hard for twenty years, and now I am willing to take a rest. I don't wish
to be wholly idle, but I like to give up a good part of my time to
recreation."
"I used to feel so, too," said Drysdale, as if his thoughts were far
away; then, he added, hastily, as if recollecting himself: "I mean that
I have felt so at times, but I always need to come back to hard work
again. Will you be ready to go out to my plantation next Monday?"
"Yes; Monday will suit me as well as any other day," replied Andrews.
"When shall we return?"
"I had not intended to remain there more than three or four days,
unless you should wish to stay longer. If agreeable to you, we will
return Thursday afternoon."
"That will enable me to join our riding party the next day," said
Andrews. "All right; I will be ready to start Monday morning. Now, I
must be going; I only stopped to find out when you would be ready to
go."
"I am sorry you cannot stay longer," said Drysdale. "I hope that you
will drop in without ceremony, whenever you feel like it."
In the afternoon, young Green, the cabinet-maker, called upon Mr.
Andrews, and went up to the latter's room. The work to be done, must
have required a great deal of explanation, as Green remained nearly an
hour. As he went out, Mr. Andrews said to him:
"If we fail to return Thursday, you must be there Friday at the same
hour. You had better take a look at the place before then."
On Monday, Mr. Drysdale called at the hotel immediately after breakfast,
and found Mr. Andrews all ready for the ride to the plantation. As they
rode out of town, Mr. Drysdale's spirits seemed to rise rapidly, and he
entertained his companion so successfully, that when they reached the
plantation, they had become quite well acquainted with each other.
Drysdale was a man of fine education, and fascinating manners; he really
had great eloquence, and his abilities were far above the average, but
the circumstances of his life had not been such as to develop his
powers, and give play to his ambition; hence, he was apparently becoming
disappointed, sour, and morose. At least, this was the impression which
many of his friends had gained, and they accounted for the gradual
change in his manners on the above theory; namely, that he was the
victim of disappointed ambition.
During their stay at the plantation, the gentlemen usually spent their
evenings together, while the mornings were given up to business by
Drysdale, and to hunting by Andrews. The plantation required a great
deal of attention just in the spring, and Drysdale's time was pretty
well occupied. Andrews easily formed the acquaintance of the neighboring
planters, and he spent much of his time in paying visits around the
country. He thought quite favorably of buying the Bristed plantation, as
Drysdale had hoped, but the owner wished to sell another place with it,
and Andrews did not care to buy both. Drysdale suggested that by autumn,
the owner would be willing to sell it separately, and he advised Andrews
to hold off until then.
On Thursday, Andrews started out shooting early, agreeing to be back at
noon, to make an early start for Atkinson, as the time required to ride
there, was about four hours. He strayed so far away, however, that it
was two o'clock before he returned, and they did not mount their horses
until three o'clock. By this time, they had become much more intimate
than one would have expected on so short acquaintance, and Drysdale
showed a marked pleasure in the company of his new friend. During the
first part of the ride, he was as brilliant and entertaining as
possible, but, as they approached the town, he began to lose his
cheerfulness, and to become almost gloomy. Both gentlemen were rather
tired, and they soon allowed the conversation to drop almost wholly.
It was early dusk when they reached the banks of Rocky Creek, about a
mile from Drysdale's house. From this point, the scenery was bold and
picturesque; the road passed through heavy masses of timber at times,
and crossed many ravines and rocky gorges, as it followed the general
direction of the winding stream. Daylight was rapidly fading into the
night, though objects could still be distinguished quite well at a
distance of one hundred yards. As they arrived at one of the wooded
hillocks, over which the road passed, they were shut out from any very
extended view, except in one direction. Here, Andrews reined in his
horse a moment, to take a last look at the beauty of the scene, while
Drysdale passed on a few yards in advance.
The spot was rather wild and perhaps a little weird; on the right was a
dense forest, rising some distance above the road, which curved around
the hill-side about mid-way to the crest; on the left the hill descended
rapidly to the creek, along which ran a heavy belt of timber, which
permitted only an occasional gleam of water to be seen; the abrupt
hill-side between the road and the timber was nearly cleared of
undergrowth, but it was filled with large boulders and creeping vines;
over the tops of the timber the country stretched away in dissolving
views as the mists of night began to form and spread over the landscape.
Having paused an instant, Andrews spurred his horse forward just as
Drysdale uttered an exclamation of horror. As he came up, he saw that
Drysdale had stopped and was holding his reins in a convulsive grasp;
all color was gone from his face, and he was trembling violently.
"What is the matter, Drysdale?" said Andrews, drawing up beside him.
"My God! look there!" broke from Drysdale's ashy lips, as he pointed
down the hill-side.
At the distance of about fifty yards the figure of a young man was
moving down the slope toward the timber. He walked slowly on, with a
measured pace, turning his eyes neither to the right nor left. He was
apparently about twenty-five or twenty-six years of age, and his face
was indicative of intelligence, ability and energy. His course was
nearly parallel to the direction of the road at that point, and only his
profile could be seen. He wore a business suit of light gray clothes,
but he had no hat on his head, and his curly hair was tossed lightly by
the evening breeze. As he moved further from the road, the back of his
head was more directly exposed, presenting a most ghastly sight. The
thick brown locks were matted together in a mass of gore, and large
drops of blood slowly trickled down upon his coat; the whole back of the
skull seemed to be crushed in, while the deadly pallor of his face gave
him the appearance of a corpse.
Drysdale seemed to rally his faculties a moment and shouted in powerful
but hoarse tones:
"Say! you, sir! Who are you, and where are you going?"
Although his voice might have been heard at a long distance, the figure
continued its course without indicating, even by a sign, that he had
heard the hail.
"Why, what in the devil has got into you, Drysdale?" asked Andrews.
"Whom are you shouting at in such a savage way?"
"Don't you see that man down the hill?" he asked, in a perfect agony of
fear and excitement. "See! right in line with that pointed rock; why, he
is only a few yards off. My God! it can't be possible that you don't see
him!"
"Upon my word, Drysdale," said Andrews, "if you keep on, I shall think
you are going crazy. What man are you talking about? There is no one in
sight, and either you are trying to play a joke on me, or else your
imagination is most unpleasantly active."
"Andrews, look where I point, less than ten rods off," said Drysdale, in
a hoarse whisper, clutching Andrews by the arm; "do you mean to say that
you don't see a man slowly walking toward the creek?"
"I mean to say," replied Andrews, deliberately, "that there is no man in
sight from here, either on that hill-side or any where else."
"God help me," muttered Drysdale, as the figure disappeared in the
woods, "then it must have been a ghost."
"My dear fellow," said Andrews, sympathizingly, as they continued their
ride, "I am afraid you are feverish; you probably imagined you saw
something, and you are superstitious about the matter because I did not
see it. Tell me what it was."
By this time they had passed some distance beyond the spot where
Drysdale had seen the apparition, and he began to recover his strength
somewhat. It was evident that he was still very much distressed, but he
endeavored to pass the matter over.
"Oh! it was nothing of any consequence," he said, "but I thought I saw
a man crossing that clearing."
"Well, what of it?" asked Andrews. "Was he a dangerous looking fellow?"
"Yes; very dangerous looking, indeed;" then, suddenly, as if struck by a
plausible idea, he added: "I thought it was a negro with a gun; you know
what my opinions are about allowing the slaves to have fire-arms, and
this fellow looked like such a villain that I was really alarmed. You
are sure you saw no one?"
"Quite sure," replied Andrews. "I am afraid you have worked too hard,
and that you are going to be ill. I shall tell your wife to nurse you
well for a few days to cure you of seeing spooks and wild niggers
roaming 'round with guns."
"No, indeed," said Drysdale, hastily; "please say nothing to my wife; it
would only alarm her unnecessarily."
"Well, take my advice and rest awhile," said Andrews. "Your nerves are a
little shaken, and you will certainly be ill if you keep on working so
steadily."
Drysdale soon relapsed into moody silence, and when they reached his
gate, he was a really pitiable object. He asked Andrews to take supper
with him, but as the invitation was given only as a matter of form, the
latter excused himself, and rode immediately to the hotel. He happened
to meet Mrs. Potter in the parlor, but he stopped only a few minutes to
talk to her, as he was too hungry and tired to feel like entertaining
the fascinating widow.
It was then only about seven o'clock, and Mrs. Potter proposed to Mrs.
Townsend, and several other ladies and gentlemen, that they take a walk.
Accordingly, they strolled through the pleasant streets, enjoying the
balmy spring air, and often stopping at the gates of their friends, to
chat a few minutes. As they passed the Drysdale place, Mrs. Potter said:
"I want to run in to speak to Mrs. Drysdale a minute; I promised to stop
here on our riding excursion to-morrow, but as it is postponed, I want
to tell her not to expect me."
The rest of the party stayed at the gate, while Mrs. Potter went in. She
was ushered into the library, and Mrs. Drysdale came down at once.
Having explained her object in calling, Mrs. Potter asked whether Mr.
and Mrs. Drysdale would not join the party outside, for a short walk.
"I am sorry to say, that my husband is quite unwell," said Mrs.
Drysdale. "He returned from the plantation to-day, quite feverish, and
excited, and now he is in a sort of nervous delirium. He has had one or
two attacks before, but none so serious as this."
"I sincerely hope he is not going to be ill," said Mrs. Potter. "What
does the doctor think?"
"Oh! he won't have a doctor," replied Mrs. Drysdale; "he says that I am
the best doctor he can have, because I can soothe him."
Just then, Mrs. Potter heard a heavy footstep, beginning to pace up and
down overhead.
"There, he has arisen," said Mrs. Drysdale, "and I shall find him pacing
the room, and muttering to himself like a crazy man. You must excuse
me, as I must go to quiet him."
"Oh, certainly; I am sorry I called you away. Please let me know if I
can do anything for you. If Mr. Drysdale should be seriously ill, don't
be afraid to call upon me. I am an excellent nurse, and nothing would
give me greater pleasure than to assist you; or, at least, I could look
after the children."
"You are very kind, Mrs. Potter, and I shall be glad to accept your
assistance, especially, as the children are so fond of you; however, I
hope Aleck's illness will be only temporary."
Mrs. Potter then withdrew, and the party slowly strolled back to the
hotel.
As Mrs. Drysdale surmised, her husband's illness was very brief, and in
two or three days, he returned to his duties at the court house. He was
somewhat changed in looks, however, his face being haggard, his figure
slightly bowed, and his hand tremulous. He seemed, more than ever
before, to avoid society, and on his way to the court house, he always
chose the least frequented streets. The change in his looks and manners,
was noticed only by a few who had formerly been intimate with him; in
this little circle, his eccentricities were accounted for by significant
gestures of drinking, and it was understood among those who knew him
best, that liquor was responsible for the ruin of another fine fellow.
One peculiarity that he evinced was, a great partiality for the society
of Mr. Andrews, and for the next week, they were together every day. He
frequently referred, in conversation with Andrews, to the freak his
imagination had played, while returning from the plantation, and,
though Andrews always made light of it, and laughed at him, he evidently
thought about it a great deal. It seemed to be a kind of relief to him
to discuss it with Andrews, and so the latter used to humor him in it.
_CHAPTER VI._
Several days after Drysdale's return from the plantation, Mrs. Potter
and several others, set out for a horseback ride. They enjoyed the
afternoon exceedingly, and it was growing dark before they reached the
town on their return. As the party passed down the street upon which
Drysdale lived, Mrs. Potter, and another lady, lagged behind the others,
and the main body were quite a distance in advance. Mrs. Potter
suggested that they put their horses at full speed, in order to overtake
their friends. Mrs. Robbins, her companion, assented, and they dashed
off together. The latter's horse was the faster of the two, however, and
Mrs. Potter was about fifty or sixty yards in the rear, when they
approached the Drysdale place. There was no one in sight on the street,
and there was so much foliage on each side, that the road was quite
hidden from the view of the scattered houses.
Suddenly, Mrs. Robbins heard a shriek and a fall behind her; quickly
reining in her horse, she turned back, passing Mrs. Potter's riderless
horse on the way. She soon discovered Mrs. Potter lying by the roadside,
groaning, and in great pain. Mrs. Robbins did not stop to ask any
questions; she saw that Mrs. Potter was badly hurt, and she knew that
assistance must be brought instantly. She therefore, galloped up the
drive to the Drysdale house, and hastily told them what had happened.
In less than three minutes, Mr. Drysdale had improvised a stretcher out
of a wicker settee and a mattress, and had summoned four stout negroes
to bring it after him, while he and his wife hurried out to the road.
There they found Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Robbins supporting her. She said
that she was in great pain, from severe contusion, and possible
dislocation of the knee joint, and that she had also sustained some
internal injuries. In a very few minutes, they had tenderly placed her
on the settee, and carried her up to the house. She was carefully put to
bed, and Mrs. Robbins remounted her horse to go for a physician. The
latter, on his arrival, said that he could hardly tell the extent of
Mrs. Potter's injuries at once, but he thought they would not confine
her to her bed for more than a week or two. She asked if she might be
removed to the hotel, as she did not wish to trespass on Mrs. Drysdale's
hospitality. Mrs. Drysdale, however, refused to hear of such a thing as
the removal of a sick person from her house, and she said that she
should enjoy Mrs. Potter's society enough to compensate for the slight
trouble. It was decided, therefore, that Mrs. Potter should remain until
she was able to go without assistance. She improved very rapidly, but
her knee seemed to pain her considerably, and she spent most of her time
in her room, or on a sofa under the veranda, whither her stout negro
nurse used to carry her.
[Illustration: "_She soon discovered Mrs. Potter lying by the road-side,
groaning and in great pain._"--Page 64.]
A few days afterwards, Mrs. Potter was lying awake in her room at about
seven o'clock in the morning. Mr. and Mrs. Drysdale's room was next to
hers, and the transom over the connecting door was open, so that
whatever was said in one room could be easily heard in the other. Mrs.
Potter heard Drysdale get up and open the blinds to let in the morning
sun. He had hardly done so ere he gave a sharp cry and sank into a
chair.
"What is the matter?" asked Mrs. Drysdale, in great alarm.
"Oh, nothing," he replied; "I don't feel well."
"I should think you wouldn't," said Mrs. Drysdale, "for you have had the
nose-bleed terribly. Why, it is all over the pillow and floor, and leads
out of the door. You must have gone down stairs."
"Yes, yes," he exclaimed, hastily, "I did get up in the night. I--I
don't feel very well--I guess I will lie down again."
"Is there anything I can do for you?" asked his wife, anxiously.
"No, nothing at present. Just go right along with your household
affairs, as usual; I shall be all right in a short time."
Mrs. Drysdale saw that her husband was nervous and irritable, and so she
dressed quickly and went down to superintend her domestic duties. When
Mrs. Potter's breakfast was ready, she brought it up herself and stopped
a few minutes to talk.
"Do you know of any remedy for bleeding at the nose, Mrs. Potter?" she
asked. "My husband had quite a severe attack last night, and he went
down on the front veranda, and then down the gravel walk, thinking, I
suppose, that exercise would stop it. It must have bled frightfully,
for I could see marks of blood all the way down the path to the gate."
"I suppose he let it run instead of trying to stop the flow," replied
Mrs. Potter. "Some people think it is good for the health occasionally,
and so they allow the nose to bleed as long as it wants to."
After a few more remarks, Mrs. Drysdale went down stairs again. Mrs.
Potter could hear Mr. Drysdale tossing about on the bed in the next
room, muttering to himself, and occasionally speaking aloud such
expressions as--"Oh! this is horrible!"--"What does this mean?"--"My
God! what could have done it?"
After a time he became quieter, but he did not leave his room until the
afternoon. Soon after he got up, Mr. Andrews called to see him, having
failed to find him at his office.
"I thought you might be sick and so I dropped in to see you," he said.
"I am very glad you came," replied Drysdale. "I have been a little
unwell, and I need some one to cheer me up."
"Let us take a short walk," said Andrews; "the exercise will do you
good."
As they strolled out, Andrews pointed to some blood and said:
"Any one hurt in your house?"
"No--yes--that is, nothing serious; one of my negroes cut his hand this
morning," replied Drysdale, shuddering. "I can't look at blood without
feeling sick," he explained, as he saw that Andrews was wondering at his
agitation.
As they continued their walk, Andrews noticed that Drysdale was very
self-absorbed, and so they strolled down the street without conversing.
Their course took them past the bank, and as Mr. McGregor was standing
on the steps of the side entrance, he accosted them heartily.
"Why, how do you do, gentlemen?" he asked. "Won't you walk in for a few
minutes? I havn't seen you since your illness, Mr. Drysdale; won't you
come in and rest a while?"
On hearing McGregor's salutation, Drysdale started as if stung, and
trembled violently. He had been walking along with his eyes down, so
that he had not seen Mr. McGregor until spoken to.
"No, thank you," he replied; "I think I won't have time--that is, I
promised my wife to come back soon. You must excuse me this time."
He hurried on with a nervous gesture of courtesy, and he did not recover
his calmness until some minutes afterward. Andrews accompanied him to
his home, and on the way they agreed to go to Drysdale's plantation for
a short visit on the following Monday. Having settled upon the time for
starting and returning, Andrews declined an invitation to dine with
Drysdale that evening, and they separated. Andrews dropped into Breed's
shop on his way back to the hotel, and there he found young Green, the
man who had made his book-case. They talked together only a few minutes,
and Andrews then went to his room, where he stayed the remainder of the
day.
On Monday, Andrews and Drysdale rode off to the plantation at daylight,
and the latter's spirits seemed to lighten rapidly after leaving the
immediate vicinity of Atkinson. In the afternoon, Andrews took his gun
and wandered off into the woods, but he did not seem very desirous of
shooting anything, for he soon took a position whence he commanded a
full view of the house. In about half an hour, Drysdale came out and
walked slowly toward a small cluster of trees, about five hundred yards
from the house. Here, he leaned against a tree, and paused to look
around in every direction; then he began to stride with a measured step
in a straight line. When he stopped, he began to examine the ground
carefully for some minutes, and finally, he seemed satisfied with his
inspection, and returned to the house.
During the remainder of their stay at the plantation, Andrews and
Drysdale were constantly together, and the latter seemed to find the
greatest pleasure in the former's society. He frequently recurred to the
subject of ghosts and spooks, and always closed by discussing the
character of the apparition he had seen on the roadside. There was no
doubt that it had made a deep impression upon him, for he never tired of
talking about it. Andrews laughed at him, ridiculed his vivid
imagination, cross-questioned him, and reasoned with him upon the
absurdity of his hallucination, but all to no effect; Drysdale
maintained in the most dogged manner, that he had seen a ghost.
On Friday, they were to return to Atkinson, and in the morning Andrews
rode over to make a short visit to a neighbor. He was so hospitably
entertained, however, that he did not get away until after two o'clock,
and it was nearly three before they started on their homeward ride. As
before, it was growing dusky, when they reached the banks of Rocky
Creek, and Drysdale was in a state of high nervous excitement.
On reaching the spot where Drysdale had seen the ghost before, he kept
close at Andrews' side, and endeavored to appear unconcerned. Suddenly,
he grasped Andrews by the arm with a faint groan, and said:
"Andrews, look! look! for God's sake, tell me, don't you see it?"
As he spoke, he pointed toward the same ghastly object which he had seen
before. There, right under his eyes, passed the image of the murdered
George Gordon.
"There, I was afraid you would have the same folly again," said Andrews,
soothingly, as if anxious to attract his attention away from his ghostly
friend. "What the devil is the matter with you?"
"Tell me, tell me, Andrews," gasped Drysdale, in such terror that his
parched throat and quivering lips could hardly pronounce the words;
"can't you see that horrible man close to the fence, walking toward the
creek?"
"I tell you, my dear fellow," replied Andrews, earnestly, "that you are
laboring under a most unpleasant hallucination. There is absolutely no
person, or any moving object in sight, except you and me."
At this moment, the sound of approaching hoof-beats could be plainly
heard, and Drysdale turned his head to look back in the direction whence
they came. On looking for the ghost again, it was nowhere to be seen.
"Andrews, it is gone--the earth has swallowed it up," he said.
He would have fallen from his horse, if Andrews had not caught him
around the waist, and just as he did so, Mr. Breed and Mr. O'Fallon, the
station agent, rode up, one on each side of them.
"What's the matter with Mr. Drysdale?" asked O'Fallon.
"Didn't you see it? Tell me--did the ghost pass you?" Drysdale queried
eagerly, turning toward the new comers.
"What are you talking about? What do you mean by 'the ghost?'" asked Mr.
Breed, in great wonderment.
"The ghost, I say--did neither of you see a horrible figure pass out of
sight suddenly, toward the creek yonder?"
"I saw nothing, Mr. Drysdale," said O'Fallon; "did you, Breed?"
"Well, I don't know what Mr. Drysdale means by a ghost," said Breed,
deliberately; "but I think I did see something down there. I couldn't
say what it looked like. Why do you call it a ghost, Mr. Drysdale?"