist or Elemental, one of those
purely bestial creations that for various reasons which you explained
at your recent lecture--always haunt certain localities?”
“Yes!” I said, interrupting Miss Medley, “the sub-animal type of
elemental is fairly common--if you refer to the June number 1908 of the
magazine published by the Society for Psychical Research you will see
an extremely well authenticated case of the haunting of a village by
a white pig with an abnormally long snout and I could enumerate many
other similar instances. But continue!”
“My aunt,” Miss Medley went on, “informed me that the house had
once been occupied by a lady who had lived a very selfish--not to
say sensual life. She had settled down at Burle, after having been
divorced twice, and her weekly routine was one incessant whirl of
pleasure.
“She died without the consolation of the Church, surrounded by a crowd
of fawning money-hunters and over-gorged poodles, so that for this,
as well as other reasons I think there may be an alternative solution
to the haunting. Is it not possible that what I saw was actually
the spirit of this worldly woman, which thoroughly brutalised by
long indulgence in sensuality had gradually adapted that shape most
befitting IT.”
“And the moral of that, Miss Medley,” I observed, “is--if you do not
wish to become a beast do not live like one! Yes! there is much to be
learned from a study of the different types of phantasms--more I believe
than from any pulpit discourses. Is that your only psychic experience?”
Miss Medley shook her head. “No!” she said, “I had another very
gruesome one at Burle. After the dog episode my aunt thought fit to
warn me not to pass along a certain road after dusk. ‘There is an elm
standing close to it,’ she said, ‘which the people about here declare
to be haunted; as you have seen one ghost you may see another--so please
be careful!’
“Now you might think that after such a disagreeable experience I would
have followed my aunt’s advice, but curiosity getting the better of
discretion I disobeyed her and, selecting a fine evening for the
enterprise, set out to the tree.
“As it was two or three miles away, and I was dearly fond of riding,
I hired a horse and going along at a jog-trot approached the forbidden
spot at about eight o’clock.
“The lane in which the haunted elm stood was narrow, trees of all sorts
and sizes lined it on either side, and the shadows, intensified by the
thickness of the foliage overhead, almost obliterated the roadway.
“All was dark and silent. I no longer wondered at the villagers
fighting shy of such a place; it looked a positive cock-pit of spookdom.
“At about twenty or so yards from the notorious elm my horse showed
unmistakable signs of uneasiness, laying back its ears and shivering
to such an extent that it was only by dint of alternate threats and
caresses that I succeeded in urging it forward. Arriving at a spot
level with the tree the animal shied, and had I not been a pretty good
horse-woman I might have met with a nasty accident, but I stuck to my
seat like a leech, and using my whip smartly drew in the reins. My
horse fell back on its haunches; reared--plunged headlong forward--took
the bit between its teeth and--we were off like the wind.
“Fortunately I was prepared; leaning back in my saddle I enjoyed rather
than otherwise so mad a career. But my pleasure received a sudden check
when I perceived, to my horror, the figure of a tall woman dressed in
black striding along by the side of us and keeping pace with us without
any apparent effort.