THE INMATE OF THE HIDDEN HOUSE.
There is a light around her brow,
A holiness in those dark eyes,
That show, though wandering earthward now,
Her spirit's home is in the skies.
--Moore.
Pushing open the door, Dorcas Knight exclaimed:
"Here is a young lady, Miss Black, from Hurricane Hall, come to see
you, Miss Day."
And having made this announcement, the woman retired and shut the door
behind her.
And Capitola found herself in a large, dark, gloomy, wainscoted room,
whose tall, narrow windows afforded but little light, and whose immense
fireplace and blackened furniture seemed to belong to a past century.
The only occupant of this somber apartment was a young girl, seated in
pensive thought beside the central table. She was clothed in deep
mourning, which only served to throw into fairer relief the beauty of
her pearly skin, golden hair and violet eyes.
The vision of her mourning robes and melancholy beauty so deeply
impressed Capitola that, almost for the first time in her life, she
hesitated from a feeling of diffidence, and said gently:
"Indeed, I fear that this is an unwarranted intrusion on my part, Miss
Day."
"You are very welcome," replied the sweetest voice Capitola had ever
heard, as the young girl arose and advanced to meet her. "But you have
been exposed to the storm. Please come into my room and change your
clothes," continued the young hostess, as she took Cap's hand and led
her into an adjoining room.
The storm was still raging, but these apartments being in the central
portion of the strong old house, were but little exposed to the sight
or sound of its fury.
There was a lamp burning upon the mantelpiece, by the light of which
the young girl furnished her visitor with dry clothing and assisted her
to change, saying as she did so:
"I think we are about the same size, and that my clothes will fit you;
but I will not offer you mourning habiliments--you shall have this
lilac silk."
"I am very sorry to see you in mourning," said Capitola, earnestly.
"It is for my father," replied Clara, very softly.
As they spoke the eyes of the two young girls met. They were both good
physiognomists and intuitive judges of character. Consequently in the
full meeting of their eyes they read, understood and appreciated each
other.
The pure, grave, and gentle expression of Clara's countenance touched
the heart of Capitola.
The bright, frank, honest face of Cap recommended her to Clara.
The very opposite traits of their equally truthful characters attracted
them to each other.
Clara conducted her guest back into the wainscoted parlor, where a
cheerful fire had been kindled to correct the dampness of the air. And
here they sat down unmindful of the storm that came much subdued
through the thickness of the walls. And, as young creatures, however
tried and sorrowful, will do, they entered into a friendly chat. And
before an hour had passed Capitola thought herself well repaid for her
sufferings from the storm and the rebuff, in having formed the
acquaintance of Clara Day.
She resolved, let Old Hurricane rage as he might, henceforth she would
be a frequent visitor to the Hidden House.
And Clara, for her part, felt that in Capitola she had found a frank,
spirited, faithful neighbor who might become an estimable friend.
While they were thus growing into each other's favor, the door opened
and admitted a gentleman of tall and thin figure and white and
emaciated face, shaded by a luxuriant growth of glossy black hair and
beard. He could not have been more than twenty-six, but, prematurely
broken by vice, he seemed forty years of age. He advanced bowing toward
the young women.
As Capitola's eyes fell upon this newcomer it required all her presence
of mind and powers of self-control to prevent her from staring or
otherwise betraying herself--for in this stranger she recognized the
very man who had stopped her upon her night ride. She did, however,
succeed in banishing from her face every expression of consciousness.
And when Miss Day courteously presented him to her guest, saying
merely, "My cousin, Mr. Craven Le Noir, Miss Black," Capitola arose and
curtsied as composedly as if she had never set eyes upon his face
before.
He on his part evidently remembered her, and sent one stealthy, keen
and scrutinizing glance into her face; but, finding that imperturbable,
he bowed with stately politeness and seemed satisfied that she had not
identified him as her assailant.
Craven Le Noir drew his chair to the fire, seated himself and entered
into an easy conversation with Clara and her guest. Whenever he
addressed Clara there was a deference and tenderness in his tone and
glance that seemed very displeasing to the fair girl, who received all
these delicate attentions with coldness and reserve. These things did
not escape the notice of Capitola, who mentally concluded that Craven
Le Noir was a lover of Clara Day, but a most unacceptable lover.
When supper was announced it was evidently hailed by Clara as a great
relief. And after the meal was over she arose and excused herself to
her cousin by saying that her guest, Miss Black, had been exposed to
the storm and was doubtless very much fatigued and that she would show
her to her chamber.
Then, taking a night lamp, she invited Capitola to come and conducted
her to an old-fashioned upper chamber, where a cheerful fire was
burning on the hearth. Here the young girls sat down before the fire
and improved their acquaintance by an hour's conversation. After which
Clara arose, and saying, "I sleep immediately below your room, Miss
Black; if you should want anything rap on the floor and I shall hear
you and get up," she wished her guest a good night's rest and retired
from the room.
Cap was disinclined to sleep; a strange superstitious feeling which she
could neither understand nor throw off had fallen upon her spirits.
She took the night lamp in her hand and got up to examine her chamber.
It was a large, dark, oak-paneled room, with a dark carpet on the floor
and dark-green curtains on the windows and the bedstead. Over the
mantelpiece hung the portrait of a most beautiful black-haired and
black-eyed girl of about fourteen years of age, but upon whose
infantile brow fell the shadow of some fearful woe. There was something
awful in the despair "on that face so young" that bound the gazer in an
irresistible and most painful spell. And Capitola remained standing
before it transfixed, until the striking of the hall clock aroused her
from her enchantment. Wondering who the young creature could have been,
what had been her history and, above all, what had been the nature of
that fearful woe that darkened like a curse her angel brow, Capitola
turned almost sorrowfully away and began to prepare for bed.
She undressed, put on the delicate nightclothes Clara had provided for
her use, said her evening prayers, looked under the bed--a precaution
taken ever since the night upon which she had discovered the
burglars--and, finding all right, she blew out her candle and lay down.
She could not sleep--many persons of nervous or mercurial temperaments
cannot do so the first night in a strange bed. Cap was very mercurial,
and the bed and room in which she lay were very strange; for the first
time since she had had a home to call her own she was unexpectedly
staying all night away from her friends, and without their having any
knowledge of her whereabouts. She was conjecturing, half in fear and
half in fun, how Old Hurricane was taking her escapade and what he
would say to her in the morning. She was wondering to find herself in
such an unforeseen position as that of a night guest in the mysterious
Hidden House--wondering whether this was the guest chamber in which the
ghost appeared to the officer and these were the very curtains that the
pale lady drew at night. While her thoughts were thus running over the
whole range of circumstances around her singular position, sleep
overtook Capitola and speculation was lost in brighter visions.
How long she had slept and dreamed she did not know, when something
gently awakened her. She opened her eyes calmly--to meet a vision that
brave as she was, nearly froze the blood in her warm veins.
Her chamber was illumined with an intense blue flame that lighted up
every portion of the apartment with a radiance bright as day, and in
the midst of this effulgence moved a figure clothed in white--a
beautiful, pale, spectral woman, whose large, motionless black eyes,
deeply set in her death-like face, and whose long unbound black hair,
fallen upon her white raiment, were the only marks of color about her
marble form.
Paralyzed with wonder, Capitola watched this figure as it glided about
the chamber. The apparition approached the dressing-table, seemed to
take something thence, and then gliding toward the bed, to Capitola's
inexpressible horror, drew back the curtains and bent down and gazed
upon her! Capitola had no power to scream, to move or to avert her gaze
from those awful eyes that met her own, until at length, as the
spectral head bent lower, she felt the pressure of a pair of icy lips
upon her brow and closed her eyes!
When she opened them again the vision had departed and the room was
dark and quiet.
There was no more sleep for Capitola. She heard the clock strike four,
and was pleased to find that it was so near day. Still the time seemed
very long to her, who lay there wondering, conjecturing and speculating
on the strange adventure of the night.
When the sun arose she left her restless bed, bathed her excited head
and proceeded to dress herself. When she had finished her toilet, with
the exception of putting on her trinkets, she suddenly missed a ring
that she prized more than she did all her possessions put together--it
was a plain gold band, bearing the inscription Capitola-Eugene, and
which she had been enjoined by her old nurse never to part from but
with life. She had, in her days of destitution suffered the extremes of
cold and hunger; had been upon the very brink of death from starvation
or freezing, but without ever dreaming of sacrificing her ring. And now
for the first time it was missing. While she was still looking
anxiously for the lost jewel the door opened and Dorcas Knight entered
the room, bearing on her arm Capitola's riding dress, which had been
well dried and ironed.
"Miss Capitola, here is your habit; you had better put it on at once,
as I have ordered breakfast an hour sooner than usual, so that you may
have an early start."
"Upon my word, you are very anxious to get rid of me, but not more so
than I am to depart," said Capitola, still pursuing her search.
"Your friends, who do not know where you are, must be very uneasy about
you. But what are you looking for?"
"A ring, a plain gold circle, with my name and that of another
inscribed on it, and which I would not lose for the world. I hung it on
a pin in this pin-cushion last night before I went to bed. I would
swear I did, and now it is missing," answered Cap, still pursuing her
search.
"If you lost it in this room it will certainly be found," said Dorcas
Knight putting down the habit and helping in the search.
"I am not so sure of that. There was some one in my room last night."
"Some one in your room!" exclaimed Dorcas in dismay.
"Yes; a dark-haired woman, all dressed in white!"
Dorcas Knight gave two or three angry grunts and then harshly
exclaimed:
"Nonsense! woman, indeed! there is no such woman about the house! There
are no females here except Miss Day, myself and you--not even a
waiting-maid or cook."
"Well," said Cap, "if it was not a woman it was a ghost; for I was wide
awake, and I saw it with my own eyes!"
"Fudge! you've heard that foolish story of the haunted room, and you
have dreamed the whole thing!"
"I tell you I didn't! I saw it! Don't I know?"
"I say you dreamed it! There is no such living woman here; and as for a
ghost, that is all folly. And I must beg, Miss Black, that you will not
distress Miss Day by telling her this strange dream of yours. She has
never heard the ridiculous story of the haunted room, and, as she lives
here in solitude, I would not like her to hear of it."
"Oh, I will say nothing to disquiet Miss Day; but it was no dream. It
was real, if there is any reality in this world."
There was no more said. They continued to look for the ring, but in
vain. Dorcas Knight, however, assured her guest that it should be found
and returned, and that--breakfast waited. Whereupon Capitola went down
to the parlor, where she found Clara awaiting her presence to give her
a kindly greeting.
"Mr. Le Noir never gets up until very late, and so we do not wait for
him," said Dorcas Knight, as she took her seat at the head of the table
and signed to the young girls to gather around it.
After breakfast Capitola, promising to come again soon, and inviting
Clara to return her visit, took leave of her entertainers and set out
for home.
"Thank heaven! I have got her off in time and safety!" muttered Dorcas
Knight, in triumph.