BESSIE'S VISIT.
A chilly, drizzling October rain. How the wind whistled about the old
house, leaping around the corners, and driving against the shutters,
which creaked as they flew back and forth. The night was coming
on, and the darkness was intense. The hickory wood fire in the
sitting-room stove sent out its inviting warmth, and Miss Elsworth
sat down beside it with a feeling of extreme satisfaction.
Suddenly a wild, shrill laugh rang out through the storm, and as
Blanche was about to raise the window, a white face, and a heavy mass
of hair, dripping with rain, arose before her. It was enough to make a
strong heart quail, and for a moment Blanche stood speechless, for the
mournful wail of the wind and the dashing of the gusts of rain gave a
still more frightful sound to the weird laugh, and the tapping of the
white fingers on the panes.
"Oh, Miss Robin, let me in; it's so cold out here," said a voice
outside.
The second glance told Miss Elsworth who the strange visitor was.
"Come to the door," she said, "and I will let you in."
"La me, you ain't a-goin' to take that crazy girl in, are you?" Mrs.
Morris asked in a frightened tone.
"Certainly," Miss Elsworth said, opening the door. "The way is very
long to her home, on such a night as this especially."
"Oh, I won't hurt you," Bessie said, as she stepped into the room, her
garments dripping with rain. "You are a coward. I couldn't hurt you,
for I am only a dove, a dear little dove. Oh, you do not know how
sweet he used to say it to me. I can hear him now. Hark! Don't you
hear his voice? I do, out there in the storm."
"You must come and let me give you some dry clothing," said Miss
Elsworth.
"Oh, I must tell you all about it first."
"No, let me change your clothing, and then you may tell me."
"Sure."
"Yes."
"Because it is so nice to talk to you, for you do not scold me like
the rest. They say they have to, but you don't have to."
"No, I will not scold you if you will let me make you comfortable, and
when you are dressed you may tell me all about it."
"May I? I knew you would let me tell you. They won't let me for fear I
will go mad. You are not mad, are you?"
Blanche hastened to make Bessie comfortable, then persuaded her to sit
beside the fire to warm her shivering limbs, thinking more than
likely some member of the family would soon be in search of the
truant. She really hoped they would be, for the thought of staying
through that stormy night with a maniac was not a very pleasant one.
But she was determined to make the best of the situation, unpleasant
though it was.
"You promised you would not tell any one, and you must not let that
old woman know."
"I will promise, too," said Mrs. Morris, with a shiver.
"Sure?"
"Yes, as sure as there is a heaven."
"Oh, oh," screamed Bessie, "those were the very words he said, and I
would not believe you now, anyway. If you say _she shall not tell_, I
will let her listen if she wants to," she said, turning to Blanche.
"Very well, go on then, I will make her keep the secret."
"Well; let me see if Ross is listening."
"No, no; he is sound asleep, and the wind is blowing, oh so hard. How
it shrieks as it goes down the old well-curb. Did you ever hear it?"
"Yes, I can hear it. Don't it sound nice?"
"Sounds nice? You are mad. They have to kill mad people or lock them
up. And you say it sounds nice. Why, it sounds just like the wail my
poor baby gave the night it died. That wail comes right from the
grave. You never saw my baby's grave, did you?"
"Your baby," Blanche repeated, her curiosity aroused.
"Why, yes, my own little baby. You think I am telling you a crazy
story, but you must come some day, when the sun shines, and see where
she sleeps. Oh, she was beautiful--a little angel, and she was all my
own till God took her, and now she is out there under the ground. But
I don't believe the storm can get down where she is, do you, Miss
Robin?"
"Oh, no," Blanche answered, wondering why Bessie had given her such a
name. "No, your baby is safe, I am sure; but you did not tell me your
baby's name."
"No, no. I can't tell you her name, but I will tell you all about him.
You see I went away to boarding school, and it was while I was there I
met him. I can't begin to tell you how handsome he was."
Miss Elsworth fancied she saw tears on Bessie's long dark lashes, and
the deep, fiery look in the eyes had given place to one of extreme
sadness.
"Oh, you would not blame me if you knew--he was handsome--he said he
loved me. He called me his little dove, and, oh, how happy I was to
think that such a grand man should love me, a little schoolgirl. Hark,
listen to the wind, how it moans, moans, moans, in such a sad, sad
way, over my baby's grave. Don't you hear it?" she asked, coming
closer to Blanche, and grasping her hand. "Don't you hear it call my
name? No, you do not hear my baby, for she is down deep under the
ground, with the little dark rings of hair lying all about her little
white face. You can't see her, but I can, and I shall see her till I
go there too."
Miss Elsworth stroked the damp hair that clung around Bessie's
forehead.
"Poor girl," she said.
"You pity me, don't you?" Bessie said, looking up in Blanche's face,
as though she could read her answer there. "I know you will not lock
me up."
"Yes, Bessie, I do pity you, and I wish you would tell me what made
you----"
"There, don't you say it, too, I'm not crazy. I am just tired of
waiting. He told me he would come back, but he never came, and when I
found that I was left alone, then I began to grow so tired, so tired
of waiting. But I will not tell you his name, because--when Ross sees
him he will kill him."
"But I will not kill him."
"Yes, you will, and then they will all be glad, but the wind must not
know it, for it might fly away and tell him, and then I cannot have my
revenge. Now, if you tell I will take your head right off, too."
"The wind shall not know it," said Blanche, stroking Bessie's hair,
and speaking in a kindly way.
"Hark," said Bessie, as the old wild light came back to her eyes.
"They are trying to get in; they want to hear what I am telling you,
but they shall not; now listen. When I find him I am going to shoot
his head right off. You see all the ghosts from the graveyard away out
there on the hill came down one night when it rained just like this,
only the thunder rolled away over the hills, and made me laugh, ha,
ha, ha! Oh, how I laughed to hear the big thunder crash right down on
my head, and then all the ghosts stood around, clapping their bony
hands, and laughed too."
"La me, I don't believe I can stand this another minute," said Mrs.
Morris.
"Oh, I just wish you had seen what a wild, wild time we had out there
in the storm," said Bessie, with another burst of laughter. "How the
rain came down, and beat upon our heads, and the thunder crashed among
the hills, and the lightning danced, keeping time to the music we made
with our laughter, and the skull of every ghost was nodding and
grinning in the darkness, and then it was they gathered about me, and
made me swear, by all the spirits of the dead who were lying in their
graves--swear by the spirit of my little dead baby that I would take
the stain from my name; that I would take away the heartaches that I
had made, and make my mother smile again. Oh, I was glad that they
told me I must swear, but you can't guess how."
"No," said Blanche, growing more and more interested.
"Why, you see they carried me in their long, bony arms, away up
through the storm, up to the graveyard, and they put me on a grave,
and gathered all about me, and they made me swear that I would shoot
him until he was dead, and if you take my pistol away the ghosts will
stay right by you till you give it up. I will kill him. Let me show
you how."
"Never mind to-night," said Blanche, growing a little uneasy.
"But I will shoot."
"Dear, dear, I never was no coward, but I can't stand all this, and
I'd rather be out in the biggest kind of a storm than to be pestered
in this way, and if you ain't afraid I'll go somewhere, you know,"
said Mrs. Morris.
"Oh, let her go and find the ghosts," said Bessie. "I'm not afraid of
you, Miss Robin, for I know you are not crazy, even if they do say
you are; but, you see, robins never hurt any one; just let her go. She
is a coward anyway."
Mrs. Morris wrapped herself in a thick shawl and hood, and, starting
by the way of a path that led through the meadow, she hurried along as
fast as the darkness would allow, until she reached the house of Mr.
Graves, when she informed them of Bessie's visit.
"Why," said Eliza, "I was in her room not two hours ago, and left her
fast asleep. She must have gone out of the window, and down the porch,
but I do not see how she could do it on such a night as this."
"Crazy lunatics will think of plenty of cunning things," said Mrs.
Morris; "you jest ought to hear the stuff she's been a-tellin'. Of
course we don't believe a word of it; 'cause it's likely she don't
know what she's a-talkin' about."
"No," Mrs. Graves said, in a trembling voice, and wiping the tears
from her eyes; "no, she does not know what she is saying."
"It makes it dreadful bad for you folks 'cause I s'pose it keeps you
a-worryin'."
There was no reply to the last remark made by Mrs. Morris, and seeing
that Ross was about to start after Bessie, she availed herself of his
company back home. Ross was the one of all the household who could
manage Bessie with the least trouble. If she became wilful Ross was
the one who could control her in a quiet way. If she became sullen or
sad Ross alone could cheer her, and thus when there was anything wrong
with Bessie Ross knew his duty, and never waited to be called upon to
perform it, so he hurried out in the chilling storm.
"Now, Miss Robin," said Bessie, as the door closed after Mrs. Morris,
"I am glad she is gone, for there is one thing I don't want her to
know. Ross would kill me if I should tell of it, but you see he tries
to make folks think he is my brother. But he is not my brother, and
you need not let him make you think he is."
"Who is he then?" Blanche asked, her brain fairly throbbing with the
thoughts of the whole affair.
"Oh, I will never tell even you. You cannot make me tell that, but
some day when God calls all the wicked people to account, then maybe
He will tell you all about it. But, hush, don't let Ross know I told
you about my baby. If you do he will kill me; he will tell you he is
my brother, too, but don't you believe him."
In vain Blanche tried to induce Bessie to tell her more of Ross. She
firmly refused, and after several moments of stolid silence, she
buried her face in her hands, and, laying her head in Miss Elsworth's
lap, she fell into a passionate fit of weeping, calling in the most
pitiful tones for her two beautiful darlings, who were out in the
storm, and not until Ross entered to take her away, did she cease her
wild weeping, but at the first sound of his voice she arose, and
quickly drying her eyes, she said in a hurried manner:
"Yes, Ross, I'll go. I won't run away again. Don't lock me up, I did
not tell all about it."