CHAPTER V.

THE MIDNIGHT CRY.

"And when the midnight hour is come, A sound is heard in yonder hall-- It rises hoarsely through the sky, And vibrates o'er the moldering wall."

In a former chapter, we left Mrs. Tom in rather an appalling situation.

Accustomed to the quiet unexciting life of the lonely, sea-girt island, the events of the night had momentarily terrified her, albeit her nerves were none of the weakest. The mysterious revelation of the dying man; his tale of night, and storm, and crime; the wild, ghostly face at the window; and, lastly, his sudden death, were quite enough to thrill for an instant with terror even a stronger heart than that of the solitary old widow.

For some moments Mrs. Tom sat still, gazing alternately at the window and on the ghastly face of the dead man before her, with a chill of horror creeping over her.

The sudden striking of the clock, as it chimed the hour of eleven, aroused her at last from her trance of terror. It was a sound of life, and it reassured her.

Rising, she gathered courage to approach the window cautiously, and looked out. Nothing was to be seen but the bright moonlight, bathing rock and river in its silvery light. Beyond, she could see the huge, black pile of Campbell's Castle, casting its long, gloomy shadow over the ground. Lights were still twinkling in the windows--a sight as unusual as it was pleasant--and, with renewed confidence at this sign of life, Mrs. Tom went to arouse Carl to assist her to watch beside the dead.

"It's onpossible to sleep with a corpse in the house," thought Mrs. Tom, as she climbed up the ladder leading to Carl's lofty dormitory; "leastways, I couldn't sleep a wink, though I do s'pose that there lazy, sleepy-head of a Carl could snore away jest as soundly as ef we was all dead in a heap. I reckon I'll hev an hour's work getting him up. Here, you Carl! Carl! Get up, I tell you!"

Then Mrs. Tom shook him lustily. The sleeper only replied by turning over with a grunt.

"Carl! Carl! Lor' sakes! you great, sleepy, good-for-nothing, open your eyes. I do b'lieve the last Judgment wouldn't wake you, once you got a-snorin'. Ef nothin' else won't do, I'll try how you'll like this!"

And Mrs. Tom caught the unfortunate Carl by the hair and pulled it vigorously, until that ill-used youth sprang upright, with a roar that might have been heard half a mile off.

"Thunder and lightning, aunty, do you want to kill a feller?" roared Master Carl, in a rage.

"Hush, Carl! Don't get mad, honey," said Mrs. Tom, soothingly. "I only want you to come down stairs and set up with me. That there sick man's dead."

"Dead!" repeated Carl, staring with all his eyes.

"Yes, he's dead as can be; and it's the most lonesomest thing in the world settin' up alone with a corpse, so I waked you up."

"Well don't sit up with him, then," said Carl, with a tremendous yawn. "If he's dead, he won't mind staying alone all night, I suppose. Anyhow, I know I ain't going to get up this time of night, if he was dead twice over."

And Carl lay down, and composed himself for another nap.

But Mrs. Tom was resolved not to be disobeyed; so, dropping the pacific tone she had first adopted, she very summarily snatched away sheets and quilts, pulled the mattress from under him, and overset poor Carl on the floor, from which she soon made him spring up with a sound box on the ear.

"Now then," said the indignant old lady; "tell me ag'in you won't, will ye? Now, look here, ef you ain't dressed and down stairs in five minutes, I'll come back, and this ain't no circumstance to what you'll get. Tell me you won't, indeed! There's no tellin' what the impidence of these scape-goats of boys 'ill come to, ef they ain't minded in time," muttered the old lady to herself, as she descended the ladder.

Carl's toilet, thus unpleasantly hastened, was soon complete, and he descended to the lower room with a very sulky face, and grumbling inwardly at his hard fate in being governed by so tyrannical a task-mistress:

"I don't see why the old feller couldn't have died somewhere else," inwardly muttered the ill-treated Mr. Henley; "a coming here and giving bother, keeping a feller from his sleep of nights. It's downright mean!"

Taking possession of Mrs. Tom's rocking-chair, while the old lady bustled about, laying out the corpse as best she could under the circumstances, Carl was once more soon sound asleep. Then, when all she could do was done, Mrs. Tom lay down on the hard wooden sofa, or "settee," as she called it, and, in spite of the presence of death, followed her worthy nephew to the land of dreams.

Morning was far advanced before either awoke. Mrs. Tom's first care was to send Carl up to the lodge to inform its inmates of the death of her guest, and desire Captain Campbell's immediate presence.

Immediately after breakfast the young captain hastened to the cottage, while Sibyl and Drummond went out for a stroll round the island.

Mrs. Tom had been anxiously revolving in her mind the singular story told her the night before, and resolved to reveal it to Captain Campbell and learn his opinion about it.

Accordingly, when he entered, Mrs. Tom--having first taken the precaution of turning Carl out of doors--related the story in substance as it had been told to her.

Captain Campbell listened in astonishment and in credulity.

"Now, Master Guy, what do you think of that?" exclaimed Mrs. Tom, when she had finished.

"My dear madam," replied the young man, gravely, "the man, excited, half crazed, delirious as he was, must have imagined all this. No such horrible thing could have ever occurred in a Christian land."

"But he wasn't crazy," asserted Mrs. Tom, almost angry at having the truth of the story doubted. "He was just as sensible, all through, as you or I. He wasn't _colirious_ a mite."

"Now, Mrs. Tom, it's not possible that, with all your good sense, you can credit such an incredible tale."

"But, Master Guy, the man told it on his death-bed. Think o' that."

"And doubtless believed it, too; but that does not make it any more probable. I have heard of such cases before. It is all owing to the imagination, my dear lady. He had fancied this story, and thought about it so long, that he at last believed it himself."

"Well, I don't know nothin' 'bout the 'magination, thank my heavenly Master," said Mrs. Tom, in a sort of sullen unbelief; "but I do know, ef you was to talk till this time to-morrow, you couldn't make me believe differently. I shouldn't wonder now ef you tried to make me think the face I seed stuck at the winder was all 'magination, too."

"I was just about to say so," said Guy, repressing a smile. "It could be nothing else, you know. The hour of night, the thrilling tale, and the man's dying cry that he saw her there, would have made you imagine anything; therefore----"

But Mrs. Tom's wrath was rising. She had been inwardly priding herself on the sensation her story would create, and this fall to her hopes was more than she could patiently endure.

"It's no sich thing," she cried, in a voice louder and sharper than she was in the habit of using to any one but the unfortunate Carl. "I seen it all with my two blessed eyes, and nobody's goin' to make me believe it was my 'magination. 'Magination, indeed!" continued the old lady, in a tone of profound contempt. "Thank my divine Master, I never was troubled with 'magination since the day I was born, and 'tain't likely I'd begin now in my old age o' life. I allers hid a great respect for you, Master Guy; but I'm a poor, lone 'ooman, and can't stand to be onsulted by nobody. I hain't no doubt you mean well, but I like to hev people b'lieve me when I do tell the truth. Scat, you hussy! afore I twist your neck for you."

The latter part of this oration was addressed to Trot, the mottled cat, and was accompanied by a kick, which ejected that unoffending member of society out of doors, much quicker than was at all agreeable. Captain Campbell, quite unprepared for this burst of eloquence, listened in amazement, and seized the first opportunity, when angry Mrs. Tom paused for breath, to humbly apologize for his offense.

"My dear Mrs. Tom," said the young captain, humbly, "I had not the remotest intention of offending you, and most deeply regret having done so. I have fallen into a bad habit, of late, of doubting everything; and really this story appeared so improbable, that I think I may be pardoned for not yielding it full credit on the spot. Come, now, my dear madam," he continued, seeing the cloud still hanging on Mrs. Tom's honest face, "let's be friends still; and I promise for the future to believe everything you choose to tell me, no matter what it is."

Good Mrs. Tom was not proof against the insinuating tone of Master Guy, who had always been her favorite; so the cloud disappeared, and her own cheery smile once more beamed forth.

Having arranged that Lem should come down and prepare a grave during the morning, Captain Campbell left the cottage, and went in search of Mr. Drummond and his sister to tell them what he had heard.

He found them down on the shore. Sibyl stood on a high cliff, her dress fluttering in the morning breeze, her hat off, and her long, glittering, jetty tresses waving behind her like a banner. The wind that came sweeping across the waters had deepened the glow on her crimson cheeks and lips, and sent a living light into her glorious eyes.

Willard Drummond stood beneath, gazing at her as a poet might gaze on the living realization of his most beautiful dreams. Captain Campbell shrugged his shoulders expressively as he saw his impassioned glance, and thought inwardly of the confession he had once made to him of there being but one woman in the world worth loving.

"Well, Sibyl, one would think you were attitudinizing for the stage," said Captain Campbell, dryly, as he approached.

Sibyl laughed gayly, as she sprang down on the white, level sands between her brother and lover.

"I was only looking out for a sail, which I failed to discover," she replied.

"Well, Campbell," said Drummond, "had your old lady down below any important revelations to make, that she sent for you in such haste this morning?"

"Not very important in my eyes, though they are in hers," replied the young captain. "She wished to reveal the dying deposition of our passenger, Richard Grove."

"And what had he to tell? Was I right in saying remorse for some crime preyed on him more than mere illness?"

"Faith, Sibyl, according to worthy Mrs. Tom, I believe you were. He succeeded in frightening that good, but slightly credulous old lady out of her wits."

"Well?" said Sibyl, inquiringly.

Captain Campbell, condensing the story, gave them the outline and principal facts in a few words. Both listened with deep interest; but when he spoke of the pale, haggard face, with its dark, waving hair, glaring at them through the window, Willard Drummond started violently, and turned pale. Sibyl's eagle eyes were fixed on his face, and she alone observed it.

"And what does Mrs. Tom take this nocturnal visitor to be?" inquired Sibyl. "A mortal like herself, or a spirit disembodied?"

"Oh, a ghost, of course," replied her brother. "The spirit, perhaps, of the woman walled up to perish in the room with the murdered man. Ugh! the story altogether is hideous enough to give one the nightmare! And now that you have learned all, I believe I'll go and send Lem down to inter the body."

Captain Campbell sauntered away, and the lovers were alone.

"And what do you think of this story, Willard?" inquired Sibyl.

"I cannot tell. Yesterday I would have joined your brother in laughing at it; but, to-day----"

He paused.

"And why not to-day?" breathlessly inquired Sibyl.

"Sibyl, I do not wish to needlessly alarm you, but last night, as if to punish my presumption, I experienced something very like a supernatural visit."

"Good Heavens, Willard! Then the story told by the negroes is true?"

"It certainly seems like it. Had any one else told me what I experienced, I should think they were humbugging me; but I cannot discredit what I saw with my own eyes."

"And what was the appearance of the nocturnal visitor?"

"Exactly like the description Mrs. Tom gives of the face that appeared at her window--white as that of the dead, with dark, streaming hair, and wild, vacant, dark eyes."

"Oh, Willard! Can it be that---- But, no; it is impossible. At what hour did this apparition appear?"

"Between one and two, as near as I can judge."

"Strange! strange! I, too, heard something dreadful last night."

"Is it possible? What was it, dearest Sibyl?"

"Listen! About midnight I was awakened by something that sounded like a heavy fall right outside my door, followed by a groan so deep, so horrible, that the very blood seemed freezing in my veins. Trembling with terror, I half rose to listen; but all for a time was still. Trying to persuade myself I was only dreaming, I was about to lie down again, when a shriek the most appalling broke upon the air, and died away in an agonized moan. I dared not move; I could not sleep; and I lay cowering in superstitious horror until morning. With the bright sunshine came renewed courage, and I feared to mention what I had heard to my brother or you, lest I should be laughed at--even as you feared the same. Willard, there must be some horrible mystery here! Some foul crime, I fear, has at some time been perpetrated within those walls. What if----"

She paused.

"Well, Sibyl?" he said, inquiringly.

"Oh, Willard! what if _this_ house has been the scene of that mystery the dying man spoke of! I thought of it from the first."

"Nonsense, Sibyl! What an idea!" And yet he looked disturbed himself, as he spoke.

"How otherwise are we to account for those ghostly visitings, those midnight apparitions, and appalling shrieks?"

"And yet nothing could induce your brother to adopt your belief. He would laugh at our credulity, were we to tell him what we have seen and heard."

"Yes; and, perhaps I had better not tell him, Willard. I will have your room changed, and my own likewise. Even if they are less comfortable, they will be more endurable than to be disturbed by midnight specters."

"Be it so, then, fairest Sibyl," he said, gayly. And turning, they walked together to the Lodge.