The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “I am not as yet acquainted with this house; but Mr. Spring, in describing it to me, stated that a portion of the old monastic grange closely adjoins it. Is that ancient fragment a ruin?”

  “A ruin, no!” Mr. Hazilrigge cried. “It is a very comfortable farmhouse, inhabited by my bailiff, Stephen Blackden, and his family. And very quiet, respectable folks they are.”

  “Have you any suspicion of Blackden?” I continued, addressing Ponder.

  The butler looked surprised by the inquiry.

  “Lord bless you! no sir,” he cried. “Stephen Blackden, as my master well knows, is the last man to play mischievous tricks.”

  “The very last man,” Old Hazy chimed in. “Stephen Blackden is the quietest and most inoffensive person breathing.”

  “Now you call my attention to the farmhouse, sir,” Ponder cried, as if an idea had suddenly struck him, “perhaps I ought to mention that a certain Doctor Hooker sometimes lodges there; and I believe he is there now. But he is a man of very retiring habits — quite a philosopher, sir. My master knows him very well.”

  “Oh yes! I know Doctor Hooker,” Mr. Hazilrigge said, rather hastily, as if he did not like the subject. “He often stays with Blackden.”

  Before I could institute any further inquiries concerning this Doctor Hooker, I was interrupted by Cuthbert Spring, who having been all this time embarrassed by the charge of both ladies, neither of whom had entirely recovered from her fright, called out to me to lend Ora an arm, as she and Miss Hazilrigge had had quite enough of it, and wished to retire.

  Of course I instantly complied. It struck me at the moment that Cuthbert was rather anxious to get rid of Ora in order to devote himself exclusively to her aunt.

  Just as we were quitting “the Screens,” the bells left off pealing. And with this cessation of their clatter, I may mention, the disturbance wholly ceased.

  Cuthbert Spring, as well as myself, would fain have remained with the ladies, but our host would have us back to the claret, and we were obliged therefore to accompany him to the dining-room.

  As may be supposed, the conversation turned chiefly upon the mysterious occurrences of the evening, and on my inquiring from Mr. Hazilrigge whether the bells had ever rung in this extraordinary manner before, he replied, that they had not done so in his time, but he thought he had heard that similar disturbances took place in his grandfather’s days; at which period, it was, he added, that the Grange was first reported to be haunted.

  This led the old gentleman into a discourse upon nocturnal noises, which threatened to be interminable, illustrated as it was by a variety of stories culled from his favourite authorities — Becker’s “World Bewitched,” Paul Grilland, Pierre Masse, Taillepied, and Thirseus, “De Locis Infestis until at last Cuthbert Spring’s patience being fairly exhausted, for the claret had been long since finished, and our host was too much wrapped up in his narrations to think of ordering another bottle, — he voted that we should adjourn to the drawing-room, and I joyfully seconded the movement.

  By this time, the ladies had got over their alarm, and Ora was as lively as ever; but her aunt had another strange incident to relate, to which she particularly called my attention.

  Mr. Ponder, she said, had just been in to inform them that he and old Finch had made a strict search of the house, and while standing in the corridor, they had both distinctly heard the sound of footsteps within the haunted chamber. They listened for a few minutes before they could muster up courage to enter the room, but on doing so, it was perfectly empty.

  “Mere fancy!” I exclaimed. “Their imaginations were heated by what has recently occurred. If they really did hear footsteps in the chamber, the sounds must have been caused by some living person, and I shall make a point of carefully searching the room before I retire to rest.”

  “Search as much as you please, you won’t find anybody,” Mr. Hazilrigge remarked. “It was more than fancy.”

  Apprehensive of a fresh batch of supernatural stories from our host, Cuthbert Spring here interposed, and begged Ora to favour us with a song. She willingly complied, and, proceeding to the piano, charmed me with some gay French canzonets. During a pause in the singing, I spoke of John Brideoake’s fondness for vocal music, upon which Ora volunteered to give me his favourite song — one of the most pathetic of Moore’s Irish melodies — which she executed with great feeling and tenderness, and, while listening to it, I thought that such strains must have touched John to the heart.

  After expressing my admiration, I chanced to say, “By-the-by you have not told me how you like my friend, Brideoake?”

  The abruptness of the question brought the colour to her cheeks.

  “He is a great favourite of my aunt,” she replied, somewhat evasively.

  “But not equally so with you?” I rejoined. “I am very sorry for it.”

  “Oh, no! I don’t mean that. I respect Mr. Brideoake greatly, and may have liked him a little once, but I am very capricious, as you will find when you know me better.”

  A strange thought crossed me. Why it came into my head I cannot tell, but I fancied poor John might have been captivated by this bewitching girl, and his passion treated with disdain. The notion gave me a pang, and I would have questioned Ora further, but she struck up a sprightly sequidilla, which transported me in a moment to the banks of the Guadalquivir. What with music and mirthful chat, the time flew by almost too quickly, and the moment for separation for the night arrived much sooner than I desired.

  The signal for dispersion was accidentally given by our host, who, while indulging in a nap in an easy-chair, suddenly started up, vociferating, “There they go again! ring! ring! ring! Will nobody stop those confounded bells?”

  We assured him that he had only been dreaming, but he persisted in asserting that he had heard the bells, and would not be convinced that they had not actually recommenced their diabolical concert, until he had summoned Ponder, who respectfully assured him that the mischievous sprites had entirely left off their vagaries. Hereupon the ladies prepared to retire, and as Ora bade me good night, she said she expected I should have something surprising to relate at breakfast. A rather tender parting, as it appeared to me, took place between Cuthbert Spring and Miss Hazilrigge, as the old bachelor gallantly attended the elderly spinster to the door, and gave her a flat candlestick.

  We did not remain long after them, and indeed, as we ascended the great staircase, I heard the echoes of Ora’s jocund laughter resounding from above; but I was not indulged with another glimpse of her witching countenance, for ere we reached the corridor she had vanished.

  Having bade good-night to my host and Cuthbert Spring, I entered the haunted chamber, and closed the door.

  My feelings were very different, I confess, from those which I had experienced when viewing the chamber by broad daylight. It now seemed far gloomier than it had appeared then, and the sombre bed-hangings looked perfectly funereal.

  I stole a glance at the singular picture over the mantelpiece, but I quickly withdrew my gaze, for it seemed as if the features of the sinister-looking figure in the background were instinct with life, and that the personage represented frowned at me. Ashamed of this weakness, I marched boldly towards the picture, and, holding up the light, gazed steadily at it. The effect was instantly dispelled. I could see nothing but the dull canvas.

  While thus occupied I fancied I heard a slight rustling sound behind me, and turned sharply round, but I could perceive nothing. The noise had appeared to come from that part of the room where the bed stood, and stepping in that direction, I looked behind its stiff hangings, and examined every part of the cumbrous piece of furniture, which could by possibility screen an intruder. No one was there.

  Not content with this scrutiny, I. next commenced an investigation of the whole room. An old black walnut wardrobe, of the same date as the bed, attracted my attention, and opening it, I found only a few of my own habiliments hanging inside it. Heavy curtains were stretched across the deep bay-window
.

  These I drew aside, and let in a flood of moonlight. My investigations, though very strictly conducted, not being rewarded by any discovery, I persuaded myself that I had been deceived by overwrought fancy.

  However, it was some time before I could prevail upon myself to take possession of the antique bed, and several hours fled by ere I became lost to consciousness.

  CHAPTER X.

  IN WHICH I FANCY THAT I SOLVE THE MYSTERY OF THE EXTRAORDINARY BELL-RINGING.

  ON again opening my eyes I was glad to perceive the sun shining brightly through the large bay-window. Everything looked so cheerful now that I could not help laughing at the fears I had experienced overnight. But I must have slept unusually sound, and to a much later hour than was my custom, for, on consulting my watch, I found it was near nine o’clock — a discovery that caused me to quit my stately couch without a moment’s delay.

  My toilette being expeditiously made, I went down stairs; but before joining the party at breakfast, I resolved to have a word’ with Stephen Blackden’s philosophic lodger, Doctor Hooker.

  With this design I sallied forth into the garden, and made my way to the back of the hall, where I found the old monastic grange; or rather a very substantial and comfortable-looking habitation, which had been constructed out of the ancient materials. It was a picturesque-looking structure, being partly overgrown with ivy, and harmonised very well with the hall, which it closely adjoined. In fact, the two fabrics touched.

  The occupants of the farmhouse were Stephen Blackden, his wife, a couple of grown-up daughters, and his son — a sharplooking lad between thirteen and fourteen, to whom I addressed myself on entering the farmyard.

  On inquiry from this youth, I learnt that Doctor Hooker had left them early that morning; and on asking which room he had occupied, the lad pointed it out to me, and I saw at once from its situation that it must be in close connexion with the hall. I then expressed a desire to see the room. Evidently much surprised at the request, the lad replied that he didn’t know whether I could see it, but he would ask his mother, for his father was not within.

  On this he went into the house, and presently afterwards Dame Blackden came out to me, followed by her two daughters, rustic lasses, not without some pretension to good looks. Dame Blackden was a decent-looking woman, but appeared rather confused, and said she was sorry she couldn’t oblige me by a sight of the room, as her husband had locked it up, and taken the key.

  Not quite crediting this story, I inquired when she expected Doctor Hooker to return, and she answered that he might be back in two or three days, or even sooner — she couldn’t say exactly.

  While talking to her, I noticed a long ladder reared against the building, and thinking it might aid me in my investigations, I bade young Blackden help me to place it near the window which he had pointed out as belonging to Doctor Hooker’s room, in order that I might look in.

  The lad became very red, and appeared extremely unwilling to obey me, and his mother shook her head at him as if to negative the order; but, as I repeated the injunction more authoritatively, he was forced to comply, and by our joint efforts the ladder being soon placed by the side of the window, I began to scale it.

  But quick as were my own movements, I have reason to suspect that the movements of some other party were yet more expeditious. While we were shifting the ladder, one of the young women hastily withdrew, and I am almost certain that I heard a tap at the door of the room I was about to reconnoitre, coupled with a word or two of caution from a female voice in a low key. These sounds were instantaneously followed by a slight stir, as if some one had got up and cautiously closed a door; but at this moment I had reached the window, and was able to gaze through its small leaden-framed panes into the chamber.

  Unluckily, the window was fastened inside, and white dimity curtains being drawn partially across it, I could not make out the objects within very distinctly. But it appeared pretty evident, from sundry slight circumstances, Warranting such inference, that some one had just quitted the room.

  That Doctor Hooker must be sometimes engaged in scientific experiments was evident from the number of machines that I beheld: amongst others, there was a powerful galvanic battery, with its trough, plates, glasses, and wires complete.

  On beholding this battery I felt sure that I had detected the secret of the mysterious disturbance of the previous night, as by means of connecting wires all the bells about the place could be easily set in motion by the apparatus. There were other instruments in the room, the use of which I did not so well understand; but everything tended to show that Doctor Hooker must be an ingenious personage.

  On the table lay some books, which, if I had seen them in Mr. Hazilrigge’s sanctum, I might have taken for treatises on divination and magic; and I am by no means certain, after all, that these volumes did not come from the old gentleman’s library. Besides these there was a large piece of white cloth stamped with black mystical figures, evidently derived from Cornelius Agrippa, the Clavicula Salamonis, and Doctor Dee. There was not much furniture in the room; a small bed in one comer, a little clothes-press, a table, and a couple of chairs, constituted the sum total of it; but the rest of the space was almost entirely encumbered by the various machines I have mentioned.

  In the hasty survey which I took, I tried in vain to discover a door communicating with the hall. I could perceive none; neither could I detect by what means the occupant of the room had effected so hasty a retreat.

  Having finished my scrutiny, I descended the ladder, and made a few apparently careless observations on what I had seen to Dame Blackden and her son, who had been watching me in quisitively from below. I remarked that Doctor Hooker must be a very learned man; and she replied that he was quite a conjuror, and knew almost as much as the old Squire himself. Indeed, he and the old Squire often put their heads together, and when they did something extraordinary was sure to come of it. This I told her I could readily believe, and added that I should be glad of an opportunity of consulting the sagacious Doctor Hooker. Satisfied with the discovery I had made, I then left her and returned to the garden.

  The path which I now pursued led me by the side of the hall, and against this portion of the building a large pear-tree was trained. Remarking that the bell-wires were carried along beneath the branches of the pear-tree, I thought it not improbable that about this point a junction with the wires of the galvanic battery might have been effected. But I did not attempt further investigation.

  How particular bells — such as the bell at the entrance-gate, and the bell belonging to the haunted chamber — had been rung, I could not so easily explain, but entertaining no doubt whatever that electricity was the agent by which the trick had been performed, in order to satisfy myself fully on the point, I proceeded to the low wall which I have described as skirting the inner bank of the moat, and, after careful scrutiny, I detected a wire running along it so close to the ground as to be wholly undiscernible except upon careful examination. I next traced the course of this wire along the wall until within a few feet of the entrance-gate, where it had evidently been cut off, though no doubt during the extraordinary ringing, its junction with the gate-bell was complete.

  The mystery seemed thus satisfactorily solved. But I determined to keep my discovery to myself for the present, in order to see whether any fresh attempt at disturbance should be made at night; in which case I would put an instantaneous stop to it.

  I then entered the house, and repairing to the dining-room, found the party assembled and breakfast nearly over.

  Excepting Mr. Hazilrigge, who made no remark on the subject, everybody was convinced that I had seen the ghost; and Ora, while assisting me to a cup of coffee, fixed her dark eyes inquiringly upon me, and besought me to satisfy her curiosity without delay. She was dying to know what I had heard, or seen.

  Mr. Spring declared that I generally rose with the lark, and he could only account for my being so late by the supposition that I must have been kept awake more than
half the night by a lengthened ghostly confabulation. — .

  Miss Hazilrigge came next. Rivers, the valet, she had been told by Ponder, had knocked twice at my door and received no answer, and on the third occasion he had entered the room and found me fast asleep — upon which he had considerately withdrawn. This sudden change in my habits proved that something extraordinary must have happened, and I was bound to give them an explanation.

  Paying little attention to the raillery of the elderly couple, I told Ora that I was sorry I could not give a distinct answer to her inquiries. The events of the night appeared like a dream to me — a reply not at all satisfactory to my charming catechiser, who insisted upon a relation of my dreams, and pressed me so hard, that at last I was obliged to say that, whatever had happened to me (and she might tax her imagination to any extent she pleased), my lips were hermetically sealed. If I knew anything I could not disclose it. Mr. Hazilrigge declared that I was quite right. If the ghost had admitted me to its confidence, I was bound in honour not to betray it. Such was the opinion of Melancthon and Ludovicus Vives, confirmed by Le Lover. As there was no disputing authorities like these, Ora ceased to importune me, but she looked a little piqued.

  Luckily a turn was given to the conversation by Cuthbert Spring, who inquired from our host whether any discovery had been made as to how the bells were rung overnight. Mr. Hazilrigge shook his head, and replied that the mysterious affair was still as great a mystery as ever.

  “I think I can unravel it,” I said, with a smile.

  Everybody looked at me in surprise.

  “You don’t pretend to say that you have found out how the trick was performed — for trick it was, I maintain?” Cuthbert Spring cried.

  “I have detected the juggler who played it,” I rejoined; “that must suffice for the present.”

  “You have!” Mr. Hazilrigge exclaimed, starting to his feet. “Who is it? Tell me at once, Mr. Clitheroe. If it should be one of my servants who has dared to practice on me thus — even Ponder himself — he shall be instantly sent about his business.”‘