J. S. LE FANU'S GHOSTLY TALES, VOLUME 1

Schalken the Painter (1851)

and

An Account of Some Strange Disturbances in Aungier Street (1853)

by

Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

Schalken the Painter

 _"For he is not a man as I am that we should come together; neither is there any that might lay his hand upon us both. Let him, therefore, take his rod away from me, and let not his fear terrify me. "_

There exists, at this moment, in good preservation a remarkable work ofSchalken's. The curious management of its lights constitutes, as usualin his pieces, the chief apparent merit of the picture. I say_apparent_, for in its subject, and not in its handling, howeverexquisite, consists its real value. The picture represents the interiorof what might be a chamber in some antique religious building; and itsforeground is occupied by a female figure, in a species of white robe, part of which is arranged so as to form a veil. The dress, however, isnot that of any religious order. In her hand the figure bears a lamp, bywhich alone her figure and face are illuminated; and her features wearsuch an arch smile, as well becomes a pretty woman when practising someprankish roguery; in the background, and, excepting where the dim redlight of an expiring fire serves to define the form, in total shadow, stands the figure of a man dressed in the old Flemish fashion, in anattitude of alarm, his hand being placed upon the hilt of his sword, which he appears to be in the act of drawing. 

There are some pictures, which impress one, I know not how, with aconviction that they represent not the mere ideal shapes andcombinations which have floated through the imagination of the artist, but scenes, faces, and situations which have actually existed. There isin that strange picture, something that stamps it as the representationof a reality. 

And such in truth it is, for it faithfully records a remarkable andmysterious occurrence, and perpetuates, in the face of the femalefigure, which occupies the most prominent place in the design, anaccurate portrait of Rose Velderkaust, the niece of Gerard Douw, thefirst, and, I believe, the only love of Godfrey Schalken. My greatgrandfather knew the painter well; and from Schalken himself he learnedthe fearful story of the painting, and from him too he ultimatelyreceived the picture itself as a bequest. The story and the picture havebecome heir-looms in my family, and having described the latter, Ishall, if you please, attempt to relate the tradition which hasdescended with the canvas. 

There are few forms on which the mantle of romance hangs moreungracefully than upon that of the uncouth Schalken--the boorish butmost cunning worker in oils, whose pieces delight the critics of our dayalmost as much as his manners disgusted the refined of his own; and yetthis man, so rude, so dogged, so slovenly, in the midst of hiscelebrity, had in his obscure, but happier days, played the hero in awild romance of mystery and passion. 

When Schalken studied under the immortal Gerard Douw, he was a veryyoung man; and in spite of his phlegmatic temperament, he at once fellover head and ears in love with the beautiful niece of his wealthymaster. Rose Velderkaust was still younger than he, having not yetattained her seventeenth year, and, if tradition speaks truth, possessedall the soft and dimpling charms of the fair, light-haired Flemishmaidens. The young painter loved honestly and fervently. His frankadoration was rewarded. He declared his love, and extracted a falteringconfession in return. He was the happiest and proudest painter in allChristendom. But there was somewhat to dash his elation; he was poor andundistinguished. He dared not ask old Gerard for the hand of his sweetward. He must first win a reputation and a competence. 

There were, therefore, many dread uncertainties and cold days beforehim; he had to fight his way against sore odds. But he had won the heartof dear Rose Velderkaust, and that was half the battle. It is needlessto say his exertions were redoubled, and his lasting celebrity provesthat his industry was not unrewarded by success. 

These ardent labours, and worse still, the hopes that elevated andbeguiled them, were however, destined to experience a suddeninterruption--of a character so strange and mysterious as to baffle allinquiry and to throw over the events themselves a shadow ofpreternatural horror. 

Schalken had one evening outstayed all his fellow-pupils, and stillpursued his work in the deserted room. As the daylight was fast falling, he laid aside his colours, and applied himself to the completion of asketch on which he had expressed extraordinary pains. It was a religiouscomposition, and represented the temptations of a pot-bellied SaintAnthony. The young artist, however destitute of elevation, had, nevertheless, discernment enough to be dissatisfied with his own work, and many were the patient erasures and improvements which saint anddevil underwent, yet all in vain. The large, old-fashioned room wassilent, and, with the exception of himself, quite emptied of its usualinmates. An hour had thus passed away, nearly two, without any improvedresult. Daylight had already declined, and twilight was deepening intothe darkness of night. The patience of the young painter was exhausted, and he stood before his unfinished production, angry and mortified, onehand buried in the folds of his long hair, and the other holding thepiece of charcoal which had so ill-performed its office, and which henow rubbed, without much regard to the sable streaks it produced, withirritable pressure upon his ample Flemish inexpressibles. "Curse thesubject!" said the young man aloud; "curse the picture, the devils, thesaint--"

At this moment a short, sudden sniff uttered close beside him made theartist turn sharply round, and he now, for the first time, became awarethat his labours had been overlooked by a stranger. Within about a yardand half, and rather behind him, there stood the figure of an elderlyman in a cloak and broad-brimmed, conical hat; in his hand, which wasprotected with a heavy gauntlet-shaped glove, he carried a long ebonywalking-stick, surmounted with what appeared, as it glittered dimly inthe twilight, to be a massive head of gold, and upon his breast, throughthe folds of the cloak, there shone the links of a rich chain of thesame metal. The room was so obscure that nothing further of theappearance of the figure could be ascertained, and his hat threw hisfeatures into profound shadow. It would not have been easy to conjecturethe age of the intruder; but a quantity of dark hair escaping frombeneath this sombre hat, as well as his firm and upright carriage servedto indicate that his years could not yet exceed threescore, orthereabouts. There was an air of gravity and importance about the garbof the person, and something indescribably odd, I might say awful, inthe perfect, stone-like stillness of the figure, that effectuallychecked the testy comment which had at once risen to the lips of theirritated artist. He, therefore, as soon as he had sufficientlyrecovered his surprise, asked the stranger, civilly, to be seated, anddesired to know if he had any message to leave for his master. 

"Tell Gerard Douw, " said the unknown, without altering his attitude inthe smallest degree, "that Minheer Vanderhausen, of Rotterdam, desiresto speak with him on tomorrow evening at this hour, and if he please, inthis room, upon matters of weight; that is all. "

The stranger, having finished this message, turned abruptly, and, with aquick, but silent step quitted the room, before Schalken had time to saya word in reply. The young man felt a curiosity to see in what directionthe burgher of Rotterdam would turn, on quitting the studio, and forthat purpose he went directly to the window which commanded the door. Alobby of considerable extent intervened between the inner door of thepainter's room and the street entrance, so that Schalken occupied thepost of observation before the old man could possibly have reached thestreet. He watched in vain, however. There was no other mode of exit. Had the queer old man vanished, or was he lurking about the recesses ofthe lobby for some sinister purpose? This last suggestion filled themind of Schalken with a vague uneasiness, which was so unaccountablyintense as to make him alike afraid to remain in the room alone, andreluctant to pass through the lobby. However, with an effort whichappeared very disproportioned to the occasion, he summoned resolution toleave the room, and, having locked the door and thrust the key in hispocket, without looking to the right or left, he traversed the passagewhich had so recently, perhaps still, contained the person of hismysterious visitant, scarcely venturing to breathe till he had arrivedin the open street. 

"Minheer Vanderhausen!" said Gerard Douw within himself, as theappointed hour approached, "Minheer Vanderhausen, of Rotterdam! I neverheard of the man till yesterday. What can he want of me? A portrait, perhaps, to be painted; or a poor relation to be apprenticed; or acollection to be valued; or--pshaw! there's no one in Rotterdam to leaveme a legacy. Well, whatever the business may be, we shall soon know itall. "

It was now the close of day, and again every easel, except that ofSchalken, was deserted. Gerard Douw was pacing the apartment with therestless step of impatient expectation, sometimes pausing to glance overthe work of one of his absent pupils, but more frequently placinghimself at the window, from whence he might observe the passengers whothreaded the obscure by-street in which his studio was placed. 

"Said you not, Godfrey, " exclaimed Douw, after a long and fruitful gazefrom his post of observation, and turning to Schalken, "that the hour heappointed was about seven by the clock of the Stadhouse?"

"It had just told seven when I first saw him, sir, " answered thestudent. 

"The hour is close at hand, then, " said the master, consulting ahorologe as large and as round as an orange. "Minheer Vanderhausen fromRotterdam--is it not so?"

"Such was the name. "

"And an elderly man, richly clad?" pursued Douw, musingly. 

"As well as I might see, " replied his pupil; "he could not be young, noryet very old, neither; and his dress was rich and grave, as might becomea citizen of wealth and consideration. "

At this moment the sonorous boom of the Stadhouse clock told, strokeafter stroke, the hour of seven; the eyes of both master and studentwere directed to the door; and it was not until the last peal of thebell had ceased to vibrate, that Douw exclaimed----

"So, so; we shall have his worship presently, that is, if he means tokeep his hour; if not, you may wait for him, Godfrey, if you court hisacquaintance. But what, after all, if it should prove but a mummery gotup by Vankarp, or some such wag? I wish you had run all risks, andcudgelled the old burgomaster soundly. I'd wager a dozen of Rhenish, hisworship would have unmasked, and pleaded old acquaintance in a trice. "

"Here he comes, sir, " said Schalken, in a low monitory tone; andinstantly, upon turning towards the door, Gerard Douw observed the samefigure which had, on the day before, so unexpectedly greeted his pupilSchalken. 

There was something in the air of the figure which at once satisfied thepainter that there was no masquerading in the case, and that he reallystood in the presence of a man of worship; and so, without hesitation, he doffed his cap, and courteously saluting the stranger, requested himto be seated. The visitor waved his hand slightly, as if inacknowledgment of the courtesy, but remained standing. 

"I have the honour to see Minheer Vanderhausen of Rotterdam?" saidGerard Douw. 

"The same, " was the laconic reply of his visitor. 

"I understand your worship desires to speak with me, " continued Douw, "and I am here by appointment to wait your commands. "

"Is that a man of trust?" said Vanderhausen, turning towards Schalken, who stood at a little distance behind his master. 

"Certainly, " replied Gerard. 

"Then let him take this box, and get the nearest jeweller or goldsmithto value its contents, and let him return hither with a certificate ofthe valuation. "

At the same time, he placed a small case about nine inches square in thehands of Gerard Douw, who was as much amazed at its weight as at thestrange abruptness with which it was handed to him. In accordance withthe wishes of the stranger, he delivered it into the hands of Schalken, and repeating his direction, despatched him upon the mission. 

Schalken disposed his precious charge securely beneath the folds of hiscloak, and rapidly traversing two or three narrow streets, he stopped ata corner house, the lower part of which was then occupied by the shop ofa Jewish goldsmith. He entered the shop, and calling the little Hebrewinto the obscurity of its back recesses, he proceeded to lay before himVanderhausen's casket. On being examined by the light of a lamp, itappeared entirely cased with lead, the outer surface of which was muchscraped and soiled, and nearly white with age. This having beenpartially removed, there appeared beneath a box of some hard wood; whichalso they forced open and after the removal of two or three folds oflinen, they discovered its contents to be a mass of golden ingots, closely packed, and, as the Jew declared, of the most perfect quality. Every ingot underwent the scrutiny of the little Jew, who seemed to feelan epicurean delight in touching and testing these morsels of theglorious metal; and each one of them was replaced in its berth with theexclamation: "_Mein Gott_, how very perfect! not one grain ofalloy--beautiful, beautiful!" The task was at length finished, and theJew certified under his hand the value of the ingots submitted to hisexamination, to amount to many thousand rix-dollars. With the desireddocument in his pocket, and the rich box of gold carefully pressed underhis arm, and concealed by his cloak, he retraced his way, and enteringthe studio, found his master and the stranger in close conference. Schalken had no sooner left the room, in order to execute the commissionhe had taken in charge, than Vanderhausen addressed Gerard Douw in thefollowing terms:----

"I cannot tarry with you to-night more than a few minutes, and so Ishall shortly tell you the matter upon which I come. You visited thetown of Rotterdam some four months ago, and then I saw in the church ofSt. Lawrence your niece, Rose Velderkaust. I desire to marry her; and ifI satisfy you that I am wealthier than any husband you can dream of forher, I expect that you will forward my suit with your authority. If youapprove my proposal, you must close with it here and now, for I cannotwait for calculations and delays. "

Gerard Douw was hugely astonished by the nature of MinheerVanderhausen's communication, but he did not venture to expresssurprise; for besides the motives supplied by prudence and politeness, the painter experienced a kind of chill and oppression like that whichis said to intervene when one is placed in unconscious proximity withthe object of a natural antipathy--an undefined but overpoweringsensation, while standing in the presence of the eccentric stranger, which made him very unwilling to say anything which might reasonablyoffend him. 

"I have no doubt, " said Gerard, after two or three prefatory hems, "thatthe alliance which you propose would prove alike advantageous andhonourable to my niece; but you must be aware that she has a will of herown, and may not acquiesce in what _we_ may design for her advantage. "

"Do not seek to deceive me, sir painter, " said Vanderhausen; "you areher guardian--she is your ward--she is mine if _you_ like to make herso. "

The man of Rotterdam moved forward a little as he spoke, and GerardDouw, he scarce knew why, inwardly prayed for the speedy return ofSchalken. 

"I desire, " said the mysterious gentleman, "to place in your hands atonce an evidence of my wealth, and a security for my liberal dealingwith your niece. The lad will return in a minute or two with a sum invalue five times the fortune which she has a right to expect from herhusband. This shall lie in your hands, together with her dowry, and youmay apply the united sum as suits her interest best; it shall be allexclusively hers while she lives: is that liberal?"

Douw assented, and inwardly acknowledged that fortune had beenextraordinarily kind to his niece; the stranger, he thought, must beboth wealthy and generous, and such an offer was not to be despised, though made by a humourist, and one of no very prepossessing presence. Rose had no very high pretensions for she had but a modest dowry, whichshe owed entirely to the generosity of her uncle; neither had she anyright to raise exceptions on the score of birth, for her own origin wasfar from splendid, and as the other objections, Gerald resolved, andindeed, by the usages of the time, was warranted in resolving, not tolisten to them for a moment. 

"Sir" said he, addressing the stranger, "your offer is liberal, andwhatever hesitation I may feel in closing with it immediately, arisessolely from my not having the honour of knowing anything of your familyor station. Upon these points you can, of course, satisfy me withoutdifficulty?'

"As to my respectability, " said the stranger, drily, "you must take thatfor granted at present; pester me with no inquiries; you can discovernothing more about me than I choose to make known. You shall havesufficient security for my respectability--my word, if you arehonourable: if you are sordid, my gold. "

"A testy old gentleman, " thought Douw, "he must have his own way; but, all things considered, I am not justified to declining his offer. I willnot pledge myself unnecessarily, however. "

"You will not pledge yourself unnecessarily, " said Vanderhausen, strangely uttering the very words which had just floated through themind of his companion; "but you will do so if it is necessary, Ipresume; and I will show you that I consider it indispensable. If thegold I mean to leave in your hands satisfy you, and if you don't wish myproposal to be at once withdrawn, you must, before I leave this room, write your name to this engagement. "

Having thus spoken, he placed a paper in the hands of the master, thecontents of which expressed an engagement entered into by Gerard Douw, to give to Wilken Vanderhausen of Rotterdam, in marriage, RoseVelderkaust, and so forth, within one week of the date thereof. Whilethe painter was employed in reading this covenant, by the light of atwinkling oil lamp in the far wall of the room, Schalken, as we havestated, entered the studio, and having delivered the box and thevaluation of the Jew, into the hands of the stranger, he was about toretire, when Vanderhausen called to him to wait; and, presenting thecase and the certificate to Gerard Douw, he paused in silence until hehad satisfied himself, by an inspection of both, respecting the value ofthe pledge left in his hands. At length he said----

"Are you content?"

The painter said he would fain have another day to consider. 

"Not an hour, " said the suitor, apathetically. 

"Well then, " said Douw, with a sore effort, "I am content, it is abargain. "

"Then sign at once, " said Vanderhausen, "for I am weary. "

At the same time he produced a small case of writing materials, andGerard signed the important document. 

"Let this youth witness the covenant, " said the old man; and GodfreySchalken unconsciously attested the instrument which for ever bereft himof his dear Rose Velderkaust. 

The compact being thus completed, the strange visitor folded up thepaper, and stowed it safely in an inner pocket. 

"I will visit you to-morrow night at nine o'clock, at your own house, Gerard Douw, and will see the object of our contract;" and so sayingWilken Vanderhausen moved stiffly, but rapidly, out of the room. 

Schalken, eager to resolve his doubts, had placed himself by the window, in order to watch the street entrance; but the experiment served only tosupport his suspicions, for the old man did not issue from the door. This was _very_ strange, odd, nay fearful. He and his master returnedtogether, and talked but little on the way, for each had his ownsubjects of reflection, of anxiety, and of hope. Schalken, however, didnot know the ruin which menaced his dearest projects. 

Gerard Douw knew nothing of the attachment which had sprung up betweenhis pupil and his niece; and even if he had, it is doubtful whether hewould have regarded its existence as any serious obstruction to thewishes of Minheer Vanderhausen. Marriages were then and there matters oftraffic and calculation; and it would have appeared as absurd in theeyes of the guardian to make a mutual attachment an essential element ina contract of the sort, as it would have been to draw up his bonds andreceipts in the language of romance. 

The painter, however, did not communicate to his niece the importantstep which he had taken in her behalf, a forebearance caused not by anyanticipated opposition on her part, but solely by a ludicrousconsciousness that if she were to ask him for a description of herdestined bridegroom, he would be forced to confess that he had not onceseen his face, and if called upon, would find it absolutely impossibleto identify him. Upon the next day, Gerard Douw, after dinner, calledhis niece to him and having scanned her person with an air ofsatisfaction, he took her hand, and looking upon her pretty innocentface with a smile of kindness, he said:----

"Rose, my girl, that face of yours will make your fortune. " Rose blushedand smiled. "Such faces and such tempers seldom go together, and whenthey do, the compound is a love charm, few heads or hearts can resist;trust me, you will soon be a bride, girl. But this is trifling, and I ampressed for time, so make ready the large room by eight o'clockto-night, and give directions for supper at nine. I expect a friend; andobserve me, child, do you trick yourself out handsomely. I will not havehim think us poor or sluttish. "

With these words he left her, and took his way to the room in which hispupils worked. 

When the evening closed in, Gerard called Schalken, who was about totake his departure to his own obscure and comfortless lodgings, andasked him to come home and sup with Rose and Vanderhausen. Theinvitation was, of course, accepted and Gerard Douw and his pupil soonfound themselves in the handsome and, even then, antique chamber, whichhad been prepared for the reception of the stranger. A cheerful woodfire blazed in the hearth, a little at one side of which anold-fashioned table, which shone in the fire-light like burnished gold, was awaiting the supper, for which preparations were going forward; andranged with exact regularity, stood the tall-backed chairs, whoseungracefulness was more than compensated by their comfort. The littleparty, consisting of Rose, her uncle, and the artist, awaited thearrival of the expected visitor with considerable impatience. Nineo'clock at length came, and with it a summons at the street door, whichbeing speedily answered, was followed by a slow and emphatic tread uponthe staircase; the steps moved heavily across the lobby, the door of theroom in which the party we have described were assembled slowly opened, and there entered a figure which startled, almost appalled, thephlegmatic Dutchmen, and nearly made Rose scream with terror. It was theform, and arrayed in the garb of Minheer Vanderhausen; the air, thegait, the height were the same, but the features had never been seen byany of the party before. The stranger stopped at the door of the room, and displayed his form and face completely. He wore a dark-colouredcloth cloak, which was short and full, not falling quite to his knees;his legs were cased in dark purple silk stockings, and his shoes wereadorned with roses of the same colour. The opening of the cloak in frontshowed the under-suit to consist of some very dark, perhaps sablematerial, and his hands were enclosed in a pair of heavy leather gloves, which ran up considerably above the wrist, in the manner of a gauntlet. In one hand he carried his walking-stick and his hat, which he hadremoved, and the other hung heavily by his side. A quantity of grizzledhair descended in long tresses from his head, and rested upon the plaitsof a stiff ruff, which effectually concealed his neck. So far all waswell; but the face!--all the flesh of the face was coloured with thebluish leaden hue, which is sometimes produced by metallic medicines, administered in excessive quantities; the eyes showed an undueproportion of muddy white, and had a certain indefinable character ofinsanity; the hue of the lips bearing the usual relation to that of theface, was, consequently, nearly black; and the entire character of theface was sensual, malignant, and even satanic. It was remarkable thatthe worshipful stranger suffered as little as possible of his flesh toappear, and that during his visit he did not once remove his gloves. Having stood for some moments at the door, Gerard Douw at length foundbreath and collectedness to bid him welcome, and with a mute inclinationof the head, the stranger stepped forward into the room. There wassomething indescribably odd, even horrible, about all his motions, something undefinable, that was unnatural, unhuman; it was as if thelimbs were guided and directed by a spirit unused to the management ofbodily machinery. The stranger spoke hardly at all during his visit, which did not exceed half an hour; and the host himself could scarcelymuster courage enough to utter the few necessary salutations andcourtesies; and, indeed, such was the nervous terror which the presenceof Vanderhausen inspired, that very little would have made all hisentertainers fly in downright panic from the room. They had not so farlost all self-possession, however, as to fail to observe two strangepeculiarities of their visitor. During his stay his eyelids did not onceclose, or, indeed, move in the slightest degree; and farther, there wasa deathlike stillness in his whole person, owing to the absence of theheaving motion of the chest, caused by the process of respiration. Thesetwo peculiarities, though when told they may appear trifling, produced avery striking and unpleasant effect when seen and observed. Vanderhausenat length relieved the painter of Leyden of his inauspicious presence;and with no trifling sense of relief the little party heard the streetdoor close after him. 

"Dear uncle, " said Rose, "what a frightful man! I would not see himagain for the wealth of the States. "

"Tush, foolish girl, " said Douw, whose sensations were anything butcomfortable. "A man may be as ugly as the devil, and yet, if his heartand actions are good, he is worth all the pretty-faced perfumed puppiesthat walk the Mall. Rose, my girl, it is very true he has not thy prettyface, but I know him to be wealthy and liberal; and were he ten timesmore ugly, these two virtues would be enough to counter balance all hisdeformity, and if not sufficient actually to alter the shape and hue ofhis features, at least enough to prevent one thinking them so muchamiss. "

"Do you know, uncle, " said Rose, "when I saw him standing at the door, Icould not get it out of my head that I saw the old painted wooden figurethat used to frighten me so much in the Church of St. Laurence atRotterdam. "

Gerard laughed, though he could not help inwardly acknowledging thejustness of the comparison. He was resolved, however, as far as hecould, to check his niece's disposition to dilate upon the ugliness ofher intended bridegroom, although he was not a little pleased, as wellas puzzled, to observe that she appeared totally exempt from thatmysterious dread of the stranger which, he could not disguise it fromhimself, considerably affected him, as also his pupil Godfrey Schalken. 

Early on the next day there arrived, from various quarters of the town, rich presents of silks, velvets, jewellery, and so forth, for Rose; andalso a packet directed to Gerard Douw, which on being opened, was foundto contain a contract of marriage, formally drawn up, between WilkenVanderhausen of the _Boom-quay_, in Rotterdam, and Rose Velderkaust ofLeyden, niece to Gerard Douw, master in the art of painting, also of thesame city; and containing engagements on the part of Vanderhausen tomake settlements upon his bride, far more splendid than he had beforeled her guardian to believe likely, and which were to be secured to heruse in the most unexceptionable manner possible--the money being placedin the hand of Gerard Douw himself. 

I have no sentimental scenes to describe, no cruelty of guardians, nomagnanimity of wards, no agonies, or transport of lovers. The record Ihave to make is one of sordidness, levity, and heartlessness. In lessthan a week after the first interview which we have just described, thecontract of marriage was fulfilled, and Schalken saw the prize which hewould have risked existence to secure, carried off in solemn pomp by hisrepulsive rival. For two or three days he absented himself from theschool; he then returned and worked, if with less cheerfulness, with farmore dogged resolution than before; the stimulus of love had given placeto that of ambition. Months passed away, and, contrary to hisexpectation, and, indeed, to the direct promise of the parties, GerardDouw heard nothing of his niece or her worshipful spouse. The interestof the money, which was to have been demanded in quarterly sums, layunclaimed in his hands. 

He began to grow extremely uneasy. Minheer Vanderhausen's direction inRotterdam he was fully possessed of; after some irresolution he finallydetermined to journey thither--a trifling undertaking, and easilyaccomplished--and thus to satisfy himself of the safety and comfort ofhis ward, for whom he entertained an honest and strong affection. Hissearch was in vain, however; no one in Rotterdam had ever heard ofMinheer Vanderhausen. Gerard Douw left not a house in the _Boom-quay_untried, but all in vain. No one could give him any information whatevertouching the object of his inquiry, and he was obliged to return toLeyden nothing wiser and far more anxious, than when he had left it. 

On his arrival he hastened to the establishment from which Vanderhausenhad hired the lumbering, though, considering the times, most luxuriousvehicle, which the bridal party had employed to convey them toRotterdam. From the driver of this machine he learned, that havingproceeded by slow stages, they had late in the evening approachedRotterdam; but that before they entered the city, and while yet nearly amile from it, a small party of men, soberly clad, and after the oldfashion, with peaked beards and moustaches, standing in the centre ofthe road, obstructed the further progress of the carriage. The driverreined in his horses, much fearing, from the obscurity of the hour, andthe loneliness, of the road, that some mischief was intended. His fearswere, however, somewhat allayed by his observing that these strange mencarried a large litter, of an antique shape, and which they immediatelyset down upon the pavement, whereupon the bridegroom, having opened thecoach-door from within, descended, and having assisted his bride to dolikewise, led her, weeping bitterly, and wringing her hands, to thelitter, which they both entered. It was then raised by the men whosurrounded it, and speedily carried towards the city, and before it hadproceeded very far, the darkness concealed it from the view of the Dutchcoachman. In the inside of the vehicle he found a purse, whose contentsmore than thrice paid the hire of the carriage and man. He saw and couldtell nothing more of Minheer Vanderhausen and his beautiful lady. 

This mystery was a source of profound anxiety and even grief to GerardDouw. There was evidently fraud in the dealing of Vanderhausen with him, though for what purpose committed he could not imagine. He greatlydoubted how far it was possible for a man possessing such a countenanceto be anything but a villain, and every day that passed without hishearing from or of his niece, instead of inducing him to forget hisfears, on the contrary tended more and more to aggravate them. The lossof her cheerful society tended also to depress his spirits; and in orderto dispel the gloom, which often crept upon his mind after his dailyoccupations were over, he was wont frequently to ask Schalken toaccompany him home, and share his otherwise solitary supper. 

One evening, the painter and his pupil were sitting by the fire, havingaccomplished a comfortable meal, and had yielded to the silent anddelicious melancholy of digestion, when their ruminations were disturbedby a loud sound at the street door, as if occasioned by some personrushing and scrambling vehemently against it. A domestic had run withoutdelay to ascertain the cause of the disturbance, and they heard himtwice or thrice interrogate the applicant for admission, but withouteliciting any other answer but a sustained reiteration of the sounds. They heard him then open the hall-door, and immediately there followed alight and rapid tread on the staircase. Schalken advanced towards thedoor. It opened before he reached it, and Rose rushed into the room. Shelooked wild, fierce and haggard with terror and exhaustion, but herdress surprised them as much as even her unexpected appearance. Itconsisted of a kind of white woollen wrapper, made close about the neck, and descending to the very ground. It was much deranged andtravel-soiled. The poor creature had hardly entered the chamber when shefell senseless on the floor. With some difficulty they succeeded inreviving her, and on recovering her senses, she instantly exclaimed, ina tone of terror rather than mere impatience:----

"Wine! wine! quickly, or I'm lost!"

Astonished and almost scared at the strange agitation in which the callwas made, they at once administered to her wishes, and she drank somewine with a haste and eagerness which surprised them. She had hardlyswallowed it, when she exclaimed, with the same urgency:

"Food, for God's sake, food, at once, or I perish. "

A considerable fragment of a roast joint was upon the table, andSchalken immediately began to cut some, but he was anticipated, for nosooner did she see it than she caught it, a more than mortal image offamine, and with her hands, and even with her teeth, she tore off theflesh, and swallowed it. When the paroxysm of hunger had been a littleappeased, she appeared on a sudden overcome with shame, or it may havebeen that other more agitating thoughts overpowered and scared her, forshe began to weep bitterly and to wring her hands. 

"Oh, send for a minister of God, " said she; "I am not safe till hecomes; send for him speedily. "

Gerard Douw despatched a messenger instantly, and prevailed on his nieceto allow him to surrender his bed chamber to her use. He also persuadedher to retire to it at once to rest; her consent was extorted upon thecondition that they would not leave her for a moment. 

"Oh that the holy man were here, " she said; "he can deliver me: the deadand the living can never be one: God has forbidden it. "

With these mysterious words she surrendered herself to their guidance, and they proceeded to the chamber which Gerard Douw had assigned to heruse. 

"Do not, do not leave me for a moment, " said she; "I am lost for ever ifyou do. "

Gerard Douw's chamber was approached through a spacious apartment, whichthey were now about to enter. He and Schalken each carried a candle, sothat a sufficiency of light was cast upon all surrounding objects. Theywere now entering the large chamber, which as I have said, communicatedwith Douw's apartment, when Rose suddenly stopped, and, in a whisperwhich thrilled them both with horror, she said:----

"Oh, God! he is here! he is here! See, see! there he goes!"

She pointed towards the door of the inner room, and Schalken thought hesaw a shadowy and ill-defined form gliding into that apartment. He drewhis sword, and, raising the candle so as to throw its light withincreased distinctness upon the objects in the room, he entered thechamber into which the shadow had glided. No figure was there--nothingbut the furniture which belonged to the room, and yet he could not bedeceived as to the fact that something had moved before them into thechamber. A sickening dread came upon him, and the cold perspirationbroke out in heavy drops upon his forehead; nor was he more composed, when he heard the increased urgency and agony of entreaty, with whichRose implored them not to leave her for a moment. 

"I saw him, " said she; "he's here. I cannot be deceived; I know him;he's by me; he is with me; he's in the room. Then, for God's sake, asyou would save me, do not stir from beside me. "

They at length prevailed upon her to lie down upon the bed, where shecontinued to urge them to stay by her. She frequently uttered incoherentsentences, repeating, again and again, "the dead and the living cannotbe one: God has forbidden it. " And then again, "Rest to thewakeful--sleep to the sleep-walkers. " These and such mysterious andbroken sentences, she continued to utter until the clergyman arrived. Gerard Douw began to fear, naturally enough, that terror orill-treatment, had unsettled the poor girl's intellect, and he halfsuspected, by the suddenness of her appearance, the unseasonableness ofthe hour, and above all, from the wildness and terror of her manner, that she had made her escape from some place of confinement forlunatics, and was in imminent fear of pursuit. He resolved to summonmedical advice as soon as the mind of his niece had been in some measureset at rest by the offices of the clergyman whose attendance she had soearnestly desired; and until this object had been attained, he did notventure to put any questions to her, which might possibly, by revivingpainful or horrible recollections, increase her agitation. The clergymansoon arrived--a man of ascetic countenance and venerable age--one whomGerard Douw respected very much, forasmuch as he was a veteran polemic, though one perhaps more dreaded as a combatant than beloved as aChristian--of pure morality, subtle brain, and frozen heart. He enteredthe chamber which communicated with that in which Rose reclined andimmediately on his arrival, she requested him to pray for her, as forone who lay in the hands of Satan, and who could hope for deliveranceonly from heaven. 

That you may distinctly understand all the circumstances of the eventwhich I am going to describe, it is necessary to state the relativeposition of the parties who were engaged in it. The old clergyman andSchalken were in the anteroom of which I have already spoken; Rose layin the inner chamber, the door of which was open; and by the side of thebed, at her urgent desire, stood her guardian; a candle burned in thebedchamber, and three were lighted in the outer apartment. The old mannow cleared his voice as if about to commence, but before he had time tobegin, a sudden gust of air blew out the candle which served toilluminate the room in which the poor girl lay, and she, with hurriedalarm, exclaimed:----

"Godfrey, bring in another candle; the darkness is unsafe. "

Gerard Douw forgetting for the moment her repeated injunctions, in theimmediate impulse, stepped from the bedchamber into the other, in orderto supply what she desired. 

"Oh God! do not go, dear uncle, " shrieked the unhappy girl--and at thesame time she sprung from the bed, and darted after him, in order, byher grasp, to detain him. But the warning came too late, for scarcelyhad he passed the threshold, and hardly had his niece had time to utterthe startling exclamation, when the door which divided the two roomsclosed violently after him, as if swung by a strong blast of wind. Schalken and he both rushed to the door, but their united and desperateefforts could not avail so much as to shake it. Shriek after shriekburst from the inner chamber, with all the piercing loudness ofdespairing terror. Schalken and Douw applied every nerve to force openthe door; but all in vain. There was no sound of struggling from within, but the screams seemed to increase in loudness, and at the same timethey heard the bolts of the latticed window withdrawn, and the windowitself grated upon the sill as if thrown open. One _last_ shriek, solong and piercing and agonized as to be scarcely human, swelled from theroom, and suddenly there followed a death-like silence. A light step washeard crossing the floor, as if from the bed to the window; and almostat the same instant the door gave way, and, yielding to the pressure ofthe external applicants, nearly precipitated them into the room. It wasempty. The window was open, and Schalken sprung to a chair and gazed outupon the street and canal below. He saw no form, but he saw, or thoughthe saw, the waters of the broad canal beneath settling ring after ringin heavy circles, as if a moment before disturbed by the submission ofsome ponderous body. 

No trace of Rose was ever after found, nor was anything certainrespecting her mysterious wooer discovered or even suspected--no cluewhereby to trace the intricacies of the labyrinth and to arrive at itssolution, presented itself. But an incident occurred, which, though itwill not be received by our rational readers in lieu of evidence, produced nevertheless a strong and a lasting impression upon the mind ofSchalken. Many years after the events which we have detailed, Schalken, then residing far away received an intimation of his father's death, andof his intended burial upon a fixed day in the church of Rotterdam. Itwas necessary that a very considerable journey should be performed bythe funeral procession, which as it will be readily believed, was notvery numerously attended. Schalken with difficulty arrived in Rotterdamlate in the day upon which the funeral was appointed to take place. Ithad not then arrived. Evening closed in, and still it did not appear. 

Schalken strolled down to the church; he found it open; notice of thearrival of the funeral had been given, and the vault in which the bodywas to be laid had been opened. The sexton, on seeing a well-dressedgentleman, whose object was to attend the expected obsequies, pacing theaisle of the church, hospitably invited him to share with him thecomforts of a blazing fire, which, as was his custom in winter time uponsuch occasions, he had kindled in the hearth of a chamber in which hewas accustomed to await the arrival of such grisly guests and whichcommunicated, by a flight of steps, with the vault below. In thischamber, Schalken and his entertainer seated themselves; and the sexton, after some fruitless attempts to engage his guest in conversation, wasobliged to apply himself to his tobacco-pipe and can, to solace hissolitude. In spite of his grief and cares, the fatigues of a rapidjourney of nearly forty hours gradually overcame the mind and body ofGodfrey Schalken, and he sank into a deep sleep, from which he awakenedby someone's shaking him gently by the shoulder. He first thought thatthe old sexton had called him, but _he_ was no longer in the room. Heroused himself, and as soon as he could clearly see what was around him, he perceived a female form, clothed in a kind of light robe of white, part of which was so disposed as to form a veil, and in her hand shecarried a lamp. She was moving rather away from him, in the direction ofthe flight of steps which conducted towards the vaults. Schalken felt avague alarm at the sight of this figure and at the same time anirresistible impulse to follow its guidance. He followed it towards thevaults, but when it reached the head of the stairs, he paused; thefigure paused also, and, turning gently round, displayed, by the lightof the lamp it carried, the face and features of his first love, RoseVelderkaust. There was nothing horrible, or even sad, in thecountenance. On the contrary, it wore the same arch smile which used toenchant the artist long before in his happy days. A feeling of awe andinterest, too intense to be resisted, prompted him to follow thespectre, if spectre it were. She descended the stairs--he followed--andturning to the left, through a narrow passage, she led him, to hisinfinite surprise, into what appeared to be an old-fashioned Dutchapartment, such as the pictures of Gerard Douw have served toimmortalize. Abundance of costly antique furniture was disposed aboutthe room, and in one corner stood a four-post bed, with heavy blackcloth curtains around it; the figure frequently turned towards him withthe same arch smile; and when she came to the side of the bed, she drewthe curtains, and, by the light of the lamp, which she held towards itscontents, she disclosed to the horror-stricken painter, sitting boltupright in the bed, the livid and demoniac form of Vanderhausen. Schalken had hardly seen him, when he fell senseless upon the floor, where he lay until discovered, on the next morning, by persons employedin closing the passages into the vaults. He was lying in a cell ofconsiderable size, which had not been disturbed for a long time, and hehad fallen beside a large coffin, which was supported upon smallpillars, a security against the attacks of vermin. 

To his dying day Schalken was satisfied of the reality of the visionwhich he had witnessed, and he has left behind him a curious evidence ofthe impression which it wrought upon his fancy, in a painting executedshortly after the event I have narrated, and which is valuable asexhibiting not only the peculiarities which have made Schalken'spictures sought after, but even more so as presenting a portrait of hisearly love, Rose Velderkaust, whose mysterious fate must always remainmatter of speculation. 

An Account of Some StrangeDisturbances in Aungier Street

It is not worth telling, this story of mine--at least, not worthwriting. Told, indeed, as I have sometimes been called upon to tell it, to a circle of intelligent and eager faces, lighted up by a goodafter-dinner fire on a winter's evening, with a cold wind rising andwailing outside, and all snug and cosy within, it has gone off--though Isay it, who should not--indifferent well. But it is a venture to do asyou would have me. Pen, ink, and paper are cold vehicles for themarvellous, and a "reader" decidedly a more critical animal than a"listener. " If, however, you can induce your friends to read it afternightfall, and when the fireside talk has run for a while on thrillingtales of shapeless terror; in short, if you will secure me the _molliatempora fandi_, I will go to my work, and say my say, with better heart. Well, then, these conditions presupposed, I shall waste no more words, but tell you simply how it all happened. 

My cousin (Tom Ludlow) and I studied medicine together. I think he wouldhave succeeded, had he stuck to the profession; but he preferred theChurch, poor fellow, and died early, a sacrifice to contagion, contracted in the noble discharge of his duties. For my present purpose, I say enough of his character when I mention that he was of a sedate butfrank and cheerful nature; very exact in his observance of truth, andnot by any means like myself--of an excitable or nervous temperament. 

My Uncle Ludlow--Tom's father--while we were attending lectures, purchased three or four old houses in Aungier Street, one of which wasunoccupied. _He_ resided in the country, and Tom proposed that we shouldtake up our abode in the untenanted house, so long as it should continueunlet; a move which would accomplish the double end of settling usnearer alike to our lecture-rooms and to our amusements, and ofrelieving us from the weekly charge of rent for our lodgings. 

Our furniture was very scant--our whole equipage remarkably modest andprimitive; and, in short, our arrangements pretty nearly as simple asthose of a bivouac. Our new plan was, therefore, executed almost as soonas conceived. The front drawing-room was our sitting-room. I had thebedroom over it, and Tom the back bedroom on the same floor, whichnothing could have induced me to occupy. 

The house, to begin with, was a very old one. It had been, I believe, newly fronted about fifty years before; but with this exception, it hadnothing modern about it. The agent who bought it and looked into thetitles for my uncle, told me that it was sold, along with much otherforfeited property, at Chichester House, I think, in 1702; and hadbelonged to Sir Thomas Hacket, who was Lord Mayor of Dublin in JamesII. 's time. How old it was _then_, I can't say; but, at all events, ithad seen years and changes enough to have contracted all that mysteriousand saddened air, at once exciting and depressing, which belongs to mostold mansions. 

There had been very little done in the way of modernising details; and, perhaps, it was better so; for there was something queer and by-gone inthe very walls and ceilings--in the shape of doors and windows--in theodd diagonal site of the chimney-pieces--in the beams and ponderouscornices--not to mention the singular solidity of all the woodwork, fromthe banisters to the window-frames, which hopelessly defied disguise, and would have emphatically proclaimed their antiquity through anyconceivable amount of modern finery and varnish. 

An effort had, indeed, been made, to the extent of papering thedrawing-rooms; but somehow, the paper looked raw and out of keeping; andthe old woman, who kept a little dirt-pie of a shop in the lane, andwhose daughter--a girl of two and fifty--was our solitary handmaid, coming in at sunrise, and chastely receding again as soon as she hadmade all ready for tea in our state apartment;--this woman, I say, remembered it, when old Judge Horrocks (who, having earned thereputation of a particularly "hanging judge, " ended by hanging himself, as the coroner's jury found, under an impulse of "temporary insanity, "with a child's skipping-rope, over the massive old bannisters) residedthere, entertaining good company, with fine venison and rare old port. In those halcyon days, the drawing-rooms were hung with gilded leather, and, I dare say, cut a good figure, for they were really spacious rooms. 

The bedrooms were wainscoted, but the front one was not gloomy; and init the cosiness of antiquity quite overcame its sombre associations. Butthe back bedroom, with its two queerly-placed melancholy windows, staring vacantly at the foot of the bed, and with the shadowy recess tobe found in most old houses in Dublin, like a large ghostly closet, which, from congeniality of temperament, had amalgamated with thebedchamber, and dissolved the partition. At night-time, this"alcove"--as our "maid" was wont to call it--had, in my eyes, aspecially sinister and suggestive character. Tom's distant and solitarycandle glimmered vainly into its darkness. _There_ it was alwaysoverlooking him--always itself impenetrable. But this was only part ofthe effect. The whole room was, I can't tell how, repulsive to me. Therewas, I suppose, in its proportions and features, a latent discord--acertain mysterious and indescribable relation, which jarred indistinctlyupon some secret sense of the fitting and the safe, and raisedindefinable suspicions and apprehensions of the imagination. On thewhole, as I began by saying, nothing could have induced me to pass anight alone in it. 

I had never pretended to conceal from poor Tom my superstitiousweakness; and he, on the other hand, most unaffectedly ridiculed mytremors. The sceptic was, however, destined to receive a lesson, as youshall hear. 

We had not been very long in occupation of our respective dormitories, when I began to complain of uneasy nights and disturbed sleep. I was, Isuppose, the more impatient under this annoyance, as I was usually asound sleeper, and by no means prone to nightmares. It was now, however, my destiny, instead of enjoying my customary repose, every night to "supfull of horrors. " After a preliminary course of disagreeable andfrightful dreams, my troubles took a definite form, and the same vision, without an appreciable variation in a single detail, visited me at least(on an average) every second night in the week. 

Now, this dream, nightmare, or infernal illusion--which you please--ofwhich I was the miserable sport, was on this wise:----

I saw, or thought I saw, with the most abominable distinctness, althoughat the time in profound darkness, every article of furniture andaccidental arrangement of the chamber in which I lay. This, as you know, is incidental to ordinary nightmare. Well, while in this clairvoyantcondition, which seemed but the lighting up of the theatre in which wasto be exhibited the monotonous tableau of horror, which made my nightsinsupportable, my attention invariably became, I know not why, fixedupon the windows opposite the foot of my bed; and, uniformly with thesame effect, a sense of dreadful anticipation always took slow but surepossession of me. I became somehow conscious of a sort of horrid butundefined preparation going forward in some unknown quarter, and by someunknown agency, for my torment; and, after an interval, which alwaysseemed to me of the same length, a picture suddenly flew up to thewindow, where it remained fixed, as if by an electrical attraction, andmy discipline of horror then commenced, to last perhaps for hours. Thepicture thus mysteriously glued to the window-panes, was the portrait ofan old man, in a crimson flowered silk dressing-gown, the folds of whichI could now describe, with a countenance embodying a strange mixture ofintellect, sensuality, and power, but withal sinister and full ofmalignant omen. His nose was hooked, like the beak of a vulture; hiseyes large, grey, and prominent, and lighted up with a more than mortalcruelty and coldness. These features were surmounted by a crimson velvetcap, the hair that peeped from under which was white with age, while theeyebrows retained their original blackness. Well I remember every line, hue, and shadow of that stony countenance, and well I may! The gaze ofthis hellish visage was fixed upon me, and mine returned it with theinexplicable fascination of nightmare, for what appeared to me to behours of agony. At last----

 The cock he crew, away then flew

the fiend who had enslaved me through the awful watches of the night;and, harassed and nervous, I rose to the duties of the day. 

I had--I can't say exactly why, but it may have been from the exquisiteanguish and profound impressions of unearthly horror, with which thisstrange phantasmagoria was associated--an insurmountable antipathy todescribing the exact nature of my nightly troubles to my friend andcomrade. Generally, however, I told him that I was haunted by abominabledreams; and, true to the imputed materialism of medicine, we put ourheads together to dispel my horrors, not by exorcism, but by a tonic. 

I will do this tonic justice, and frankly admit that the accursedportrait began to intermit its visits under its influence. What of that?Was this singular apparition--as full of character as ofterror--therefore the creature of my fancy, or the invention of my poorstomach? Was it, in short, _subjective_ (to borrow the technical slangof the day) and not the palpable aggression and intrusion of an externalagent? That, good friend, as we will both admit, by no means follows. The evil spirit, who enthralled my senses in the shape of that portrait, may have been just as near me, just as energetic, just as malignant, though I saw him not. What means the whole moral code of revealedreligion regarding the due keeping of our own bodies, soberness, temperance, etc. ? here is an obvious connexion between the material andthe invisible; the healthy tone of the system, and its unimpairedenergy, may, for aught we can tell, guard us against influences whichwould otherwise render life itself terrific. The mesmerist and theelectro-biologist will fail upon an average with nine patients out often--so may the evil spirit. Special conditions of the corporeal systemare indispensable to the production of certain spiritual phenomena. Theoperation succeeds sometimes--sometimes fails--that is all. 

I found afterwards that my would-be sceptical companion had his troublestoo. But of these I knew nothing yet. One night, for a wonder, I wassleeping soundly, when I was roused by a step on the lobby outside myroom, followed by the loud clang of what turned out to be a large brasscandlestick, flung with all his force by poor Tom Ludlow over thebanisters, and rattling with a rebound down the second flight of stairs;and almost concurrently with this, Tom burst open my door, and bouncedinto my room backwards, in a state of extraordinary agitation. 

I had jumped out of bed and clutched him by the arm before I had anydistinct idea of my own whereabouts. There we were--in ourshirts--standing before the open door--staring through the great oldbanister opposite, at the lobby window, through which the sickly lightof a clouded moon was gleaming. 

"What's the matter, Tom? What's the matter with you? What the devil'sthe matter with you, Tom?" I demanded shaking him with nervousimpatience. 

He took a long breath before he answered me, and then it was not verycoherently. 

"It's nothing, nothing at all--did I speak?--what did I say?--where'sthe candle, Richard? It's dark; I--I had a candle!"

"Yes, dark enough, " I said; "but what's the matter?--what _is_ it?--whydon't you speak, Tom?--have you lost your wits?--what is the matter?"

"The matter?--oh, it is all over. It must have been a dream--nothing atall but a dream--don't you think so? It could not be anything more thana dream. "

"Of _course_" said I, feeling uncommonly nervous, "it _was_ a dream. "

"I thought, " he said, "there was a man in my room, and--and I jumped outof bed; and--and--where's the candle?"

"In your room, most likely, " I said, "shall I go and bring it?"

"No; stay here--don't go; it's no matter--don't, I tell you; it was alla dream. Bolt the door, Dick; I'll stay here with you--I feel nervous. So, Dick, like a good fellow, light your candle and open the window--Iam in a _shocking state_. "

I did as he asked me, and robing himself like Granuaile in one of myblankets, he seated himself close beside my bed. 

Every body knows how contagious is fear of all sorts, but moreespecially that particular kind of fear under which poor Tom was at thatmoment labouring. I would not have heard, nor I believe would he haverecapitulated, just at that moment, for half the world, the details ofthe hideous vision which had so unmanned him. 

"Don't mind telling me anything about your nonsensical dream, Tom, " saidI, affecting contempt, really in a panic; "let us talk about somethingelse; but it is quite plain that this dirty old house disagrees with usboth, and hang me if I stay here any longer, to be pestered withindigestion and--and--bad nights, so we may as well look out forlodgings--don't you think so?--at once. "

Tom agreed, and, after an interval, said----

"I have been thinking, Richard, that it is a long time since I saw myfather, and I have made up my mind to go down to-morrow and return in aday or two, and you can take rooms for us in the meantime. "

I fancied that this resolution, obviously the result of the vision whichhad so profoundly scared him, would probably vanish next morning withthe damps and shadows of night. But I was mistaken. Off went Tom at peepof day to the country, having agreed that so soon as I had securedsuitable lodgings, I was to recall him by letter from his visit to myUncle Ludlow. 

Now, anxious as I was to change my quarters, it so happened, owing to aseries of petty procrastinations and accidents, that nearly a weekelapsed before my bargain was made and my letter of recall on the wingto Tom; and, in the meantime, a trifling adventure or two had occurredto your humble servant, which, absurd as they now appear, diminished bydistance, did certainly at the time serve to whet my appetite for changeconsiderably. 

A night or two after the departure of my comrade, I was sitting by mybedroom fire, the door locked, and the ingredients of a tumbler of hotwhisky-punch upon the crazy spider-table; for, as the best mode ofkeeping the

 Black spirits and white, Blue spirits and grey, with which I was environed, at bay, I had adopted the practicerecommended by the wisdom of my ancestors, and "kept my spirits up bypouring spirits down. " I had thrown aside my volume of Anatomy, and wastreating myself by way of a tonic, preparatory to my punch and bed, tohalf-a-dozen pages of the _Spectator_, when I heard a step on the flightof stairs descending from the attics. It was two o'clock, and thestreets were as silent as a churchyard--the sounds were, therefore, perfectly distinct. There was a slow, heavy tread, characterised by theemphasis and deliberation of age, descending by the narrow staircasefrom above; and, what made the sound more singular, it was plain thatthe feet which produced it were perfectly bare, measuring the descentwith something between a pound and a flop, very ugly to hear. 

I knew quite well that my attendant had gone away many hours before, andthat nobody but myself had any business in the house. It was quite plainalso that the person who was coming down stairs had no intentionwhatever of concealing his movements; but, on the contrary, appeareddisposed to make even more noise, and proceed more deliberately, thanwas at all necessary. When the step reached the foot of the stairsoutside my room, it seemed to stop; and I expected every moment to seemy door open spontaneously, and give admission to the original of mydetested portrait. I was, however, relieved in a few seconds by hearingthe descent renewed, just in the same manner, upon the staircase leadingdown to the drawing-rooms, and thence, after another pause, down thenext flight, and so on to the hall, whence I heard no more. 

Now, by the time the sound had ceased, I was wound up, as they say, to avery unpleasant pitch of excitement. I listened, but there was not astir. I screwed up my courage to a decisive experiment--opened my door, and in a stentorian voice bawled over the banisters, "Who's there?"There was no answer but the ringing of my own voice through the emptyold house, --no renewal of the movement; nothing, in short, to give myunpleasant sensations a definite direction. There is, I think, somethingmost disagreeably disenchanting in the sound of one's own voice undersuch circumstances, exerted in solitude, and in vain. It redoubled mysense of isolation, and my misgivings increased on perceiving that thedoor, which I certainly thought I had left open, was closed behind me;in a vague alarm, lest my retreat should be cut off, I got again into myroom as quickly as I could, where I remained in a state of imaginaryblockade, and very uncomfortable indeed, till morning. 

Next night brought no return of my barefooted fellow-lodger; but thenight following, being in my bed, and in the dark--somewhere, I suppose, about the same hour as before, I distinctly heard the old fellow againdescending from the garrets. 

This time I had had my punch, and the _morale_ of the garrison wasconsequently excellent. I jumped out of bed, clutched the poker as Ipassed the expiring fire, and in a moment was upon the lobby. The soundhad ceased by this time--the dark and chill were discouraging; and, guess my horror, when I saw, or thought I saw, a black monster, whetherin the shape of a man or a bear I could not say, standing, with its backto the wall, on the lobby, facing me, with a pair of great greenish eyesshining dimly out. Now, I must be frank, and confess that the cupboardwhich displayed our plates and cups stood just there, though at themoment I did not recollect it. At the same time I must honestly say, that making every allowance for an excited imagination, I never couldsatisfy myself that I was made the dupe of my own fancy in this matter;for this apparition, after one or two shiftings of shape, as if in theact of incipient transformation, began, as it seemed on second thoughts, to advance upon me in its original form. From an instinct of terrorrather than of courage, I hurled the poker, with all my force, at itshead; and to the music of a horrid crash made my way into my room, anddouble-locked the door. Then, in a minute more, I heard the horrid barefeet walk down the stairs, till the sound ceased in the hall, as on theformer occasion. 

If the apparition of the night before was an ocular delusion of my fancysporting with the dark outlines of our cupboard, and if its horrid eyeswere nothing but a pair of inverted teacups, I had, at all events, thesatisfaction of having launched the poker with admirable effect, and intrue "fancy" phrase, "knocked its two daylights into one, " as thecommingled fragments of my tea-service testified. I did my best togather comfort and courage from these evidences; but it would not do. And then what could I say of those horrid bare feet, and the regulartramp, tramp, tramp, which measured the distance of the entire staircasethrough the solitude of my haunted dwelling, and at an hour when no goodinfluence was stirring? Confound it!--the whole affair was abominable. Iwas out of spirits, and dreaded the approach of night. 

It came, ushered ominously in with a thunder-storm and dull torrents ofdepressing rain. Earlier than usual the streets grew silent; and bytwelve o'clock nothing but the comfortless pattering of the rain was tobe heard. 

I made myself as snug as I could. I lighted _two_ candles instead ofone. I forswore bed, and held myself in readiness for a sally, candle inhand; for, _coûte qui coûte_, I was resolved to _see_ the being, ifvisible at all, who troubled the nightly stillness of my mansion. I wasfidgetty and nervous and tried in vain to interest myself with my books. I walked up and down my room, whistling in turn martial and hilariousmusic, and listening ever and anon for the dreaded noise. I sate downand stared at the square label on the solemn and reserved-looking blackbottle, until "FLANAGAN & CO'S BEST OLD MALT WHISKY" grew into a sort ofsubdued accompaniment to all the fantastic and horrible speculationswhich chased one another through my brain. 

Silence, meanwhile, grew more silent, and darkness darker. I listened invain for the rumble of a vehicle, or the dull clamour of a distant row. There was nothing but the sound of a rising wind, which had succeededthe thunder-storm that had travelled over the Dublin mountains quite outof hearing. In the middle of this great city I began to feel myselfalone with nature, and Heaven knows what beside. My courage was ebbing. Punch, however, which makes beasts of so many, made a man of meagain--just in time to hear with tolerable nerve and firmness the lumpy, flabby, naked feet deliberately descending the stairs again. 

I took a candle, not without a tremour. As I crossed the floor I triedto extemporise a prayer, but stopped short to listen, and never finishedit. The steps continued. I confess I hesitated for some seconds at thedoor before I took heart of grace and opened it. When I peeped out thelobby was perfectly empty--there was no monster standing on thestaircase; and as the detested sound ceased, I was reassured enough toventure forward nearly to the banisters. Horror of horrors! within astair or two beneath the spot where I stood the unearthly tread smotethe floor. My eye caught something in motion; it was about the size ofGoliah's foot--it was grey, heavy, and flapped with a dead weight fromone step to another. As I am alive, it was the most monstrous grey rat Iever beheld or imagined. 

Shakespeare says--"Some men there are cannot abide a gaping pig, andsome that are mad if they behold a cat. " I went well-nigh out of my witswhen I beheld this _rat_; for, laugh at me as you may, it fixed upon me, I thought, a perfectly human expression of malice; and, as it shuffledabout and looked up into my face almost from between my feet, I saw, Icould swear it--I felt it then, and know it now, the infernal gaze andthe accursed countenance of my old friend in the portrait, transfusedinto the visage of the bloated vermin before me. 

I bounced into my room again with a feeling of loathing and horror Icannot describe, and locked and bolted my door as if a lion had been atthe other side. D--n him or _it_; curse the portrait and its original! Ifelt in my soul that the rat--yes, the _rat_, the RAT I had just seen, was that evil being in masquerade, and rambling through the house uponsome infernal night lark. 

Next morning I was early trudging through the miry streets; and, amongother transactions, posted a peremptory note recalling Tom. On myreturn, however, I found a note from my absent "chum, " announcing hisintended return next day. I was doubly rejoiced at this, because I hadsucceeded in getting rooms; and because the change of scene and returnof my comrade were rendered specially pleasant by the last night's halfridiculous half horrible adventure. 

I slept extemporaneously in my new quarters in Digges' Street thatnight, and next morning returned for breakfast to the haunted mansion, where I was certain Tom would call immediately on his arrival. 

I was quite right--he came; and almost his first question referred tothe primary object of our change of residence. 

"Thank God, " he said with genuine fervour, on hearing that all wasarranged. "On _your_ account I am delighted. As to myself, I assure youthat no earthly consideration could have induced me ever again to pass anight in this disastrous old house. "

"Confound the house!" I ejaculated, with a genuine mixture of fear anddetestation, "we have not had a pleasant hour since we came to livehere"; and so I went on, and related incidentally my adventure with theplethoric old rat. 

"Well, if that were _all_, " said my cousin, affecting to make light ofthe matter, "I don't think I should have minded it very much. "

"Ay, but its eye--its countenance, my dear Tom, " urged I; "if you hadseen _that_, you would have felt it might be _anything_ but what itseemed. "

"I inclined to think the best conjurer in such a case would be anable-bodied cat, " he said, with a provoking chuckle. 

"But let us hear your own adventure, " I said tartly. 

At this challenge he looked uneasily round him. I had poked up a veryunpleasant recollection. 

"You shall hear it, Dick; I'll tell it to you, " he said. "Begad, sir, Ishould feel quite queer, though, telling it _here_, though we are toostrong a body for ghosts to meddle with just now. "

Though he spoke this like a joke, I think it was serious calculation. Our Hebe was in a corner of the room, packing our cracked delft tea anddinner-services in a basket. She soon suspended operations, and withmouth and eyes wide open became an absorbed listener. Tom's experienceswere told nearly in these words:----

"I saw it three times, Dick--three distinct times; and I am perfectlycertain it meant me some infernal harm. I was, I say, in danger--in_extreme_ danger; for, if nothing else had happened, my reason wouldmost certainly have failed me, unless I had escaped so soon. Thank God. I _did_ escape. 

"The first night of this hateful disturbance, I was lying in theattitude of sleep, in that lumbering old bed. I hate to think of it. Iwas really wide awake, though I had put out my candle, and was lying asquietly as if I had been asleep; and although accidentally restless, mythoughts were running in a cheerful and agreeable channel. 

"I think it must have been two o'clock at least when I thought I heard asound in that--that odious dark recess at the far end of the bedroom. Itwas as if someone was drawing a piece of cord slowly along the floor, lifting it up, and dropping it softly down again in coils. I sate uponce or twice in my bed, but could see nothing, so I concluded it mustbe mice in the wainscot. I felt no emotion graver than curiosity, andafter a few minutes ceased to observe it. 

"While lying in this state, strange to say; without at first a suspicionof anything supernatural, on a sudden I saw an old man, rather stout andsquare, in a sort of roan-red dressing-gown, and with a black cap on hishead, moving stiffly and slowly in a diagonal direction, from therecess, across the floor of the bedroom, passing my bed at the foot, andentering the lumber-closet at the left. He had something under his arm;his head hung a little at one side; and, merciful God! when I saw hisface. "

Tom stopped for a while, and then said----

"That awful countenance, which living or dying I never can forget, disclosed what he was. Without turning to the right or left, he passedbeside me, and entered the closet by the bed's head. 

"While this fearful and indescribable type of death and guilt waspassing, I felt that I had no more power to speak or stir than if I hadbeen myself a corpse. For hours after it had disappeared, I was tooterrified and weak to move. As soon as daylight came, I took courage, and examined the room, and especially the course which the frightfulintruder had seemed to take, but there was not a vestige to indicateanybody's having passed there; no sign of any disturbing agency visibleamong the lumber that strewed the floor of the closet. 

"I now began to recover a little. I was fagged and exhausted, and atlast, overpowered by a feverish sleep. I came down late; and finding youout of spirits, on account of your dreams about the portrait, whose_original_ I am now certain disclosed himself to me, I did not care totalk about the infernal vision. In fact, I was trying to persuade myselfthat the whole thing was an illusion, and I did not like to revive intheir intensity the hated impressions of the past night--or to risk theconstancy of my scepticism, by recounting the tale of my sufferings. 

"It required some nerve, I can tell you, to go to my haunted chambernext night, and lie down quietly in the same bed, " continued Tom. "I didso with a degree of trepidation, which, I am not ashamed to say, a verylittle matter would have sufficed to stimulate to downright panic. Thisnight, however, passed off quietly enough, as also the next; and so toodid two or three more. I grew more confident, and began to fancy that Ibelieved in the theories of spectral illusions, with which I had atfirst vainly tried to impose upon my convictions. 

"The apparition had been, indeed, altogether anomalous. It had crossedthe room without any recognition of my presence: I had not disturbed_it_, and _it_ had no mission to _me_. What, then, was the imaginableuse of its crossing the room in a visible shape at all? Of course itmight have _been_ in the closet instead of _going_ there, as easily asit introduced itself into the recess without entering the chamber in ashape discernible by the senses. Besides, how the deuce _had_ I seen it?It was a dark night; I had no candle; there was no fire; and yet I sawit as distinctly, in colouring and outline, as ever I beheld human form!A cataleptic dream would explain it all; and I was determined that adream it should be. 

"One of the most remarkable phenomena connected with the practice ofmendacity is the vast number of deliberate lies we tell ourselves, whom, of all persons, we can least expect to deceive. In all this, I needhardly tell you, Dick, I was simply lying to myself, and did not believeone word of the wretched humbug. Yet I went on, as men will do, likepersevering charlatans and impostors, who tire people into credulity bythe mere force of reiteration; so I hoped to win myself over at last toa comfortable scepticism about the ghost. 

"He had not appeared a second time--that certainly was a comfort; andwhat, after all, did I care for him, and his queer old toggery andstrange looks? Not a fig! I was nothing the worse for having seen him, and a good story the better. So I tumbled into bed, put out my candle, and, cheered by a loud drunken quarrel in the back lane, went fastasleep. 

"From this deep slumber I awoke with a start. I knew I had had ahorrible dream; but what it was I could not remember. My heart wasthumping furiously; I felt bewildered and feverish; I sate up in the bedand looked about the room. A broad flood of moonlight came in throughthe curtainless window; everything was as I had last seen it; and thoughthe domestic squabble in the back lane was, unhappily for me, allayed, Iyet could hear a pleasant fellow singing, on his way home, the thenpopular comic ditty called, 'Murphy Delany. ' Taking advantage of thisdiversion I lay down again, with my face towards the fireplace, andclosing my eyes, did my best to think of nothing else but the song, which was every moment growing fainter in the distance:----

 "'Twas Murphy Delany, so funny and frisky, Stept into a shebeen shop to get his skin full; He reeled out again pretty well lined with whiskey, As fresh as a shamrock, as blind as a bull. 

"The singer, whose condition I dare say resembled that of his hero, wassoon too far off to regale my ears any more; and as his music died away, I myself sank into a doze, neither sound nor refreshing. Somehow thesong had got into my head, and I went meandering on through theadventures of my respectable fellow-countryman, who, on emerging fromthe 'shebeen shop, ' fell into a river, from which he was fished up to be'sat upon' by a coroner's jury, who having learned from a 'horse-doctor'that he was 'dead as a door-nail, so there was an end, ' returned theirverdict accordingly, just as he returned to his senses, when an angryaltercation and a pitched battle between the body and the coroner windsup the lay with due spirit and pleasantry. 

"Through this ballad I continued with a weary monotony to plod, down tothe very last line, and then _da capo_, and so on, in my uncomfortablehalf-sleep, for how long, I can't conjecture. I found myself at last, however, muttering, '_dead_ as a door-nail, so there was an end'; andsomething like another voice within me, seemed to say, very faintly, butsharply, 'dead! dead! _dead_! and may the Lord have mercy on your soul!'and instantaneously I was wide awake, and staring right before me fromthe pillow. 

"Now--will you believe it, Dick?--I saw the same accursed figurestanding full front, and gazing at me with its stony and fiendishcountenance, not two yards from the bedside. "

Tom stopped here, and wiped the perspiration from his face. I felt veryqueer. The girl was as pale as Tom; and, assembled as we were in thevery scene of these adventures, we were all, I dare say, equallygrateful for the clear daylight and the resuming bustle out of doors. 

"For about three seconds only I saw it plainly; then it grew indistinct;but, for a long time, there was something like a column of dark vapourwhere it had been standing, between me and the wall; and I felt surethat he was still there. After a good while, this appearance went too. Itook my clothes downstairs to the hall, and dressed there, with the doorhalf open; then went out into the street, and walked about the town tillmorning, when I came back, in a miserable state of nervousness andexhaustion. I was such a fool, Dick, as to be ashamed to tell you how Icame to be so upset. I thought you would laugh at me; especially as Ihad always talked philosophy, and treated _your_ ghosts with contempt. Iconcluded you would give me no quarter; and so kept my tale of horror tomyself. 

"Now, Dick, you will hardly believe me, when I assure you, that for manynights after this last experience, I did not go to my room at all. Iused to sit up for a while in the drawing-room after you had gone up toyour bed; and then steal down softly to the hall-door, let myself out, and sit in the 'Robin Hood' tavern until the last guest went off; andthen I got through the night like a sentry, pacing the streets tillmorning. 

"For more than a week I never slept in bed. I sometimes had a snooze ona form in the 'Robin Hood, ' and sometimes a nap in a chair during theday; but regular sleep I had absolutely none. 

"I was quite resolved that we should get into another house; but I couldnot bring myself to tell you the reason, and I somehow put it off fromday to day, although my life was, during every hour of thisprocrastination, rendered as miserable as that of a felon with theconstables on his track. I was growing absolutely ill from this wretchedmode of life. 

"One afternoon I determined to enjoy an hour's sleep upon your bed. Ihated mine; so that I had never, except in a stealthy visit every day tounmake it, lest Martha should discover the secret of my nightly absence, entered the ill-omened chamber. 

"As ill-luck would have it, you had locked your bedroom, and taken awaythe key. I went into my own to unsettle the bedclothes, as usual, andgive the bed the appearance of having been slept in. Now, a variety ofcircumstances concurred to bring about the dreadful scene through whichI was that night to pass. In the first place, I was literallyoverpowered with fatigue, and longing for sleep; in the next place, theeffect of this extreme exhaustion upon my nerves resembled that of anarcotic, and rendered me less susceptible than, perhaps, I should inany other condition have been, of the exciting fears which had becomehabitual to me. Then again, a little bit of the window was open, apleasant freshness pervaded the room, and, to crown all, the cheerfulsun of day was making the room quite pleasant. What was to prevent myenjoying an hour's nap _here_? The whole air was resonant with thecheerful hum of life, and the broad matter-of-fact light of day filledevery corner of the room. 

"I yielded--stifling my qualms--to the almost overpowering temptation;and merely throwing off my coat, and loosening my cravat, I lay down, limiting myself to _half_-an-hour's doze in the unwonted enjoyment of afeather bed, a coverlet, and a bolster. 

"It was horribly insidious; and the demon, no doubt, marked myinfatuated preparations. Dolt that I was, I fancied, with mind and bodyworn out for want of sleep, and an arrear of a full week's rest to mycredit, that such measure as _half_-an-hour's sleep, in such asituation, was possible. My sleep was death-like, long, and dreamless. 

"Without a start or fearful sensation of any kind, I waked gently, butcompletely. It was, as you have good reason to remember, long pastmidnight--I believe, about two o'clock. When sleep has been deep andlong enough to satisfy nature thoroughly, one often wakens in this way, suddenly, tranquilly, and completely. 

"There was a figure seated in that lumbering, old sofa-chair, near thefireplace. Its back was rather towards me, but I could not be mistaken;it turned slowly round, and, merciful heavens! there was the stony face, with its infernal lineaments of malignity and despair, gloating on me. There was now no doubt as to its consciousness of my presence, and thehellish malice with which it was animated, for it arose, and drew closeto the bedside. There was a rope about its neck, and the other end, coiled up, it held stiffly in its hand. 

"My good angel nerved me for this horrible crisis. I remained for someseconds transfixed by the gaze of this tremendous phantom. He came closeto the bed, and appeared on the point of mounting upon it. The nextinstant I was upon the floor at the far side, and in a moment more was, I don't know how, upon the lobby. 

"But the spell was not yet broken; the valley of the shadow of death wasnot yet traversed. The abhorred phantom was before me there; it wasstanding near the banisters, stooping a little, and with one end of therope round its own neck, was poising a noose at the other, as if tothrow over mine; and while engaged in this baleful pantomime, it wore asmile so sensual, so unspeakably dreadful, that my senses were nearlyoverpowered. I saw and remember nothing more, until I found myself inyour room. 

"I had a wonderful escape, Dick--there is no disputing _that_--an escapefor which, while I live, I shall bless the mercy of heaven. No one canconceive or imagine what it is for flesh and blood to stand in thepresence of such a thing, but one who has had the terrific experience. Dick, Dick, a shadow has passed over me--a chill has crossed my bloodand marrow, and I will never be the same again--never, Dick--never!"

Our handmaid, a mature girl of two-and-fifty, as I have said, stayed herhand, as Tom's story proceeded, and by little and little drew near tous, with open mouth, and her brows contracted over her little, beadyblack eyes, till stealing a glance over her shoulder now and then, sheestablished herself close behind us. During the relation, she had madevarious earnest comments, in an undertone; but these and herejaculations, for the sake of brevity and simplicity, I have omitted inmy narration. 

"It's often I heard tell of it, " she now said, "but I never believed itrightly till now--though, indeed, why should not I? Does not my mother, down there in the lane, know quare stories, God bless us, beyant tellingabout it? But you ought not to have slept in the back bedroom. She wasloath to let me be going in and out of that room even in the day time, let alone for any Christian to spend the night in it; for sure she saysit was his own bedroom. "

"_Whose_ own bedroom?" we asked, in a breath. 

"Why, _his_--the ould Judge's--Judge Horrock's, to be sure, God rest hissowl"; and she looked fearfully round. 

"Amen!" I muttered. "But did he die there?"

"Die there! No, not quite _there_, " she said. "Shure, was not it overthe banisters he hung himself, the ould sinner, God be merciful to usall? and was not it in the alcove they found the handles of theskipping-rope cut off, and the knife where he was settling the cord, Godbless us, to hang himself with? It was his housekeeper's daughter ownedthe rope, my mother often told me, and the child never throve after, andused to be starting up out of her sleep, and screeching in the nighttime, wid dhrames and frights that cum an her; and they said how it wasthe speerit of the ould Judge that was tormentin' her; and she used tobe roaring and yelling out to hould back the big ould fellow with thecrooked neck; and then she'd screech 'Oh, the master! the master! he'sstampin' at me, and beckoning to me! Mother, darling, don't let me go!'And so the poor crathure died at last, and the docthers said it waswather on the brain, for it was all they could say. "

"How long ago was all this?" I asked. 

"Oh, then, how would I know?" she answered. "But it must be a wondherfullong time ago, for the housekeeper was an ould woman, with a pipe in hermouth, and not a tooth left, and better nor eighty years ould when mymother was first married; and they said she was a rale buxom, fine-dressed woman when the ould Judge come to his end; an', indeed, mymother's not far from eighty years ould herself this day; and what madeit worse for the unnatural ould villain, God rest his soul, to frightenthe little girl out of the world the way he did, was what was mostlythought and believed by every one. My mother says how the poor littlecrathure was his own child; for he was by all accounts an ould villainevery way, an' the hangin'est judge that ever was known in Ireland'sground. "

"From what you said about the danger of sleeping in that bedroom, " saidI, "I suppose there were stories about the ghost having appeared thereto others. "

"Well, there was things said--quare things, surely, " she answered, as itseemed, with some reluctance. "And why would not there? Sure was it notup in that same room he slept for more than twenty years? and was it notin the _alcove_ he got the rope ready that done his own business atlast, the way he done many a betther man's in his lifetime?--and was notthe body lying in the same bed after death, and put in the coffin there, too, and carried out to his grave from it in Pether's churchyard, afterthe coroner was done? But there was quare stories--my mother has themall--about how one Nicholas Spaight got into trouble on the head of it. "

"And what did they say of this Nicholas Spaight?" I asked. 

"Oh, for that matther, it's soon told, " she answered. 

And she certainly did relate a very strange story, which so piqued mycuriosity, that I took occasion to visit the ancient lady, her mother, from whom I learned many very curious particulars. Indeed, I am temptedto tell the tale, but my fingers are weary, and I must defer it. But ifyou wish to hear it another time, I shall do my best. 

When we had heard the strange tale I have _not_ told you, we put one ortwo further questions to her about the alleged spectral visitations, towhich the house had, ever since the death of the wicked old Judge, beensubjected. 

"No one ever had luck in it, " she told us. "There was always crossaccidents, sudden deaths, and short times in it. The first that tuck, itwas a family--I forget their name--but at any rate there was two youngladies and their papa. He was about sixty, and a stout healthy gentlemanas you'd wish to see at that age. Well, he slept in that unlucky backbedroom; and, God between us an' harm! sure enough he was found dead onemorning, half out of the bed, with his head as black as a sloe, andswelled like a puddin', hanging down near the floor. It was a fit, theysaid. He was as dead as a mackerel, and so _he_ could not say what itwas; but the ould people was all sure that it was nothing at all but theould Judge, God bless us! that frightened him out of his senses and hislife together. 

"Some time after there was a rich old maiden lady took the house. Idon't know which room _she_ slept in, but she lived alone; and at anyrate, one morning, the servants going down early to their work, foundher sitting on the passage-stairs, shivering and talkin' to herself, quite mad; and never a word more could any of _them_ or her friends getfrom her ever afterwards but, 'Don't ask me to go, for I promised towait for him. ' They never made out from her who it was she meant by_him_, but of course those that knew all about the ould house were at noloss for the meaning of all that happened to her. 

"Then afterwards, when the house was let out in lodgings, there wasMicky Byrne that took the same room, with his wife and three littlechildren; and sure I heard Mrs. Byrne myself telling how the childrenused to be lifted up in the bed at night, she could not see by whatmains; and how they were starting and screeching every hour, just all asone as the housekeeper's little girl that died, till at last one nightpoor Micky had a dhrop in him, the way he used now and again; and whatdo you think in the middle of the night he thought he heard a noise onthe stairs, and being in liquor, nothing less id do him but out he mustgo himself to see what was wrong. Well, after that, all she ever heardof him was himself sayin', 'Oh, God!' and a tumble that shook the veryhouse; and there, sure enough, he was lying on the lower stairs, underthe lobby, with his neck smashed double undher him, where he was flungover the banisters. "

Then the handmaiden added----

"I'll go down to the lane, and send up Joe Gavvey to pack up the rest ofthe taythings, and bring all the things across to your new lodgings. "

And so we all sallied out together, each of us breathing more freely, Ihave no doubt, as we crossed that ill-omened threshold for the lasttime. 

Now, I may add thus much, in compliance with the immemorial usage of therealm of fiction, which sees the hero not only through his adventures, but fairly out of the world. You must have perceived that what theflesh, blood, and bone hero of romance proper is to the regularcompounder of fiction, this old house of brick, wood, and mortar is tothe humble recorder of this true tale. I, therefore, relate, as in dutybound, the catastrophe which ultimately befell it, which was simplythis--that about two years subsequently to my story it was taken by aquack doctor, who called himself Baron Duhlstoerf, and filled theparlour windows with bottles of indescribable horrors preserved inbrandy, and the newspapers with the usual grandiloquent and mendaciousadvertisements. This gentleman among his virtues did not reckonsobriety, and one night, being overcome with much wine, he set fire tohis bed curtains, partially burned himself, and totally consumed thehouse. It was afterwards rebuilt, and for a time an undertakerestablished himself in the premises. 

I have now told you my own and Tom's adventures, together with somevaluable collateral particulars; and having acquitted myself of myengagement, I wish you a very good night, and pleasant dreams.