The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “Eh day! who can that be?” Mr. Hazilrigge exclaimed. “I expect no one. Perhaps it may be John Brideoake, after all. I hope so.”

  “Mr. Brideoake would never ring in that manner,” Ora remarked. “But whoever it is, he is just in time for dinner.”

  We waited a little in expectation, but no one was announced. Presently the bell rang again more loudly than before.

  “Very strange the servants shouldn’t go to the door,” Mr. Hazilrigge cried, impatiently. “What can be the matter with them?”

  Here there was another peal from the bell, louder and longer than any that had preceded it — a peal to disturb the whole house. Exclamations of astonishment burst from all the party, Who can it be? — what can it mean?

  The tremendous peal had scarcely ceased when Mr. Ponder entered the-room, and with an imperturbable manner, as if nothing had happened, and in a very quiet tone, announced that dinner was served.

  “Dinner!” Mr. Hazilrigge exclaimed. “I thought you were going to announce half a dozen unexpected guests. Pray who has been ringing the door-bell?”

  “The door-bell, sir?” Mr. Ponder exclaimed. “I beg your pardon, sir — did you say the door-bell?”

  “To be sure I did! Would you try to persuade me you didn’t hear it?” There it goes again — there; do you hear it now, sir?”

  “Oh yes, sir, I hear it,” Mr. Ponder replied, quietly.

  “Zounds! Ponder, you’re enough to provoke a saint with your imperturbability! Will nothing move you? If you do hear it, why don’t you answer it? — why don’t you go to the door?”

  “I have been to the door, sir” Mr. Ponder replied, without moving a muscle. “And I saw — no one.”

  “You don’t mean to say that the bell has been ringing of its own accord, Ponder?” Mr. Hazilrigge cried.

  “It seems very like it, sir,” the butler answered.

  “A hoax! — a manifest hoax,” Cuthbert Spring exclaimed.

  “I don’t see how that can be, sir,” the tranquil Ponder rejoined. “Rivers and Finch are stationed near the gate. Apparently, the bell has made up its mind to ring, and it will ring in spite of us.”

  As he said this, there was an almost imperceptible smile about the butler’s placid features. Suspecting a hoax, and eager to detect it, I begged Mr. Hazilrigge to excuse me, and rushed forth.

  I have already described the position and appearance of the gateway to the hall. It was to the side gate, reserved for foot-passengers, that the bell, which had disturbed us by its peals, was affixed. It was sheltered from the weather by a little wooden pent-house, but was otherwise fully exposed to view. It was ringing violently as I approached, and continued to do so for a minute or two after my arrival, when it ceased. Rivers and Finch were watching it narrowly, and both declared they could not account for its extraordinary agitation. The bell-pull was outside, but no one was there to touch it. I went out upon the bridge, and looked along the wall skirting the moat, but no one was visible. There was still light enough to enable me to distinguish clearly any object within that range. Failing to make any discovery, after remaining on the spot for a few minutes, I returned to the house, followed by the two servants, speculating on the mysterious occurrence. But scarcely had we gained the porch, when the provoking clamour commenced again, and we all three, rushed back, quick as lightning. In an instant I was out of the gate — but not a soul could be seen.

  Again the bell ceased, and again we retraced our steps, with a like result, for the ringing’ recommenced. By this time we left the bell to indulge its mysterious vagaries unobserved, and entered the house.

  The whole party were assembled in the hall, awaiting our return, and hoping we should be able to offer some elucidation of the mystery; but we could give none. Mr. Hazilrigge took off his spectacles, rubbed them with his pocket-handkerchief, as if he thought that would enable him to see more clearly into the matter. Ora Doveton laughed heartily, and thought it an excellent joke; while Cuthbert Spring suggested that we should let the bell ring till it was tired, and go to dinner. Mr. Hazilrigge assented, and we then repaired to the dining-room — a large room panelled with oak, like most of the other apartments, and full of antique furniture — where a very comfortable meal was served, and we were allowed to enjoy it in peace — contrary, I must own, to my expectation, for I feared some fresh interruption would occur. In spite of the reported half-burning fire, the saddle of mutton was roasted to perfection. Moreover, word was brought that at last the garden-bell had ceased its clamour, and this news increased the general satisfaction. During dinner our host entertained us with relations of divers preternatural occurrences, and quite monopolised the talk, compelling Ora and myself, as we sat at opposite sides of the table, to discourse by glances — a mode of conversation in which we soon became adepts. —

  Dinner was over, and Mr. Hazilrigge’s stock of wonderful narratives was far from exhausted. He was just beginning to tell us a marvellous story from Johannes Tritenhemius, when Mr. Ponder made his appearance with a fresh jug of claret. Eyeing the butler in some displeasure, for he did not like to be interrupted, Mr. Hazilrigge pointed to the decanter before him, which was half-full, and said that more wine was not wanted at present.

  Mr. Ponder looked as cool as the claret he had just brought, and while placing the bottle on the table, quietly observed, “You rang, sir.”

  “Your pardon!” Mr. Hazilrigge exclaimed; “I did not ring.”

  “Oh! then I must have been mistaken,” the latter rejoined, respectfully. “I am really very sorry, sir — very.” And he left the room with the quietest footstep imaginable.

  “What can Ponder mean, I wonder?” Mr. Hazilrigge ejaculated. “I never knew him make such a mistake before. He must be bewildered by the bell-ringing out of doors.”

  “I hope the bells in-doors are not going to follow the example set them outside,” Cuthbert Spring remarked. “This, looks like it.”

  He might have foreseen what was about to occur. Scarcely were the words uttered when there arose the strangest noise imaginable, as if all the bells in the house had gone mad. Tingle! tingle! — crash! Jingle! jingle! — louder crash! Brangle! brangle! — grand crash! — But I despair of giving any idea of the discordant din by words. Simultaneously we rose from our places. Miss Hazilrigge looked alarmed, but Ora Doveton burst into a fit of laughter. As to Old Hazy, he got excessively red in the face, and appeared half-suffocated by passion.

  “Take it easily, my good friend,” Cuthbert Spring said to him—” No use being angry at a trifle.”

  “‘Sdeath! do you call this disturbance a trifle? It will drive me frantic if it goes on. Ha! — I see it all. This is the dire calamity portended by my dream of the blasted yew-tree, the clock striking thirteen at midnight, the howling of Mungo, and the half-burning kitchen fire.”

  At this juncture, Mr. Ponder returned. Amidst the extraordinary uproar he maintained his unperturbed manner, and approaching his master, said quietly, “Do you hear anything, sir?”

  “Do you suppose I am deaf, sir?” Mr. Hazilrigge rejoined, with a tremendous explosion of rage. “I wish I were, for then I might escape this infernal clatter. What’s the meaning of it, sir? Why don’t you put a stop to it?”

  “Perhaps you will come and look at the bells, sir,” Mr. Ponder replied, quietly, “and then you may suggest something.”

  “Yes, yes, come along! we’ll all go!” Cuthbert Spring cried.

  Upon this, we should all have hurried out of the room, but the deliberate butler would allow no such exhibition of impatience, but calmly led us to the scene of disturbance.

  In order to render the mysterious circumstance about to be described comprehensible, I must premise that behind the great staircase stood a massive oak screen, separating the entrance hall from’ the back part of the house. Richly carved, and of great beauty, this screen contained two arched entrances to a passage communicating with the butler’s pantry, housekeeper’s-room, servants’-hall, and kitchen. This passage, called
“the Screens,” from the timber partitions of which it was formed, was long and gloomy, — it might be about six feet wide and fourteen high, — and had a conventual appearance, owing to the number of cell-like doors, with low arches, opening out of it. Half way down it a flight of steep stone steps, protected by a little wicket, conducted to the cellars, and at the further end stood the buttery hatch.

  Commencing at a point nearly opposite the entrance to the cellar-steps, and against the slightly-projecting cornice of the oak screen on the right side of the passage, hung thirty bells in a row. I am sure of the number, for I subsequently counted them. All these bells were pealing as we entered “the Screens.” The effect was at once ludicrous and appalling. The noise was furious, stunning — almost terrifying. The bells seemed to be under some extraordinary influence, and were so violently agitated that the spiral flexible irons supporting them were constantly dashed against the ceiling. I expected the whole row would tumble to the ground. The wires were also jerked with great force. The whole household were collected on the spot. Near the kitchen door was huddled together a group of women-servants, headed by the fat cook, and a pretty-looking lady’s-maid, who called Ora mistress. Most of these, however, would have taken to flight, if astonishment and terror had not detained them. The men-servants, stationed in front of the female part of the establishment, tried to put a bolder face upon the matter, but were evidently little less alarmed, and the only one amongst them who appeared calm was Mr. Ponder. Not so Mr. Hazilrigge. The unearthly clangour exasperated him almost to frenzy. Every nerve in his body seemed to vibrate in unison with the infuriated bells. He stamped, shook his hands, and raved like a madman. His sister endeavoured to lead him away; but he would not stir. The louder the bells rang, the more frantically did he gesticulate at them.

  All at once, and as if by magic, the bells stopped. The sudden cessation of the noise, though a relief, was startling. No one made a remark for a moment, but we consulted each other by our looks. Ora Doveton, who had treated the matter with ridicule while at a distance, could scarcely be persuaded to remain, when she beheld the diabolical bells in motion. Now that they were silent, she regained her courage, and began to smile again, though rather timorously. Cuthbert Spring declared it was a hoax — a most unpardonable hoax — though he could offer no explanation as to how the trick was managed.

  Emboldened by the cessation of the terrifying appeals, the women-servants now ventured to come forward, and planted themselves beneath the row of bells the better to examine them; but they were sent screaming away in an instant, as the wire was observed to shake, and the foremost bell began to tinkle. Its lead was soon followed by a second — a third — and so on, till the whole row was again in motion. Then ensued another concert as astounding as the first; and during its continuance Mr. Hazilrigge was thrown into transports of fury as outrageous as those he had previously exhibited; but no entreaties of his sister, or of Cuthbert Spring, could move him from the spot. After continuing to peal in this violent manner for full five minutes, the bells again stopped. The sound did not die away by degrees, but appeared at its loudest, when it was checked with startling suddenness.

  Amid the silence that prevailed, Mr. Hazilrigge shouted to the butler to bring him some implement to cut the wires.

  Mr. Ponder displayed great promptitude in executing his master’s orders. He disappeared for a moment, and then returned with a pair of pruning-shears with long handles. At the same time old Finch brought a step-ladder, and Rivers another lighted candle. Seizing the shears impatiently, Mr. Hazilrigge caused the ladder to be placed just under the bells, and aided by the butler, who held a light for him, mounted the steps.

  “This will stop it, I think,” he exclaimed, looking round triumphantly, “This will stop it,” he repeated, applying the points of the shears to the wires.

  But before he could bring the sharp edges to bear, the diabolical bells fired forth a volley with the suddenness and force of an electric shock. Not singly this time, but all together. The bell which was nearest to old Hazy’s face seemed actually to hit him on the nose. Certainly his spectacles were knocked off and broken in their fall. So startled was he by the sudden shock, that he lost his balance, and must have been precipitated to the floor, if Mr. Ponder had not fortunately caught him before he fell. Screams arose from the women-servants, and one of the housemaids, in trying to beat a hasty retreat into the kitchen, lost her footing, and two others, together with the fat cook, tumbled over her. The men, in rushing to their assistance, made matters worse, for three of them were stretched upon the ground. Nor did the ladies display very great presence of mind. Ora Doveton uttered a cry on seeing her uncle’s danger, and clung to me for support; while poor Miss Hazilrigge, frightened almost out of her wits, positively fell into Cuthbert Spring’s arms.

  During all this confusion the bells pealed on furiously as ever, and as if deriding Old Hazy’s futile attempt to check their clangour.

  CHAPTER IX.

  HOW WE PASSED THE REST OF THE EVENING AT OWLARTON GRANGE.

  THE bells still pealed furiously. It was now a continuous grand crash.

  “Will nobody stop this infernal clamour,” Mr. Hazilrigge cried, despairingly.

  “I should like to know how it is to be done?” Cuthbert Spring said. “The ladies are nearly stunned, and I shall be deaf as a post for a month to come.”

  “It can’t be stopped, sir,” Mr. Ponder observed, in a solemn tone. “Those bells are rung by no mortal hand.”

  “You think so, Ponder!” Mr. Hazilrigge exclaimed, staring at him—” you think so, eh?”

  “I am perfectly sure of it, sir,” the butler answered.

  Not entirely coinciding with Mr. Ponder in opinion, I left Ora, and quickly mounting the step-ladder, which had not been removed since Old Hazy’s misadventure, I seized one of the bells and held it firmly, so as to prevent further oscillation.

  On first touching it, I fancied I experienced a slight electric shock; but whether the sensation was really so produced, or by the violent action of the bell, I could not determine. While detained in my grasp the bell shook very perceptibly, and when released it began to ring as furiously as before.

  After trying the same experiment on the two adjoining bells with precisely the same result, I desired Ponder to hand me the shears, in order that I might sever the wires; but he seemed disinclined to obey me, expressing his firm conviction that I should only do mischief; and Mr. Hazilrigge also begging me earnestly to desist, I reluctantly came down from the step-ladder.

  “Ponder is quite right, Mr. Clitheroe,” old Hazy said. “If you provoke the mischievous sprites, who are evidently here at work, they may occasion me infinitely greater annoyance. They may pinch me grievously while I am in bed — squat down heavily upon my chest, so as to check my breathing, and prevent all power of motion — pluck off my nightcap, or the bedclothes, and give me my death from cold; all which things are related by Robert de Triez in his “Ruses, Finesses et Impostures des Esprits Malms.” Or the sprites may do other mischief, as described by Le Loyer in his treatise, “Des Spectres,” such as upsetting pots, platters, tables, and trenchers, and tumbling them down stairs, removing doors from their hinges, and causing strange rumbling noises. No, no, Mr. Clitheroe, it won’t do to enter into a contest with invisible foes. You see they have already broken my spectacles — a mischievous freak that I don’t remember to have met with either in Robert de Triez or Le Loyer.”

  Undoubtedly the old gentleman’s observations were enough to disturb any one’s gravity; but, chancing to detect a furtive smile on the butler’s usually immovable countenance, I fixed my regards keenly upon him as I addressed Mr. Hazilrigge.

  “I am no believer in esprits malins, sir,” I said, “in spite of the well-authenticated relations of such veracious writers as Robert de Triez and Le Loyer; and extraordinary as this bellringing may appear, I have no doubt that the trick could be easily performed by some designing person, well acquainted with the premises, and aid
ed by a confederate.”

  “You look at me, sir,” Mr. Ponder observed, very camly, but with an air of offended dignity, “as if you suspect that I have a hand in the trick, as you are pleased to term it; but which I venture to affirm is no trick at all. I should be ill deserving of the confidence which my master reposes in me, if I could attempt, to deceive him, or allow him to be deceived in any way. My’ master, I am sure, will do me the justice to say that he entertains a favourable opinion of me.”

  “So I do — so I do!” the old gentleman cried. “I entertain the highest opinion of you, Ponder.” Then, turning to me, he added, “A trustier servant does not exist than Ponder, Mr. Clitheroe. He is my right hand.”

  “Take care he doesn’t get the upper hand of you, my good friend,” Cuthbert Spring muttered. -

  The butler either did not hear the remark, or did not choose to notice it, but bowed profoundly in acknowledgment of his master’s commendations.

  “Well, Mr. Ponder,” I said, “I will frankly confess that a momentary suspicion of you did cross me; but I am now persuaded that I did you injustice. But pray don’t take offence at my asking if all the household were assembled here just now?”

  “All, sir — male and female.”

  “There are no visitors to the servants in the house?” I continued. “Excuse the question, but you will perceive its necessity.”

  “The inquiry is very proper, sir,” Mr. Ponder replied. “We have no visitors this evening in the kitchen.”

  “And you suspect no one?”

  “No one whatever, sir. I have already stated my belief as to the cause of the disturbance.”