Johnny Ludlow First Series Part 85

"Lawk a mercy!--not a living creature in it but the ghost!" quaked Luke.

As I have said, this was not much from Luke, taking what he was into consideration; but it was to be confirmed by others. One of the Coneys'

maid-servants came along, as we stood there, on her way from North Crabb. A sensible, respectable woman, with no nonsense about her in general; but she looked almost as scared as Luke now.

"You don't mean to say _you_ have seen it, Dinah?" cried Tom, staring at her.

"Yes, I have, sir."

"What! seen David Garth?"

"Well, I suppose it was him. It was something at the window, in white, that looked like him, Mr. Tom."

"Did you go on purpose to look for it, Dinah?" asked Tom ironically.

"The way I happened to go was this, sir. James Hill overtook me coming out of North Crabb: he was going up to Willow Cottage to speak to Roe; and I thought I'd walk with him, instead of taking the road. Not but what he's a beauty to walk with, _he_ is, after his cruelty to his wife's boy," broke off Dinah: "but company is company on a solitary road at night. When we got to the cottage, Hill knocked; I stayed a minute to say how-d'ye-do to Mrs. Roe, for I've not seen her yet. n.o.body answered the door; the place looked all dark and empty. 'They must be out for the evening, I should think,' says Hill: and with that he steps back and looks up at the windows. 'Lord be good to us! what's that?' says he, when he had got round where he could see the end cas.e.m.e.nt. I went to him, and found him standing like a pump, just as stiff and upright, his hands clutched hold of one another, and his eyes staring up at the panes in mortal terror. 'What is it?' says I. 'It's Davvy,' says he; but the voice didn't sound like Hill's voice, and it scared me a bit. 'Yes, it's him,' says Hill; 'he have got on the sheet as was wrapped round him to carry him to the shed. I--I lodged him again that there window to make the turning; the stairs was awk'ard,' went on Hill, as if he was speaking again the grain, but couldn't help himself.--And sure enough, Mr. Tom--sure enough, Master Ludlow, there was David."

"Nonsense, Dinah!" cried Tom Coney.

"I saw him quite well, sir, in the white sheet," said Dinah. "The moon was s.h.i.+ning on the window a'most as bright as day."

"It were brighter nor day," eagerly put in Luke Macintosh. "You'll believe me now, Mr. Tom."

"I'd not believe it if I saw it," said Tom Coney.

"As we stood looking up, me laying hold of Hill's arm," resumed Dinah, as if she had not told all her tale, "there came a loud whistling and shouting behind. Which was young Jim Batley, bringing some message from them sisters of his to Harriet Roe. I bade him hush his noise, but he only danced and mocked at me; so then I told him the cottage was empty, except for David Garth. That hushed him. He came stealing up, and stood by me, staring. You should have seen his face change, Mr. Tom."

"Was he frightened?"

"Frightened is hardly the word for it, sir. His teeth began to chatter, as if he had a fit; and down he went at last like a stone, face first, howling fearful. We couldn't hardly get him up again to come away, me and Hill. And as to the ghost, Mr. Tom, it _was_ still there."

"Well, it is a queer tale," acknowledged Tom Coney.

"We made for the road, all three of us then, and I turned on here--and I didn't half like coming by the barn where Maria Lease saw Daniel Ferrar," candidly added Dinah. "T'other two went on their opposite way, Jim never letting go of Hill's coat-tails."

There was no more Pope Joan that night. We carried the story indoors; and I mentioned also what had been said to Miss Timmens. The Squire and old Coney laughed.

With David Garth's ghost to be seen, it could not be supposed that I, or Tod, or Tom Coney, should stay away from the sight. When we reached the place, some twenty people had collected round the house. Jim Batley had told the tale in North Crabb.

But curious watchers had seen nothing. Neither did we. For the bright night had changed to darkness. A huge curtain of cloud had come up from the south, covering the moon and the best part of the sky, as a pall covers a coffin. If gazing could have brought a ghost to the window, there would a.s.suredly have been one. The cas.e.m.e.nt was at the end of the house; serving to light the narrow upstairs pa.s.sage. A huge cherry-tree hid the cas.e.m.e.nt in summer; very slightly its bare branches obscured it now.

A sound, as of some panting animal, came up beside me as I leaned on the side palings. I turned; and saw the bailiff. Some terrible power of fascination had brought him back again, against his will.

"So it is gone, Hill, you see."

"It's not gone, Mr. Johnny," was his answer. "For some of our sights, it'll never go away again. You look well at the right-hand side, sir, and see if you don't see some'at white there."

Peering steadily, I thought I did see something white--as of a face above a white garment. But it might have been fancy.

"Us as saw _him_ couldn't mistake it for fancy," was Hill's rejoinder.

"There was three on us: me, and Dinah up at Coney's, and that there imp of a Jim Batley."

"Some one saw it before you did, Hill. At least he says so. Luke Macintosh. He was scared out of his senses."

The effect of these words on Hill was such, that I quite believed he was scared out of _his_. He clasped his hands in wild emotion, and turned up his eyes to give thanks.

"It's ret'ibution a working its ends, Mr. Ludlow. See it first, did he!

And I hope to my heart he'll see it afore his eyes evermore. If that there Macintosh had not played a false and coward's game, no harm 'ud ha' come to Davvy."

The crowd increased. The Squire and old Coney came up, and told the whole a.s.semblage that they were born idiots. Of course, with nothing to be seen, it looked as though we all were that. In the midst of it, making quietly for the back-door, as though he had come home through Crabb Ravine from Timberdale, I espied Louis Roe. Saying nothing to any one, I went round and told him.

"David Garth's ghost in the place!" he exclaimed. "Why, it will frighten my wife to death. Of course there's nothing of the sort; but women are so foolishly timid."

I said his wife was not there. Roe took a key from his pocket, unlocked the back-door, and went in. He was talking to me, and I stepped over the threshold to the kitchen, into which the door opened. He began feeling on the shelf for matches, and could not find any.

"There's a box in the bedroom, I know," he said; and went stumbling upstairs.

Down he came, after a minute or so, with the matches, struck one, and lighted a candle. Opening the front door, he showed himself, explained that he had just come home, and complained of the commotion.

"There's no such thing in this lower world as ghosts," said Roe.

"Whoever pretends to see them must be either drunk or mad. As to this house--well, some of you had better walk in and re-a.s.sure yourselves.

You are welcome."

He was taken at his word. A few came in, and went looking about for the ghost, upstairs and down. Writing about it now, it seems to have been the most ridiculous thing in the world. Nothing was to be found.

The narrow pa.s.sage above, where David had stood, was empty. "As if supernatural visitants waited while you looked for them!" cried the superst.i.tious crowd outside.

It is easier to raise a disturbance of this kind than to allay it, and the ghost-seers stayed on. The heavy cloud in the heavens rolled away by-and-by; and the moon came out, and shone on the cas.e.m.e.nt again. But neither David Garth nor anything else was then to be seen there.

The night's commotion pa.s.sed away, but not the rumours. That David Garth's spirit could not rest, but came back to trouble the earth, especially that spot known as Willow Cottage, was accepted as a fact.

People would go stealing up there at night, three or four of them arm-in-arm, and stand staring at the cas.e.m.e.nt, and walk round the cottage. Nothing more was to be seen--perhaps because there was no moon to light up the window. Harriet Roe was at home again with her husband; but she did not go abroad much: and her face seemed to wear a sort of uneasy terror. "The fear of seeing _him_ is wearing her heart out; why does Roe stop in the place?" said North Crabb: and though Harriet had never been much of a favourite, she had plenty of sympathy now.

It soon came to be known in a gradual sort of way that a visitor was staying at Willow Cottage. A young woman fas.h.i.+onably dressed, who was called Mrs. James; and who was said to be the wife of James Roe, Louis Roe's elder brother. Some people declared that a man was also there: they had seen one. Harriet denied it. An acquaintance of her husband's, a Mr. Duffy, had been over to see them from Birmingham, she said, but he went back again. She was not believed.

What with the ghost, and what with the mystery attaching to its inhabitants, Willow Cottage was a great card just then. If you ask me to explain what mystery there could be, I cannot do so: all I know is, an idea that there was something of the kind, apart from David, dawned upon many minds in North Crabb. Miss Timmens spoke it openly. She did not like Harriet's looks, and said that something or other was killing her. And Susan Timmens considered it her duty to try and come to the bottom of it.

At all sorts of hours, seasonable and unseasonable, Miss Timmens presented herself at Willow Cottage. Rarely alone. Sometimes Mrs. Hill would be with her; or it would be Maria Lease; or one of the Batley girls; and once it was young Jim. Louis Roe grew to feel annoyed at this; he told Harriet he would not have confounded people coming there, prying; and he closed the door against them. So, the next time Miss Timmens went, she found the door bolted in the most inhospitable manner.

Harriet threw open the parlour window to speak to her.

"Louis says he won't have any more visitors calling here just now; not even you, Aunt Susan."

"What does he say that for?" snapped Miss Timmens.

"We came down here to be quiet: he has some accounts to go over, and can't be disturbed at them. So perhaps you'll stay away, Aunt Susan.

I'll come to the school-house sometimes instead."

It was the dusk of the evenings but Miss Timmens could see the fearful look of illness on Harriet's face. She was also trembling.