by W. W. Jacobs
floor.
"Get some water," cried Tabitha, as old Martha came hurrying up thestairs, "Eunice has fainted."
The old woman, with a timid glance at her, retired, reappearing shortlyafterwards with the water, with which she proceeded to restore her much-loved mistress to her senses. Tabitha, as soon as this wasaccomplished, stalked off to her room, leaving her sister and Marthasitting drearily enough in the small parlour, watching the fire andconversing in whispers.
It was clear to the old servant that this state of things could not lastmuch longer, and she repeatedly urged her mistress to leave a house solonely and so mysterious. To her great delight Eunice at lengthconsented, despite the fierce opposition of her sister, and at the mereidea of leaving gained greatly in health and spirits. A small butcomfortable house was hired in Morville, and arrangements made for aspeedy change.
It was the last night in the old house, and all the wild spirits of themarshes, the wind and the sea seemed to have joined forces for onesupreme effort. When the wind dropped, as it did at brief intervals,the sea was heard moaning on the distant beach, strangely mingled withthe desolate warning of the bell-buoy as it rocked to the waves. Thenthe wind rose again, and the noise of the sea was lost in the fiercegusts which, finding no obstacle on the open marshes, swept with theirfull fury upon the house by the creek. The strange voices of the airshrieked in its chimneys windows rattled, doors slammed, and even, thevery curtains seemed to live and move.
Eunice was in bed, awake. A small nightlight in a saucer of oil shed asickly glare upon the worm-eaten old furniture, distorting the mostinnocent articles into ghastly shapes. A wilder gust than usual almostdeprived her of the protection afforded by that poor light, and she laylistening fearfully to the creakings and other noises on the stairs,bitterly regretting that she had not asked Martha to sleep with her.But it was not too late even now. She slipped hastily to the floor,crossed to the huge wardrobe, and was in the very act of taking herdressing-gown from its peg when an unmistakable footfall was heard onthe stairs. The robe dropped from her shaking fingers, and with aquickly beating heart she regained her bed.
The sounds ceased and a deep silence followed, which she herself wasunable to break although she strove hard to do so. A wild gust of windshook the windows and nearly extinguished the light, and when its flamehad regained its accustomed steadiness she saw that the door was slowlyopening, while the huge shadow of a hand blotted the papered wall.Still her tongue refused its office. The door flew open with a crash, acloaked figure entered and, throwing aside its coverings, she saw with ahorror past all expression the napkin-bound face of the dead Ursulasmiling terribly at her. In her last extremity she raised her fadedeyes above for succour, and then as the figure noiselessly advanced andlaid its cold hand upon her brow, the soul of Eunice Mallow left itsbody with a wild shriek and made its way to the Eternal.
Martha, roused by the cry, and shivering with dread, rushed to the doorand gazed in terror at the figure which stood leaning over the bedside.As she watched, it slowly removed the cowl and the napkin and exposedthe fell face of Tabitha, so strangely contorted between fear andtriumph that she hardly recognized it.
"Who's there?" cried Tabitha in a terrible voice as she saw the oldwoman's shadow on the wall.
"I thought I heard a cry," said Martha, entering. "Did anybody call?"
"Yes, Eunice," said the other, regarding her closely. "I, too, heardthe cry, and hurried to her. What makes her so strange? Is she in atrance?"
"Ay," said the old woman, falling on her knees by the bed and sobbingbitterly, "the trance of death. Ah, my dear, my poor lonely girl, thatthis should be the end of it! She has died of fright," said the oldwoman, pointing to the eyes, which even yet retained their horror. "Shehas seen something devilish."
Tabitha's gaze fell. "She has always suffered with her heart," shemuttered; "the night has frightened her; it frightened me."
She stood upright by the foot of the bed as Martha drew the sheet overthe face of the dead woman.
"First Ursula, then Eunice," said Tabitha, drawing a deep breath. "Ican't stay here. I'll dress and wait for the morning."
She left the room as she spoke, and with bent head proceeded to her own.Martha remained by the bedside, and gently closing the staring eyes,fell on her knees, and prayed long and earnestly for the departed soul.Overcome with grief and fear she remained with bowed head until a suddensharp cry from Tabitha brought her to her feet.
"Well," said the old woman, going to the door.
"Where are you?" cried Tabitha, somewhat reassured by her voice.
"In Miss Eunice's bedroom. Do you want anything?"
"Come down at once. Quick! I am unwell."
Her voice rose suddenly to a scream. "Quick! For God's sake! Quick,or I shall go mad. There is some strange woman in the house."
The old woman stumbled hastily down the dark stairs. "What is thematter?" she cried, entering the room. "Who is it? What do you mean?"
"I saw it," said Tabitha, grasping her convulsively by the shoulder. "Iwas coming to you when I saw the figure of a woman in front of me goingup the stairs. Is it--can it be Ursula come for the soul of Eunice, asshe said she would?"
"Or for yours?" said Martha, the words coming from her in some oddfashion, despite herself.
Tabitha, with a ghastly look, fell cowering by her side, clutchingtremulously at her clothes. "Light the lamps," she cried hysterically."Light a fire, make a noise; oh, this dreadful darkness! Will it neverbe day!"
"Soon, soon," said Martha, overcoming her repugnance and trying topacify her. "When the day comes you will laugh at these fears."
"I murdered her," screamed the miserable woman, "I killed her withfright. Why did she not give me the money? 'Twas no use to her. Ah!Look there!"
Martha, with a horrible fear, followed her glance to the door, but sawnothing.
"It's Ursula," said Tabitha from between her teeth. "Keep her off!Keep her off!"
The old woman, who by some unknown sense seemed to feel the presence ofa third person in the room, moved a step forward and stood before her.As she did so Tabitha waved her arms as though to free herself from thetouch of a detaining hand, half rose to her feet, and without a wordfell dead before her.
At this the old woman's courage forsook her, and with a great cry sherushed from the room, eager to escape from this house of death andmystery. The bolts of the great door were stiff with age, and strangevoices seemed to ring in her ears as she strove wildly to unfasten them.Her brain whirled. She thought that the dead in their distant roomscalled to her, and that a devil stood on the step outside laughing andholding the door against her. Then with a supreme effort she flung itopen, and heedless of her night-clothes passed into the bitter night.The path across the marshes was lost in the darkness, but she found it;the planks over the ditches slippery and narrow, but she crossed them insafety, until at last, her feet bleeding and her breath coming in greatgasps, she entered the village and sank down more dead than alive on acottage doorstep.
