THE MIDNIGHT CRY.
"And when the midnight hour is come,
A sound is heard in yonder hall--
It rises hoarsely through the sky,
And vibrates o'er the moldering wall."
In a former chapter, we left Mrs. Tom in rather an appalling
situation.
Accustomed to the quiet unexciting life of the lonely, sea-girt
island, the events of the night had momentarily terrified her, albeit
her nerves were none of the weakest. The mysterious revelation of
the dying man; his tale of night, and storm, and crime; the wild,
ghostly face at the window; and, lastly, his sudden death, were quite
enough to thrill for an instant with terror even a stronger heart
than that of the solitary old widow.
For some moments Mrs. Tom sat still, gazing alternately at the window
and on the ghastly face of the dead man before her, with a chill of
horror creeping over her.
The sudden striking of the clock, as it chimed the hour of eleven,
aroused her at last from her trance of terror. It was a sound of
life, and it reassured her.
Rising, she gathered courage to approach the window cautiously, and
looked out. Nothing was to be seen but the bright moonlight, bathing
rock and river in its silvery light. Beyond, she could see the huge,
black pile of Campbell's Castle, casting its long, gloomy shadow over
the ground. Lights were still twinkling in the windows--a sight as
unusual as it was pleasant--and, with renewed confidence at this sign
of life, Mrs. Tom went to arouse Carl to assist her to watch beside
the dead.
"It's onpossible to sleep with a corpse in the house," thought Mrs.
Tom, as she climbed up the ladder leading to Carl's lofty dormitory;
"leastways, I couldn't sleep a wink, though I do s'pose that there
lazy, sleepy-head of a Carl could snore away jest as soundly as ef we
was all dead in a heap. I reckon I'll hev an hour's work getting him
up. Here, you Carl! Carl! Get up, I tell you!"
Then Mrs. Tom shook him lustily. The sleeper only replied by turning
over with a grunt.
"Carl! Carl! Lor' sakes! you great, sleepy, good-for-nothing, open
your eyes. I do b'lieve the last Judgment wouldn't wake you, once
you got a-snorin'. Ef nothin' else won't do, I'll try how you'll
like this!"
And Mrs. Tom caught the unfortunate Carl by the hair and pulled it
vigorously, until that ill-used youth sprang upright, with a roar
that might have been heard half a mile off.
"Thunder and lightning, aunty, do you want to kill a feller?" roared
Master Carl, in a rage.
"Hush, Carl! Don't get mad, honey," said Mrs. Tom, soothingly. "I
only want you to come down stairs and set up with me. That there
sick man's dead."
"Dead!" repeated Carl, staring with all his eyes.
"Yes, he's dead as can be; and it's the most lonesomest thing in the
world settin' up alone with a corpse, so I waked you up."
"Well don't sit up with him, then," said Carl, with a tremendous
yawn. "If he's dead, he won't mind staying alone all night, I
suppose. Anyhow, I know I ain't going to get up this time of night,
if he was dead twice over."
And Carl lay down, and composed himself for another nap.
But Mrs. Tom was resolved not to be disobeyed; so, dropping the
pacific tone she had first adopted, she very summarily snatched away
sheets and quilts, pulled the mattress from under him, and overset
poor Carl on the floor, from which she soon made him spring up with a
sound box on the ear.
"Now then," said the indignant old lady; "tell me ag'in you won't,
will ye? Now, look here, ef you ain't dressed and down stairs in
five minutes, I'll come back, and this ain't no circumstance to what
you'll get. Tell me you won't, indeed! There's no tellin' what the
impidence of these scape-goats of boys 'ill come to, ef they ain't
minded in time," muttered the old lady to herself, as she descended
the ladder.
Carl's toilet, thus unpleasantly hastened, was soon complete, and he
descended to the lower room with a very sulky face, and grumbling
inwardly at his hard fate in being governed by so tyrannical a
task-mistress:
"I don't see why the old feller couldn't have died somewhere else,"
inwardly muttered the ill-treated Mr. Henley; "a coming here and
giving bother, keeping a feller from his sleep of nights. It's
downright mean!"
Taking possession of Mrs. Tom's rocking-chair, while the old lady
bustled about, laying out the corpse as best she could under the
circumstances, Carl was once more soon sound asleep. Then, when all
she could do was done, Mrs. Tom lay down on the hard wooden sofa, or
"settee," as she called it, and, in spite of the presence of death,
followed her worthy nephew to the land of dreams.
Morning was far advanced before either awoke. Mrs. Tom's first care
was to send Carl up to the lodge to inform its inmates of the death
of her guest, and desire Captain Campbell's immediate presence.
Immediately after breakfast the young captain hastened to the
cottage, while Sibyl and Drummond went out for a stroll round the
island.
Mrs. Tom had been anxiously revolving in her mind the singular story
told her the night before, and resolved to reveal it to Captain
Campbell and learn his opinion about it.
Accordingly, when he entered, Mrs. Tom--having first taken the
precaution of turning Carl out of doors--related the story in
substance as it had been told to her.
Captain Campbell listened in astonishment and in credulity.
"Now, Master Guy, what do you think of that?" exclaimed Mrs. Tom,
when she had finished.
"My dear madam," replied the young man, gravely, "the man, excited,
half crazed, delirious as he was, must have imagined all this. No
such horrible thing could have ever occurred in a Christian land."
"But he wasn't crazy," asserted Mrs. Tom, almost angry at having the
truth of the story doubted. "He was just as sensible, all through,
as you or I. He wasn't _colirious_ a mite."
"Now, Mrs. Tom, it's not possible that, with all your good sense, you
can credit such an incredible tale."
"But, Master Guy, the man told it on his death-bed. Think o' that."
"And doubtless believed it, too; but that does not make it any more
probable. I have heard of such cases before. It is all owing to the
imagination, my dear lady. He had fancied this story, and thought
about it so long, that he at last believed it himself."
"Well, I don't know nothin' 'bout the 'magination, thank my heavenly
Master," said Mrs. Tom, in a sort of sullen unbelief; "but I do know,
ef you was to talk till this time to-morrow, you couldn't make me
believe differently. I shouldn't wonder now ef you tried to make me
think the face I seed stuck at the winder was all 'magination, too."
"I was just about to say so," said Guy, repressing a smile. "It
could be nothing else, you know. The hour of night, the thrilling
tale, and the man's dying cry that he saw her there, would have made
you imagine anything; therefore----"
But Mrs. Tom's wrath was rising. She had been inwardly priding
herself on the sensation her story would create, and this fall to her
hopes was more than she could patiently endure.
"It's no sich thing," she cried, in a voice louder and sharper than
she was in the habit of using to any one but the unfortunate Carl.
"I seen it all with my two blessed eyes, and nobody's goin' to make
me believe it was my 'magination. 'Magination, indeed!" continued
the old lady, in a tone of profound contempt. "Thank my divine
Master, I never was troubled with 'magination since the day I was
born, and 'tain't likely I'd begin now in my old age o' life. I
allers hid a great respect for you, Master Guy; but I'm a poor, lone
'ooman, and can't stand to be onsulted by nobody. I hain't no doubt
you mean well, but I like to hev people b'lieve me when I do tell the
truth. Scat, you hussy! afore I twist your neck for you."
The latter part of this oration was addressed to Trot, the mottled
cat, and was accompanied by a kick, which ejected that unoffending
member of society out of doors, much quicker than was at all
agreeable. Captain Campbell, quite unprepared for this burst of
eloquence, listened in amazement, and seized the first opportunity,
when angry Mrs. Tom paused for breath, to humbly apologize for his
offense.
"My dear Mrs. Tom," said the young captain, humbly, "I had not the
remotest intention of offending you, and most deeply regret having
done so. I have fallen into a bad habit, of late, of doubting
everything; and really this story appeared so improbable, that I
think I may be pardoned for not yielding it full credit on the spot.
Come, now, my dear madam," he continued, seeing the cloud still
hanging on Mrs. Tom's honest face, "let's be friends still; and I
promise for the future to believe everything you choose to tell me,
no matter what it is."
Good Mrs. Tom was not proof against the insinuating tone of Master
Guy, who had always been her favorite; so the cloud disappeared, and
her own cheery smile once more beamed forth.
Having arranged that Lem should come down and prepare a grave during
the morning, Captain Campbell left the cottage, and went in search of
Mr. Drummond and his sister to tell them what he had heard.
He found them down on the shore. Sibyl stood on a high cliff, her
dress fluttering in the morning breeze, her hat off, and her long,
glittering, jetty tresses waving behind her like a banner. The wind
that came sweeping across the waters had deepened the glow on her
crimson cheeks and lips, and sent a living light into her glorious
eyes.
Willard Drummond stood beneath, gazing at her as a poet might gaze on
the living realization of his most beautiful dreams. Captain
Campbell shrugged his shoulders expressively as he saw his
impassioned glance, and thought inwardly of the confession he had
once made to him of there being but one woman in the world worth
loving.
"Well, Sibyl, one would think you were attitudinizing for the stage,"
said Captain Campbell, dryly, as he approached.
Sibyl laughed gayly, as she sprang down on the white, level sands
between her brother and lover.
"I was only looking out for a sail, which I failed to discover," she
replied.
"Well, Campbell," said Drummond, "had your old lady down below any
important revelations to make, that she sent for you in such haste
this morning?"
"Not very important in my eyes, though they are in hers," replied the
young captain. "She wished to reveal the dying deposition of our
passenger, Richard Grove."
"And what had he to tell? Was I right in saying remorse for some
crime preyed on him more than mere illness?"
"Faith, Sibyl, according to worthy Mrs. Tom, I believe you were. He
succeeded in frightening that good, but slightly credulous old lady
out of her wits."
"Well?" said Sibyl, inquiringly.
Captain Campbell, condensing the story, gave them the outline and
principal facts in a few words. Both listened with deep interest;
but when he spoke of the pale, haggard face, with its dark, waving
hair, glaring at them through the window, Willard Drummond started
violently, and turned pale. Sibyl's eagle eyes were fixed on his
face, and she alone observed it.
"And what does Mrs. Tom take this nocturnal visitor to be?" inquired
Sibyl. "A mortal like herself, or a spirit disembodied?"
"Oh, a ghost, of course," replied her brother. "The spirit, perhaps,
of the woman walled up to perish in the room with the murdered man.
Ugh! the story altogether is hideous enough to give one the
nightmare! And now that you have learned all, I believe I'll go and
send Lem down to inter the body."
Captain Campbell sauntered away, and the lovers were alone.
"And what do you think of this story, Willard?" inquired Sibyl.
"I cannot tell. Yesterday I would have joined your brother in
laughing at it; but, to-day----"
He paused.
"And why not to-day?" breathlessly inquired Sibyl.
"Sibyl, I do not wish to needlessly alarm you, but last night, as if
to punish my presumption, I experienced something very like a
supernatural visit."
"Good Heavens, Willard! Then the story told by the negroes is true?"
"It certainly seems like it. Had any one else told me what I
experienced, I should think they were humbugging me; but I cannot
discredit what I saw with my own eyes."
"And what was the appearance of the nocturnal visitor?"
"Exactly like the description Mrs. Tom gives of the face that
appeared at her window--white as that of the dead, with dark,
streaming hair, and wild, vacant, dark eyes."
"Oh, Willard! Can it be that---- But, no; it is impossible. At
what hour did this apparition appear?"
"Between one and two, as near as I can judge."
"Strange! strange! I, too, heard something dreadful last night."
"Is it possible? What was it, dearest Sibyl?"
"Listen! About midnight I was awakened by something that sounded
like a heavy fall right outside my door, followed by a groan so deep,
so horrible, that the very blood seemed freezing in my veins.
Trembling with terror, I half rose to listen; but all for a time was
still. Trying to persuade myself I was only dreaming, I was about to
lie down again, when a shriek the most appalling broke upon the air,
and died away in an agonized moan. I dared not move; I could not
sleep; and I lay cowering in superstitious horror until morning.
With the bright sunshine came renewed courage, and I feared to
mention what I had heard to my brother or you, lest I should be
laughed at--even as you feared the same. Willard, there must be some
horrible mystery here! Some foul crime, I fear, has at some time
been perpetrated within those walls. What if----"
She paused.
"Well, Sibyl?" he said, inquiringly.
"Oh, Willard! what if _this_ house has been the scene of that mystery
the dying man spoke of! I thought of it from the first."
"Nonsense, Sibyl! What an idea!" And yet he looked disturbed
himself, as he spoke.
"How otherwise are we to account for those ghostly visitings, those
midnight apparitions, and appalling shrieks?"
"And yet nothing could induce your brother to adopt your belief. He
would laugh at our credulity, were we to tell him what we have seen
and heard."
"Yes; and, perhaps I had better not tell him, Willard. I will have
your room changed, and my own likewise. Even if they are less
comfortable, they will be more endurable than to be disturbed by
midnight specters."
"Be it so, then, fairest Sibyl," he said, gayly. And turning, they
walked together to the Lodge.