those that know, but you want to get out of it because you haven't the
pluck. All girls are afraid of the dark."
"You said yourself it was moonlight! I shouldn't be afraid to walk the
whole round of the Castle if it came to that, but I don't see why I
should. I'm snug and comfortable here, and it's not worth disturbing
myself to convince a boy like you!"
"So you say." Pat wagged his head in undisguised scepticism. "It's
easy to talk, my dear, but I should prefer actions to words. You made a
poor show on that ladder yesterday, and I don't like to own a coward for
my sister. Look here now, you were worrying me to give you that racket,
and I said I would do nothing of the kind, but I'll change my mind and
hand it over to you to-night, if you will walk that round and come back
here without letting a single howl out of you the whole time!"
Bridgie drew her brows together and looked suspicious at this unwonted
generosity, but Esmeralda sprang to her feet, all eagerness and
excitement.
"You will now? Honour bright? If I walk down the left wing, go down
the circular staircase, and round by the hall, you will hand the racket
over when I come back?"
"I will so!"
"You hear that, you girls? You are witnesses, remember! I'm off this
minute, and if I meet my spouse I'll bring him back for a warm by the
fire, so stoke up and get a good blaze. I hope he will think I am
becomingly arrayed."
He was sure to do that, was Mademoiselle's reflection as she smiled back
into the sparkling face, and watched the tall figure flit down the
corridor. Quite ghost-like it looked in the cold blue rays which came
in through the windows, the dead white of the dress standing out sharply
against the darkness of the background. It was almost as if the spirit
of one of those old ancestors whose portraits lined the walls had come
back to revisit her old home, and Bridgie shivered as she looked, and
turned on Pat with unusual sharpness.
"What nonsense are you up to now? She'll not catch anything but her
death of cold, wandering about those galleries with her bare arms and
neck. Spirits indeed! You ought to know better than to believe in such
nonsense; but there's some mischief afoot, or you wouldn't be so
generous all of a sudden. What's the meaning of it now? Tell me this
minute!"
Pat's grin of delight extended from ear to ear; he stood in obstinate
silence until the last flicker of whiteness disappeared in the distance,
then shut the door, and deliberately barred it with his back.
"Sit down, then, and I'll give the history; but don't attempt to get
out, for you'll not pass this door except over my dead body. You say
she won't meet anybody, do you? That's where you are wrong, for he's
waiting for her at this very minute. He came ringing at the door five
minutes ago, the young Englishman that's with the Trelawneys, and that
father was after offering a mount to the other day. `Is Mr
O'Shaughnessy at home?' says he. `He is, sir,' says Molly, knowing no
better, for she never had a sight of the Major after dinner. `Can I see
him for a moment? I'll not come farther than the hall, for the cart's
waiting, and I am not fit to enter a room.' So with that he comes in,
six foot two, if he's an inch, and covered from head to foot in a shiny
white mackintosh, with his head peeping out on top, and I've seen uglier
men than him before this. I was coming down the stairs after shedding
me sheets, and Molly was asking me where the Major might be, so I told
her to send Dennis in search, and I was all smiles and apologies for the
darkness of the place, with only the one lamp and the fire dying out on
the hearth. `I'll fetch more light,' says I, and, `Pray do nothing of
the kind. It's charming to see this fine old place lit up by the
moonlight; I could study it for an hour on end. A perfect setting for a
ghost story, isn't it?' says he, smiling, and with that he crosses over
to the window, and by the same token it was a regular ghost he looked
himself, all tall, and straight, and shiny white. Then it walked into
my head what a jest it would be to send Esmeralda to meet him, and the
two of them each thinking the other was a ghost, and frightened out of
their seven senses. So I excused myself, polite like, saying I would
speak to my sister, and the rest of the tale you know for yourselves. I
taunted her with cowardice to make her rise to the occasion, but that
wouldn't work, and time was passing, so I turned to bribery, but by good
fortune I'll keep my racket yet. At this very moment she will be
feeling her way cautiously down that stair, and he'll be hearing the
creak, and coming forward to see the cause. All bluey white they'll be,
and each one so scared by the sight of the other that they'll hardly
dare to breathe. Listen now while I open the door, and you may hear her
squeal."
"Patrick O'Shaughnessy, ye graceless boy, how dare you take such a
liberty with your sister! A strange man,--an Englishman,--and Esmeralda
knowing nothing about him, and believing there is no one near! Let me
pass now! Stand aside this moment! Patrick O'Shaughnessy, will you let
me pass, or will you not?"
"I will not!" returned Pat sturdily. "It's my joke, and I'm not going
to have it spoiled. You leave them to fight it out between themselves,
and if they come out alive you'll hear the tale first hand. `What do my
eyes behold?' says he. `What fairy form is this I see before me?'
`Pity me!' says she. `What's that white pillar over there by the
window? It's a dust sheet that Molly has been hanging over the
curtains, and maybe the draught is making it move. Oh, oh, oh, there's
a head to it! It's alive! It comes towards me! What will I do? What
will I do?'"
Pat clasped his hands in affected terror, and shrieked in clever
imitation of his sister's manner. The door was still ajar, and as he
stopped a sound from below rose faintly to the ears of his companions, a
second shriek so alike in tone and expression that it might have been
the echo of his own. "Pixie," cried Bridgie wildly, "at him, Pixie! At
him!" And like a flash of lightning Pixie lay prone on the floor with
her arms wound tightly round Pat's legs. He swayed and staggered,
clutched at the wall, and felt Mademoiselle's arms nip him from behind,
as the door flew open, and Bridgie sped like a lapwing along the
gallery.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
THE WHITE LADY.
Esmeralda set out on her expedition in the highest spirits, for a girl
who is brought up on a regime of outdoor sport is not troubled with
nerves, and she laughed at the suggestion of ghosts with the scorn which
it deserved. What she did not laugh at, however, was the promise of
Pat's racket, a gift to him from an absent godfather, and coveted by all
his brothers and sisters, but by none so much as Esmeralda, who played a
very pretty game of her own, and felt a conviction that she could
distinguish herself still more if she possessed a good racket instead of
the old one which had done duty for years, and was now badly sprung.
Pat had promised in the presence of witnesses to hand over his treasure
if she returned to the schoolroom without--oh, elegant
expression!--"letting a howl out of her," and Esmeralda smiled to
herself at the unlikeliness of such a proceeding. Why, except for the
cold air, it was really a treat to walk along the disused old gallery
which traversed the left wing of the Castle, where the moonbeams shone
in through the long row of windows with such picturesque effect. She
sauntered along, enjoying the scene with artistic appreciation, even
feeling a sense of satisfaction in her own appropriate attire. Powdered
hair and hooped skirt seemed more in keeping with the surroundings than
the bicycling dress of everyday life, and it was an agreeable variety to
pose as one's own great-grandmother once in a way.
Esmeralda reached the end of the gallery, and stretched a hand on either
side, to feel her way down the circular stone staircase which would lead
her into the entrance hall below. This means of descent was rarely
used, and was now in a semi-ruinous condition, the stone steps being so
much worn with the action of time that it required some little care to
descend safely in the darkness. She stood poised on each step,
extending a pretty foot to find a secure resting-place on the one below;
round the curve where the darkness was almost complete, then coming into
sight of the hall, with the moonlight making long streaks of light
across the floor, and in the distance a yellow gleam from the solitary
lamp.
Only three more steps remained to be descended, when suddenly she
stopped short, drawing her breath sharply, for there by the second
window stood a man's tall form, all straight and still, and of a curious
shining whiteness. The face was turned aside, but at the sound of that
gasping sob it turned slowly round, and a pair of keen, steel-like eyes
stared into hers.
Geoffrey Hilliard had been thoroughly enjoying this opportunity of
studying the features of the fine old hall, and making a note of them
for future use. "What a magnificent old place!" he said to himself.
"Trelawney says the man is at his last gasp, and will positively have to
turn out before long. Poor beggar! I pity him. It must be
heartbreaking to leave an old place like this, where one's ancestors
have lived for generations, where every stone has its history, and the
spirits of the departed seem still hovering in the air. Halloa, what's
that?"
He turned his head, and peering round the corner of that quaintest of
stone staircases beheld a vision at sight of which he stood transfixed
and astounded. Spirits of ancestors, indeed! Here was one before his
very eyes, a picture out of its frame, a dream of grace and beauty such
as is not vouchsafed to mortal eyes in this commonplace, matter-of-fact
twentieth century! The first glance was admiration alone, the second
brought a thrill of something uncomfortably like fear, for to the most
unsuperstitious of minds there was still something unpleasantly eerie in
this unexpected apparition. Motionless as a figure of stone stood the
White Lady, her body craned forward, one hand resting against the wall,
the other drawing aside the quilted skirt; the moonlight fell full on
the face, and showed it stiff and rigid as a sculptor's block.
For one moment Geoffrey felt incapable of movement, but the next
commonsense returned, and a dozen matter-of-fact explanations darted
into his head. What he saw was no figure, but simply a statue, a
reflection, a curious effect of light. He must examine the phenomenon
at close quarters, and find a solution with which to confound the
superstitious in the future. No sooner said than done, and he stepped
forward, momentarily averting his eyes, to make his sight the more
searching. When he opened them again the figure still confronted him;
but now the position seemed slightly altered, for instead of bending
forward she had drawn back, as if to avoid his approach.
A dread seized him lest the phenomenon might vanish altogether before he
had had time to discover its character; he gave a sudden leap forward,
and to his dismay beheld the figure stagger forward, and collapse in a
heap on the lowest stair. In an instant his arms were round her, and
two warm living hands came together with a shock of surprise. Masculine
ghost lifted, and feminine ghost struggled and pinched in a manner
unmistakably human. But if Geoffrey Hilliard's matter-of-fact mind
leapt to a quick understanding of the real situation, Esmeralda was much
more sensational in her explanation. He remembered that it was
Christmas Eve, a time when some family festivity, of which fancy-dress
was a feature, might well be in progress; she leapt to the dramatic
conclusion that this was a thief masquerading in ghost's attire, the
better to make his escape in the event of discovery.
Cowardly ruffian! He should not find it so easy as he expected! If it
was only a girl whom he had encountered, he should find that she was not
so easily shaken off as he expected. To Hilliard's intense amazement he
felt the hands fasten suddenly round his arm, the white fingers grip his
flesh with no uncertain grasp. The premeditated apologies died upon his
lips, as the White Lady became rosy red, and her lips parted to show
teeth set in threatening anger. He stepped back, or tried to do so, but
she clung only the closer; he laughingly tried to move her hand from his
arm, at which she shrieked aloud, and struggled valiantly.
"No, no, you shall not go! You shall stay here until my father comes!"
"That is just what I want to do! Pardon me, there is really no
necessity to hold me so fast. I am not going to run away!" returned the
young fellow, laughing, but in a somewhat impatient fashion. He had no
ambition to be discovered in this melodramatic attitude, and once more
made an effort to escape. The grasp on her wrist was gentle, but withal
wonderfully strong, and to Esmeralda's horror she found it impossible to
struggle against it. The thought that the thief was escaping after all
was too humiliating to be borne, and as one hand after the other was
forced back she grew desperate, and raised her voice in a shrill cry for
help.
"Help! Help! Murder! Thieves! He-l-p!"
"My dear, good girl!" exclaimed the Murderer blankly, overcome with
amazement, and allowing himself to be once more seized in a detaining
grasp, while Esmeralda poured the vials of her wrath upon him.
"How dare you call me names! It's a horsewhip you'll be feeling on your
back for this, once my father is here. I'll hold you tight till he
comes!"
The stranger looked at her, tried to speak, choked hopelessly, and was
just attempting a stammering, "You are really most--complimentary!" when
the sound of flying footsteps came from above, and Bridgie rushed
headlong down the staircase. Poor Bridgie, what a sight was that which
met her eye! In the middle of the hall stood the figure of the tall
Englishman, his face all sparkling with fun, his arms hanging slack by
his sides, while Esmeralda clasped him in close embrace, reiterating
shrilly--
"I'll hold you tight! I'll hold you tight!"
"For pity's sake, Esmeralda, let go of him this minute!" she cried,
rushing to the rescue, and laying soothing hands upon her sister's
shoulder. "There's nothing to be frightened at, dear; it's just that
wicked Pat, who ought to be destroyed for his pains. It's no ghost,
darling. See, now, he's laughing at you. Ghosts don't laugh! He's
nothing but a man after all!"
"He's a thief! He was trying to get the things out of the cabinet. I
am holding him until father comes, so that he may give him in charge!"
gasped Esmeralda wildly; and Hilliard looked from one sister to the
other with eyes dancing with amusement.
"I'm neither ghost nor thief, as Major O'Shaughnessy will testify when
he arrives. I'm really exceedingly sorry to have made such an
unfortunate impression, but I came on the most innocent errand. I am
staying with Mr Trelawney, and your father was kind enough to offer to
lend me a mount for to-morrow. We thought of going for a long ride in
the morning, so--"
Esmeralda's hands fell to her sides. The commonplace explanation did
more than a hundred protestations, and a remembrance of the Major's
rhapsodies over the handsome young Englishman whom he had met but a week
before was still fresh in her mind. She stepped back, but the light in
her eyes gleamed more threateningly than before, as with tragic attitude
she turned towards the staircase. On the lowest step crouched Pixie,
all eyes and gaping mouth; on the third Mademoiselle clasped her hands,
and wagged her head from side to side, as if calling someone to witness
that she at least was innocent of offence; from between the banisters
peered a red, questioning face, audacious, yet vaguely alarmed.
"Patrick O'Shaughnessy," said Esmeralda in an awful voice, "you shall
pay for this evening's work!" and at that, audacity triumphed, and Pat
retorted sharply--
"But not with the racket, me dear, for ye did howl after all. We heard
you right up in the schoolroom. You're not the hero you thought
yourself, to mistake an innocent gentleman for a midnight assassin."
"Pat, be quiet!" interrupted Bridgie sharply, then turned to the
stranger with that winsome smile which was her greatest charm. "You've
been a schoolboy yourself, and know the ways of them. My brother never
rests out of mischief, and he dared my sister Joan to walk the round of
the Castle in the dark. She was dressed up as you see, and he had seen
you down here in your white coat, and thought maybe you would each be
startled by the sight of the other."
"And at first she wouldn't go at all, and was only laughing at him for
his pains, but Pat said Christmas Eve and Hallowe'en were all the same,
and that if a girl went alone by herself in the moonlight she would see
the spirit of her future h---" cried Pixie in one breathless sentence.
In her opinion Bridgie's explanation had been singularly inadequate, and
she was filled with indignation at the babel of sounds which drowned her
conclusion. Bridgie was seized with a paroxysm of coughing,
Mademoiselle with admirable promptitude knocked an old metal cup from a
bracket, and sent it clanging to the floor, and Pat cried shrilly--
"See a spook! She was dressed all in white, and you said yourself it
was a good setting for a ghost story! It was yourself that put it in my
head!"
"I believe you are right. I certainly did make that remark," said the
stranger obligingly. For some reason or other his colour had decidedly
heightened during the last few moments, and he looked at Esmeralda with
a quick, embarrassed glance, as if afraid to meet her eyes. She was
flushed like himself, a beautiful young fury, with eyes ablaze, and lips
set in a hard, straight line. Propitiation was plainly hopeless at the
moment, and he was not so foolish as to attempt the impossible. This
was evidently "Beauty O'Shaughnessy," of whom he had heard so much, and,
to judge by his own experience, his friends' accounts of the
eccentricities of the family were no whit exaggerated. The dear little
girl with the sweet eyes was plainly the eldest sister, since she took
upon herself to perform the honours of the house, and he was thankful to
follow her towards the fireplace, leaving the belligerents at the end of
the hall.
"I'm exceedingly sorry to have caused such an alarm! Please make my
peace with your sister. I am afraid, if she was not prepared to see me,
my actions must have seemed sadly suspicious," he began apologetically;
but Bridgie stopped him with uplifted hand, and a queenliness of manner
which sat charmingly upon her slight figure.
"Indeed you were not to blame at all, and there is no need to give it
another thought. You have had bad weather for your visit, but I hope
there is a change to-night. The Major will be delighted that you took
him at his word, and Dandy will carry you like a feather. Here he is at
last, to welcome you himself."
The Major came forward as she spoke, calling out welcomes from afar, and
holding out his hand in hospitable Irish greeting. He was all smiles
and superlatives, charmed that Mr Hilliard had called, overjoyed to
give him a mount, delighted that he had already made the acquaintance of
"me children," beamingly unconscious that there was trouble in the air,
and persistent in summoning Esmeralda to his side.
"What do you think of that for an impromptu costume? All made out of a
couple of sheets, me dear fellow, and at a moment's notice. Quite a
display we had this night, with the whole lot of them got up to match;
but this child is the only one that kept it on. Me daughter Joan!
Esmeralda, for short. Mr Geoffrey Hilliard!"
Hilliard bowed deeply. Esmeralda drooped her eyelids, and the Major
chuckled afresh at "the spirit of the girl!"
"A shame to waste such sweetness on the desert air, isn't it, Hilliard?
That's what she says herself, and there's nothing for it but to give my
consent to a party on New Year's Eve. A man's not master of himself
when he has three daughters, but you must give us the pleasure of
welcoming you with the rest of our guests. The Trelawneys will be here
to a man, and you must come over with them. Esmeralda says she is
fatigued with meeting the same people over and over again, so she'll be
delighted to see you. Won't you now, Esmeralda? Give your own
invitation to Mr Hilliard."
"Indeed, father, we have scarcely got the length of invitations. It was
just an idea we were thinking over, and at the best it will be a poor
country affair. If Mr Hilliard is accustomed to London, 'twould be but
a bore to him to join us."
It was evident that Esmeralda was by no means anxious to count the
stranger among her guests. Having shown herself to him in a ridiculous
and unbecoming light, she had no wish to pursue the acquaintance, and
the glance which accompanied the words was even more eloquent than
themselves.
"Don't dare to come here again!" said the haughty eyes. "Don't imagine
you will get the laugh over me," said the haughty head, and Geoffrey
Hilliard read the signals, and smiled unperturbed--a happy, self-
confident smile.
"I assure Miss O'Shaughnessy that I should be honoured by an
invitation," he said blandly, "if I may accept in advance. Nothing will
give me greater pleasure than to join your gathering."
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
BRIDGIE'S CONFESSION.
After Mr Hilliard's departure, Mademoiselle was treated to an
exhibition of what was known in the family as "Esmeralda's tantrums."
Hardly had her father turned from the door than she had rushed towards
him, and begun pouring out the story of her wrongs. Eyes flashed, head
tossed, arms waving about in emphatic declamation, little foot tapped
the floor all a-quiver with excitement, while Pixie stood in the
background faithfully imitating each gesture, and Pat gazed at the
ceiling with an expression of heart-broken innocence. Esmeralda called
upon all present to witness that she was despised and ridiculed by the
members of her own family; that by this evening's work she had been made
the laughing-stock of the county; and announced her intention of leaving
home by the first train that steamed out of the station. She would earn
her own living, and if necessary, wander barefoot through the world,
rather than submit any longer to insults from her own kith and kin, and
when she died a beggar's death, and lay stretched in a pauper's grave,
they might remember her words, and forgive themselves if they could!
The invective was originally directed against Pat alone, but as she
warmed to her work it grew ever more comprehensive, until at last it
seemed as though the whole household were in conspiracy against her.
Then suddenly the climax was touched and passed; the last stage of all
was announced by a tempest of tears, and the Major tugged miserably at
his moustache, nerving himself to the task most difficult in the world
to his easy-going nature,--that of finding fault!
"Pat, ye rascal, what's this I hear about you? Mark my words, now.
I'll not have your sisters made the subject for practical jokes! If you
can't keep yourself out of mischief, I'll find a way to occupy you with
something you'd like worse. Can I have no peace in me own home for the
complaints of you and your doings? If ye can't carry yourself as a
gentleman, I'll apprentice ye to a trade, and wash me hands of you once
for all. Mind what I'm telling ye, for there's truth in it! Will I be
giving him a punishment now, Esmeralda? Is it your wish I should punish
him?"
"It is so! And the harder the better!" sobbed Esmeralda; and the Major
heaved a sigh of ponderous dimensions.
"Ye hear that, Patrick? Listen to that, now, and see your sister in
tears, and think shame to yourself on a good Christmas Eve. And now
I've the trouble of punishing you into the bargain. What will I do with
him, Esmeralda? Will I send him off to his bed before Jack comes home?"
And then a pretty thing happened, for among the chorus of groans which
greeted this suggestion, Esmeralda's "No, no!" sounded shrillest of all,
and off she rushed to Pat's side in a whirlwind of repentance.
"No, no! Not that! He would be so disappointed. He must see Jack. I
won't have him punished after all, father. It's Christmas-time, and
he's sorry already. Tell the Major you are sorry, Pat, and I'll shake
hands and say no more."