"MY HOUSE IS HAUNTED"
For some days past Miss Rottermeyer had gone about rather silently
and as if lost in thought. As twilight fell, and she passed from room
to room, or along the long corridors, she was seen to look cautiously
behind her, and into the dark corners, as if she thought some one was
coming up silently behind her and might unexpectedly give her dress a
pull. Nor would she now go alone into some parts of the house. If she
visited the upper floor where the grand guest-chambers were, or had to
go down into the large drawing room, where every footstep echoed, she
called Tinette to accompany her.
For something very strange and mysterious was going on in Mr.
Sesemann's house. Every morning, when the servants went downstairs,
they found the front door wide open, although nobody could be seen far
or near to account for it. During the first few days that this happened
every room and corner was searched in great alarm, to see if anything
had been stolen, for the general idea was that a thief had been hiding
in the house and had gone off in the night with the stolen goods; but
not a thing in the house had been touched, everything was safe in its
place. The door was doubly locked at night, and for further security
the wooden bar was fastened across it; but it was no good--next morning
the door again stood open. At last, after a great deal of persuasion
from Miss Rottermeyer, Sebastian and John plucked up courage and
agreed to sit up one night to watch and see what would happen. Miss
Rottermeyer hunted up several weapons belonging to the master, and
gave these and a bottle of brandy to them so that their courage might
not faint if it came to a fight.
On the appointed night the two sat down and began at once to take some
of the strengthening cordial, which at first made them very talkative
and then very sleepy, so that they leant back in their seats and became
silent. As midnight struck, Sebastian roused himself and called to his
companion, who, however, was not easy to wake, and kept rolling his
head first to one side and then the other and continuing to sleep.
Sebastian began to listen more attentively, for he was wide awake now.
He did not feel inclined to go to sleep again, for the stillness was
ghostly to him, and he was afraid now to raise his voice to rouse John,
so he shook him gently to make him stir. At last, as one struck, John
woke up, and came back to the consciousness of why he was sitting in
a chair instead of lying in his bed. He got up with a great show of
courage and said, "Come, Sebastian, we must go out in the hall and see
what is going on; you need not be afraid, just follow me."
Whereupon he opened the door wide and stepped into the hall. Just as
he did so a sudden gust of air blew through the open front door and
put out the light which John held in his hand. He started back, almost
overturning Sebastian, whom he clutched and pulled back into the room,
and then shutting the door quickly he turned the key as far as he could
make it go. Then he pulled out his matches and lighted his candle
again. Sebastian, in the suddenness of the affair, did not know exactly
what had happened, for he had not seen the open front door or felt the
breeze behind John's broad figure. But now, as he saw the latter in the
light, he gave a cry of alarm, for John was trembling all over and was
as white as a ghost. "What's the matter? What did you see outside?"
asked Sebastian sympathetically.
"The door partly open," gasped John, "and a white figure standing at
the top of the steps--there it stood, and then all in a minute it
disappeared."
Sebastian felt his blood run cold. The two sat down close to one
another and did not dare move again till the morning broke and the
streets began to be alive again. Then they left the room together,
shut the front door, and went upstairs to tell Miss Rottermeyer of
their experience. They had no sooner given her details of the night's
experience than she sat down and wrote to Mr. Sesemann, who had never
received such a letter before in his life. She could hardly write, she
told him, for her fingers were stiff with fear, and Mr. Sesemann must
please arrange to come back at once, for dreadful and unaccountable
things were taking place at home. Then she entered into particulars of
all that had happened, of how the door was found standing open every
morning.
Mr. Sesemann answered that it was quite impossible for him to arrange
to leave his business and return home at once.
Miss Rottermeyer, however, was determined not to pass any more days
in a state of fear, and she knew the right course to pursue. She had
as yet said nothing to the children of the ghostly apparitions, for
she knew if she did that the children would not remain alone for a
single moment, and that might entail discomfort for herself. But now
she walked straight off into the study, and there in a low, mysterious
voice told the two children everything that had taken place. Clara
immediately screamed out that she could not remain another minute
alone, her father must come home.
So Miss Rottermeyer wrote another letter to Mr. Sesemann, stating
that these unaccountable things that were going on in the house had
so affected his daughter's delicate constitution that the worst
consequences might be expected. Epileptic fits and St. Vitus's dance
often came on suddenly in cases like this, and Clara was liable to be
attacked by either if the cause of the general alarm was not removed.
The letter was successful, and two days later Mr. Sesemann arrived home.
Clara greeted him with a cry of joy, and seeing her so lively and
apparently as well as ever, his face cleared, and the frown of anxiety
passed gradually away from it as he heard from his daughter's own lips
that she had nothing the matter with her, and moreover was so delighted
to see him that she was quite glad about the ghost, as it was the cause
of bringing him home again.
"And how is the ghost getting on?" he asked, turning to Miss
Rottermeyer, with a twinkle of amusement in his eye.
"It is no joke, I assure you," replied that lady. "You will not laugh
yourself tomorrow morning, Mr. Sesemann; what is going on in the house
points to some terrible thing that has taken place in the past and been
concealed."
"Well, I know nothing about that," said the master of the house, "but
I must beg you not to bring suspicion on my worthy ancestors. And now
will you kindly call Sebastian into the dining-room, as I wish to speak
to him alone."
Mr. Sesemann had been quite aware that Sebastian and Miss Rottermeyer
were not on the best of terms, and he had his ideas about this scare.
"Come here, lad," he said as Sebastian appeared, "and tell me
frankly--have you been playing at ghosts to amuse yourself at Miss
Rottermeyer's expense?"
"No, on my honor, sir; pray, do not think it; I am very uncomfortable
about the matter myself," answered Sebastian with unmistakable
truthfulness.
"Well, if that is so, I will show you and John tomorrow morning how
ghosts look in the daylight. You ought to be ashamed of yourself,
Sebastian, a great strong lad like you, to run away from a ghost! But
now go and take a message to my old friend the doctor: give him my kind
regards, and ask if he will come to me tonight at nine o'clock without
fail; I have come by express from Paris to consult him. I shall want
him to spend the night here, so bad a case is it; so will he arrange
accordingly. You understand?"
"Yes, sir," replied Sebastian, "I will see to the matter as you wish."
Punctually at nine o'clock, after the children and Miss Rottermeyer
had retired, the doctor arrived. He was a grey-haired man with a fresh
face, and two bright, kindly eyes. He looked anxious as he walked in,
but, on catching sight of his patient, burst out laughing and clapped
him on the shoulder. "Well," he said, "you look pretty bad for a person
that I am to sit up with all night."
"Patience, friend," answered Mr. Sesemann, "the one you have to sit up
for will look a good deal worse when we have once caught him, for there
is a ghost in the house!"
The doctor laughed again.
"That's a nice way of showing sympathy, doctor!" continued Mr.
Sesemann. "It's a pity my friend Rottermeyer cannot hear you. She is
firmly convinced that some old member of the family is wandering about
the house doing penance for some awful crime he committed."
"How did she become acquainted with him?" asked the doctor, still very
much amused.
So Mr. Sesemann recounted to him how the front door was nightly opened
by somebody, according to the testimony of the combined household. The
whole thing was either a joke gotten up by some friend of the servants,
just to alarm the household while he was away or else it was a thief,
who, by leading everybody at first to think there was a ghost, made it
safe for himself when he came later to steal, as no one would venture
to run out if they heard him.
The two took up their quarters for the night in the same room in which
Sebastian and John had kept watch. The door was shut close to prevent
the light being seen in the hall outside, which might frighten away the
ghost. The gentlemen sat comfortably back in the arm-chairs and began
talking of all sorts of things, now and then pausing to take a good
draught of wine, and so twelve o'clock struck before they were aware.
"The ghost has got scent of us and is keeping away tonight," said the
doctor.
"Wait a bit, it does not generally appear before one o'clock," answered
his friend.
They started talking again. One o'clock struck. There was not a sound
about the house, nor in the street outside. Suddenly the doctor lifted
his finger.
"Hush! Sesemann, don't you hear something?"
They both listened, and they distinctly heard the bar softly pushed
aside and then the key turned in the lock and the door opened. Mr.
Sesemann put out his hand for his revolver.
"You are not afraid, are you?" said the doctor as he stood up.
"It is better to take precautions," whispered Mr. Sesemann, and seizing
one of the lights in his other hand, he followed the doctor, who, armed
in like manner with a light and a revolver, went softly on in front.
They stepped into the hall. The moonlight was shining in through the
open door and fell on a white figure standing motionless in the doorway.
"Who is there?" thundered the doctor in a voice that echoed through
the hall, as the two men advanced with lights and weapons towards the
figure.
It turned and gave a low cry. There in her little white nightgown stood
Heidi, with bare feet, staring with wild eyes at the lights and the
revolvers, and trembling from head to foot like a leaf in the wind. The
two men looked at one another in surprise.
"Why, I believe it is Heidi," said the doctor.
"Child, what does this mean?" said Mr. Sesemann. "What did you want?
why did you come down here?"
White with terror, and hardly able to make her voice heard, Heidi
answered, "I don't know."
But now the doctor stepped forward. "This is a matter for me to see to,
Sesemann; go back to your chair. I must take the child upstairs to her
bed."
And with that he put down his revolver and gently taking the child by
the hand led her upstairs. "Don't be frightened," he said as they went
up side by side, "it's nothing to be frightened about; it's all right,
only just go quietly."
On reaching Heidi's room the doctor put the candle down on the table,
and taking Heidi up in his arms laid her on the bed and carefully
covered her over. Then he sat down beside her and waited until she had
grown quieter and no longer trembled so violently. He then took her
hand and said in a kind, soothing voice, "There, now you feel better,
and now tell me where you were wanting to go to?"
"I did not want to go anywhere," said Heidi. "I did not know I went
downstairs, but all at once I was there."
"I see, and had you been dreaming, so that you seemed to see and hear
something very distinctly?"
[Illustration: THE DOCTOR DISCOVERS HEIDI'S HOME-SICKNESS]
"Yes, I dream every night, and always about the same things. I think
I am back with grandfather, and I hear the sound in the fir trees
outside, and I see the stars shining so brightly, and then I open the
door quickly and run out, and it is all so beautiful! But when I wake I
am still in Frankfurt." And Heidi struggled as she spoke to keep back
the sobs which seemed to choke her.
"And have you no pain anywhere? no pain in your head or back?"
"No, only a feeling as if there were a great stone weighing on me here."
"As if you had eaten something that would not go down."
"No, not like that; something heavy as if I wanted to cry very much."
"I see, and then do you have a good cry?"
"Oh, no, I mustn't; Miss Rottermeyer forbade me to cry."
"So you swallow it all down, I suppose? Are you happy here in
Frankfurt?"
"Yes," was the low answer; but it sounded more like "No."
"And where did you live with your grandfather?"
"Up on the mountain."
"That wasn't very amusing; rather dull at times, eh?"
"No, no, it was beautiful, beautiful!" Heidi could go no further; the
remembrance of the past, the excitement she had just gone through, the
long suppressed weeping, were too much for the child's strength; the
tears began to fall fast, and she broke into violent weeping.
The doctor patted her head kindly. "There, there, go on crying, it will
do you good, and then go to sleep: it will be all right tomorrow."
Then he left the room and went downstairs to Mr. Sesemann; when he was
once more sitting in the arm-chair opposite his friend, "Sesemann," he
said, "let me first tell you that your little charge is a sleep-walker;
she is the ghost who has nightly opened the front door and put your
household into this fever of alarm. Secondly, the child is consumed
with home-sickness to such an extent that she is nearly a skeleton
already, and soon will be quite one; something must be done at once.
There is but one remedy and that is to send her back to her native
mountain air. So tomorrow the child must start for home; there you have
my prescription."
Mr. Sesemann had risen and now paced up and down the room in the
greatest state of concern.
"What!" he exclaimed, "the child a sleep-walker and ill! All this has
taken place in my house and no one noticed it! And you mean, doctor,
that the child who came here happy and healthy, I am to send back to
her grandfather a miserable little skeleton? I can't do it; you cannot
dream of my doing such a thing! Take the child in hand, do with her
what you will, and make her whole and sound, and then she shall go
home; but you must cure her first."
"Sesemann," replied the doctor, "this illness of the child's is not
one to be cured with pills and powders. The child has not a strong
constitution, but if you send her back at once she may recover in the
mountain air, if not--you would rather she went back ill than not at
all?"
Mr. Sesemann stood still; the doctor's words were a shock to him.
"If you put it so, doctor, there is assuredly only one way--and that is
to send her home at once."