Part 8 (1/2)

”Oh, because I never gave the matter a moment's thought. When I got Mr.

Legare's letter, I just sat down and answered it right off, and mentioned my friend merely as my friend. If I had, as you seem to think, been fis.h.i.+ng for an invitation for him also, I certainly should have mentioned him by name and t.i.tle as the Hon. Frank Howard, of Ma.s.sachusetts, etc., etc., etc.”

”In which case you certainly would not have been invited to bring him here.”

”Probably not, but I did not know that. What knew I of the hostility, or even of the acquaintance, between the parties? I acted only in simple honesty.”

”The best way to act, my dear Johnny.”

”And so blundered into helping the lovers.”

”Not so. You were providentially led.”

”Well, as soon as ever I received the invitation, I hastened to write and give the name of my friend to our host, as I should have done at first, if I had dreamed of his being invited to accompany me. And as for Frank Howard, he was as innocent of design as myself. He knew nothing about the matter until I showed him Mr. Legare's last letter, and pressed him to go with me. He then asked me if Mr. Legare was any relation of the Legares, of Louisiana. I said I believed he had brothers in Louisiana, but I was not certain, as I knew very little of the family. Then he told me that he had had the pleasure of meeting a Mr.

Legare, of Louisiana, at Saratoga, and should feel happy in making the acquaintance of any of his family; and there the conversation stopped.

Frank was evidently as much astonished as delighted at the unexpected meeting with his ladylove.”

”I am glad to know it,” said I.

And then, not to continue the rudeness of an aside conversation, I took my brother to Rachel Noales, and left him with her, while I joined my kind old host.

Supper was soon after announced, and we were all marshaled into the dining-room, where a sumptuous feast was spread, over which we lingered, eating and drinking, with epicurean leisure, and talking and laughing for more than an hour. I said we--but I should rather say they--for I could not eat, or talk, or laugh. At last the long-drawn meal came to an end.

The company adjourned to the drawing-room, and an hour was pa.s.sed in pleasant conversation, and then, in consideration of the fatigue of the newly-arrived guests, we separated for the night.

In the hall I noticed a diminutive page, of the African race, who rejoiced in the chivalric name of Emmanuel Philibert, which was adapted to daily and popular use by the abbreviative of Phlit. Phlit was standing, and solemnly holding a light in one hand and a bootjack in the other, waiting to attend the two gentlemen to their bedroom.

But Mr. Legare took upon himself the office of groom of the chambers, and accompanied his latest guests to their apartment.

Rachel Noales and myself reached ours about the same time. We heard the voice of Mr. Legare taking leave of the gentlemen for the night; we heard him and the little waiter Phlit, go downstairs and out at the hall door, fastening it after them.

”I will take care that this is secured to-night,” said Rachel, going and carefully locking our door, and then trying it to be sure that it was fast. ”That will do,” she said, when she had satisfied herself of its security.

Then, as we were very weary, we prepared to retire. We were soon in bed.

Rachel was soon asleep.

Not so myself. I lay perfectly still, almost breathless, waiting the developments of the night. And, reader, it was while lying thus wide awake, and gazing straight out through the window to the spot where the family tombstones gleamed white and spectral in the moonlight among the dark firs, that my ear was struck by the click of the recoiling lock, and, turning, I saw the door swing slowly open and my dark-robed midnight visitant enter. Though wide awake as at this moment, I was deprived, by excess of awe, of the power of speech or motion. Slowly the spectre advanced and stood as before, pointing to the dark-red spot hid beneath the carpet under her feet. I essayed once more to speak to her, but such terror as her presence had never before inspired froze my utterance. I listened, wondering if my companion in the other bed was conscious of this supernatural presence in the room; but the deep and regular breathing of Rachel a.s.sured me that she was sleeping soundly, the deep sleep of fatigue.

And all this while the black-robed woman stood holding my eyes with her fixed and burning gaze, and pointing to the spot on the floor. Then, letting her arm fall slowly to her side, she pa.s.sed, in measured steps, from the room, and through the door that swung to, gradually, and closed behind her. Again I essayed to cry out, but the spell was still upon me, and no sound escaped my paralyzed lips. While lying thus, I heard once more the recoiling click of a lock, and the swing of a door upon its hinges; but this time it was not our own but another door--that of the opposite chamber, where my brother and his friend slept.

”Who's there?” I heard John call out, in no pleasant voice, and seeming evidently annoyed at the disturbance.

There was no answer.

”Who's there?” he repeated.

No answer.