Volume II Part 41 (1/2)
”Why, father, what a pretty fairing you have brought me. I'se warrant, now, you would not have told me on't till after the wakes, if I had not seen it.”
The old man looked as if he had seen a ghost. The whispers he had heard were, foolishly enough perhaps, connected in his mind with the presence of this mysterious thing.
”Take it back--back, wench, into the chest again. It was not for thee, hussy. A prize I fished up with the nets to-day.”
”From the sea. Oh me! it is--it is unholy spoil. It has been dragged from some wreck. Cast it again to the greedy waters. They yield not their prey without a perilous struggle,” said the girl.
The fisherman was silent. He looked thoughtful and disturbed, while Katherine went back to put the treasure into its hiding-place.
”I wonder what that whispering could be?” thought the maiden, as she opened the old chest. Ere the lid was pulled down, she cast one look at the beautiful but forbidden intruder, and she was sure--but imagination is a potent wizard, and works marvellously--else she was sure that a slight movement was visible beneath the casket. She flung down the lid in great terror; pale and trembling, she sprang out of the room, and sat down silent and alarmed. Again the mysterious whispers were audible in the momentary pauses of the blast.
”Save us!” said the elder female; ”I hear it again.”
Bounce flew open the door of the bed-chamber, and--in stalked their dumb a.s.sistant, as though he had chosen this mode of ingress, through the window of the sleeping-room, rather than through the house-door.
”Plague take thee! Where hast thou been?” said the old woman, partly relieved from her terrors. Yet was the whispering precisely as incomprehensible as before. The dumb menial that stood before her was obviously incapable even of this act of incipient speech.
”Where hast thou been, d.i.c.k?” inquired Grimes, seriously. But the former pointed towards the beach.
”How long hast thou been yonder?--in the chamber, I mean.”
d.i.c.k here fell into one of his ordinary fits of abstraction, from which neither menace nor entreaty could arouse him. As the old man turned from the window he saw a blaze of light flas.h.i.+ng suddenly upon the wall. The yard was filled with smoke. Rus.h.i.+ng forth, the inmates found the barn thatch on fire, kindled probably by the lightning. The rain prevented it from extending with much rapidity; and Grimes, mounting on the roof, soon extinguished the burning materials before much damage had been the result. Misfortunes verily seemed to crowd upon each other; and that unlucky casket, doubtless, was the cause.
When the old man, with his dame, returned into the house, Katherine was nowhere to be found. The ”Dummy,” too, was unaccountably absent.
Anxious and wondering, they awaited, hoping for their appearance at dinner; but their meal was cheerless and unvisited. Evening came, serene, deceitful as ever--but their child did not return. They went out to make inquiries, but could find no clue to aid them in the search. Katherine had never stayed from home so late. The parents were nigh distracted. There was evidently some connection between the disappearance of their servant and her own absence. Fearful surmises ensued. Suspicion strengthened into certainty. The casket was forgotten in this fearful distress; and, after a fruitless search, they were forced to return.
On the third night after this occurrence, Grimes and his disconsolate helpmate were sitting by the turf embers in moody silence, broken only by irregular whiffs from the pipe--the old man's universal solace.
After a longer pull than usual, he abruptly exclaimed--
”Three days, Isabel, and no tidings of the child. Who will comb down my grey hairs now, or read for us in the Book o' nights? We must linger on without help to our grave; none will care to keep us company.”
”Woe's me!” cried the dame, and she wept sore; ”my poor child! If I but knew what was come to her, I think i' my heart I would be thankfu'. But what can have happen'd her? unless it be d.i.c.k indeed; and yet I think the lad was honest, though lungeous at times, and odd-tempered. By next market, surely, we shall ha' tidings fra' some end. But I trow, 'tis that fearsome burden ye brought with you, George, fra' the sea, that has been the cause of a' this trouble.”
Grimes started up. He threw the ashes from his pipe, and, without saying a word, went into the bed-chamber. Lifting up the chest-lid, he saw the casket safe, and apparently undisturbed. He drew it fearlessly forth, and vowed that he would throw it into the sea again, without further ado, on the morrow. It felt much lighter, however, than before; but not another night should it pa.s.s under his roof; so he threw it beside a turf-heap in the yard. His heart, too, felt lighter as he cast the abominable thing from him; and he was sure it was this mischievous inmate alone that had wrought such woe in his. .h.i.therto happy and quiet household.
Morning came; and Grimes, for the first time since his loss, took the boat, committing himself alone with the haunted casket on the sea. It was a lovely morning as ever sun shone upon; the waters were comparatively smooth; and the tide brought one of those refres.h.i.+ng breezes on its bosom, so stimulating and healthful to the invalid.
But Grimes thought not of the brightness or beauty of the morning.
With the helm in his hand, one light sail being stretched out to the wind, he was steering through the intricate channel, and amongst the sandbanks which render the coast so dangerous even to those best acquainted with its perils.
He stood out to a considerable distance, intending to have depth and sea-room enough to drown his burden.
The breeze was fair, the sea was bright, and the mariner sailed on. He determined, this time at least, that the casket should be sent far enough out of harm's way.
”If that plaguy thing had been down deep enough before,” thought he, ”this mischief had not happened.” He looked at it, and thought again, ”How very sad to part with so beautiful a treasure.” He had not observed before that the lid was unlocked. He might as well peep before it should be hidden for ever beneath the dark billows. He lifted up the rim of the coffer cautiously; he trembled as the hinges gave way; and--it was empty!
”I am a fool!” thought he; ”a downright fool. An empty box can have nothing to do with”----
But, as if to belie his own conclusions, and to convince him that peril, and misfortune must attend the presence of that mysterious thing, he having just quitted the helm for a more convenient examination, a sudden squall nearly upset the boat. Fortunately she righted, but not before most of the movables were tossed out, including the cause of all his troubles. This at any rate was lucky, and cheaply purchased with the loss and breakage of his marine stores.
The tide was still coming in, though nearly at the height, and Grimes floated merrily to land. After hauling the boat ash.o.r.e, he stood for a moment looking towards the sea, when he saw, dancing like a spectre on the very edge of the wave that broke in a thousand bubbles at his feet, the identical box he had taken such pains to commit to the safe keeping of that perilous deep. It was evidently pursuing him. He would have fled, but fear had arrested his footsteps. He did not recollect that the box was now empty, and floated from its own buoyancy.