Part 10 (2/2)

I like to be stirring at a pretty early hour, to get a morning pipe of peace. But in a strange house it is not always convenient to prowl about too soon; however, I could not interfere with any one in the garden, so to the garden I promptly betook myself. It wanted an hour until breakfast, and I was rather surprised to find the Benedictine already pacing the broad walk under the terrace, which was out of view of the windows. He was not smoking, though, and when I accosted him it seemed to me that he looked somewhat disturbed and embarra.s.sed. We pa.s.sed a few desultory remarks, and then he asked whether I intended to leave early after breakfast or stay for lunch. As it happened, I had arranged for w.i.l.l.y to bring the cart in time to start soon after ten; for Val had to drive somewhere in the afternoon, and it was as well to give Tim a rest before starting out again. This I explained to Father Vansome.

”I wonder whether you could give me a lift,” was his remark. ”I should very much like to consult Father Fleming upon a certain matter, and if you could take me, it would avoid a fuss here. I shall enjoy the tramp back again.”

Of course I was delighted to give him a lift. So we set off in due time with w.i.l.l.y on the back seat. I had been rejoicing in the prospect of an agreeable drive with a pleasant companion, for I had been greatly attracted by the young monk; but I was doomed to disappointment. My constant efforts at conversation fell flat; for the priest seemed preoccupied, and his responses were evidently merely mechanical.

Father Vansome was closeted with Val up to lunch time. He sat down to table with us, and after the meal he and Val drove off together in the trap; they had arranged that Father Vansome should get down at a point where their roads diverged. I was rather astonished to learn, when I took leave of him, that he hoped to return that same evening, as he had a particular reason for wis.h.i.+ng to say Ma.s.s next day.

Left to myself, I turned my steps in the direction of Archie's former dwelling at the old mill; for I hoped to light upon some evidence which would clear up to my own satisfaction at least the apparent mystery of Aleck Farquhar's ghost story. Although I could not account by any natural means for the event which had startled me at Ardmuir House, I was nevertheless still sceptical with regard to the supposed apparition at the mill-house. Indeed, I felt more certain than ever that a living person had been playing pranks in the latter case, to serve some purpose of his own; the impossibility of fraud in my regard contrasted strongly with its probability at the old mill.

I was not deceived in my expectation. I found that the boards that usually covered the window opening had been carefully removed, and were standing in a corner awaiting replacement, probably. Here was a sign that the midnight visitor had been surprised, and had not dared to wait to cover up the window again--unless, indeed, it meant that another ”apparition” was intended. But a more close investigation convinced me of trickery. Flung away into a corner was a small brush bearing traces of luminous paint, and in a heap of rubbish I discerned the very lid of a small tin of that effective spiritualistic medium. No further proof was needed. By lucky chance I discovered what appeared to be a clue to the reason of all this mystification. Loosened stones in the chimney and by the hearth suggested that a search had been made for something supposed to be hidden in the hut. The spiritual visitor had evidently been bent upon seizing the material riches which rumor had doubtless located in the dwelling of one whom those not in his confidence would have reason to regard as a miser. Here then was one illusion dissipated by my discoveries.

Father Vansome was driven over again in time for dinner. During the progress of the meal I was inclined to make merry over my find; but I had little success in gaining the interest either of Val or our guest, who both seemed to shun the topic.

When dinner was over, it occurred to me to introduce the subject of my own ghostly experience, for I was curious to hear what the priests would think of it. As I led up to it by degrees I saw the dark eyes of Father Vansome light up with expectation. Both he and Val listened with keen interest, neither attempting to interrupt the narration. Then they looked spontaneously at each other.

”I am quite as convinced as yourself,” said the Benedictine to me as I finished my relation, ”that what you saw was neither an hallucination nor a human figure. I have seen it also, and that is why I am here now.”

He then gave, in turn, his experience. During the early part of the night he had been unusually restless. When he did at last fall asleep he had a strange dream. He saw the figure of an elderly woman, clad in antique garb, holding by the hand a young man, who wore the habit of his own Order. The woman fixed upon him eyes full of entreaty, and implored him in piteous accents to offer Ma.s.s for her soul, for it was in his power to release her from grievous torments. Father Vansome then awoke, the impression made by his dream still vivid. He struck a light and looked at his watch. It was two o'clock only; but his nerves were too highly strung to suffer him to sleep again, and he lay wondering what the dream could signify.

Suddenly, while still wide awake, he was aware of the figure of the woman of his dream standing by his bed. Her eyes were full of intense supplication, and her hands stretched out to him in eager entreaty.

Yielding to a sudden, irresistible impulse, he exclaimed:

”Tell me, in G.o.d's name, who you are and what you want of me?”

The answer came in a clear, distinct voice:

”I am Elizabeth Ashol. I am suffering for a wrong done to my stepson, Gilbert, a monk of your Order. Say Ma.s.s for my soul and I shall have rest.”

Then the figure vanished.

Father Vansome naturally had no more sleep that morning. Very early, indeed, he was summoned to his mother's bedside by her maid, and found her as agitated as himself. From her lips he learned that she too had been visited by the figure he had himself seen. The woman, answering to the description of his ghostly visitor, had approached Mrs. Vansome's bed, when she was still wide awake, with outstretched hands and entreating eyes, but no voice had been heard.

The apparition to his mother had convinced Father Vansome that what he had experienced was no trick of the imagination. He had, however, taken counsel with Val, who, like himself, was of opinion that the Ma.s.s ought to be said. He had found on returning to Ardmuir House that morning that his mother had confided the matter to Mrs. Ashol, and had heard from her that previous visitors had experienced similar apparitions; on further consideration it was discovered--though Mrs. Ashol had not realized it before--that such persons had been invariably Catholics. There was, however, no record of the figure having spoken; this had happened for the first time to the only Benedictine monk who had ever entered the house since Elizabeth Ashol's death, two centuries before.

It appeared that a certain Dame Elizabeth Ashol, second wife of Gilbert Ashol, lived in the latter part of the seventeenth century. She had one son, Laurence, to whom his father left the estate, to the exclusion of his eldest son, Gilbert, the offspring of the first marriage. This youth, to his father's intense indignation, had reverted to the faith of his ancestors; soon after his conversion he had entered a monastery on the continent, with a view to returning, as so many of his religious brethren were then doing, to work for the restoration of his fellow-countrymen to the Church. It was generally thought that Dame Elizabeth, in her ambition for the welfare of her own son, had encouraged her husband in his religious bias, and secured the succession for Laurence. It was held in the family that the disasters which had always befallen the first-born of the house dated from the unjust acquisition of the estate by this Laurence, and the entire disinheriting of Gilbert; it was from a kind of superst.i.tious dread attaching to the name that no Ashol for a long term of years had ever been baptized Laurence.

Father Vansome said the required Ma.s.s next morning, and his mother drove over to a.s.sist at it. Her prayers and mine were thus united with the supreme Sacrifice on behalf of the soul so greatly in need.

The apparition has never been seen again, though many a Catholic guest has visited Ardmuir House. More wonderful still--the curse seems to have been averted by the laying of the ghost; for young Gilbert Ashol has so greatly improved in health and strength that his doctors predict for him a probably long and useful life.

The family has indeed been thoroughly impressed by the strange circ.u.mstances just related. In the light of their increasing interest in all things Catholic, Val is beginning to entertain hopes of the ultimate return of the Ashols to the Faith their fathers abandoned more than three hundred years ago.

IX

SPRING'S RETURN

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