CHAPTER IV.

THE HAUNTED ROOM.

"What form is that? The stony clenching of the bared teeth-- The gory socket that the balls have burst from-- I see them all, It moves---it moves--it rises--it comes on me."--BERTRAM.

Under the guidance of young Guy Campbell, Willard Drummond and Sibyl ascended the steep rocky path leading to Campbell Lodge. Captain Guy bounded over the rocks with the agility of a deer, while his two companions more leisurely followed.

"Yonder is my island-home, old Campbell Castle," said Sibyl, as an abrupt turn in the rough road brought them full in view of the mansion-house. "It is nearly three years now since I have seen it."

Both paused as if involuntarily to contemplate it. Years and neglect had performed their usual work of destruction on the lodge. The windows were broken in many places, and the great gate before the house, hung useless and fallen off it rusty hinges. The coarse, red sandstone of which it had been originally built, was now black with age and the many storms that had beat against it. No lights were to be seen, no smoke issued from the tall chimneys, all looked black, gloomy and deserted. The swallows had built their nests in the eaves and ruined gables, and even the tall, dark, spectral pines that formed an avenue to the dilapidated gate-way, had a forlorn and dismal look. In the pale, bright moonlight, the ruined homestead of the Campbells looked cold, bleak, and uninviting. Even the long, gloomy shadows from the trees, as they lay on the ground, seemed to the superstitious mind of Sibyl, like unearthly hands waving them away. She shuddered with a chill feeling of dread, and clung closer to the arm of Drummond:

"Quite a remarkable looking old place, this," said the young man, gayly. "Really charming in its gloomy grandeur, and highly suggestive of ghosts and rats, and other vermin of a like nature," while he inwardly muttered: "Dismal old hole; even Sibyl's bright eyes can hardly recompense me for burying myself in such a rickety dungeon."

"It has not a very hospitable look, I must say," said its young mistress, with a smile; "but in spite of its forbidding aspect, I hope we will be able, by some means, to make your stay here endurable."

"A desert would seem a paradise to me with you near by," said Drummond, in his low, lover-like tones. "My only regret is, that our stay here is destined to be so short."

The dark, bright face of the young island-girl flushed with pleasure; but ere she could reply, the hall-door was thrown open, and Captain Campbell stood, hat in hand, before them.

"Welcome to Campbell Castle," he said, with gay courtesy, stepping aside to let them enter.

"Thank you," said Drummond, bowing gravely, while he glanced with some curiosity around, to see if the interior looked more inviting than the exterior.

They stood in a long, wide hall, high and spacious, which the light of the flickering candle Captain Campbell held strove in vain to illuminate. At the further extremity a winding staircase rose up, until it was lost in the gloom above. Two wide, black doors flanked the hall on either side, and Captain Campbell threw open that on the right, saying:

"This I have discovered, upon investigation to be at present the only habitable apartment in the house. Woeful are the accounts I have received from worthy Aunt Moll and her son and heir, Lemuel, of the state of the chimneys. The swallows have built their nests in the only one that ever did draw respectably, and all the rest leak at such a rate every time it rains that the fire is not only completely extinguished, but the rooms filled with water."

"And what in the world are we to do, brother?" asked Sibyl, in dismay at this unpromising picture.

"Why, we must make the best we can of a bad bargain. I have sent Lem--much against his will, I must say, for the young man is disagreeably afflicted with laziness--to take the swallows' nests out of the chimney and make a fire there, while Aunt Moll does all the other et ceteras necessary for receiving as its inmate Her Majesty the Queen of the Isle. Then, as there is but one other habitable room in the house, Signor Drummond must occupy it, although it has not the most pleasant reputation in the world."

"How is that?" asked Drummond, drawing up a chair and seating himself in front of the fire, that, thanks to the exertions of Captain Campbell, was already burning brightly on the hearth.

"Why, to tell the truth, Aunt Moll and her hopeful son assert it to be haunted, as it most probably is by rats. If you are willing to trust yourself to the ghost's mercy, I can freely promise you safety from all other dangers."

"Haunted? By Jove, that's capital! I have been wishing all my life to see a genuine ghost, and lo! the time has come at last. But what manner of ghost is it, saith the legend--fair or foul, old or young, handsome or hideous?"

"On that point I am distressingly short of information. Lem's description is rather vague. He describes it as being 'higher than anything at all, with fire coming out of its eyes, long hair reaching to the ground, and dressed in white.'"

"Oh, of course!" said Drummond. "Who ever heard of a ghost that wasn't dressed in white? 'Pon my honor, I am quite enchanted at the opportunity of making the acquaintance of its ghostship."

During this conversation Sibyl had left the room "on hospitable thoughts intent," and now returned to announce that supper was already progressing rapidly--most welcome news to our hungry gentlemen.

Sibyl had taken off her hat, and now her raven curls fell in heavy tresses to her waist. In the shadow, those glittering ringlets looked intensely black; but where the firelight fell upon them, a sort of red light shone through.

As she moved through the high, shadowy rooms, with the graceful, airy motion that lent a charm to the commonest action, Willard Drummond, following her with his eyes, felt a secret sense of exultation, as he thought this magnificent creature was his, and his alone. This bright, impassioned sea-nymph; this beautiful, radiant daughter of a noble race; this royal, though dowerless island-queen, loved him above all created beings. Had she not told him as he whispered in her willing ear his passionate words of love, that he was dearer to her than all the world besides? Some day he would make her his wife, and take her with him to his princely home in Virginia; and he thought, with new exultation, of the sensation this glorious planet would make among the lesser stars of his native State.

So thought and argued Willard Drummond in the first flush and delirium of love.

He did not stop to think that he had loved with even more intensity once before; that he had raved even in a like manner of another far less bright than this queenly Sibyl. He did not stop to think that even so he might love again.

No. Everything was forgotten but the intoxicating girl before him, with her sparkling face, her glorious eyes of jet, and her flashing, sun-bright hair.

From the rhapsody of passion--from the seventh heaven of his day-dreams, he was at last recalled by the voice of Sibyl herself summoning him to supper.

He looked up with a start, half inclined to be provoked at this sudden summons from his ideal world to the vulgar reality of a supper of hot-cakes, tea, and preserves. But there sat Sibyl at the head of the table, bright and smiling--beautifying even the dull routine of the tea-table with the charm of her presence. And then, too--now that this airy vision was gone--Mr. Willard Drummond began to recollect that he was very hungry, and that "dreams and visions" were, after all, very unsubstantial things, compared with the bread and butter of every-day life, degrading as the confession was.

Guy had already taken his place, so Willard took the seat his young host pointed out to him, and the business of the tea-table commenced.

When the meal was over, Aunt Moll cleared the table, and the three gathered round the fire--for, though the weather was warm, the great unaired room was chill enough to render the fire pleasant.

By degrees, perhaps it was owing to the strange, dreary loneliness of the place, the conversation turned upon deserted houses, bold robberies, murders, and by a natural consequence, upon ghosts.

Willard and Captain Campbell seemed striving to outvie each other in telling the most frightful tales, the latter taxing his imagination to invent them, when the original failed to produce the necessary degree of horror. Every one knows what a strange fascination such ghostly legends have, the hours passed almost unnoticed, and it was only when the fire burned low on the hearth, and the solitary candle guttered in the socket before going out, that our party became aware of the lateness of the hour.

"Well, we have been profitably spending the evening, I must say," remarked Captain Campbell, rising, with a laugh. "You should have been in bed an hour ago, Sibyl. Here! Aunt Moll," he cried, going to the door, "bring us lights, and show Mr. Drummond to his room."

He waited for a response, but none came, only the echo of his own voice sounded dolefully through the hall.

"Hallo! Aunt Moll, I say--Lem, bring candles," once more called Captain Campbell. Again he waited for an answer, and again none came. "Confound it!" he muttered, turning away, "the sleepy-headed pair have doubtless been in bed for the last three hours, and are as sound as the Seven Sleepers by this time."

"Never mind, Guy," said Sibyl, laughing at his rueful face, "I'll go. Aunt Moll and Lem are tired, doubtless, with their extraordinary exertions this evening, and it would be a pity to wake them."

She quitted the room as she spoke, in the direction of the kitchen, in search of lights.

And presently she reappeared, and announcing that Aunt Moll was stretched out on her pallet, before the kitchen fire, asleep, she took her light, and bidding them a smiling good-night, left them to seek her own room.

And Captain Campbell, taking a candle, preceded his guest in the direction of the "haunted chamber."

Willard Drummond entered, and looked round. It was a high, wide, spacious chamber, as were all in the house, with floors, doors, and casements of dark, polished oak, black now with time and use. In the wide fire-place at one end, a fire had been burning all the evening, but only the red, smouldering embers remained now. At the other end of the room, opposite the fire, was his bed, and between them, facing the door, was a deep dormer window. The room looked cheerful and pleasant, and throwing himself into an easy, old-fashioned arm-chair before the fire, he exclaimed:

"Well, in spite of all the ghosts and hobgoblins that ever walked at 'noon of night,' I shall sleep here as sound as a top until morning. Your ghost will have to give me a pretty vigorous shaking before I awake, when once I close my eyes."

"Perhaps the ghost, if in the least timorous, will not appear to so undaunted an individual as yourself. May your dreams be undisturbed! Good-night!" And placing the light on the table Captain Campbell left the room.

Willard's first care was to lock the door securely, and then carefully examine the room. There was no other means of ingress but the one by which he had entered, and the room did not seem to communicate with any other. The window was high above the ground, and firmly nailed down. Clearly, then, if the ghost entered at all it must assume its ghostly prerogative of coming through the keyhole--for there was no other means by which ghost or mortal could get in.

Satisfied with this, Willard Drummond went to bed, but in spite of all his efforts sleep would not come. Vain were all his attempts to woo the drowsy god; he could only toss restlessly from side to side, with that feeling of irritation which want of sleep produces.

The moonlight streaming in through the window filled the room with silvery radiance. The silence of death reigned around, unbroken even by the watch-dog's bark. The dull, heavy roar of the waves, breaking on the shore like far-off thunder, was the only sound to be heard. And at last, with this eerie, ghostly lullaby, Willard Drummond fell into a feverish sleep.

And sleeping, he dreamed. He was in a comfortably furnished home, and was recovering from a serious illness. Just well enough to be up, he sat in a chair made comfortable for his back by pillows. He had been reading, and, as he saw Sibyl enter the room in a neat-fitting white-merino morning-robe, he let his book fall to the floor, while she dropped on her knees beside him, and, with loving anxiety beaming from her brilliant eyes, glanced into his face.

Then the scene abruptly changed, and he seemed wandering on the verge of a precipice, treading a path so narrow and precarious that a single false step would hurl him to certain destruction down the unfathomable gulf below. Where that path was to end he knew not, but a white robed siren, with shining golden hair and smiling eyes and lips, went before him and lured him on. An inward voice seemed whispering him to beware, that the path he was treading must end in death; but the smiling eyes of the golden-haired tempter were beaming upon him, and the voice whispered in vain. Above every steep crag, as he passed, the wild black eyes of Sibyl seemed gleaming with deadly hatred and fierce malignity on him; but even those dark, warning eyes could not tempt him back from the road he was treading. Suddenly the siren vanished; he sprang after her, and fell down, down, down into the awful gulf below.

A wild laugh rang out on the air, and Sibyl was bending above him, holding a glittering dagger to his heart, while her great black eyes burned like two flames. He held out his hands for mercy, but she only mocked him with her deriding black eyes, and raised the knife to plunge it into his heart.

With a cry of terror he awoke to find it not all a dream.

An icy cold hand lay on his face.

He sprang up in bed with a thrill of horror, to behold a white, wild face, with vacant, unearthly eyes and long, streaming hair bending over him.

Paralyzed by the sudden apparition, he sat, unable to move or speak, and ere he could fully recover his senses the ghostly visitant was gone.

He sprang out of bed and seized the door. It was locked as he had left it, and, with his blood curdling, he stood rooted to the ground.

Morally and physically Willard Drummond was brave, but this midnight visit from a supernatural being might have chilled the blood of the most undaunted. Sleep now was out of the question; therefore, seating himself by the window, he prepared to wait for the approach of morning. The moon was already sinking behind the western horizon, bathing the placid river in its soft beams. The morning star shone bright and serene in the cloudless blue sky; and, gazing on the calm beauty without, the young man's pulse ceased its feverish throbbings, and he began striving to account for this ghostly visit by natural means.

But he strove in vain. The door was firmly locked, and there could be no secret passage through those strong, oaken walls. Then he arose, and carefully searched every crevice in the room that could by any possibility be made a hiding-place of. Still in vain. The room contained no living thing but himself.

Morning was now growing red in the east, and, exhausted with watching, he threw himself on the bed, and fell into a deep dreamless sleep, from which he did not awake until the sun was high in the heavens.

He sprang hastily out of bed, and proceeded to dress himself. And now a new difficulty arose. He felt he would be questioned about the supernatural visitors of the haunted chamber, and he was at a loss how to answer. If he related the event of the night, he dreaded the ridicule of the unbelieving Captain Campbell, who would assuredly laugh at him for being conquered in spite of his boasting; and to be laughed at in the presence of Sibyl was not to be endured. If, on the other hand he did not tell, he would be obliged to continue the occupant of the haunted chamber while he remained on the island--a thing he had not the slightest wish to do.

His toilet was finished before he could come to any conclusion; and still debating the case, he descended the stairs, and entered the sitting-room they had occupied the night before.