'Why, by finding a skeleton hid within a vault: you may be sure, if the person to whom it belonged had died fairly, it would never have been stuffed into such a place. They, to be sure, who committed the cruel act, thought they were secure enough of its never being found out by hiding it there, but you see they were mistaken. The watchful eye of God is over all; he seldom suffers murder to escape the punishment it merits: and indeed I can scarcely doubt that the discovery of the skeleton is but the forerunner of the discovery of the murderer.'
"The old man and the stranger were standing by a wall, against which the skeleton was placed; but the latter had hitherto been kept from seeing it, by some women who stood between it and him; they now drew back, supposing that, like themselves, he would be curious enough to wish to examine it.—Scarcely had they done so, when, just as the old man had finished his last sentence, a violent gust of wind arose, which blew down the skeleton, and it fell plump at the stranger's feet. He started back, as any one indeed might have done at such an accident, and attempted directly to leave the place; but some how or other, his foot was entangled by the skeleton, so that he could not move. Well, when he perceived this, he gave a deep groan, and sunk upon the ground. The people hastened to his assistance; he was lifted up—but it was many minutes ere he showed any signs of life; and when he did, it was at first only by dismal sighs. At last opening his eyes, he took the old man's hand, who helped to support him—
'Oh! my good friend (cried he) your words were but too true; the discovery of that frightful spectacle but foreruns the discovery of the murderer; in me you behold that guilty wretch.'—At this there was a general cry, and all praised the wonderful Providence of Heaven.
'You shall have (he continued) a full confession of my guilt; I no longer wish (even if it was possible to do so) to evade the punishment due to it.'
"As he spoke, he fell into such agonies, that they thought he would have died, and were forced to get him some wine to take.
"Being a little revived by it, he was seated on the grass, and thus began:—
'To the old, as well as the young, my story may be instructive; it will prove to the former, that their authority over youth should never be too much relaxed; and to the latter, that those who are disobedient to their parents or guardians, and waste the morning of their life in idleness or vice, may assuredly expect to end its evening in misery. I was born of reputable parents, in a small town in this province. The comforts they enjoyed, which were sufficient to satisfy humble dispositions, were procured by their own industry, and, with the inheritance of the little property they had acquired, they trusted I would possess a spirit temperately to enjoy, and honestly to increase it; but their over-indulgence marred their wishes. I soon discovered their easiness of temper, and, in consequence of that easiness, grew importunate in my demands—demands which they soon lost the power of refusing; and I became, from their compliance, giddy and dissipated in the extreme. Too late my parents perceived their error, in allowing me such latitude as they had done, and in not checking, at the beginning, the propensities I early showed to idleness and dissipation. Their remorse, together with the disappointment of their hopes relative to me, terminated their lives (while I was yet in the prime of my youth) and they died within a short period of each other. I felt some little compunction and regret; but the first call of pleasure drove them from my heart, and I resumed my former courses. A continuance in them soon dissipated the little property I possessed. I then resolved to abandon my native country, and seek subsistence in another part of the world. This resolution I imparted to a particular friend, a youth about my own age, and, like me, an orphan. Our attachment had commenced at the first dawning of reason, and a kind of infatuation seemed to bind him to me; he was ever ready to join me in my schemes, and often, latterly, assisted my declining purse. Through my means, his fortune had been considerably injured; but though his fortune was not wrecked like mine, he now declared he would accompany me to any part of the world I should like to go to; a declaration I rejoiced to hear, as he had the means of keeping me from hardships I otherwise, from the low state of my finances, expected to undergo. He accordingly gathered the remains of his wealth together, and we set out on foot (the better to conceal the distressed situation in which we left the place of our nativity) for Rochelle, from whence we purposed embarking for the West Indies, thinking that the best place for adventurers.
'About sun-set, the first day, we came within sight of this ruined mansion, and feeling extremely tired, we turned into it, and refreshed ourselves with the provisions we carried about us. We thought we could not find a better situation for spending the night in, and we had scarcely determined on doing so, when my companion, more fatigued than I was, fell asleep.
'Evil suggestions, which I had not grace to subdue, then rose in my mind. If the remnant of his wealth was mine (I cried), how much sooner could I realize the schemes I have formed for making my fortune. The idea was too tempting to be resisted, and, with the knife, with which but a few moments before he had helped me to bread, I pierced him to the heart; he never opened his eyes; one deep, one deadly groan, was all that escaped him; it still sounds in my ears, and ascended to Heaven to call down vengeance on my head.
'After I had committed the execrable deed, I searched for a place to hide the body in; and having discovered a vault, I dragged it thither, and covered the traces of the blood with rubbish. Oh that the mouldering walls had crushed me to atoms, while thus impiously employed! Yet wretch as I am! Oh, why do I say so? Rather let me bless the Power, which mercifully granted me leisure to repent—which perhaps spared me then in order to warn others, by my narration and punishment, from crimes similar to mine.
'To be brief, my dear auditors, I pursued my original intention, and embarked for the West Indies, where every thing succeeded even beyond my expectations. It seemed as if Heaven allowed me to prosper but to prove how mistaken I was, in supposing wealth alone could give me happiness. Alas! dreadful mistake, to think any could be enjoyed from a fortune, whose foundation was laid in blood:—with riches, wretchedness, if possible, increased, 'tis now fifteen years since I murdered my friend; and from that period to this, peace has been a stranger to my breast. Remorse pervaded my soul; horror pursued my steps, and the blood I had shed continually swam before me.
'Having at length secured an ample independence, and being disgusted with the place where I lived, or rather, as is often the case with the wretched, imagining change of scene might alleviate my misery, I resolved on returning to my native country; but the abode of my youth I was destined never more to behold; my conscience would not suffer me to remain unconcerned on beholding the skeleton, and thus did Providence, I may say, make me call for justice on myself.'
"In consequence of his confession (continued Floretta), he was committed to prison, and soon after tried, condemned, and executed on the spot where he had committed the murder. A little time before his death, he deposited a sum of money in the hands of a priest, for the purpose of having mass said for the soul of his murdered friend, and a monument erected to his memory in our village church, where his bones were buried.
"Often and often have I seen that monument, upon which, according to his desire, the priest had inscribed the particulars of his strange story, exactly opposite the churchyard; and at the side of the high-way he was interred himself:—his grave could plainly be distinguished when I was last in that part of the country, though all overgrown with grass and weeds, as was the stone placed at its head, to signify the reason he was denied Christian burial. Many and many a time, particularly after it grew dark, I have taken a long circuit to avoid passing it; for 'tis confidently said, and believed by our villagers, that his spirit, and that of the unhappy gentleman he murdered, take their nightly rounds about the place moaning, lamenting, and uttering the most piteous cries. My poor old grandmother, from whom I have repeatedly heard the story, told me she was once almost frightened to death, from fancying she had a glimpse of them near the church-yard;
and the servants in the house that was rebuilt, have often been almost scared out of their senses, by the noises they have heard within it.
"Thus (continued Floretta) my story proves the truth of what we were saying, namely, that an evil conscience has often occasioned the discovery of foul crimes. It was owing to it that the stranger imagined the falling of the skeleton not an accidental circumstance, but one immediately ordered by Heaven, and from that idea did he betray himself."
"True (cried Agatha, who had listened with deep attention, and great delight), 'tis an old saying, and a just one, that a guilty conscience needs no accuser.
"Lord! if people were to allow themselves a little time to consider, half the bad actions that are committed would be left undone; for they would then reflect, that neither riches nor titles can make amends for that peace of mind which a wicked deed destroys. No person's lot can be truly miserable, who, on retiring to their beds, can lay their hands upon their hearts, and say within themselves, I may go to rest in peace, assured of the protection of Heaven, from never having wilfully injured man, woman, or child. Such a thought as this will support one through many distresses. May it support us at the hour of death!"—"and in the day of judgment!" (cried Madeline, with involuntary fervour, and raising her hands and eyes to Heaven)—"Amen," rejoined Agatha.
"As one story begets another (continued she), if you have no objection, Mam'selle, I can tell one something to the same purpose of that we have been listening to."
"Objection (repeated Floretta)! Lord! no, to be sure she can't (answering for Madeline); there is nothing, I think, can delight people more than hearing stories; many and many a winter's night I have passed in hearkening to my grandmother's, who had such a budget of them, there was not a great house for many leagues around us, that she could not tell something wonderful about, and she has frequently sent me to bed shaking with fear."
"Well, Mam'selle (asked Agatha, turning to Madeline), are you of Floretta's mind?"
"Yes," replied Madeline, who saw that Agatha would be dreadfully disappointed, if not permitted to tell one of the wonderful tales in which she abounded.
Breathing astonishment, of witching rhymes,
And evil spirits; of the death-bed call
Of him who robb'd the widow, and devour'd
The Orphan's portion; of unquiet souls
Ris'n from the grave to ease the heavy guilt
Of deeds in life conceal'd; of shapes that walk
At dead of night, and clank their chains, and wave
The torch of hell around the murderer's bed.
"In the reign of Lewis the Ninth, commonly known by the title of St. Lewis, from the holy war in which he engaged, there stood (said Agatha), about a league from the boundaries of this chateau, a noble castle, the ruins of which are still visible upon a fine eminence, scattered over with wood; and I dare say, Mam'selle, in your way to Madame Chatteneufs, you have taken notice of them."—"I have," replied Madeline.
"This Castle, at the period I have mentioned (resumed Agatha) belonged to a nobleman of an ancient family, and very large fortune; but notwithstanding his rank, which should have made him generous, his fortune, which enabled him to do so, and his having only one child to provide for, he was of a mean and miserly disposition, grudging to himself, and all about him, the necessaries of life; and treated his son, a fine noble youth, brave, generous, and accomplished—in short, his reverse in every respect, in such a severe manner, that he determined to leave him, if an opportunity offered for permitting him to do so, without having his real motives known; for though he could not esteem his father himself, he yet wished, if possible, to keep him from the censures of the world.
"The opportunity he desired occurred upon the King's determining upon a crusade; for it was natural, you know, that a youth of his prowess should wish to embark in so glorious a cause. He accordingly repaired, without delay, to the royal standard, and bade an adieu to his native country.
"His only regret, at doing so, was occasioned by his separation from a young lady, whom he had privately made his wife, and by whom he had a son, then some months old. She was an orphan, and the descendant of a good, but reduced family. He saw her at the house of the relation's, to whose care she had been consigned, and who, not caring to be burdened with her, determined to settle her in a cloister. They did not know each other long, ere a mutual attachment grew between them; and well knowing it would be vain to solicit his father's consent, or her relations, for fear of disobliging him, he stole her away, and, after their nuptials, placed her in a small house near his own residence, which he had taken for that purpose.
"The only person entrusted with the affair was his father's butler, an old man, who had lived long in the family; had often dandled him in his infancy, and was, he knew, faithfully attached to him. To the care of this good creature, who respected the lady, and doted on the child, he left his treasures.
"He had but just reached the Holy Land, when his father died. Poor Peter, who, without authority, could not do any thing, apprised him, as soon as possible, of this event, and requested either his immediate presence, or orders how to act.
"So great was the anxiety of the noble youth, to see his wife and child, and have them publicly acknowledged as such, that without loss of time, he knelt before the King, and entreated his permission to return to his native country, in order to settle his affairs. This the King most graciously granted: but alack! he only returned to find a grave within it.
"Within a league of his castle, he was way-laid and murdered by two ruffians, masked; and the sad intelligence was conveyed to his expecting family by his faithful squire, then his only attendant, who, in attempting to save his life, received such desperate wounds, that he died in two days after.
"Peter was greatly grieved; but, alas! what was his grief to that of the poor lady's; she lost all relish for this life, and in less than a week after her husband's death, was laid beside him in the grave. In her last moments, as well as in those preceding them, she besought Peter to be a steady friend to her child, and see him, if possible, put into possession of his rights. Peter promised to do all he could, but that all, he feared, would be but little. The certificate of her marriage had been destroyed in a box, with many other valuables, by an accidental fire some months prior to her death; and Peter knew too much of the world to think the gentleman, who was heir to the estate, in case his master left no lawful issue, would take his single testimony for the legitimacy of her child, and thus give up a fortune he much wanted; being an extravagant spendthrift, addicted to every vice and folly, and who would for many years have been in the greatest distress, but for the bounty of his poor murdered relation. Well things turned out as Peter thought; the gentleman came from a distant part of France, where he lived, to take possession, and declared he did not give the smallest credit to there being any other heir than himself; he did not doubt, he said, the child being his cousin's, but his legitimate one, he was convinced it was not; and all poor Peter could prevail on him to do, was to allow a small stipend for its support. Peter, with the rest of the servants, was retained, and none of them had reason to complain of their master. For some time, he rendered the castle a scene of constant gaiety; but suddenly his spirits drooped; he shut out company, and appeared to have taken a dislike to all the pleasures he before delighted in; but though he avoided company, solitude seemed equally irksome to him, and he almost continually had one or other of the domestics in the apartment with him. The sudden alteration in his manner, the involuntary horrors he sometimes betrayed, appeared strange circumstances in the eyes of Peter, and from them he drew an inference that shocked him. Determined to know whether it was, or was not a just one, he devised a scheme, which, when you hear it, you will say was a bold one.
"He was the domestic his master generally selected to be near him, and, at the close of day, they frequently walked together up and down a great Gothic hall.—One evening, as they were thus engaged, Peter, whom his master allowed to converse familiarly wi
th him, from his long residence in the family, and well-known attachment to it, said to him, with a solemn voice and countenance, 'Sir, there is something of consequence which I wish to impart to you: last night I had a dream; indeed I do not know whether I can properly call it one, in which methought my poor young master, disfigured by wounds, and stained with blood, came to me, and told me I should, when I least expected it, have the pleasure of discovering his murderer, and bringing him to condign punishment.'—Peter paused, and looked steadily at his master, who betrayed the greatest agitation.
'Was any thing else said to you?' demanded he, in a faltering voice.
'Yes (replied Peter), I asked him by what means I should discover his murderer, and he told me he would betray himself.
'You will (said he) mention my murder before him, and his guilty conscience will make him, if not by words, at least by agitation, declare his crime. Besides, my troubled spirit will be near you at the time, and accelerate the discovery.'
"Peter's master now declared he was taken very ill, and must go directly to his chamber. Scarcely had he spoken, when the dreadful creaking of an iron door was heard, and a faint light flashed upon him, from the spiral stair-case of an old tower, that had for centuries been uninhabited, from an idea of its being haunted.
'Lord, defend me! (cried Peter); I have the key of the iron door at the top of the tower in my possession, and no human hand could have opened it; the light, too, from the stair-case is quite a blue flame.'
"Hark (cried Floretta at this moment, with an affrighted countenance), what noise is that?"
"Noise!" (repeated Agatha, with an emotion of fear.)
"Oh! 'tis only the wind (continued she, listening a minute); it often comes in this way against the doors, as if it would burst them open; but bless me, Mam'selle (looking at Madeline), how deadly pale you are; I fear sitting up does not agree with you."
The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror) Page 297
