Part 10 (1/2)
As luck would have it, the clock by which he had started was fast, and he was home in good time. The circ.u.mstance tended to render his story more worthy of credence than it might otherwise have proved. But his evident terror, and the very incoherence of his narrative, told in his favor.
”He's been a truthful lad all his days,” his mother proudly testified; ”while as to drink--not a drop of spirits has pa.s.sed his lips sin' I gev'
him a wee drop for the spasms when he wes a wean!”
And Aleck's blus.h.i.+ng approval of the maternal statement bore witness to its truth.
I confess that the story did not in the least rouse any superst.i.tious credence in my mind. Luminous paint was not such an unknown quant.i.ty to me as it would be to this country-bred lad and his family. I took care, however, to breathe no word of my suspicions; for I meant to make a few investigations on my own account. So with the looked-for expressions of astonishment, I took my leave.
I had been asked to dine at Ardmuir House that evening, and as it was a matter of eight miles distant, I was to stay the night. Accordingly, I started in good time in the pony cart, old w.i.l.l.y by my side to bring back the trap. Colonel Ashol was by way of being civil to Val and myself, and frequently invited us; my brother, however, seldom accepted, and was always glad when I undertook to represent the Flemings there. The Ashols, though a family of a feeble type of Protestants, showed no decided bigotry. They had a few Catholics in their employ on the estate, and were cordial enough with us.
Ardmuir House and some of its land had been Church property before the Reformation. Val looked the matter up once, and discovered that it had been a dependency upon one of the larger abbeys, and was itself a place of no little importance.
The mansion itself was rather picturesque; it had been rebuilt in a later century on the site and from the materials of the former church and monastery. You drove for some distance up a stately avenue of beeches before sighting the house. It was a big, roomy place, with fine large windows and handsome moldings round them--probably portions of the spoils of the ancient erection. A wide portico, supported on stone pillars, stood in front of the chief entrance, and carriages might drive under its shelter to set down the occupants at the doorstep. An air of gloom seemed to hang about it, owing to the huge trees which grew pretty close to it in places.
The one striking feature about the house was the parapet, which ran round the entire roof. This was pierced in such a way as to form the letters composing a text of Scripture. The inscription, in huge characters, ran thus:
EXCEPT THE LORD BUILD THE HOUSE THEY LABOR IN VAIN THAT BUILD IT
The idea of such a decoration doubtless originated with the desire of some pious Presbyterian ancestor of the present owners to emphasize the fact that the ancient builders had not made pure Gospel teaching their sure foundation. But, by the irony of fate, the text had become a striking commentary upon the fortunes of later possessors of sacrilegious spoils; for it was a tradition--upon which the family kept a discreet silence--that three male heirs in direct succession had never lived to inherit the property. At the very time of which I am writing, Colonel Ashol's only son was suffering from what doctors had p.r.o.nounced to be incipient spinal disease, which, should it develop, would render him a helpless cripple for life--should life be granted to him.
I was rather more keen than usual about that particular visit, as I expected to meet a young Catholic priest, who was to stay with the Ashols for a day or two in company with his mother, an old friend of the hostess. For that reason Val would have accompanied me that evening, in spite of his aversion to such ”inanities,” as he chose to call dinner parties, had he not been otherwise engaged. He had already made an appointment to interview for the first time a girl who lived some distance away and could not be easily postponed; moreover, the occasion was important, being the commencement of a series of instructions preparatory to her reception into the Church. For the la.s.sie in question--to use the terminology of Ardmuirland--”had gotten a Catholic man”; in other words, was engaged to be married to a Catholic, who had inspired her with the desire of sharing his faith as well as his worldly goods.
It was early when I arrived. The Colonel and some of the men were still out on the moors, but a few guests were sitting about in the big, cool entrance hall, waiting for tea. Among them were Mrs. Vansome and her son, to both of whom I was at once presented. They happened to be the only Catholics of the house party. We chatted amicably for some time, until the dressing-bell broke up the gathering for the nonce.
I happened to remain for a few minutes in the hall after the rest had left; I wanted to look into a paper which was there, and I knew my room from previous visits. The staircase ran along two sides of the hall and led to a broad corridor, upon which the rooms opened. Another pa.s.sage at right angles joined this corridor, and to reach my room I had to pa.s.s by the end of it.
It was just between daylight and dusk, on a September evening, and no lamps were yet needed. As I pa.s.sed the pa.s.sage on my way I saw an elderly lady coming toward the main corridor. I am no great observer of feminine costume--perhaps because I am not much in ladies' company, or, it may be, because I never had a sister to instruct me; I can only say of this lady's dress, therefore, that it struck me as differing from those I had lately seen in the hall, both in fas.h.i.+on and material. I remember hearing a rustling as of silk, and I think there was some white lace about the neck and hair.
But what struck me most was the woman's face. I had looked in her direction, lest I might seem discourteous to some acquaintance; but this was a stranger. The face was that of a woman in an agony of suffering!
The wide-open eyes were full of trouble; the whole countenance expressed pain and something like terror. (I am describing the impression made upon me at the moment, for the incident pa.s.sed more quickly than it takes to tell, however brief the narration.)
As my eyes met hers, the woman stretched out her hands with an appealing gesture, and seemed to be hastening swiftly toward me. But just as she was almost near enough to touch me, she suddenly disappeared--having turned, as it seemed to me, into a door close by.
For a moment I stood bewildered. Then that look of appeal for help came back to mind; it was evident something was wrong. I at once entered the open door into which the figure had pa.s.sed, determined to do what I could to a.s.sist one in such unmistakable need of help. To my astonishment I found that the place was a mere housemaid's closet, for the keeping of brooms, dusting appliances, and the like. It was but a tiny room, too; a glance from the threshold was enough to convince me that no human being was there!
It was not so much surprise as terror that seized me at such a discovery.
I found myself wiping from my brow the cold sweat that stood there in great drops. I felt certain that I had been face to face with something unexplainable by the ordinary laws of nature. I was as well as usual. I had read nothing of late that could have conjured up such a figure. As to preternatural manifestations of such a kind--I had but that very day, and but an hour or two ago, pa.s.sed supercilious judgment on what I thought the credulity of ignorant rustics. And yet here I was, the victim to some such hallucination--unless it was possible that I had really seen the figure with my bodily eyes! My knees were shaking under me as I managed to reach my room, my whole being agitated by an unaccountable sense of fear.
Luckily we were allowed an unusually long time for dressing, and I was able to get a smoke and take a bath; by dinner-time I was more like myself.
I tried hard at first to persuade myself that the entire scene had been imaginary; but I could not succeed. I was too firmly convinced that I had actually seen such a figure to entertain the idea.
Dinner pa.s.sed without particular incident. I had an interesting chat after with young Father Vansome. I discovered that he was a Benedictine attached to one of the English monasteries, and had been permitted, as a relief from a long spell of heavy teaching work, to spend a few days at Ardmuir House, where his mother was then staying. He was dressed like an ordinary priest; this, as he explained, was out of consideration for the Ashols, who were entertaining among their guests that day some of ultra-Protestant views, who might have resented the intrusion into their midst of a real live monk, ”in habit as he lived.”
More than once during our conversation the extraordinary occurrence which had disturbed my peace of mind kept intruding itself upon my mental vision, and again and again it was almost divulged to my companion; but I shrank from being laughed at as a victim to superst.i.tious imaginings. I had a priest for a brother, and no one knew better than I how sceptical were our own clergy with regard to any supernatural happenings that had not been corroborated by the testimony of reliable authority.
There was the usual smoke, with the usual billiards, and bedtime arrived without any disclosure on my part of the mysterious incident. I did not fear further revelations, for my bedroom was nowhere near the scene of the apparition. I must confess to a momentary creepy sensation as I pa.s.sed, in company with other men, the corridor of the adventure; but nothing happened to disturb my rest materially.