with two children, girls, of whom she was passionately fond. She carried
on the draper's business at Bognor, established by her husband. Being
still a very handsome woman, there were several suitors for her hand.
The only favoured one amongst them was a Mr Barton. My wife never liked
this Mr Barton, and made no secret of her feelings to her sister, whom
she frequently told that Mr Barton only wanted to be master of the
little haberdashery shop in Bognor. He was a man in poor circumstances,
and had no other motive in his proposal of marriage, so my wife thought,
than to better himself.
On the 23rd of August 1831 Mrs M---- arranged to go with Barton to a
picnic party at Goodwood Park, the seat of the Duke of Richmond, who had
kindly thrown open his grounds to the public for the day. My wife, a
little annoyed at her going out with this man, told her she had much
better remain at home to look after her children and attend to the
business. Mrs M----, however, bent on going, made arrangements about
leaving the shop, and got my wife to promise to see to her little girls
while she was away.
The party set out in a four-wheeled phaeton, with a pair of ponies
driven by Mrs M----, and a gig for which I lent the horse.
Now we did not expect them to come back till nine or ten o'clock, at
any rate. I mention this particularly to show that there could be no
expectation of their earlier return in the mind of my wife, to account
for what follows.
At six o'clock that bright summer's evening my wife went out into the
garden to call the children. Not finding them, she went all round the
place in her search till she came to the empty stable; thinking they
might have run in there to play, she pushed open the door; there,
standing in the darkest corner, she saw Mrs M----. My wife was surprised
to see her, certainly; for she did not expect her return so soon; but,
oddly enough, it did not strike her as being singular to see her
_there_. Vexed as she had felt with her all day for going, and rather
glad, in her woman's way, to have something entirely different from the
genuine _casus belli_ to hang a retort upon, my wife said: "Well,
Harriet, I should have thought another dress would have done quite as
well for your picnic as that best black silk you have on." My wife was
the elder of the twain, and had always assumed a little of the air of
counsellor to her sister. Black silks were thought a great deal more of
at that time than they are just now, and silk of any kind was held
particularly inconsistent wear for Wesleyan Methodists, to which
denomination we belonged.
Receiving no answer, my wife said: "Oh, well, Harriet, if you can't take
a word of reproof without being sulky, I'll leave you to yourself"; and
then she came into the house to tell me the party had returned and that
she had seen her sister in the stable, not in the best of tempers. At
the moment it did not seem extraordinary to me that my wife should have
met her sister in the stable.
I waited indoors some time, expecting them to return my horse. Mrs M----
was my neighbour, and, being always on most friendly terms, I wondered
that none of the party had come in to tell us about the day's pleasure.
I thought I would just run in and see how they had got on. To my great
surprise the servant told me they had not returned. I began, then, to
feel anxiety about the result. My wife, however, having seen Harriet in
the stable, refused to believe the servant's assertion; and said there
was no doubt of their return, but that they had probably left word to
say they were not come back, in order to offer a plausible excuse for
taking a further drive, and detaining my horse for another hour or so.
At eleven o'clock Mr Pinnock, my brother-in-law, who had been one of the
party, came in, apparently much agitated. As soon as she saw him, and
before he had time to speak, my wife seemed to know what he had to say.
"What is the matter?" she said; "something has happened to Harriet, I
know!"
"Yes" replied Mr Pinnock; "if you wish to see her alive, you must come
with me directly to Goodwood."
From what he said it appeared that one of the ponies had never been
properly broken in; that the man from whom the turn-out was hired for
the day had cautioned Mrs M---- respecting it before they started; and
that he had lent it reluctantly, being the only pony to match in the
stable at the time, and would not have lent it at all had he not known
Mrs M---- to be a remarkably good whip.
On reaching Goodwood, it seems, the gentlemen of the party had got out,
leaving the ladies to take a drive round the park in the phaeton. One or
both of the ponies must then have taken fright at something in the road,
for Mrs M---- had scarcely taken the reins when the ponies shied. Had
there been plenty of room she would readily have mastered the
difficulty; but it was in a narrow road, where a gate obstructed the
way. Some men rushed to open the gate--too late. The three other ladies
jumped out at the beginning of the accident; but Mrs M---- still held on
to the reins, seeking to control her ponies, until, finding it was
impossible for the men to get the gate open in time, she too sprang
forward; and at the same instant the ponies came smash on to the gate.
She had made her spring too late, and fell heavily to the ground on her
head. The heavy, old-fashioned comb of the period, with which her hair
was looped up, was driven into her skull by the force of the fall. The
Duke of Richmond, a witness to the accident, ran to her assistance,
lifted her up, and rested her head upon his knees. The only words Mrs
M---- had spoken were uttered at the time: "Good God, my children!" By
direction of the Duke she was immediately conveyed to a neighbouring
inn, where every assistance, medical and otherwise, that forethought or
kindness could suggest was afforded her.
At six o'clock in the evening, the time at which my wife had gone into
the stable and seen what we now knew had been her spirit, Mrs M----, in
her sole interval of returning consciousness, had made a violent but
unsuccessful attempt to speak. From her glance having wandered round the
room, in solemn awful wistfulness, it had been conjectured she wished to
see some relative or friend not then present. I went to Goodwood in the
gig with Mr Pinnock, and arrived in time to see my sister-in-law die at
two o'clock in the morning. Her only conscious moments had been those in
which she laboured unsuccessfully to speak, which had occurred at six
o'clock. She wore a black silk dress.
When we came to dispose of her business, and to wind up her affairs,
there was scarcely anything left for the two orphan girls. Mrs M----'s
father, however, being well-to-do, took them to bring up. At his death,
which happened soon afterwards, his property went to his eldest son, who
speedily dissipated the inheritance. During a space of two years the
children were taken as visitors by various relations in turn, and lived
an unhappy life with no settled home.
For some time I had been debating with myself how to help these
children, having many boys and girls of my own to provide for. I had
almost settled to take them myself, bad as trade was with me, at the
time, and bring them up with my own family, when one day business called
me to Brighton. The business was so urgent that it necessitated my
travelling at night.
I set out from Bognor in a close-headed gig on a beautiful moonlight
winter's night, when the crisp frozen snow lay deep over the earth, and
its fine glistening dust was whirled about in little eddies on the bleak
night-wind--driven now and then in stinging powder against my tingling
cheek, warm and glowing in the sharp air. I had taken my great "Bose"
(short for "Boatswain") for company. He lay, blinking wakefully,
sprawled out on the spare seat of the gig beneath a mass of warm rugs.
Between Littlehampton and Worthing is a lonely piece of road, long and
dreary, through bleak and bare open country, where the snow lay
knee-deep, sparkling in the moonlight. It was so cheerless that I turned
round to speak to my dog, more for the sake of hearing the sound of a
voice than anything else. "Good Bose," I said, patting him, "there's a
good dog!" Then suddenly I noticed he shivered, and shrank underneath
the wraps. Then the horse required my attention, for he gave a start,
and was going wrong, and had nearly taken me into the ditch.
Then I looked up. Walking at my horse's head, dressed in a sweeping
robe, so white that it shone dazzling against the white snow, I saw a
lady, her back turned to me, her head bare; her hair dishevelled and
strayed, showing sharp and black against her white dress.
I was at first so much surprised at seeing a lady, so dressed, exposed
to the open night, and such a night as this, that I scarcely knew what
to do. Recovering myself, I called out to know if I could render
assistance--if she wished to ride? No answer. I drove faster, the horse
blinking, and shying, and trembling the while, his ears laid back in
abject terror. Still the figure maintained its position close to my
horse's head. Then I thought that what I saw was no woman, but perchance
a man disguised for the purpose of robbing me, seeking an opportunity to
seize the bridle and stop the horse. Filled with this idea, I said,
"Good Bose! hi! look at it, boy!" but the dog only shivered as if in
fright. Then we came to a place where four cross-roads meet.
Determined to know the worst, I pulled up the horse. I fetched Bose,
unwilling, out by the ears. He was a good dog at anything from a rat to
a man, but he slunk away that night into the hedge, and lay there, his
head between his paws, whining and howling. I walked straight up to the
figure, still standing by the horse's head. As I walked, the figure
turned, and I saw _Harriet's face_ as plainly as I see you now--white
and calm--placid, as idealised and beautified by death. I must own that,
though not a nervous man, in that instant I felt sick and faint. Harriet
looked me full in the face with a long, eager, silent look. I knew then
it was her spirit, and felt a strange calm come over me, for I knew it
was nothing to harm me. When I could speak, I asked what troubled her.
She looked at me still, never changing that cold fixed stare. Then I
felt in my mind it was her children, and I said:
"Harriet! is it for your children you are troubled?"
No answer.
"Harriet," I continued, "if for these you are troubled, be assured they
shall never want while I have power to help them. Rest in peace!"
Still no answer.
I put up my hand to wipe from my forehead the cold perspiration which
had gathered there. When I took my hand away from shading my eyes, the
figure was gone. I was alone on the bleak snow-covered ground. The
breeze, that had been hushed before, breathed coolly and gratefully on
my face, and the cold stars glimmered and sparkled sharply in the far
blue heavens. My dog crept up to me and furtively licked my hand, as who
would say, "Good master, don't be angry. I have served you in all but
this."
I took the children and brought them up till they could help
themselves.
XXIX
CAPTAIN WHEATCROFT
From DALE OWEN'S "Footfalls"
In the month of September 1857 Captain German Wheatcroft, of the 6th
(Inniskilling) Dragoons, went out to India to join his regiment.
His wife remained in England, residing at Cambridge. On the night
between the 14th and 15th of November 1857, towards morning, she dreamed
that she saw her husband, looking anxious and ill; upon which she
immediately awoke, much agitated. It was bright moonlight; and, looking
up, she perceived the same figure standing by her bedside. He appeared
in his uniform, the hands pressed across the breast, the hair
dishevelled, the face very pale. His large dark eyes were fixed full
upon her; their expression was that of great excitement, and there was a
peculiar contraction of the mouth, habitual to him when agitated. She
saw him, even to each minute particular of his dress, as distinctly as
she had ever done in her life; and she remembers to have noticed between
his hands the white of his shirt-bosom, unstained, however, with blood.
The figure seemed to bend forward, as if in pain, and to make an effort
to speak; but there was no sound. It remained visible, the wife thinks,
as long as a minute, and then disappeared.
Her first idea was to ascertain if she was actually awake. She rubbed
her eyes with the sheet, and felt that the touch was real. Her little
nephew was in bed with her; she bent over the sleeping child and
listened to its breathing; the sound was distinct, and she became
convinced that what she had seen was no dream. It need hardly be added
that she did not again go to sleep that night.
Next morning she related all this to her mother, expressing her
conviction, though she had noticed no marks of blood on his dress, that
Captain Wheatcroft was either killed or grievously wounded. So fully
impressed was she with the reality of that apparition, that she
thenceforth refused all invitations. A young friend urged her soon
afterwards to go with her to a fashionable concert, reminding her that
she had received from Malta, sent by her husband, a handsome dress
cloak, which she had never yet worn. But she positively declined,
declaring that, uncertain as she was whether she was not already a
widow, she would never enter a place of amusement until she had letters
from her husband (if indeed he still lived) of a later date than the
14th of November.
It was on a Tuesday, in the month of December 1857, that the telegram
regarding the actual fate of Captain Wheatcroft was published in London.
It was to the effect that he was killed before Lucknow on the
_fifteenth_ of November.
This news, given in the morning paper, attracted the attention of Mr
Wilkinson, a London solicitor, who had in charge Captain Wheatcroft's
affairs. When at a later period this gentleman met the widow, she
informed him that she had been quite prepared for the melancholy news,
but that she had felt sure her husband could not have been killed on the
15th of November, inasmuch as it was during the night between the 14th
and 15th that he appeared to her.
The certificate from the War Office, however, which it became Mr
Wilkinson's duty to obtain, confirmed the date given in the telegram,
its tenor being as follows:--
"No. 9579/1 WAR OFFICE,
_30th January 1858._
"These are to certify that it appears, by the records in this office,
that Captain German Wheatcroft of the 6th Dragoon Guards, was killed in
action on the 15th of November 1857.
"(_Signed_) B. HAWES."
The difference of longitude between London and Lucknow being about five
hours, three or four o'clock a.m. in London would be eight or nine
o'clock a.m. at Lucknow. But it was in the _afternoon_ not in the
_morning_, as will be seen in the sequel, that Captain Wheatcroft was
killed. Had he fallen on the 15th, therefore, the apparition to his wife
would have appeared several hours before the engagement in which he
fell, and while he was yet alive and well.
XXX
THE IRON CAGE
From Mrs CROWE'S "Night Side of Nature"
[As you express a wish to know what credit is to be attached to a tale
sent forth after a lapse of between thirty and forty years, I will state
the facts as they were recalled last year by a daughter of Sir William
A. C----.]
Sir James, my mother, with myself and my brother Charles, went abroad
towards the end of the year 1786. After trying several different places,
we determined to settle at Lille, where we had letters of introduction
to several of the best French families. There Sir James left us, and
after passing a few days in an uncomfortable lodging, we engaged a nice
large family house, which we liked much, and which we obtained at a very
low rent, even for that part of the world.
About three weeks after we were established there, I walked one day with
my mother to the bankers, for the purpose of delivering our letter of
credit from Sir Robert Herries and drawing some money, which being paid
in heavy five-frank pieces, we found we could not carry, and therefore
requested the banker to send, saying, "We live in the Place du Lion
d'Or." Whereupon he looked surprised, and observed that he knew of no
house there fit for us, "except, indeed," he added, "the one that has
been long uninhabited on account of the _revenant_ that walks about it."
He said this quite seriously, and in a natural tone of voice; in spite
of which we laughed, and were quite entertained at the idea of a ghost;
but, at the same time, we begged him not to mention the thing to our
servants, lest they should take any fancies into their heads; and my
mother and I resolved to say nothing about the matter to anyone. "I
suppose it is the ghost," said my mother, laughing, "that wakes us so
often by walking over our heads." We had, in fact, been awakened several
nights by a heavy foot, which we supposed to be that of one of the
men-servants, of whom we had three English and four French. The English
ones, men and women, every one of them, returned ultimately to England
with us.
A night or two afterwards, being again awakened by the step, my mother
asked Creswell: "Who slept in the room above us?" "No one, my lady," she
replied, "it is a large empty garret."
About a week or ten days after this, Creswell came to my mother, one
morning, and told her that all the French servants talked of going away,
because there was a _revenant_ in the house; adding, that there seemed
to be a strange story attached to the place, which was said, together
with some other property, to have belonged to a young man, whose
guardian, who was also his uncle, had treated him cruelly, and confined
him in an iron cage; and as he had subsequently disappeared, it was
conjectured he had been murdered. This uncle, after inheriting the
property, had suddenly quitted the house, and sold it to the father of
the man of whom we had hired it. Since that period, though it had been
several times let, nobody had ever stayed in it above a week or two;
and, for a considerable time past, it had had no tenant at all.
"And do you really believe all this nonsense, Creswell?" said my mother.
"Well, I don't know, my lady," answered she, "but there is the iron cage
in the garret over your bedroom, where you may see it, if you please."
Of course we rose to go, and just at that moment an old officer, with
his Croix de St Louis, called on us, we invited him to accompany us, and
we ascended together. We found, as Creswell had said, a large empty
garret, with bare brick walls, and in the further corner of it stood an
iron cage, such as wild beasts are kept in, only higher; it was about
four feet square, and eight in height, and there was an iron ring in the
wall at the back, to which was attached an old rusty chain, with a
collar fixed to the end of it! I confess it made my blood creep, when I
thought of the possibility of any human being having inhabited it! And
our old friend expressed as much horror as ourselves, assuring us that
it must certainly have been constructed for some such dreadful purpose.
As, however, we were no believer in ghosts, we all agreed that the
noises must proceed from somebody who had an interest in keeping the
house empty; and since it was very disagreeable to imagine that there
were secret means of entering it by night, we resolved, as soon as
possible, to look out for another residence, and, in the meantime, to
say nothing about the matter to anybody. About ten days after this
determination, my mother, observing one morning that Creswell, when she
came to dress her, looked exceedingly pale and ill, inquired if anything
was the matter with her? "Indeed, my lady," answered she, "we have been
frightened to death; and neither I nor Mrs Marsh can sleep again in the
room we are now in."
"Well," returned my mother, "you shall both come and sleep in the little
spare room next us; but what has alarmed you?"
"Someone, my lady, went through our room in the night; we both saw the
figure, but we covered our heads with the bed-clothes, and lay in a
dreadful fright till morning."
On hearing this, I could not help laughing, upon which Creswell burst
into tears; and seeing how nervous she was, we comforted her by saying
we had heard of a good house, and that we should very soon abandon our
present habitation.
A few nights afterwards, my mother requested me and Charles to go into
her bedroom, and fetch her frame, that she might prepare her work for
the next day. It was after supper; and we were ascending the stairs by
the light of a lamp which was always kept burning, when we saw going up
before us, a tall, thin figure, with hair flowing down his back, and
wearing a loose powdering gown. We both at once concluded it was my
sister Hannah, and called out: "It won't do, Hannah! you cannot frighten
us!" Upon which the figure turned into a recess in the wall; but as
there was nobody there when we passed, we concluded that Hannah had
contrived, somehow or other, to slip away and make her escape by the
back stairs. On telling this to my mother, however, she said, "It is
very odd, for Hannah went to bed with a headache before you came in from
your walk"; and sure enough, on going to her room, there we found her
fast asleep; and Alice, who was at work there, assured us that she had
been so for more than an hour. On mentioning this circumstance to
Creswell, she turned quite pale, and exclaimed that that was precisely
the figure she and Marsh had seen in their bedroom.
About this time my brother Harry came to spend a few days with us, and
we gave him a room up another pair of stairs, at the opposite end of the
house. A morning or two after his arrival, when he came down to
breakfast, he asked my mother, angrily, whether she thought he went to
bed drunk and could not put out his own candle, that she sent those
French rascals to watch him. My mother assured him that she had never
thought of doing such a thing; but he persisted in the accusation,
adding, "last night I jumped up and opened the door, and by the light of
the moon, through the skylight, I saw the fellow in his loose gown at
the bottom of the stairs. If I had not been in my shirt, I would have
gone after him, and made him remember coming to watch me."
We were now preparing to quit the house, having secured another,
belonging to a gentleman who was going to spend some time in Italy; but
a few days before our removal, it happened that a Mr and Mrs Atkyns,
some English friends of ours, called, to whom we mentioned these strange
circumstances, observing how extremely unpleasant it was to live in a
house that somebody found means of getting into, though how they
contrived it we could not discover, nor what their motive could be,
except it was to frighten us; observing that nobody could sleep in the
room Marsh and Creswell had been obliged to give up. Upon this, Mrs
Atkyns laughed heartily, and said that she should like, of all things,
to sleep there, if my mother would allow her, adding that, with her
little terrier, she should not be afraid of any ghost that ever
appeared. As my mother had, of course, no objection to this fancy of
hers, Mrs Atkyns requested her husband to ride home with the groom, in
order that the latter might bring her night-things before the gates of
the town were shut, as they were then residing a little way in the
country. Mr Atkyns smiled, and said she was very bold; but he made no
difficulties, and sent the things, and his wife retired with her dog to
her room when we retired to ours, apparently without the least
apprehension.
When she came down in the morning we were immediately struck at seeing
her look very ill; and, on inquiring if she, too, had been frightened,
she said she had been awakened in the night by something moving in her
room, and that, by the light of the night lamp, she saw most distinctly
a figure, and that the dog, which was very spirited and flew at
everything, never stirred, although she endeavoured to make him. We saw
clearly that she had been very much alarmed; and when Mr Atkyns came and
endeavoured to dissipate the feeling by persuading her that she might
have dreamt it, she got quite angry. We could not help thinking that she
had actually seen something; and my mother said, after she was gone,
that though she could not bring herself to believe it was really a
ghost, still she earnestly hoped that she might get out of the house
without seeing this figure which frightened people so much.