I could bear no more! Springing out, I called:
"Grandmother! Grandmother!"
"What's the matter? Why, what ails the child?" exclaimed Mrs. Hawkins.
"Oh! listen! listen!"
"Listen at what? You are dreaming!"
"Dreaming, am I? Oh! wait! Listen----"
Urr-rr-rr-r-r-r-r--"Ha!--ha!--ha!"
It was, as plainly as I ever heard, the sound of the rolling of a ball,
followed by a peal of demoniac laughter.
I turned on Mrs. Hawkins an appalled look.
She was surprised, but self-possessed, and evidently bent on calmly
listening and investigating. She sat straight up in bed with a strong,
concentrated attention to the sounds. They came again:
Urr-rr-rr-r-r-r-r-e--rattle-te-bang!--"A ten-strike at last!--O's a dead
shot!"
"A dead shot."
"A dead shot," was echoed all around.
Grandmother calmly threw the quilts off her, stepped out of bed, and
began to dress herself.
"Strike a light, Madeleine," she said.
"What are you going to do, grandmother?"
"Dress myself and examine the premises."
Urr-rr-rr-r-r-r-r--"Ha! ha! ha!" sounded once more the demoniac noise
and laughter.
The matchbox nearly dropped from my shaking hands, but I struck the
light.
The sudden flash awoke Alice just as another sonorous roll of the ball,
and fall of the pins, and peal of demon laughter, sounded hollowly
around us.
"Heaven and earth! what is that?" she exclaimed, starting up.
"What do you think it is, Alice?" said I.
"My Lord! my Lord!--it is the phantoms of the murderer and the murdered
playing over again their last game!" cried the girl, in an agony of
terror.
Just at this moment a distinct knocking was heard at the little door at
the foot of the staircase.
Alice screamed.
I held my breath.
The knocking was repeated.
"Who is there?" said Mrs. Hawkins, going to the head of the stairs.
No answer; but the knocking was repeated; and then a frightened,
plaintive voice, crying:
"Ole mist'ess--ole mist'ess--oh! do, for the Lord sake, let me in,
chile! the hair's almos' turn gray on my head."
"Is that you, Cassy?"
"Yes, honey--yes, what the ghoses has left o' me," replied the poor
creature, in a dying voice.
Grandmother went down the stairs and opened the door at the foot, and
Cassy came tumbling up into the room after her. She was absolutely ashen
gray with terror, and her limbs shook so that she could scarcely stand.
"Oh! did you hear--did you hear all the ghoses and devils playing
ninepins together in our very house?" she gasped, dropping into a chair.
As if in answer to her question, once more the phantom ball rolled in
detonating thunder, the pins fell with a loud, rattling sound, followed
by a hollow shout of triumph!
Cassy fell on her knees and crossed herself devoutly.
Alice clung in terror to her grandmother.
I felt that the time to play the heroine was come, and strove to exhibit
self-possession and courage.
"Take up the candle, Cassy, and lead the way downstairs. We must go and
search the house," said Mrs. Hawkins.
"Oh! for the Lord's sake, don't! don't! old mist'ess, honey! Don't be a
temptin' o' Providence! Leave the ghoses alone and stay here, and fasten
the door."
"I shall search the house and grounds," said Mrs. Hawkins, in a
peremptory voice. "Therefore, take up the light and go before me."
"Oh! for de Lord's love, ole mis'tess! ef we mus' go, you go first, you
go first; I dar'n't; I's such a sinner, I is!" cried Cassy, wringing her
hands in an agony of terror.
Urr-rrr-rr-r-r-r-rattle-te-bang-ang!
"A ten-strike! Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho!" again sounded the revels.
"Hooley St. Bridget, pray for us! Hail Mary, full of grace! Don't go,
ole mist'ess, honey! Oh, stay where you is in safety!" pleaded the old
woman, clasping her hands.
"Nonsense! Hold your tongue, Cassy. If ever there was a woman plagued
with a set of cowardly simpletons, it is myself. Let go my skirts this
moment, Alice! Be silent, every one of you, and follow me as softly as
possible," said my grandmother, in a low, stern voice, as she took up
the candle and led the way downstairs. We followed at this order--Cassy
holding on to her mistress' skirts, Alice holding to Cassy's, and I
bringing up the rear, with carnal weapons in one hand and spiritual ones
in the other--that is to say, with a big ruler and a prayerbook.
A chill, damp air met us at the foot of the stairs--nothing else.
The front hall was empty and bleak. We tried the doors, and found them
as secure as we had left them, with the exception of the parlor door, by
which Cassy had entered, and which was on the latch. Mrs. Hawkins pulled
it to and locked it, saying, in a low voice, that she wished, while
examining each room, to keep all the rest locked, that there might be no
escape for any one concealed in the house.
First we went into the right-hand bedroom, opening from the hall. It was
secure, vacant and bleak. We locked the door and drew out the key.
Next we looked into the left-hand bedroom; it was in precisely the same
condition. We made it fast in the same manner.
Then we opened and entered the parlor. This was the bleakest room of
any--large, square, lofty, totally bare, cold and damp.
"Nothing here," said Mrs. Hawkins, looking around.
Urr-rr-rr-r-r-r-r-rattle-te-bang-ang-ang! the phantom ball rolled, and
scattered the ninepins.
"Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!" shouted the hollow, ghostly voices.
They seemed to be in the very room with us, reverberating in the very
air we breathed, echoing from the four walls around, and from the
ceiling above us!
"Jesu, Mary!" cried Cassy, dropping on her knees.
"Oh! oh! oh!" gasped Alice, clinging to me.
"This is very unaccountable," said our grandmother, looking all around
the room, where nothing but bare walls and bare boards met the view.
We looked at each other in silence for a few moments, and then Mrs.
Hawkins said:
"Come! let us look into the dining-room, and then call up Hector to
assist us in searching the grounds."
We passed on into the next room and locked the door behind us, as we had
locked every one in our tour through the house. That room was closely
packed with furniture, over which we had to clamber our passage.
While we were doing so, once again sounded the detonating roll of the
ball, the rattling, scattering of the pins, and the hollow peals of
laughter, all echoing around and around us, as it were, in the same
rooms.
Alice again seized her grandmother.
Cassy fell over a stack of washtubs, and called on all the saints to
help her.
Mrs. Hawkins ordered Alice to let her go, and Cassy to get up, and me to
move on.
She was obeyed. A great general was our grandmother, and we all knew it!
We left the dining-room, locking the last door behind us. We dodged the
dark, blind alley, sheltered the candle from the drizzling mist, and
went around into the kitchen and called Hector from above.
The old man answered, and soon came toddling down the narrow stairs.
"Hector, have you heard those noises?" inquired Mrs. Hawkins.
"The Lord between us and evil! I've heern, mist'ess! I've heern!"
"What do you suppose it is?"
A dubious, solemn shake of the head was the old man's only reply.
"Can't you speak, Hector? How do you account for these noises? Come! no
mysteries; answer if you can; what are they?"
"Dead people!" groaned the old man, with a shudder.
"Pooh!" exclaimed Mrs. Hawkins.
But I could see that even she was paler than usual.
"Come, Hector! There is no one in the house--that is certain. And no one
can get into it while we are gone, because it is locked up. Now fasten
up the kitchen, and let us go and search the grounds, and unkennel any
interlopers that may be lurking there."
We came out and secured the kitchen door, and began our tour of the
garden.
As we left the door, our watchdog ran out to join us.
This circumstance, while it greatly assisted us in our search, very much
increased the perplexity of our minds. Had the dog heard the noises that
had disturbed us, and if so, why had he not given the alarm?--or, on the
other hand, were dogs insensible to supernatural sights and sounds? We
could not tell; but we were glad to have Fidelle snuffing and trotting
along before us, confident that if there were a human being lurking
anywhere in the garden, he would smell him out. So we went up one
grass-grown walk and down another, between rows of gooseberry bushes,
currant bushes, and raspberry bushes, all damp and dripping with mist,
and through alleys of dwarf plum trees, and all along the hedges of
evergreen inside the brick wall, and past the iron gate, which was still
chained, as it had been left, and then around in the stable, coachhouse,
henhouse and smokehouse, each of which we found securely locked, and,
when opened, damp, musty and vacant; and so we looked over every foot of
ground, and into every outbuilding, finding all safe and leaving all
safe; and at last, without having discovered anything, we arrived again
at the dining-room door.
We all entered, locked the door after us, clambered over the piles of
furniture, and passed on into the parlor.
The parlor, as I have said, was as yet unfurnished, damp and cold. Yet
there we paused for a little while to take breath.
"There is nothing concealed in the garden, and nothing in the house;
that is demonstrated. These strange manifestations must admit of a
natural explanation; but I confess myself at a loss to explain them,"
said Mrs. Hawkins.
"Oh! ole mist'ess; 'fess it's de ghoses, honey! 'fess it's de ghoses!
Memorize how nobody was ever able to lib in dis cussed house!" pleaded
Cassy.
"Oh, yes, grandmother, do let's sit up here all night to-night, and move
out early to-morrow morning," entreated Ally.
"What do you say, Madeleine?" inquired my grandmother.
"I say, brave it out!"
"So do I, my girl!" replied Mrs. Hawkins.
"Oh, for de love o' de Lord, don't ole mist'ess! don't, Miss Maddy!
don't! It's a temptin' o' Providence! Leave de 'fernel ole place to de
ghoses, as has de bes' right to it!" prayed Cassy.
"We'll see about that!" said our grandmother. "But come! all seems quiet
now; we will go to bed, and investigate further to-morrow."
"Yes, ole mist'ess, honey, I knows all is quiet jest now, but----"
"Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!--Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho!" burst a peal
of demoniac laughter, resounding through and through the room, and close
into our ears.
"The Lord between us and Satan!" cried Cassy, dropping the candle, which
immediately went out and left us in darkness.
While, peal on peal, sounded the demoniac laughter around us.
Cassy fell on her knees and began praying:
"St. Mary, pray for us! St. Martha pray for us! all ye hooly vargins and
widders, pray for us lone women! St. Peter, pray for us! St. Powl pray
for us! All hooly 'postles and 'vangellers, pray for us poor
sinners!--Saint--Saint--Saint--oh! for de Lor's sake, Miss Ally, honey,
tell me de name o' that hooly saint as met a ghose riding on Balaam's
ass and knows hows--how it feels!"
"It was Saul or Samuel, or the Witch of Endor, I forget which," said
Alice, whose knowledge of the Old Testament, never very precise, was
frightened out of her.
"St. Saul, St. Samuel, St. Witchywinder, pray for us, as met a ghost
yourself and knows how it feels."
And still, while Cassy prayed her frantic prayers, and poor old Hector
told his beads, and Alice trembled and clung to me, the demon laughter
resounded around and around us. We were in such total darkness that I
had not seen Mrs. Hawkins withdraw herself from the group, nor suspected
her absence until we heard her firm, cheery voice outside near the
dining-room door, saying:
"What can any one think of this? Come here, Hector! Come here,
children!"
We all went--expecting some _denouement_.
Mrs. Hawkins telegraphed to us to be perfectly silent, and to step
lightly. She turned the angle of the house and walked up the blind alley
between the back of the house and the back of the kitchen; when she had
got about midway of the walk, she stopped, and silently pointed to the
rank weeds and bushes that grew closely under the wall of the house.
"There! what do you think of that?" she said, in a low voice.
We looked, and at first could see nothing; but, on a closer inspection,
we perceived a very faint glimmer, a mere thread of red light, low down
among the bushes.
We looked up at Mrs. Hawkins for explanation.
"After the candle fell and went out," she said, "I slipped out, with the
intention of exploring again, and this time alone, and in darkness. I
came up this blind alley, and, looking sharply, descried that glimmer of
light. And now I am convinced that the revelers, human or ghostly, are
below there, in that old, disused cellar that we were made to believe
was nearly full of water, and required to be drained. Don't be agitated,
children! take it coolly," concluded Mrs. Hawkins, stooping down to put
aside the weeds and bushes.
Just at this moment another detonating roll of the ball, and scattering
fall of the pins, and peal of hollow laughter, resounded from below.
Urr-rr-rr-r-r-r-rattle bang-ang-ang! "Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! Ho! ho! ho!
ho! A dead shot!"
"Too late, young gentlemen! Your fun is all over! Your game is up! You
are discovered! Come forth!" said Mrs. Hawkins, who, down upon her
knees, pulled away the bushes, turned up the old, broken and mouldy
cellar door, and discovered the scene below.
A rudely fitted-up bowling alley, occupying the further end of the room,
and some eight or ten youths, no longer engaged in rolling balls, but,
on the contrary, standing in various attitudes of detected culpability.
"Come! come forth!" commanded Mrs. Hawkins.
And they came, climbing up the rotten and moldering steps, and the very
first who put his impudent head up through the door into the open air
was Will Rackaway!
"Oh! Will," exclaimed Alice, reproachfully.
"You! Will?" questioned Mrs. Hawkins, in scandalized astonishment.
"No! the ghost of O'Donnegan," replied the youth, in a sepulchral voice.
"Reprobate!" exclaimed our grandmother.
"Now, indeed, indeed, I was only taking the liberty of entertaining my
friends in my kind Aunt Hawkins' cellar. Quite right, you know! Only
don't tell father, and I'll never do so no more!" pleaded Will, with
mock humility.
"Dismiss your comrades, sir! and come into the house! I shall send for
your father to-morrow morning," said Mrs. Hawkins, in a stern voice.
There was no need to dismiss the intruders; they were climbing up the
dilapidated steps as fast as they could come, and slinking away with
averted heads, trying to conceal their faces, which Mrs. Hawkins did not
insist upon discovering. When they were all gone, Will followed us into
the house.
"Now, then, sir, explain your conduct," ordered Mrs. Hawkins.
And Will, with an air of mock humility and deprecation, obeyed.
The account he gave was briefly this: Himself and several other youths,
sons of very strict parents, who proscribed ninepins with other games,
had, out of some old timber and furniture left of O'Donnegan's old
ninepin alley, that had been taken down and carried away, fitted up the
old, disused cellar for their games. They had played there recently
every night, with no other intention than that of amusing themselves,
and of keeping their game concealed--with no thought of enacting a
ghostly drama, until, to their astonishment, they gradually learned that
these revels were mistaken for ghostly orgies, and had given the house
its unenviable reputation of being haunted--a joke much too good for
human nature, and especially for boys' human nature, not to carry out.
Everything favored their concealment. The cellar was reputed to be half
full of water, and was long disused, and every cellar window, except the
narrow, hidden one that they had turned into a door, was nailed up.
Besides, the front division of the cellar was really two feet deep in
water, and when there was any great risk of discovery they had a means
of letting it in to overflow the back division, so that their fixtures
were all covered. Thus for months they had played the double game of
ninepins and of a ghostly drama!
Need I say more? Will was let off with a lengthy lecture, which I have
reason to believe did him a vast deal of good, as he is now the staid
father of a family, and pastor of a church. Mrs. Hawkins was for the
next nine days the wonder of the neighborhood for having so valiantly
exorcised the ghosts. And we settled down in perfect content in the fine
old house, to which we possessed the double right of rental and of
conquest.
THE END.
THE GILBERTS;
OR,
RICE CORNER NUMBER TWO.
CHAPTER I.
THE GILBERTS.
The spring following Carrie Howard's death Rice Corner was thrown into a
commotion by the astounding fact that Captain Howard was going out West,
and had sold his farm to a gentleman from the city, whose wife "kept six
servants, wore silk all the time, never went inside of the kitchen,
never saw a churn, breakfasted at ten, dined at three, and had supper
the next day!"
Such was the story which Mercy Jenkins detailed to us early one Monday
morning, and then, eager to communicate so desirable a piece of news to
others of her acquaintance, she started off, stopping for a moment as
she passed the wash-room to see if Sally's clothes "wan't kinder dingy
and yaller." As soon as she was gone the astonishment of our household
broke forth, grandma wondering why Captain Howard wanted to go to the
ends of the earth, as she designated Chicago, their place of
destination, and what she should do without Aunt Eunice, who, having
been born on grandma's wedding-day, was very dear to her, and then her
age was so easy to keep. But the best of friends must part, and when at
Mrs. Howard's last tea-drinking with us I saw how badly they all felt,
and how many tears were shed, I firmly resolved never to like anybody
but my own folks, unless, indeed, I made an exception in favor of Tom
Jenkins, who so often drew me to school on his sled, and who made such
comical looking jack-o'-lanterns out of the big yellow pumpkins.
In reply to the numerous questions concerning Mr. Gilbert, the purchaser
of their farm, Mrs. Howard could only reply that he was very wealthy and
had got tired of living in the city; adding, further, that he wore a
"monstrous pair of musquitoes," had an evil-looking eye, four children,
smoked cigars, and was a lawyer by profession. This last was all grandma
wanted to know about him--"that told the whole story," for there never
was but _one_ decent lawyer, and that was Mr. Evelyn, Cousin Emma's
husband. Dear old lady! when a few years ago, she heard that I, her
favorite grandchild, was to marry one of the craft, she made another
exception in his favor, saying that "if he wasn't all straight, Mary
would soon make him so!"
Within a short time after Aunt Eunice's visit she left Rice Corner, and
on the same day wagon-load after wagon-load of Mr. Gilbert's furniture
passed our house, until Sally declared "there was enough to keep a
tavern, and she didn't see nothin' where theys' goin' to put it," at the
same time announcing her intention of "running down there after dinner,
to see what was going on."
It will be remembered that Sally was now a married woman--"Mrs. Michael
Welsh;" consequently, mother, who lived with her, instead of her living
with mother, did not presume to interfere with her much, though she
hinted pretty strongly that she "always liked to see people mind their
own affairs." But Sally was incorrigible. The dinner dishes were washed
with a whew, I was coaxed into sweeping the back room--which I did,
leaving the dirt under the broom behind the door--while Mrs. Welsh,
donning a pink calico, blue shawl, and bonnet trimmed with dark green,
started off on her prying excursion, stopping by the roadside where Mike
was making fence, and keeping him, as grandma said, "full half an hour
by the clock from his work."
Not long after Sally's departure a handsome carriage, drawn by two fine
bay horses, passed our house; and as the windows were down we could
plainly discern a pale, delicate-looking lady, wrapped in shawls, a
tall, stylish-looking girl, another one about my own age, and two
beautiful little boys.
"That's the Gilberts, I know," said Anna. "Oh, I'm so glad Sally's gone,
for now we shall have the full particulars;" and again we waited as
impatiently for Sally's return as we had once done before for grandma.
At last, to our great relief, the green ribbons and blue shawl were
descried in the distance, and ere long Sally was with us, ejaculating,
"Oh, my--mercy me!" etc., thus giving us an inkling of what was to
follow. "Of all the sights that ever I have seen," said she, folding up
the blue shawl, and smoothing down the pink calico. "There's carpeting
enough to cover every crack and crevice--all pure bristles, too!"
Here I tittered, whereupon Sally angrily retorted, that "she guessed she
knew how to talk proper, if she hadn't studied grammar."
"Never mind," said Anna, "go on; brussels carpeting and what else?"
"Mercy knows what else," answered Sally. "I can't begin to guess the
names of half the things. There's mahogany, and rosewood, and marble
fixin's--and in Miss Gilbert's room there's lace curtains and silk
damson ones"--
A look from Anna restrained me this time, and Sally continued.
"Mercy Jenkins is there, helpin', and she says Mr. Gilbert told 'em, his
wife never et a piece of salt pork in her life, and knew no more how
bread was made than a child two years old."
"What a simple critter she must be," said grandma, while Anna asked if
she saw Mrs. Gilbert, and if that tall girl was her daughter.
"Yes, I seen her," answered Sally, "and I guess she's weakly, for the
minit she got into the house she lay down on the sofa, which Mr. Gilbert
says cost seventy-five dollars. That tall, proud-lookin' thing they call
Miss Adaline, but I'll warrant you don't catch me puttin' on the miss. I
called her Adaline, and you had orto seen how her big eyes looked at me.
Says she, at last, 'Are you one of pa's new servants?'
"'Servants!' says I, 'no, indeed; I'm Mrs. Michael Welsh, one of your
nighest neighbors.'
"Then I told her that there were two nice girls lived in the house with
me, and she'd better get acquainted with 'em right away; and then with
the hatefulest of all hateful laughs, she asked if 'they wore glass
beads and went barefoot.'"
I fancied that neither Juliet nor Anna were greatly pleased at being
introduced by Sally, the housemaid, to the elegant Adaline Gilbert, who
had come to the country with anything but a favorable impression of its
inhabitants. The second daughter, the one about my own age, Sally said
they called Nellie; "and a nice, clever creature she is, too--not a bit
stuck up like t'other one. Why, I do believe she'd walked every big
beast in the barn before she'd been there half an hour, and the last I
saw of her she was coaxing a cow to lie still while she got upon her
back!"
How my heart warmed toward the romping Nellie, and how I wondered if
after that beam-walking exploit her hooks and eyes were all in their
places! The two little boys, Sally said, were twins, Edward and Egbert,
or, as they were familiarly called, Bert and Eddie. This was nearly all
she had learned, if we except the fact that the family ate with silver
forks, and drank wine after dinner. This last, mother pronounced
heterodox, while I, who dearly loved the juice of the grape, and
sometimes left finger marks on the top shelf, whither I had climbed for
a sip from grandma's decanter, secretly hoped I should some day dine
with Nellie Gilbert, and drink all the wine I wanted, thinking how many
times I'd rinse my mouth so mother shouldn't smell my breath!
In the course of a few weeks the affairs of the Gilbert family were
pretty generally canvassed in Rice Corner, Mercy Jenkins giving it as
her opinion that "Miss Gilbert was much the likeliest of the two, and
that Mr. Gilbert was cross, overbearing, and big feeling."
CHAPTER II.
NELLIE.
As yet I had only seen Nellie in the distance, and was about despairing
of making her acquaintance when accident threw her in my way. Directly
opposite our house, and just across a long green meadow, was a piece of
woods which belonged to Mr. Gilbert, and there, one afternoon early in
May, I saw Nellie. I had seen her there before, but never dared approach
her; and now I divided my time between watching her and a dense black
cloud which had appeared in the west, and was fast approaching the
zenith. I was just thinking how nice it would be if the rain should
drive her to our house for shelter, when patter, patter came the large
drops in my face; thicker and faster they fell, until it seemed like a
perfect deluge; and through the almost blinding sheet of rain I descried
Nellie coming toward me at a furious rate. With the agility of a fawn
she bounded over the gate, and with the exclamation of, "Ain't I wetter
than a drownded rat?" we were perfectly well acquainted.
It took but a short time to divest her of her dripping garments, and
array her in some of mine, which Sally said "fitted her to a T," though
I fancied she looked sadly out of place in my linen pantalets and
long-sleeved dress. She was a great lover of fun and frolic, and in less
than half an hour had "ridden to Boston" on Joe's rocking-horse, turned
the little wheel faster than even I dared to turn it, tried on grandma's
stays, and then, as a crowning feat, tried the rather dangerous
experiment of riding down the garret stairs on a board! The clatter
brought up grandma, and I felt some doubts about her relishing a kind of
play which savored so much of what she called "a racket," but the soft
brown eyes which looked at her so pleadingly were too full of love,
gentleness, and mischief to be resisted, and permission for "one more
ride" was given, "provided she'd promise not to break her neck."
Oh, what fun we had that afternoon! What a big rent she tore in my
gingham frock, and what a "dear, delightful old haunted castle of a
thing" she pronounced our house to be. Darling, darling Nellie! I shut
my eyes and she comes before me again, the same bright, beautiful
creature she was when I saw her first, as she was when I saw her for the
last, last time.
It rained until dark, and Nellie, who confidently expected to stay all
night, had whispered to me her intention of "tying our toes together,"
when there came a tremendous rap upon the door, and without waiting to
be bidden in walked Mr. Gilbert, puffing and swelling, and making
himself perfectly at home, in a kind of off-hand manner, which had in it
so much of condescension that I was disgusted, and when sure Nellie
would not see me I made at him a wry face, thereby feeling greatly
relieved!
After managing to let mother know how expensive his family was, how much
he paid yearly for wines and cigars, and how much Adaline's education
and piano had cost, he arose to go, saying to his daughter. "Come, puss,
take off those--ahem--those habiliments, and let's be off!"
Nellie obeyed, and just before she was ready to start, she asked when I
would come and spend the day with her.
I looked at mother, mother looked at Mr. Gilbert, Mr. Gilbert looked at
me, and after surveying me from head to foot said, spitting between
every other word, "Ye-es, ye-es, we've come to live in the country, and
I suppose" (here he spit three successive times), "and I suppose we may
as well be on friendly terms as any other; so, madam" (turning to
mother), "I am willing to have your little daughter visit us
occasionally." Then adding that "he would extend the same invitation to
her, were it not that his wife was an invalid and saw no company," he
departed.
One morning, several days afterward, a servant brought to our house a
neat little note from Mrs. Gilbert, asking mother to let me spend the
day with Nellie. After some consultation between mother and grandma, it
was decided that I might go, and in less than an hour I was dressed and
on the road, my hair braided so tightly in my neck that the little red
bumps of flesh set up here and there, like currants on a brown earthen
platter.
Nellie did not wait to receive me formally, but came running down the
road, telling me that Robin had made a swing in the barn, and that we
would play there most all day, as her mother was sick, and Adaline, who
occupied two-thirds of the house, wouldn't let us come near her. This
Adaline was to me a very formidable personage. Hitherto I had only
caught glimpses of her, as with long skirts and waving plumes she
sometimes dashed past our house on horseback, and it was with great
trepidation that I now followed Nellie into the parlor, where she told
me her sister was.
"Adaline, this is my little friend," said she; and Adaline replied:
"How do you do, little friend?"
My cheeks tingled, and for the first time raising my eyes I found myself
face to face with the haughty belle. She was very tall and queenlike in
her figure, and though she could hardly be called handsome, there was
about her an air of elegance and refinement which partially compensated
for the absence of beauty. That she was proud one could see from the
glance of her large black eyes and the curl of her lip. Coolly surveying
me for a moment, as she would any other curious specimen, she resumed
her book, never speaking to me again, except to ask, when she saw me
gazing wonderingly around the splendidly-furnished room, "if I supposed
I could remember every article of furniture, and give a faithful
report."
I thought I was insulted when she called me "little friend," and now,
feeling sure of it, I tartly replied that "if I couldn't she perhaps
might lend me paper and pencil, with which to write them down."
"Original, truly," said she, again poring over her book.
Nellie, who had left me for a moment, now returned, bidding me come and
see her mother, and passing through the long hall, I was soon in Mrs.
Gilbert's room, which was as tastefully, though perhaps not quite so
richly, furnished as the parlor. Mrs. Gilbert was lying upon a sofa, and
the moment I looked upon her, the love which I had so freely given the
daughter was shared with the mother, in whose pale sweet face, and soft
brown eyes, I saw a strong resemblance to Nellie. She was attired in a
rose-colored morning-gown, which flowed open in front, disclosing to
view a larger quantity of rich French embroidery than I had ever before
seen.
Many times during the day, and many times since, have I wondered what
made her marry, and if she really loved the bearish-looking man who
occasionally stalked into the room, smoking cigars and talking very
loudly, when he knew how her head was throbbing with pain.
I had eaten but little breakfast that morning, and verily I thought I
should famish before their dinner hour arrived; and when at last it
came, and I saw the table glittering with silver, I felt many misgivings
as to my ability to acquit myself creditably. But by dint of watching
Nellie, doing just what she did, and refusing just what she refused, I
managed to get through with it tolerably well. For once, too, in my life
I drank all the wine I wanted; the result of which was that long before
sunset I went home, crying and vomiting with the sick headache, which
Sally said "served me right;" at the same time hinting her belief that I
was slightly intoxicated!
CHAPTER III.
THE HAUNTED HOUSE.
Down our long, green lane, and at the further extremity of the narrow
footpath which led to the "old mine," was another path or wagon road
which wound along among the fern bushes, under the chestnut trees,
across the hemlock swamp, and up to a grassy ridge which overlooked a
small pond, said, of course, to have no bottom. Fully crediting this
story, and knowing, moreover, that China was opposite to us, I had often
taken down my atlas and hunted through that ancient empire, in hopes of
finding a corresponding sheet of water. Failing to do so I had made one
with my pencil, writing against it, "Cranberry Pond," that being the
name of its American brother.
Just above the pond on the grassy ridge stood an old dilapidated
building which had long borne the name of the "haunted house," I never
knew whether this title was given it on account of its proximity to the
"old mine," or because it stood near the very spot where, years and
years ago, the "bloody Indians" pushed those cart-loads of burning hemp
against the doors "of the only remaining house in Quaboag"--for which
see Goodrich's Child's History, page --, somewhere toward the
commencement. I only know that 'twas called the "haunted house," and
that for a long time no one would live there, on account of the rapping,
dancing, and cutting-up generally which was said to prevail there,
particularly in the west room, the one overhung with ivy and grapevines.
Three or four years before our story opens a widow lady, Mrs. Hudson,
with her only daughter, Mabel, appeared in our neighborhood, hiring the
"haunted house," and, in spite of the neighbors' predictions to the
contrary, living there quietly and peaceably, unharmed by ghost or
goblin. At first Mrs. Hudson was looked upon with distrust, and even a
league with a certain old fellow was hinted at; but as she seemed to be
well disposed, kind, and affable toward all, this feeling gradually wore
away, and now she was universally liked, while Mabel, her daughter, was
a general favorite. For two years past, Mabel had worked in the Fiskdale
factory a portion of the time, going to school the remainder of the
year. She was fitting herself for a teacher, and as the school in our
district was small, the trustees had this summer kindly offered it to
her. This arrangement delighted me; for, next to Nellie Gilbert, I loved
Mabel Hudson best of anybody; and I fancied, too, that they looked
alike, but of course it was all fancy.
Mrs. Hudson was a tailoress, and the day following my visit to Mr.
Gilbert's I was sent by mother to take her some work. I found her in the
little porch, her white cap-border falling over her placid face, and her
wide checked apron coming nearly to the bottom of her dress. Mabel was
there, too, and as she rose to receive me something about her reminded
me of Adaline Gilbert. I could not tell what it was, for Mabel was very
beautiful, and beside her Adaline would be plain; still there was a
resemblance, either in voice or manner, and this it was, perhaps, which
made me so soon mention the Gilberts and my visit to them the day
previous.
Instantly Mrs. Hudson and Mabel exchanged glances, and I thought the
face of the former grew a shade paler; still I may have been mistaken,
for in her usual tone of voice she began to ask me numberless questions
concerning the family, which seemed singular, as she was not remarkable
for curiosity. But it suited me. I loved to talk then not less than I do
now, and in a few minutes I had told all I knew--and more, too, most
likely.
At last Mrs. Hudson asked about Mr. Gilbert, and how I liked him.
"Not a bit," said I. "He's the hatefulest, crossest, big-feelingest man
I ever saw, and Adaline is just like him!"
Had I been a little older I might, perhaps, have wondered at the crimson
flush which my hasty words brought to Mrs. Hudson's cheek, but I did not
notice it then, and thinking she was, of course, highly entertained, I
continued to talk about Mr. Gilbert and Adaline, in the last of whom
Mabel seemed the most interested. Of Nellie I spoke with the utmost
affection, and when Mrs. Hudson expressed a wish to see her, I promised,
if possible, to bring her there; then, as I had already outstaid the
time for which permission had been given, I tied on my sunbonnet and
started for home, revolving the ways and means by which I should keep my
promise.
This proved to be a very easy matter; for within a few days Nellie came
to return my visit, and as mother had other company she the more readily
gave us permission to go where we pleased. Nellie had a perfect passion
for ghost and witch stories, saying though that "she never liked to have
them explained--she'd rather they'd be left in solemn mystery;" so when
I told her of the "old mine" and the "haunted house" she immediately
expressed a desire to see them. Hiding our bonnets under our aprons the
better to conceal our intentions from sister Lizzie, who, we fancied,
had serious thoughts of _tagging_, we sent her upstairs in quest of
something which we knew was not there, and then away we scampered down
the green lane and across the pasture, dropping once into some alders as
Lizzie's yellow hair became visible on the fence at the foot of the
lane. Our consciences smote us a little, but we kept still until she
returned to the house; then, continuing our way, we soon came in sight
of the mine, which Nellie determined to explore.
It was in vain that I tried to dissuade her from the attempt. She was
resolved, and stationing myself at a safe distance I waited while she
scrambled over stones, sticks, logs, and bushes, until she finally
disappeared in the cave. Ere long, however, she returned with soiled
pantelets, torn apron, and scratched face, saying that "the mine was
nothing in the world but a hole in the ground, and a mighty little one
at that." After this I didn't know but I would sometime venture in, but
for fear of what might happen I concluded to choose a time when I hadn't
run away from Liz!
When I presented Nellie to Mrs. Hudson she took both her hands in hers,
and, greatly to my surprise, kissed her on both cheeks. Then she walked
hastily into the next room, but not until I saw something fall from her
eyes, which I am sure were tears.
"Funny, isn't it?" said Nellie, looking wonderingly at me. "I don't know
whether to laugh or what."
Mabel now came in, and though she manifested no particular emotion, she
was exceedingly kind to Nellie, asking her many questions, and sometimes
smoothing her brown curls. When Mrs. Hudson again appeared she was very
calm, but I noticed that her eyes constantly rested upon Nellie, who,
with Mabel's grey kitten in her lap, was seated upon the doorstep, the
very image of childish innocence and beauty. Mrs. Hudson urged us to
stay to tea, but I declined, knowing that there was company at home,
with three kinds of cake, besides cookies, for supper. So bidding her
good-bye, and promising to come again, we started homeward, where we
found the ladies discussing their green tea and making large inroads
upon the three kinds of cake.
One of them, a Mrs. Thompson, was gifted with the art of
fortune-telling, by means of tea-grounds, and when Nellie and I took our
seats at the table she kindly offered to see what was in store for us.
She had frequently told my fortune, each time managing to fish up a
freckle-faced boy so nearly resembling her grandson, my particular
aversion, that I didn't care to hear it again. But with Nellie 'twas all
new, and after a great whirling of tea-grounds and staining of mother's
best table-cloth, she passed her cup to Mrs. Thompson, confidently
whispering to me that she guessed she'd tell her something about Willie
Raymond, who lived in the city, and who gave her the little cornelian
ring which she wore. With the utmost gravity Mrs. Thompson read off the
past and present, and then peering far into the future she suddenly
exclaimed, "Oh, my! there's a gulf, or something, before you, and you
are going to tumble into it headlong; don't ask me anything more."
I never did and never shall believe in fortune-telling, much less in
Granny Thompson's "turned-up cups," but years after I thought of her
prediction with regard to Nellie. Poor, poor Nellie!
CHAPTER IV.
JEALOUSY.
On the first Monday in June our school commenced, and long before
breakfast Lizzie and I were dressed and had turned inside out the little
cupboard over the fireplace where our books were kept during vacation.
Breakfast being over we deposited in our dinner-basket the whole of a
custard pie, and were about starting off when mother said, "we shouldn't
go a step until half-past eight," adding further, that "we must put that
pie back, for 'twas one she'd saved for their own dinner."
Lizzie pouted, while I cried, and taking my bonnet I repaired to the
"great rock," where the sassafras, blackberries, and blacksnakes grew.
Here I sat for a long time, thinking if I ever did grow up and get
married (I was sure of the latter), I'd have all the custard pie I could
eat for once! In the midst of my reverie a footstep sounded near, and
looking up I saw before me Nellie Gilbert, with her satchel of books on
her arm, and her sunbonnet hanging down her back, after the fashion in
which I usually wore mine. In reply to my look of inquiry she said her
father had concluded to let her go to the district school, though he
didn't expect her to learn anything but "slang terms and ill manners."
By this time it was half-past eight, and together with Lizzie we
repaired to the schoolhouse, where we found assembled a dozen girls and
as many boys, among whom was Tom Jenkins. Tom was a great admirer of
beauty, and hence I could never account for the preference he had
hitherto shown for me, who my brothers called "bung-eyed" and Sally
"raw-boned." He, however, didn't think so. My eyes, he said, were none
too large, and many a night had he carried home my books for me, and
many a morning had he brought me nuts and raisins, to say nothing of the
time when I found in my desk a little note, which said--But everybody
who's been to school, knows what it said!
Taking it all round we were as good as engaged; so you can judge what
my feelings were when, before the night of Nellie's first day at school,
I saw Tom Jenkins giving her an orange which I had every reason to think
was originally intended for me! I knew very well that Nellie's brown
curls and eyes had done the mischief; and though I did not love her the
less, I blamed him the more for his fickleness, for only a week before
he had praised my eyes, calling them a "beautiful indigo blue," and all
that. I was highly incensed, and when on our way from school he tried to
speak good-humoredly, I said, "I'd thank you to let me alone! I don't
like you, and never did!"
He looked sorry for a minute, but soon forgot it all in talking to
Nellie, who after he had left us said "he was a cleverish kind of boy,
though he couldn't begin with William Raymond." After that I was very
cool toward Tom, who attached himself more and more to Nellie, saying
"she had the handsomest eyes he ever saw"; and, indeed, I think it
chiefly owing to those soft, brown, dreamy eyes that I am not now "Mrs.
Tom Jenkins of Jenkinsville," a place way out West, whither Tom and his
mother have migrated.
One day Nellie was later at school than usual, giving as a reason that
their folks had company--a Mr. Sherwood and his mother, from Hartford;
and adding that if I'd never tell anybody as long as I lived and
breathed she'd tell me something.
Of course I promised, and Nellie told me how she guessed that Mr.
Sherwood, who was rich and handsome, liked Adaline. "Anyway, Adaline
likes him," said she, "and oh, she's so nice and good when he's around.
I ain't 'Nell, you hateful thing' then, but I'm 'Sister Nellie.' They
are going to ride this morning, and perhaps they'll go by here. There
they are, now!" and looking toward the road I saw Mr. Sherwood and
Adaline Gilbert on horseback, riding leisurely past the schoolhouse. She
was nodding to Nellie, but he was looking intently at Mabel, who was
sitting near the window. I know he asked Adaline something about her,
for I distinctly heard a part of her reply--"a poor factory girl," and
Adaline's head tossed scornfully, as if that were a sufficient reason
why Mabel should be despised.
Mr. Sherwood evidently did not think so, for the next day he walked by
alone--and the next day he did the same, this time bringing with him a
book, and seating himself in the shadow of a chestnut tree not far from
the schoolhouse. The moment school was out, he arose and came forward,
inquiring for Nellie, who, of course, introduced him to Mabel. The
three then walked on together, while Tom Jenkins stayed in the rear with
me, wondering what I wanted to act so for; "couldn't a feller like more
than one girl if he wanted to?"
"Yes, I s'posed a feller could, though I didn't know, nor care!"
Tom made no reply, but whittled away upon a bit of shingle, which
finally assumed the shape of a heart, and which I afterward found in his
desk with the letter "N" written upon it, and then scratched out. When
at last we reached our house Mr. Sherwood asked Nellie "where that old
mine and sawmill were, of which she had told him so much."
"Right on Miss Hudson's way home," said Nellie. "Let's walk along with
her;" and the next moment Mr. Sherwood, Mabel, and Nellie were in the
long, green lane which led down to the sawmill.
Oh, how Adaline stormed when she heard of it, and how sneeringly she
spoke to Mr. Sherwood of the "factory girl," insinuating that the bloom
on her cheek was paint, and the lily on her brow powder! But he probably
did not believe it, for almost every day he passed the schoolhouse,
generally managing to speak with Mabel; and once he went all the way
home with her, staying ever so long, too, for I watched until 'twas
pitch dark, and he hadn't got back yet!
In a day or two he went home, and I thought no more about him, until
Tom, who had been to the post office, brought Mabel a letter, which made
her turn red and white alternately, until at last she cried. She was
very absent-minded the remainder of that day, letting us do as we
pleased, and never in my life did I have a better time "carrying on"
than I did that afternoon when Mabel received her first letter from Mr.
Sherwood.
CHAPTER V.
NEW RELATIONS.
About six weeks after the close of Mabel's school we were one day
startled with the intelligence that she was going to be married, and to
Mr. Sherwood, too. He had become tired of the fashionable ladies of his
acquaintance, and when he saw how pure and artless Mabel was, he
immediately became interested in her; and at last, overcoming all
feelings of pride, he had offered her his hand, and had been accepted.
At first we could hardly credit the story; but when Mrs. Hudson herself
confirmed it we gave it up, and again I wondered if I should be invited.
All the nicest and best chestnuts which I could find, to say nothing of
the apples and butternuts, I carried to her, not without my reward
either, for when invitations came to us I was included with the rest.
Our family were the only invited guests, and I felt no fears this time
of being hidden by the crowd.
Just before the ceremony commenced there was the sound of a heavy
footstep upon the outer porch, a loud knock at the door, and then into
the room came Mr. Gilbert! He seemed slightly agitated, but not one-half
so much as Mrs. Hudson, who exclaimed, "William, my son, why are you
here?"
"I came to witness my sister's bridal," was the answer; and turning
toward the clergyman, he said, somewhat authoritatively, "Do not delay
for me, sir. Go on."
There was a movement in the next room, and then the bridal party
entered, both starting with surprise as they saw Mr. Gilbert. Very
beautiful did Mabel look as she stood up to take upon herself the
marriage vow, not a syllable of which did one of us hear. We were
thinking of Mr. Gilbert, and the strange words, "my son" and "my
sister."
When it was over, and Mabel was Mrs. Sherwood, Mr. Gilbert approached
Mrs. Hudson, saying, "Come, mother, let me lead you to the bride."
With an impatient gesture she waved him off, and going alone to her
daughter, threw her arms around her neck, sobbing convulsively. There
was an awkward silence, and then Mr. Gilbert, thinking he was called
upon for an explanation, arose, and addressing himself mostly to Mr.
Sherwood, said, "I suppose what has transpired here to-night seems
rather strange, and will undoubtedly furnish the neighborhood with
gossip for more than a week, but they are welcome to canvass whatever I
do. I can't help it if I was born with an unusual degree of pride,
neither can I help feeling mortified, as I many times did, at my family,
particularly after she," glancing at his mother, "married the man whose
name she bears."
Here Mrs. Hudson lifted up her head, and coming to Mr. Gilbert's side,
stood proudly erect, while he continued: "She would tell you he was a
good man, but I hated him, and swore never to enter the house while he
lived. I went away, took care of myself, grew rich, married into one of
the first families in Hartford, and--and"--
Here he paused, and his mother, continuing the sentence, added, "and
grew ashamed of your own mother, who many a time went without the
comforts of life that you might be educated. You were always a proud,
wayward boy, William, but never did I think you would do as you have
done. You have treated me with utter neglect, never allowing your wife
to see me, and when I once proposed visiting you in Hartford you asked
your brother, now dead, to dissuade me from it, if possible, for you
could not introduce me to your acquaintances as your mother. Never do
you speak of me to your children, who, if they know they have a
grandmother, little dream that she lives within a mile of their father's
dwelling. One of them I have seen, and my heart yearned toward her as it
did toward you when first I took you in my arms, my firstborn baby; and
yet, William, I thank Heaven there is in her sweet face no trace of her
father's features. This may sound harsh, unmotherly, but greatly have I
been sinned against, and now, just as a brighter day is dawning upon me,
why have you come here? Say, William, why?"
By the time Mrs. Hudson had finished, nearly all in the room were
weeping. Mr. Gilbert, however, seemed perfectly indifferent, and with
the most provoking coolness, replied, "I came to see my fair sister
married--to congratulate her upon an alliance which will bring us upon a
more equal footing."
"You greatly mistake me, sir," said Mr. Sherwood, turning haughtily
toward Mr. Gilbert, at the same time drawing Mabel nearer to him; "you
greatly mistake me, if, after what I have heard, you think I would wish
for your acquaintance. If my wife, when poor and obscure, was not worthy
of your attention, _you_ certainly are not now worthy of hers, and it is
my request that our intercourse should end here."
Mr. Gilbert muttered something about "extenuating circumstances," and
"the whole not being told," but no one paid him any attention; and at
last, snatching up his hat, he precipitately left the house, I sending
after him a hearty good riddance, and mentally hoping he would measure
his length in the ditch which he must pass on his way across Hemlock
Swamp.
The next morning Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood departed on their bridal tour,
intending on their return to take their mother with them to the city.
Several times during their absence I saw Mr. Gilbert, either going to
or returning from the "haunted house," and I readily guessed he was
trying to talk his mother over, for nothing could be more mortifying
than to be cut by the Sherwoods, who were among the first in Hartford.
Afterward, greatly to my satisfaction, I heard that though, motherlike,
Mrs. Hudson had forgiven her son, Mr. Sherwood ever treated him with a
cool haughtiness which effectually kept him at a distance.
Once, indeed, at Mabel's earnest request, Mrs. Gilbert and Nellie were
invited to visit her, and as the former was too feeble to accomplish the
journey, Nellie went alone, staying a long time, and torturing her
sister on her return with a glowing account of the elegantly-furnished
house, of which Adaline had once hoped to be the proud mistress.
For several years after Mabel's departure from Rice Corner nothing
especial occurred in the Gilbert family, except the marriage of Adaline
with a rich bachelor, who must have been many years older than her
father, for he colored his whiskers, wore false teeth and a wig, besides
having, as Nellie declared, a wooden leg! For the truth of this last I
will not vouch, as Nellie's assertion was only founded upon the fact of
her having once looked through the keyhole of his door and espied,
standing by his bed, something which looked like a cork leg, but which
might have been a boot! What Adaline saw in him to like I could never
guess. I suppose, however, that she only looked at his rich gilding,
which covered a multitude of defects.
Immediately after the wedding the happy pair started for a two-years
tour in Europe, where the youthful bride so enraged her baldheaded lord
by flirting with a mustached Frenchman that in a fit of anger the old
man picked up his goods, chattels, and wife, and returned to New York
within three months of his leaving it!
CHAPTER VI.
POOR, POOR NELLIE.
And now, in the closing chapter of this brief sketch of the Gilberts, I
come to the saddest part--the fate of poor Nellie, the dearest playmate
my childhood knew, she whom the lapse of years ripened into a graceful,
beautiful girl, loved by everybody, even by Tom Jenkins, whose boyish
affection had grown with his growth and strengthened with his strength.
And now Nellie was the affianced bride of William Raymond, who had
replaced the little cornelian with the engagement ring. At last the
rumor reached Tom Jenkins, awaking him from the sweetest dream he had
ever known. He could not ask Nellie if it were true, so he came to me;
and when I saw how he grew pale and trembled, I felt that Nellie was not
altogether blameless. But he breathed no word of censure against her;
and when, a year or two afterward, I saw her given to William Raymond, I
knew that the love of two hearts was hers; the one to cherish and watch
over her, the other to love and worship, silently, secretly, as a miser
worships his hidden treasure.
* * * * *
The bridal was over. The farewells were over, and Nellie had gone--gone
from the home whose sunlight she had made, and which she had left
forever. Sadly the pale, sick mother wept, and mourned her absence,
listening in vain for the light footfall and soft, ringing voice she
would never hear again.
Three weeks had passed away, and then, far and near the papers teemed
with accounts of the horrible Norwalk catastrophe, which desolated many
a home, and wrung from many a heart its choicest treasure. Side by side
they found them--Nellie and her husband--the light of her brown eyes
quenched forever, and the pulses of his heart still in death!
I was present when they told the poor invalid of her loss, and even now
I seem to hear the bitter, wailing cry which broke from her white lips,
as she begged them to unsay what they had said, and tell her Nellie was
not dead--that she would come back again.
It could not be. Nellie would never return; and in six weeks' time the
broken-hearted mother was at rest with her child.
THE END.
Charles Garvice
Is now the most widely read author living. The following books from his
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Tables, Abbreviations, Classical Terms, Common Errors, Selections for
Autograph Albums; Information concerning Rates on Foreign and Domestic
Postage, together with a dictionary of nearly 10,000 Synonyms and other
valuable information which space will not admit of mention. The book is
printed from new plates, on a superior quality of paper and bound in
substantial and durable manner.
* * * * *
Standard American Perfection
POULTRY BOOK
[Illustration]
Describing the different varieties of fowls, their points of beauty and
their merits. Shows how to increase their earning capacity as layers.
Points the way to get more money for them in the market.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Haunted Homestead, by E. D. E. N. Southworth