Part 2 (1/2)
Supper over and cleared away, the young people returned no more that night to the parlor in the new house, but prepared for a game of ”Snap-apple” in the old dining-room, which their romping could not hurt.
I was so weary with my three days and nights of riding, and so eager besides for a _tete-a-tete_ with Mathilde, that I pleaded fatigue as an undeniable reason for retiring before the games should commence. I hoped that Mathilde alone would attend me. Not so. Mrs. Legare, apparently watching for my withdrawal, joined her daughter and myself as we left the room, and accompanied us to the chamber set apart for my use in the new house. When we had reached this apartment, Mrs. Legare said:
”There is no one that sleeps in this house usually. We keep these chambers princ.i.p.ally for the use of our guests. No one will occupy any room within it to-night except yourself, unless indeed you feel afraid----”
”Afraid?” repeated I, in a tone that quickly called forth an apology.
”Oh! I know, my dear Agnes, that you are no coward; but I did not know but that you might feel indisposed to sleep alone in a strange house.”
”What? when it is a perfectly new house, Mrs. Legare? If, indeed, it were an old-time house, I might be afraid of the traditional ghost,”
said I, watching in her countenance the effect of my words, and seeing her, to my astonishment, turn pale, and send a quick, significant glance to Mathilde, who averted her head.
”Ah!” thought I, ”the old house is haunted! Would they would only let me sleep there, where there is some chance of being delightfully frightened.”
”I was about to say, Agnes, that if you prefer, I will send one of the negro women to sleep on a mattress in your room.”
”By no means, Mrs. Legare. I shall fall asleep as soon as I touch my pillow, and not wake until morning--so I should not be able to appreciate the benefit of Peggy or Dinah's society.”
”Very well, my dear, as you please. Here is a bellrope at your bed's head--its wires run into the old house. If you should want anything, ring.”
I smiled, and a.s.sured my hostess that I wanted nothing but sleep.
Whereupon she called Mathilde, bade me good-night, and left the room.
Turning back, however, she said to me:
”Agnes, my dear, lock your chamber door after us.”
”Yes, madam.”
”Excuse me, my dear; but young people are forgetful--especially when they are tired and sleepy. I think I should like to hear you lock it, Agnes.”
There was something in her caution that struck me as very singular--but I laughed and went to the door, and after repeating my good-night, as desired, shut the door in their faces, and locked it.
”There! have you heard me lock the door?” I inquired.
”Yes, my dear--all right.”
”And is your mind at rest on that score?”
”I am sure that you have attended to my advice. Good night, and happy dreams.”
”Thanks, and the same good wishes! Good-night!” said I, in conclusion.
I listened, and heard them go downstairs, enter the parlor, and fasten the windows, and secure the safety of the fire there--go to the back hall door, and bolt and bar it--and finally go out by the front door, and lock it after them.
Fastened up as I was in the house, I did not feel myself quite in prison, because, should I, like Sterne's starling, want to ”get out,” I could do so by the back door.
Now, I never could account for it, but no sooner was I left alone in that room, resplendent as it was with newness, than a strange feeling of superst.i.tion came over me, that I could neither understand nor escape.
It was in vain that I turned my eyes from the s.h.i.+ning white wall and freshly painted windows to the cheerful pattern of the carpet and furniture drapery, and said that in this new and freshly furnished chamber the supernatural was out of place--there grew upon me the impression of an unearthly presence near; and the feeling, in spite of all probability, that this--this was the scene of the household mystery--this was the haunted chamber!