Part 26 (1/2)
_I have no power that is not communicated to me in the same way that this machine receives its power: through celestial radiation from the Soul of Matter, the Mind force of the Creator, whose instrument I am. I know who is leading me and making all things work together for good._
CHAPTER XI
A HAUNTED CASTLE IN IRELAND
In the year 1898 I was spending a few days in Castle Rush, which has been described by Mr W. T. Stead as the most haunted castle in Ireland.
It is one of the few old Irish castles still inhabited, and is naturally haunted by the ghosts of the past in every meaning of the word.
At the time of my stay I was recovering from a severe illness, and, in fact, was sent off to bed immediately upon arrival by my kind hostess, who, with true hospitality, thought more of her guest's comfort than the conventionalities of life, and would not hear of my lingering, even to make acquaintance with my host, on the dark autumnal evening of my arrival.
This had taken place after driving many miles and waiting for a dreary long time in the little inn of a small Irish towns.h.i.+p. My doctor would not hear of any railway travelling just then, so the whole forty miles from my last stopping-place had to be negotiated between the carriages of my past and present hospitable hosts.
As a matter of fact, I believe I slept in one of the haunted rooms, but it looked cheerful enough when I entered from the gloom and darkness outside; and a dainty little dinner sent up by my kind friends below, and eaten when snugly tucked in between the sheets and resting on soft downy pillows, was enough to drive all thoughts of ghostly visitors from my head.
I am thankful to say that I neither heard nor saw anything during my short visit, and should not even have known that my room had had any evil reputation but for the visit of an eccentric and clever old lady, who had been specially asked to the castle to meet me.
After luncheon we adjourned to my bedroom, at her suggestion, and she said casually:
”Ah, you have this room, I see. It was terribly haunted once, but I held a sort of little service here some time ago, and cleared them all out.”
I must explain that this good lady took a very optimistic view of her own capacities and powers in general, and spoke--from the psychic point of view--with the honest pride that a flesh and blood charwoman might display on going over premises that she had thoroughly scrubbed and ”cleaned out”!
One morning after breakfast, my hostess, Mrs Kent, called to me to come quickly and see a curious sight. It was a pouring wet day--one of those days when the heavens open and the rain descends in buckets! I could see nothing more remarkable than the damp, autumnal leaves, the bare trees swaying in the wind-washed s.p.a.ces, and the pouring, ceaseless rain.
”Don't you see that girl over there?”
I looked again, and did see a girl just emerging from a clump of beeches, and carrying a small trunk upon her head.
”What an extraordinary day to choose for travelling,” I said drily.
”Ah, that is Irish superst.i.tion!” rejoined my hostess. ”That is my last kitchen-maid you see--she is walking seven miles, with that trunk on her head, sooner than wait a few hours, when I could have sent her to the station.”
”Is she mad?” was my natural comment.
”Oh no! only desperately frightened. She has not been here a week yet, and she is much too terrified to be coherent. All I can make out is that nothing on earth would induce her to spend another night at Rush. I could have sent her over to Marley easily to-morrow morning at eight o'clock, but she would not hear of it. And whether she has really seen anything, or only been frightened by the stories of the other servants, I don't know. Anyway, she has certainly the courage of her opinions, and is prepared to suffer for them! I would rather meet half-a-dozen ghosts than carry that trunk on my head seven miles in this pouring rain.” Then turning round carelessly, she remarked: ”I suppose _you_ have not seen or heard anything, Miss Bates, since you came? I hope not, for I am sure you are not strong enough for mundane visitors yet, let alone the other kind.”
We were pa.s.sing through the handsome circular hall at the time, and I said eagerly: ”Oh no! Thank goodness, I've seen and heard nothing. I don't think I should be allowed to see anything whilst I am so weak and poorly.”
Almost at the moment of saying these words something impelled me to place my hand upon a particular spot in the great stone wall by my side.
”But there is something _here_ I don't like,” I said, tapping it--”something uncanny--but I don't know what it is.”
Mrs Kent made no remark; and I thought no more of the circ.u.mstance until the following year, when I was told by Mr Stead that Mrs Kent was over in England, and had been lunching with him and asking for me.
”She was giving me a most graphic account of the way you 'spotted' those skeletons at Rush Castle,” he said.
I was completely puzzled by this remark. I had never spotted a single skeleton to my knowledge, either at Rush or elsewhere, and I told him so; but he persisted in saying that Mrs Kent had told him a very different story, and that most certainly she had mentioned me as the percipient.
”She must have mixed me up with somebody else,” was my final comment.