GHOSTLY AND MYSTERIOUS
On horror's head Horrors accumulate.--Thompson.
An icy sweat of terror bathed Sybil's form. She tried to cry out, and
did utter a low half-stifled scream. But the cold fingers of the ghastly
creature closed tightly upon hers, and a thin, hollow voice murmured:
"Hush; don't you make a noise; don't be frightened. I can't hurt you.
I'm chilled almost to death. And you were so warm. I crept to your side
to tell you something. You are in hiding here, and so--_Ah-h-h_!"
The reed-like murmur ended in a terrific shriek. There was a silent
movement, and Sybil felt the clammy form snatched up from her side and
borne away in the darkness.
And then the spell that had bound her faculties was unloosed, and she
uttered scream after scream as she shook and awakened her husband.
"In the name of Heaven, Sybil, what now?" he exclaimed, as he started up
into a sitting posture.
"Oh, Lyon! for the love of mercy, get up! Get a light! I shall go mad in
this horrible place!" she cried in a perfect frenzy of terror.
"Calm yourself, Sybil. There is nothing to fear. I am here with you. I
will strike a light," answered Lyon Berners quietly, as he got up and
groped about in the darkness for the tinder-box.
Striking a light in those days was not the quick and easy matter that it
is now. When the tinder-box was at length found, the flint and steel had
to be struck together until a spark was elicited to set fire to the
tinder. So it was full five minutes from the time Lyon was awakened, to
the moment that he lit the candle and looked upon the pale and
horror-stricken face of his wife.
"Now then, Sybil, what is it?" he inquired.
"Oh, what is it! This place is full of devils!" she cried, shaking as
with an ague fit.
"My dear wife!" he said, in surprise and concern to see her shudder so
fearfully, to hear her speak so wildly.
"It _is_, I tell you, full of devils, Lyon!" she repeated with
chattering teeth.
There chanced to be a little wine in their stores. He went and poured
some into a glass and brought it to her, made her drink it.
"Now then, tell me what has thrown you into this state? What has
happened to terrify you so much? another dream, vision, apparition?
what?" he inquired, as he took from her hand the empty glass.
"Oh, no, no, no! no dream, no vision, nothing of that sort. It was too
dark to see anything, you know; but oh! it was something so ghastly and
horrible that I shall never, never get over it!" she exclaimed, while
shudder after shudder shook her frame.
"Tell me," he said soothingly.
"Oh, it was a damp girl!" she cried.
"A damp girl!" he echoed in amazement and alarm; for he almost feared
his dear wife was going crazy.
"Oh yes, a damp girl! A clay-cold, clammy, corpse-like form of a girl!"
"Where? when? what about her?"
"Oh, I woke up and felt her lying by my side! so close that she chilled
and oppressed me! I put out my hand, and she caught it in her deathly
fingers! I screamed, but she spoke to me! She was about to tell me
something, when she was suddenly snatched up and torn away!"
"My dear Sybil, this was nightmare again!"
"Oh, no, no, no! I have had nightmare, and know what it is! It is not
like this! All this was real, as real as you and I! This place is full
of devils!"
"My darling wife, have you lost your senses?"
"Oh, no; but I shall lose them if I stay in this demon-haunted place a
day longer!"
"Thank Heaven! we will not have to stay here a day longer. We leave,
this coming evening. And see! the morning is dawning, Sybil; and with
the coming of the light, all these shadows of darkness and phantoms of
fear will flee away," said Lyon with a smile.
"Oh, you don't believe me. You never do believe me. But oh! let me tell
you all about this ghastly thing, and then perhaps you will see that it
is real," said Sybil.
And still in much agitation of spirits, she told him all the
particulars of her strange visitation.
He still believed in his soul that she had been the victim of incubus,
but he would not vex her by persisting in saying so. He only repeated
that the morning was at hand, when all the terrors of the night would be
dispersed; and added that they would not have to pass another night in
the "demon-peopled place," as this would be the very last day of their
stay.
As soon as it was light enough, they dressed themselves, and set about
their simple daily work. He made the fire, and brought the water; and
she cleared up their housekeeping corner, and prepared the breakfast.
When the sun arose and streamed in at the east windows, lighting up
every nook about the interior of the old chapel, they saw that
everything remained in the same condition in which they had left it when
they had gone to rest on the evening previous.
Lyon Berners felt more than ever convinced that his dear Sybil had been
the victim of repeated nightmares; that all the seemingly supernatural
phenomena of the Haunted Chapel had been only the creation of her own
morbid imagination; that nothing connected with the mystery had been
real, with the exception of the appearance of the girl in the red cloak,
whom Mr. Berners decided to be an ordinary human habitue of the place.
But the idea of this visitor made him only the more anxious for Sybil's
sake, to get away.
This last day of their sojourn in the Haunted Chapel was passed by the
refugees in great impatience, but without any event worth recording.
With the night came their untiring friend Captain Pendleton, attended by
Joe, who bore upon his broad back a large pack containing the disguises.
After the usual greetings, and while Sybil, with a woman's curiosity,
was examining the contents of the pack which Joe opened and displayed
before her, Pendleton found an opportunity of whispering to Lyon
Berners:
"The false rumor is as rife as false rumors usually are. Every one
reports with confidence, and every one else believes with assurance,
that you are both in Annapolis, and will certainly be found by the
officers within a few days. This is good, as it will lead off all
pursuit from your road to Norfolk."
Lyon Berners nodded in reply. And Sybil came up to make some
preparations for supper.
"Well, Mrs. Berners," spoke the Captain, gayly, "any more supernatural
phenomena?"
"Oh, I wish you had not asked that question!" exclaimed Lyon Berners,
while Sybil grew deadly pale, and shivered from head to foot.
"Why, what's the matter now?" demanded the Captain, lifting his eyebrows
in surprise.
"Oh, the damp girl!" exclaimed Sybil, shuddering.
"The damp girl!" echoed the Captain, in growing wonder.
Lyon Berners shrugged his shoulders, while Sybil, in agitated tones,
recounted her strange visitation of the night before.
"As clearly defined a case of incubus as ever I heard in my life," was
the prompt decision of Captain Pendleton.
Sybil grew angry.
"I only wish," she sharply answered, "that you would once experience the
like, for then you could know that it could not be nightmare."
"Then, my dear Mrs. Berners, if this was not incubus, what do you
suppose it to have been?"
"A _real_ visitation; but whether a natural or supernatural one, of
course I can not tell," she answered.
Sybil got the supper ready, and they all sat down to partake of that
meal together, for the last time in the Haunted Chapel.
After supper the final preparations for their departure were made.
Sybil felt all the reluctance of a beauty to part with her splendid
black hair. But on trying the experiment, she found that she could
effectually conceal it, without cutting it off. She combed it straight
back from her forehead, and let it hang down her shoulders under her
sack. Then she covered her head and neck with the flowing red locks of
Harold's wig.
Lyon cut close his auburn hair, shaved off his moustache, and donned a
gray wig and a gray beard, without the slightest remorse.
A very few minutes sufficed to complete their disguise, and they stood
forth--Lyon and Sybil transformed into a gray old farmer and a
shock-headed country girl.
"And now, about these housekeeping articles that we must leave here?
They are of very little value in themselves; but they _may_ be found,
and if so, may lead to our discovery," suggested Mr. Berners, uneasily.
"Never you mind _them_, Master. I'll ondertake to get them away,
onbeknowst to any body, sar," promised Joe.
"And I will see that this is done," added Captain Pendleton in a low
voice, for he did not wish to wound poor Joe's sensitive self-love.
"And now, my dear Sybil, are you sure you have got all that you need in
your bag?" inquired Mr. Berners.
"All that I shall need until we get to Norfolk, Lyon. There, indeed, we
must get a supply of necessary clothing," she answered.
"That of course. And by the way, have you the money and jewels safe?"
"All secure."
"Oh Lyon! I brought this for you, and I had better give it to you at
once, lest I should forget it," put in Captain Pendleton, passing over
to Mr. Berners a large roll of gold coins.
"But my dear Pendleton--"
"Oh, nonsense! take them. I can reimburse myself from the revenues of
Black Hall. Am I not to have the freedom of that fine estate?"
"Very true," answered Mr. Berners, pocketing the money.
"And now, are we ready?" inquired the Captain.
"Quite," answered Mr. and Mrs. Berners at once.
"Then let us start at once," advised the Captain, setting the example by
taking up Sybil's large travelling bag.
Lyon Berners carried his portmanteau on one arm, while he gave his other
to his wife.
Joe loaded himself with a great basket filled with provisions for the
journey.
And together they all set forth from the Haunted Chapel. It was a clear,
cold, starlight night. The gravestones in the old church-yard glimmered
gray among the brushwood, as the fugitives picked their way through it.
When they reached the narrow path leading through the thicket, they had
to walk in single file until they emerged from the wood and found
themselves upon the old road running along the river bank. Here the
wagon with a pair of draught horses was waiting them.
Their luggage was put in on top of bags of potatoes, turnips, etc., with
which the back part of the wagon was loaded. Then Captain Pendleton
assisted Sybil to mount to a seat made by a low-backed chair with a
woolen counterpane thrown over it. Lyon Berners got up into the driver's
place. All being now ready for the start, Captain Pendleton and Joe come
up to the side of the wagon to bid farewell to the travellers.
"Heaven bless you, Pendleton, for your faithful friendship and zealous
labors in our behalf," said Mr. Berners, warmly shaking the Captain's
hand.
"Amen, and Amen! We shall never forget, and never cease to thank and
bless you, dear friend," added Sybil, with tears in her eyes, as she
gave him her hand.
"May the Lord grant you a safe journey and a quick return," said Clement
Pendleton, as he pressed the lady's hand and relinquished it.
"And I sez Amen to that! Oh, Marser! Oh, Missus! come back to your poor
old Joe soon! His heart will snap into ten thousand flinders, if you
don't!" sobbed the poor negro, as he shook hands with his young master
and mistress.
Then with a mutual "God be with you," the four friends parted.
Captain Pendleton, sighing, and Joe, weeping, bent their steps up the
banks of the river towards the fording place, where they would have to
cross to find their horses on the other side.
Lyon Berners cracked his long wagoner's whip, and started on the road
leading away from the river towards the east.
It was yet early in the autumn night, and but for the cause of the
journey, the young pair would have enjoyed it very much.
"It is a very pleasant evening for the season," said Lyon, cheerfully
looking up at the clear, blue-black, star-spangled sky.
"Yes, indeed," answered Sybil briskly.
"Are you quite comfortable, darling?"
"Very! Captain Pendleton, dear Captain Pendleton, arranged my seat so
nicely. It is so soft and easy. I could go to sleep here, if I were
sleepy."
"You may have to sleep there, dear. We must travel all night, in order
to get a good distance from this neighborhood before morning."
"I can bear that very well, as comfortably as I am placed. But you,
dear Lyon, you who are driving, you will be tired to death."
"Not at all. My work to-night will not be more than many men frequently
undertake for mere amusement."
"And the horses?"
"Strong draught horses like these can work eight or ten hours at a
stretch, if they are well fed and rested between times."
"Oh! I'm so glad I have got away from the Haunted Chapel and the
ghosts!" suddenly exclaimed Sybil.
"And especially from the 'damp girl,'" laughed Lyon Berners.
"Oh, don't mention her!" shuddered Sybil.
They were now entering one of those frequent mountain passes that
diversified their road, and the care of driving required all Lyon's
attention.
They travelled all night as nearly in a direct line towards the far
distant city as the nature of the ground would permit. At daylight they
found themselves in the midst of a deep forest, some twenty miles east
of Blackville. Here, as the road was naturally broad and the trees tall
and sparse, and especially as a clear stream of water ran along on one
side, the travellers decided to stop and rest, and refresh themselves
and their horses until noon.
Lyon Berners got out and, followed by Sybil, went a little way into the
woods, where they found a small opening and a spring of clear water.
Here Lyon gathered brushwood and made a fire, while Sybil returned to
the wagon and brought back a basket of provisions. Among them was a
bottle of coffee already made, and which she turned into a small tin
coffee-pot, and set on the fire to be warmed.
And while Lyon went back to the wagon to attend to the wants of his
horses, Sybil spread a very good breakfast of coffee, bread, and ham,
upon the ground near the fire.
When they had given their horses time enough to rest they resumed their
journey, still travelling towards the east.
Lyon consulted his map and his pocket compass, and found that directly
in their line lay the small village of Oakville, nestled in an
unfrequented pass of the mountains.
"We can reach the place at about ten o'clock this evening, and there we
can get a regular supper and good sleep," he said to his wife.
And they travelled all the remainder of that day, and at about half-past
nine they arrived at Oakville. The village was off the public road, and
consisted only of a sleepy old tavern, to which the neighboring farmers
came to drink, smoke, and gossip; a post-office, to which the mail was
brought once a week by a boy on horseback; and a blacksmith shop,
patronized by the sparse population of the immediate neighborhood.
Up before the stable of this old tavern Lyon Berners drove his wagon;
and here he alighted, handed out Sybil, and led her over to the house
and into the public parlor.
A fat and lazy-looking hostess came to look at them.
"I want accommodations for myself, my girl here, and my horses and
wagon, which I left in the stable yard," said Mr. Berners, speaking
coarsely, with two lumps of liquorice in his mouth, which he had taken
to disguise his voice.
"And what might your name be, farmer?" inquired the landlady.
"My name's Howe," answered Lyon, truly, giving his own patronymic, now
his middle name.
"Well, farmer, I reckon we can accommodate you. Going to market?"
"Yes, we're on our way to market."
"You come from far?"
"From the other side of the mountain."
"Well, I reckon we can accommodate you. You must excuse me asking you
so many questions; but the truth is you're a perfect stranger to me, and
it is very late for you to come here, you know; which I wouldn't think
so much of that nyther, only since that horrid murder at Black Hall I
have mistrusted every stranger I see."
Sybil's heart gave a bound, and then sank like lead in her bosom, at
hearing this allusion. Lyon also felt an increased uneasiness. Luckily
they were sitting with their backs to the light, so that the gossiping
landlady could not read the expression of their faces, which indeed she
was too much absorbed in her subject to attempt to do. So she went
straight on without stopping to take breath:
"Not that I mistrust you now, sir, which I see exactly what you are; and
which likewise your having of your darter with you is a rickymindation;
for men don't go about a taking of their darters with them when they are
up to robbery and murder, do they now, sir?"
"I should judge not, though I am not familiar enough with the habits of
such gentry to give a decided opinion," said farmer Howe.
"You'll excuse me, sir; but I'm a lone widow living here, and not used
to seeing much of anybody but my old neighbors, which come occasionally
to enjoy of themselves; and I do mistrust most strangers--though not
you, sir, with your darter, as I said before--but most other strangers,
because they _do_ say hereabouts that it was a stranger to the place, a
red-headed man, as put up at the inn at Blackville that night, and never
was seen afterwards, as did that murder at Black Hall."
"Ah! do they say that? I thought they laid it on a lady," observed
farmer Howe.
"La, sir! the idee of a lady doing such a thing! and a rale high-born
lady of quality like Mrs. Burns, or whatever her name was, and doing of
it to one she had took in for charity too; 'tan't likely, sir."
"But you know, I suppose, that they did accuse a lady?"
"Oh, yes; I know they did, and that the poor lady had to ran away and go
to Annapolis. But that was that Blackville set, that an't got no sense;
but as for us, over this side, _we_ believe it was that red-headed
stranger as did it."
"There's no doubt of it in the world," said farmer Howe, recklessly,
feeling that he was expected to say something.
And at this moment he looked towards Sybil, and saw that she could not
endure the subject of discussion for one moment longer, so he turned to
the landlady, and said:
"We have travelled some distance, and feel very tired and hungry. Would
you oblige us with supper as soon as possible? We do not need much, only
let it be nice and warm."
"Surely, sir, it is late; but we will do the best we can for you," said
the landlady, hurrying away.
Mr. Berners stooped to whisper to his wife.
"Sybil, darling, I hail this woman's faith as a good omen. Keep up your
courage, and--remain in that shady corner until I come back. I am going
out to the stable to see that our horses are properly attended to."
And then Lyon left the room.
By the time he returned a table was set in that parlor, and a good
supper spread for the travellers.
When it was over, the landlady showed them to a couple of communicating
rooms up stairs, where they passed a very comfortable night.
At daybreak the next morning they arose and breakfasted, and resumed
their journey.
Lyon Berners again consulted his map of the State and his pocket
compass, and laid out his road. It lay for all that day up and down, in
and out, among the wildest passes of the Allegheny Mountains. At noon
they stopped for an hour, to rest and refresh themselves and their
horses, and then again went forward. At night they reached another
hamlet at the foot of the mountain range. They put up at this hamlet,
which was called Dunville, and which boasted one tavern kept by an old
Revolutionary pensioner called Purley.
Here also Lyon Berners gave his name as Howe, and here again he and his
wife were destined to be told all about the murder.
"You see, sir, a little below us there, on the other side of the
mountain, they do say as the murder was done by the woman's husband, as
she had run away from; but they are a set of poor ignorant folks out
there! Now it stand to reason, sir, it couldn't have been done by him,
and it must have been done by some member of that band of burglars that
they say is lurking somewhere there-a-way by Black Hall."
"Band of burglars!" echoed Farmer Howe, in astonishment. And he was
almost about to betray himself by saying that there could be no such
band there, when he recollected his position, and held his tongue.
Farmer Howe and his daughter spent a refreshing night at old Purley's
tavern at Dunville, and at daybreak next morning, after a very early
breakfast, they resumed their journey.
And again, as usual, Lyon Berners consulted his map and his compass. He
now found that his most direct route lay through a thick forest, between
two mountain ridges.
They travelled all the morning, and as usual stopped at noon for rest
and food for themselves and their four-footed friends. In the afternoon
they set forth again, and travelled until they reached Iceville, a
considerable village situated high upon one of the table-lands of the
Blue Ridge. In this town there were three taverns. Farmer Howe and his
daughter put up at the most humble of the trio. And here too the talk of
the hour was the homicide at Black Hall.
"They say about here that it was one of the lady's admirers who killed
her in a fit of desperation from love and jealousy; for the lady was
well beknown to be a great coquette," said one village authority to
another, in the presence of Farmer Howe.
When our travellers found themselves alone that night, in one of the two
small adjoining rooms that had been assigned to them, Lyon Berners
turned to Sybil, and said;
"You see, my dear Sybil, how it is: 'A prophet hath honor except in his
own city.' No one out of the Black Valley thinks of accusing you."
"All the world might accuse me, so that my own old friends and neighbors
would justify me," said Sybil, sadly.
They passed another night in peace, and the next morning, at daybreak as
usual, they breakfasted, and then set out on their fourth and last day's
journey.
Again the map and the pocket compass was called into requisition, and
Mr. Berners laid out their route for the day.
Their way lay all that forenoon through the beautifully undulating,
heavily wooded, and well-watered country lying east of the Blue Ridge.
As before, they broke their journey by an hour's repose at noon, and
then re-commenced it. And at twelve, midnight, they arrived safely at
Norfolk.