J.S. Le Fanu's Ghostly Tales, Volume 5

tation C

refully for the papers in the daytime; but the silent figure pulled the drawer quite out, pressed a spring at the s

pon my uncle with a hateful smile of significance, lifting up the little parcel of papers between his slender finger and thumb. Then he made a long, cunning wink at him, and seemed to blow out one of his cheeks in a burlesque grimace, which, but for the horrific circumstances,

hem, and they grew into something enormous, and the upper figure swayed and shaped itself into corresponding proportions, a great mass of corpulence, with a cadaverous and malignant face, and the furrows of a great old age, and colourless glassy eyes; and with these changes, which came indefinitely but rapidly as those of a sunset cloud, the fine regimentals faded away, and a loose, gray, woollen drapery, somehow, was there in its stead; and all seemed to be stained and rotten, for swarms of worms seemed creeping in and out, while the figure grew paler and

came an awful roar and riot of tempest, which shook the old house from top to base, and s

course of my life, but never did I pray with so much agony before or since; for then, as

CLU

observed in this relation of my uncle's, who w

e testimony of the old deaf servant, who had been fifty years at Wauling, that identical piece of "holy candle" which had stood in the fingers of th

dentical papers which he had suspected the attorney of having made away with. There were circumstances, too, afterwards disclosed whic

ad never seen Captain Walshawe in the course of his life, could gather, the phantom had exhibited a horribl

e river. I often wonder whether it was rumoured to be haunted, and, if so, what stories were current about it. I

AT WENT WITH

ollows, when he crossed them in his gallant descent upon the cannon and ammunition of King William, on its way to the beleaguering army, there runs a very old and narrow road. It connects t

as a lake, skirted with copse, spreads at the left, as you journey northward, and the long and irregular line of mountain rises at the right, clothed in heath, broken with lines of grey r

ry road for some miles, and under shelter of a hillock, and of two or three great ash-

red the grey tint and sunken outlines, that show how the alter

e door were nailed two horse-shoes, and over the lintel and spreading along the thatch, grew, luxuriant, patches of that ancient cure for many maladies, and prophylactic against the machinations of the evil one, the house-leek. Desc

were constantly reminded by the outline of Lisnavoura, that lonely hillhaunt of the "Good people," as the fairies are called euphemisti

eelim. The birds were singing among the branches in the thinning leaves of the melancholy ash-trees that grew at the roadside in front of the door. The widow's three younger children were playing o

-for the wealthier people when cutting their turf and stacking it in the bog, to make a smaller stack for the behoof of the poor, who were welcome to take from it so

and brambles, and stooping under her burden, re-entered her door, where her da

of relief, and drying her forehea

m with it, God bless it. And

, mother; didn't ye see

ad," she said, uneasily; "not a soul, Nel

yin' there, or round by the back o

hens is comin' home, see, and the sun was j

l, or her little sister, Peg, could she see. She called them; but no answer came from the little haggard, fenced with straggling bushes. S

first she had felt angry, but now a different feeling overcame her, and she grew pale. With an undefined boding she

e birds in the bushes around. How many stories had she listened to by the winter hearth, of children

ck about her so early as this frightened widow, and

ors were infected and redoubled by her mother's. She was looking towards Lisnavoura in a trance of fear, and crossed herself again and again, and whispered prayer afte

id ye see sight o' them anywhere?" cried

s minute coming back. It's like goats they are, climbin' here and runnin' there; a

a soul near us, and Father Tom three miles away! And what'll I do, or who's

e aisy: don't ye s

n approaching on the road, which some little way off made a slight dip, which had concealed them.

em, the little girl, was crying. Their mother and sist

ed the mother, nearly breathless,

y said he'll come back again," answere

he grand ladies," blub

e away at last? Where is he? Who took him? What ladies are you

t, mother; 'twas like as if

an on towards the hill alone, clapping her han

ed after her, and burst into tears; and the other chi

their habitation. Nell led the younger children into the cabin, and made them sit down by the

r return. She came in and sat down by the f

e doore, mothe

e iv it over myself and the craythurs; an' I wondher, Nell, you'd forget to do the like yourself, lettin' the craythurs out so near nightfall. Come here and sit on my knees, asthora, come to me, mavourneen,

interrupting one another, often interrupted by their mother, managed to tell t

lden hair and large blue eyes, was a very pretty boy, with all the clear tints of healthy childhood, and that gaze of earnest simplicity which belongs not to t

an October sunset, they were playing with the hilarity and eagerness of rustic children, cl

aw a sight, such as they never beheld before. It was a carriage drawn by four horses that were pawing and snorting, in impatie

nted to the children, who had never seen anything finer than a turf car, and once

sometimes longer and sometimes shorter, like so much smoke-their tails were long, and tied up in bows of broad scarlet and gold ribbon. The coach itself was glowing with colours, gilded and emblazoned. There were footme

and malice that chilled the children. The little coachman was scowling and showing his white fangs under his cocked hat, and his little blazing beads of eyes were quivering with fury in their soc

highway!" cried the coac

footman in turn, scowling over his shoulder dow

e in their panic. But a very sweet voice from the open window of t

s smiling from it on them, and they all felt

," said the lady, bending her large an

f glass, so that the children could see anothe

gs of large variously-coloured beads, and on her head was a sort of turban of si

gle eyes, the whites of which, as well as her wide range of teeth, showed in brilliant contrast w

e golden hair, I thin

the large blue eyes; insomuch that little Billy, looking up, smiled in return with a wondering fondness, and when she stooped down, and stretched her jewelled arms towards him, he stretched his little hands up, and how they touch

d and stretched forward, in the carriage as before. She gathered a rich silk and gold handkerchief that was in her fingers up to her lips, and seemed to thrust ever so much of it, fold after fold, into her capacious mouth, as they tho

d the same thing happened to all; for just as either of the children who ran beside had caught the rolling apple, somehow it slipt into a hole or ran into a ditch, and looking up they saw the lady drop another from the window, and so the chase was taken up and continued till they got, hardly knowing how far they had gone, to the old cross-road that leads to Owney. It seemed that there the horses' hoofs and carriage wheels rolled up a wonderful dust, w

of Knockdoula, and it was twilight. Each child felt the transition like a shock-and the sight

es were lost in the vacant air. At the same time they thoug

le girl crying wildly, and the boy white as ashes, from fear, they trotted h

g. But something of the lost little

at flows in the hollow close by, they saw the pretty face of little Billy peeping in archly at the door, and smiling silently at them, and as they ran to embrace

uld come in, and, with bended finger, beckon them to follow; but always he was smiling with the same arch look and wary silence-and always he was gone when they reached the door. G

elder sister, who was fast asleep, just at the grey of the morning heard the latch lifted softly, and saw little Billy enter and close the door gently after him. There was light enough to see that he was ba

in terror and whispered, "Waken, N

the bed, it seemed to her, in fear, and she saw the glare of the embers reflected on his thin cheek as he turned towa

y was never seen any more

hom affection cherished, lay in holy ground, in the old churchyard of Abington, with headstone to mark the spot over which the survivor might kneel and say a kind prayer for the peace of the departed soul. But there was no landmark to show where little Billy was hidden from their loving eyes, unless it was in the old

OF LOU

e, of an extremely good old name in the county. They were both what is termed "old maids," and at that time past sixty. But never were old ladies more hospitable, lively, and kind, especially to young people. Th

legends; the series in which (probably communicated by Miss Anne Baily), he recounts some of the picturesque traditions of those beautiful lakes-lakes

. I have often had it in my hand. It had a short stem; and the cup part, having the bottom rounded, rose cylindrically, and, being of a capacity to contain a whole bottle of claret, and almost as narrow as an old-fashioned ale glass, was tall to a degree

sed to be seen upon the shelves of confectioners. It was engraved round the rim with the words, "The glorious, pious, and immortal memory"; and on grand occasi

n and shoutings of those stirring times. When I saw it, this glass had long retired from politics and carousals, and stood peacefully on

ng her young audience with fascinating little glimpses of old adventure and bygone days. My memory retains the picture of my early friend very distinctly. A slim straight figure, above the middle height; a general likeness to the full-length portrait of that delightful Countess d'Aulnoi

place of its unearthly transmutation from the human to the fairy state. And beneath its waters lie enchanted, the grand old castle of the Desmonds, the gr

ious Earl of Desmond, and is specially mentioned in that delightful old folio, the Hibernia Pacata, as having, with its Irish garrison on the battlements, defied the army of the lord deputy, then marching by upon the summits of the overhanging hill

s (and I have not seen them since), to be clothed with a short so

o the bottom. In certain states of the atmosphere, I have heard educated people say, when in a boat you have reached a certain distance, the island appears to rise some feet fr

y's story of the submer

agici

etends to dispose of him differently, lives to this hour enchanted

stood upon an island in the lake, and to this he brought his young and beautiful bride, whom he

sband studied his forbidden art, and there implored him to exhibit before her some of the wonders of his evil scie

with which he was about to amaze her, he explained to

of frightful phenomena, which once commenced, he could neither abridge nor mitigate; and if throughout their ghastly succession she spoke one word, or uttered one exc

ailed, and the oaken door of the study being lo

acted and hooked, a cadaverous smell filled the air, and, with heavy winnowing wings, a gigantic vul

f through this trial, and

coming more and more hideous every moment, till she rolled with a yell on the floor, in a horrible convulsion, at the lady's feet, and then changed into a huge serpent, with crest erect, and quivering tongue. Suddenly, as it seemed on the point of darting at her, she saw her husband in its stead, s

a wild scream, whereupon the castle and all that was

white horse is shod with silver. On that one night, the earl may ride till daybreak, and it behoves him to make good use of his time

ere was still living a man named Teigue

e bright moonlight night, he was working very late, and quite alone. The clink of his hammer, and the wavering glow reflected throug

ding in this doorway, he was just in time to see a gentleman, on a white horse, who was dressed in a fashion the like of wh

y gallop; but the pace abated as they drew near, and the rider of the white horse who, from his grave and lordly ai

silent, but he beckoned to the smith, and

coiled with a terrified prayer. The lordly rider, with a look of pain and fury, struck at him suddenly, with something that whistled in the air like a whip; and an icy streak seemed to traverse his body as if he had been cut through with a leaf

s well known that either for the purpose of abridging or of mitigating his period of enchantment, he seeks to lead people

al's Ad

f Lough Guir; in and about whose house, as was the Irish custom of those days, were a troop of bare-footed

ater, in which she has immersed the clothes, which she lays in that state on a great flat stone, and smacks with lusty strokes of an instrument which bears a rude resemblance to a cricket bat, only shorter, broader, and light enough to b

'clock on a fine summer morning, everything looked bright and beautiful. Though quite alone, and though she could not see even the

; and as he stepped toward her, in his slippered feet, he showed a very handsome leg. He was smiling graciously as he approached, and drawing a ring from his finger with an air of gracious meaning, w

h an encouraging smile, which seemed to say: "You have

pened in those hospitable and haphazard times, late and unexpectedly the ni

e water at her feet, and then she saw a ripple of blood, and then another, ring after ring, coming and going to and from her feet. She cried out the sacred name in horror, and, lifting her e

r that frightful transformation of the water she would have spoken to him next

Ba

Everyone attached to the family knew this well, and could cite evidences of that unearthly distinction

among her contemporaries as the merriest and most entertaining of human beings. This light-hearted young lady was dying of consumption. The sad duties of su

hedral music. The room of the dying girl had its windows toward the yard, and the old castle stood near, and full in sight. The music was not in the house, but seemed to come from the yard, or beyond it. Miss Anne Baily took a candle, and went down the back stairs. She opened the back door, and, standing there, heard the same faint but solemn harmon

, avowed that they distinctly heard, and for a long time. O

erness'

cated something weighty upon her mind, told her pupils tha

dim and lofty, having only a small window or two, set high in deep recesses in the wall. When I saw the castle

having something very remarkable in his countenance: which impressed her, as a f

told her to observe and remember its length, and to mark well the measurements he wa

d then, in the same way, from the adjoining wall he measured a certain number of its lengths, which he also counted distinctly. He then told her that at the point where

eam, she measured the distances, and ascertained, as she supposed, the point on the floor beneath which the treasure

markable-looking man, who repeated his message, and appeared

with pick and shovel, at the point indicated by the thrice-seen messenger, that at length Mr. Baily con

proached the depth described in the vision, the interest and suspense of all increased; and when the iron implements met the soli

was disclosed. Alas! it was empty. But in the earth at the bottom of it, Miss Baily said, she herself saw, as every other bystan

asure which they were convinced had actually been deposited there, had been r

her death, which occurred some years later, under the

arl's

ancient building, called the Earl's Hall. Here she caused a table and chair to be placed for her use, and in the chiaroscuro would so sit at her f

ling, and a stone floor. Being situated high in the castle, the walls of which are immensely thick, and the windows very small and few, the silence that reigns here is li

little surprise, and no harm. But when the dinner hour came, which was then, in country houses, five o'clock, and the governess had not appeared, some of her young friends, it being not yet winter

rror, they found her lying insensible. By the usual means she was restored to consciousne

singularly dark face, and a most atrocious countenance. Having walked some steps into the room, with his eyes fixed on her, he stopped, and beckoning to her to follow, moved back toward the door. About half way, again he stopped once more and turned. She was so terrified that she sat staring at the apparition without moving or speaking. Seeing that she had not obeyed him, his fa

m standing a little way off, with his eyes still fixed on her. Again he signed to her, and began to move along the

om her bed she never rose. Fever and delirium supervened in a few days and she died. Of course it is possible that feve

ION OF

ss the middle by a flash of lightning thirty summers before, and all by their great height dwarfing the abode near which they stand, there squats a rude ston

e was a poacher, and hardly made an ostensible pretence of earning his bread by any honest industry. He was a drunkard. He beat his wife, and led his children a life of

It was winter, and the night was very dark. Had the summons been that of a bogie from t

hunchbacked sister stood by the hearth, staring

imself into a chair opposite the fire. He had been away two or three days. H

little dresser, and nodded to his wife, and she knew he wanted a cup, which in silence she gave him. He pul

e in the nursery tale. His wife, Nell, standing behind a chair, which she was ready to snatch up to meet the blow of the cudgel, which might be levelled at her at any moment, never took her eyes off him;

the suspense was growing dreadful, when, on a sudden, he leaned back in his rude seat

speak or move, lest it should prove to have been but a doze, and Tom should

, he would have borne it to the floor. A leaden tint was darkening the pallor of his face. They were becoming alarmed, and finally braving everything his wife timidly said, "Tom!" and then more sharply repeated it, and finally cried the appellative lou

seniors; and if anything could have called Tom up from his lethargy, it might have been the piercing chorus t

way, to implore of the doctor, for whose family she did duty as laun

when he found that the emetic he had brought with him, on conjecture from Mary's description, did not act, an

e have desired a greater blessing for her children

erceptible. The doctor could discover no pulse. His hands an

own his hat, and told Mrs. Chuff that there was no use in his remaining any longer, when, all

said the doctor. "L

e sensations which Tom

mbers, with his gin beside him, when suddenly a swimming came in his head, he lost s

weight of his head held him backward as he sank i

he thought he had never seen stars so large and bright, or sky so black. The stars, too, seemed to blink down with longer intervals

g, as if on men's shoulders, with a sort of rushing motion. But it was utterly indistinct;

a living creature near. And he began wi

e edge of the Moor of Catstean, at the opposite side of which stands the rude cottage in which he had just lost consciousness. It was six miles or more across the moor to his habitation

the air, earth, everything about and above was indescribably still; and he experienced that quaking of the heart that seems to portend the approach of some

ace its outline. There were no comforting associations in his mind connected with it; nothing but menace and misgiving. His early training in hi

d make partition of the money, and drink their gin. It was here he had taken his early lessons in drinking, cursing, and lawlessness. His father's grave

e head of this grave stood the beech-tree; its columnar stem rose like a huge monumental pillar. He knew every line and crease on its smooth surface. The initial letters of his own name, cut in its bark long ag

lined him to exert himself; and, further, he had a vague apprehension that take what d

ross such places make, to avoid the patches of slob or quag that meet them here and there. This figure resembled his father's, and like him, whistled through his finger by way of signal as he approached; but the whistle sounded not now shrilly and sharp, as

all out to him what was in it. It did not reassure the watcher, you may be certain, when a shout unnaturally faint reac

wider chasm in the peat, which there threw up a growth of reeds and bulrushes, among which, as

e an enormous black dog with a rough coat like a bear's, which at first sniffed about, and then started towards him in what seemed to be a sportive amble, bouncing this

med the abyss! Down, down, down, with immeasurable and still increasing speed, through utter darkness, with hair streaming straight upward, breathless, he shot with a rush of air against him, the force of which whirled up his very arms, second after second, minute after minute, t

visible, was lost in darkness. From several rude passages, like the galleries of a gigantic mine, which opened from this centre chamber, was v

rances, moved on a sudden, and proved to be a human figure, that beckoned to him. He app

, Tom. Welcome home, lad;

ce that made him tremble. But he could not help accompanying the wicked spirit, who led him into a pl

this?"

er m

are t

his father apathetically. "They give over

do?" said To

all

eiterated Tom, quivering

bear it, I

cared for me, as I am your ow

s no wa

s a way out, and for Heaven

He was growing mad, it seemed, under the stare of so many eyes, increasing in number and drawing closer every moment, and at the same time myriads and myriads of voices were calling him by his name, some far away, some near, some from one point, some from anoth

eadful sights and sounds, the epilepsy of terror was creeping up to

amber, vaulted above, and with a ponderous door. A single point of

erity. He was dressed in a coarse robe, with three large keys suspensed from his girdle. He might have filled one

d fixed on him as they were, Tom Chuff felt hims

found again drinking with the drunken, and beating your fellow-servants,

f sharply on the shoulder, and the door shut behind him with a sound that boomed peal after peal of thunder near and far away, and all round and above, till it ro

his eyes, and gradually he saw the flame of the candle, and, after that, the familiar faces of his wife

ke an isolated figure in t

have him back. He

nd saw clearly all about him, and felt

I'm a changed ma

e means, "Send f

and with a spirit that was prostrate with terror, Tom Chuff feebly beckoned the rest from the room, and, the door being closed, the good parson heard t

et; and the visits of the recto

hand on bidding him good-bye, th

and ye'll know o' me no more among the sipers. Nor never will Tom draw trigger, nor set a snare again, but in an honest way, and after that ye'll no make it a bootless bene for me, but bein

ur time really comes, a good way from the

nither churchyard just to be shut o' my fear o' that, but that a' my kinsfolk is

should, and still be vicar of Shackleton, you shall be buried som

t'll

ntent the

ness for one of regular industry. He gave up drinking; he was as kind as an originally surly nature would allow to his wife and family; he went to church; in fine wea

r is not a free agent; his real character does not appear. But as the images of the imaginati

; he grew lazy, and people began to say that he was catching ha

the old horror returned, and he was once more on his good behaviour. But in a little time came a relapse, and another repentance, and then a relapse again, and gradually the return of old hab

face the old pale and heartbroken look. The cottage lost its neat and cheerful air, and the melancholy of neglect was visible. Sometimes at night were overheard, by a chance pa

igure of "t' sir" walking along the road to turn out of his way and avoid meeting him. The clergyman shook his head, and sometimes groaned, w

sister, within an inch of his life. Luckily, perhaps, for all concerned, Tom happened to be away upon one of his long excursions, and poo

fell sick. She had been ailing, as heartbroken peo

hastened her death. Nothing certain, however, came of the inquiry. Tom Chuff had left his home more than two

s more incensed than ever with the wicked husband, who, one way or other, had hastened

and said he would probably be home next day. But Everton affected not to believe it. Perhaps it was to Tom Chuff, he suggested, a secret s

rchyard, at the other side of the moor. For the purpose, as I have said, of marking the callous neglect of her husband, he determined that the funeral should take p

object, I think, was to inflict upon the villain the drubbing he had so long wished to give him. Anyhow, he was resolved, by crossing the moor, to reach the churchyard in time to anticipate

ng in his pocket, he was making his way homeward. His bottle of gin, his last investment,

the churchyard of Shackleton. He vaulted the low wall that forms its boundary, and strode across the gr

ver seen the sky look so black, and the stars shine out and blink so vividly? There was a deathlike silence over the scene, like the hush that precedes thunder in sultry weather. The expanse before him was lost in utter blackness. A strange quaking unnerved his heart. It was the sky and scenery of his vision! The same horror and misgiving. The same invin

oping him. Everything he saw was weaving itself into the

and now there, as men do over a surface where one has need to choose their steps. Through the jungle of reeds and bulrushes in the foreground t

ght toward him. It mounted the low wall, an

nged the new-comer from

answer

repeated the ma

or?" He answered in a savage tone, to

, descending from the wall, "I a' looked for you far an

Chuff recoiled, stumbled, and fell backward into the open grave.

he bottom of the grave. He had fallen direct upon his head, and his neck was broken. Hi

ision. Fortunately for Jack Everton, the sexton and clerk of Shackleton church were, unseen by him, crossing the churchyard toward the grave of Nelly Chuff, just as Tom the poacher

centre of the churchyard. This conscientious compliance with the entreaty of the panic-stricken man as to the place of his sepulture gav

and though it appeals to what many would term superstition, it yet sounded, in the ears of

N THE

amous forest of Pendle, with which Mr. Ainsworth's "Lancashire Witches" has made us so pleasantly familiar. My business was to m

less frequented, and presenting scenery often extremely interesting and pretty. The picturesquenes

before; I am told it is now a great deal le

ost, a hale old fellow of five-and-sixty, as he told me, a man of easy and garrulous benevolence, willing to accommo

ne and house I was going to. As there was no inn within some miles of it, I had

s, had not a great deal to tell. It was twenty years, or more, since old Squire Bowe

lf; but he's a bit taller, and not so much

use," I repeated, "that they said, p

'em all. Oh yes, there always will be, when a house is left so; foolish folk

ee Nuns," for some reason, did not choose to tell tales of B

y, well pleased with the good cheer of tha

o cross a wild common; and I knew that, this passed, a qua

or some time, my eye had been in search. Barwyke Hall was a large, quaint house, of that cage-work fashion known as "black-and-white," in which the bars and angles of an oak framework contrast, black as ebony, with the white plaster that overspreads the masonry built

d with the dim fires of evening reflected on the foliage above it, in a gentle hollow, stretched a lake

h of a snake in the shadow, my instinct seemed to recognize something dangerous, and I knew that the

se noble trees, whose foliage, dyed in autumnal red and

ters, in the old fashion, were barred, outside, across the windows; grass, and even nettles, were growing thick on the courtyard, and a thin moss streaked the timber beams; t

all island, with two old ash trees, leaning toward each other, their pensive images reflected in the stirless water. The only cheery influence in this scene of antiquity, solitude, and neglect was that the house and landscape were

mile of welcome, and a very sharp, red nose, that seemed to promise good cheer, open

the ceiling. The furniture of this capacious chamber was old-fashioned and clumsy. There were curtains still to the windows, and a piece of Turkey carpet lay upon the floor; those windows were two in number, looking out, through the trunks of the trees close to the house, upon the lake. It needed all the fire, and all the pleasant associations of my entertainer's red nose, to

ctions about supper-a pleasant incident to look forward to-and made a rapid toilet, I called on my friend with the gaiters and red nose (Tom Wyndsour) whose occu

guide, a hardy old fellow, strode at

the church door open; the sexton was replacing his pick, shovel, and spade, with which he had just been digging a grave in the churchyard, in their little repository under the stone stair of the tower. He was a polite, shrewd little hunchback, who was very happy to show me over the church. Among the monuments was

the setting sun, which disappeared behind the ho

died," said I, reflecting as I

twenty year the ni

y good old

ver hurt a fly," acquiesced Tom Wyndsour. "It ain't always easy sayin' what's in 'em thoug

he was out of h

mayhap, like other old fellows; but a

but, like old Squire Bowes, I was "a bit lazy" th

d, hemmed in by two loose stone-like walls, something running towards us in a zig-zag line passed us at a wild pace, with a sound like a frightened laugh or a shudder, and I saw, as it passed, that it was a human figure. I may con

ed, that lad be; six foot o' dry peat or heath, or a nook in a dry ditch. That la

mad?" I

we call him 'Dickon the devil,' because the devi

as in some way connected with

told of him, I dar

; more or less. Qu

a house? That's about the time

sir; and not v

t, Tom, to-night, when I can he

tation; and looking straight bef

t, all round the woods of Barwyke, this ten year, or more; and my old woman, down there, is cl

s the close of the sentence

d a wicket in the park wall, by which we

unted house, exercised a sombre influence on me, which, together with the fatigue of a day of travel, a

s by no means a cold night, I was very glad to see some wood blazing in the grate; and a pair of candles aiding the light of the fire

per I grew too sleepy to attempt to lead him to the subject; and after yawning for a time, I found there was n

night I shall tell you presently. I

d. Behold me, however, at length once more seated at my little supper-table, having ended a comfortable meal. It had been a sultry day, and I had thrown one of the large windows up as high as it would go. I was s

egan to exercise its genial and communicative influence; "you must tell

mbler, and looked at me askance, while you

iberately. "Not a living soul, sir"; and he looked h

are, and feeling really a little odd. "You

you, sir, this morning;

remembered having put out my candle. I thought it must have been you, who had come in for my clothes, and upset the boxes by accident. Whoever it was, he went out and the light with him. I was about to settle again, when, the curtain being a little open at the foot of the bed, I saw a light on the wall opposite; such as a candle from outside

it for my

nted, and shorter than the rest, looking as if it had once been broken, and the nail was crooked like a claw. I

exclaimed Tom Wyndsour, his very nose growing pa

" I a

You came here about them Miss Dymock's business, and he never meant they should have a foot o' ground in Barwyke; and he was making a will to give it away quite different, when death took him short. He

Wyndsour to explain his mysterious allusions by recounti

ll be for an old man that has seen a long tale of years, and has no right to grumble that death has knocked an hour too soon at his door. The Squire was

id, when they got the property,

the land on their own account. But they

to be told. It was said, first by one, then by another, that Squire Bowes was seen, about evening time, walking, just as he used to do when he was alive, among the old trees, leaning on his

to wear; and they could tell the beast he laid his hand on by its colour-white, dun, or black; and that beast was sure to sicken and die. The neighbours grew shy

groom to the old Squire; and he was in care of the plac

could not get man or boy to herd the cattle; all being afeared. So he wrote to Matlock in Derbyshire, f

hand; but he was shy of coming nigh the cattle, whatever his reason might be, since Dickon Pyke came; and he used to stand a long bit off, looking at them, with no

s in the house, lay in the big bed in the servants' room, th

as wide awake as ever he was at noonday. His b

door, it opens slowly, and who should come in but old Squi

could not take his eyes off him; and

arms under Dickon, and lifted the boy-in a dead sle

Tom Pyke's eyes, and he was r

t came from, all on a sudden went out, and

n alive, he la

r about the house; and with some trouble he got a couple of the neighbour

te out of his wits; and to all their questions he answered nothing but one cry-'Bowes, the devil! See him; see him; Bowes, the devil!' An idiot they found him; and so he will be till God sets all things right. No one could ever get him to sleep un

ke low talking that swelled into a discordant shriek-"Hoo-oo-oo! Bowes, the devil! Over your shoulder. Hoo-oo-oo! ha! ha! ha!" I started up, and saw, by the light of the candle with which Tom strode to the windo

I heard the sound of the horses' hoofs on the court-yard, a few minutes later; and still gladder