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By Sir Walter Scott
The following narrative is
given from the pen, so far as memory permits, in the same character in which
it was presented to the author’s ear; nor has he claim to further praise, or
to be more deeply censured, than in proportion to the good or bad judgment
which he has employed in selecting his materials, as he has studiously
avoided any attempt at ornament which might interfere with the simplicity of
the tale.
At the same time, it must be admitted that the particular class of stories
which turns on the marvellous, possesses a stronger influence when told than
when committed to print. The volume taken up at noonday, though rehearsing
the same incidents, conveys a much more feeble impression than is achieved
by the voice of the speaker on a circle of fireside auditors, who hang upon
the narrative as the narrator details the minute incidents which serve to
give it authenticity, and lowers his voice with an affectation of mystery
while he approaches the fearful and wonderful part. It was with such
advantages that the present writer heard the following events related, more
than twenty years since, by the celebrated Miss Seward, of Litchfield, who,
to her numerous accomplishments, added, in a remarkable degree, the power of
narrative in private conversation. In its present form the tale must
necessarily lose all the interest which was attached to it, by the flexible
voice and intelligent features of the gifted narrator. Yet still, read
aloud, to an undoubting audience by the doubtful light of the closing
evening, or, in silence, by a decaying taper, and amidst the solitude of a
halflighted apartment, it may redeem its character as a good ghost story.
Miss Seward always affirmed that she had derived her information from an
authentic source, although she suppressed the names of the two persons
chiefly concerned. I will not avail myself of any particulars I may have
since received concerning the localities of the detail, but suffer them to
rest under the same general description in which they were first related to
me; and, for the same reason, I will not add to or diminish the narrative,
by any circumstance, whether more or less material, but simply rehearse, as
I heard it, a story of supernatural terror.
About the end of the American war, when the officers of Lord Cornwallis’s
army, which surrendered at Yorktown, and others, who had been made prisoners
during the impolitic and ill-fated controversy, were returning to their own
country, to relate their adventures, and repose themselves after their
fatigues, there was amongst them a general officer, to whom Miss S. gave the
name of Browne, but merely, as I understood, to save the inconvenience of
introducing a nameless agent in the narrative. He was an officer of merit,
as well as a gentleman of high consideration for family and attainments.
Some business had carried General Browne upon a tour through the western
counties, when, in the conclusion of a morning stage, he found himself in
the vicinity of a small country town, which presented a scene of uncommon
beauty, and of a character peculiarly English.
The little town, with its stately old church, whose tower bore testimony to
the devotion of ages long past, lay amidst pastures and corn-fields of small
extent, but bounded and divided with hedgerow timber of great age and size.
There were few marks of modern improvement. The environs of the place
intimated neither the solitude of decay nor the bustle of novelty ; the
houses were old, but in good repair; and the beautiful little river murmured
freely on its way to the left of the town, neither restrained by a dam, nor
bordered by a towing-path.
Upon a gentle eminence, nearly a mile to the southward of the town, were
seen, amongst many venerable oaks and tangled thickets, the turrets of a
castle, as old as the wars of York and Lancaster, but which seemed to have
received important alterations during the age of Elizabeth and her
successor. It had not been a place of great size; but whatever accommodation
it formerly afforded was, it must be supposed, still to be obtained within
its walls; at least such was the inference which General Browne drew from
observing the smoke arise merrily from several of the ancient wreathed and
carved chimney-stalks. The wall of the park ran alongside of the highway for
two or three hundred yards ; and through the different points by which the
eye found glimpses into the woodland scenery, it seemed to be well stocked.
Other points of view opened in succession ; now a full one, of the front of
the old castle, and now a side glimpse at its particular towers; the former
rich in all the bizarrerie of the Elizabethan school, while the simple and
solid strength of other parts of the building seemed to show that they had
been raised more for defence than ostentation.
Delighted with the partial glimpses which he obtained of the castle through
the woods and glades by which this ancient feudal fortress was surrounded,
our military traveller was determined to inquire whether it might not
deserve a nearer view, and whether it contained family pictures or other
objects of curiosity worthy of a stranger’s visit; when, leaving the
vicinity of the park, he rolled through a clean and well-paved street, and
stopped at the door of a well-frequented inn.
Before ordering horses to proceed on his journey, General Browne made
inquiries concerning the proprietor of the chateau which had so attracted
his admiration; and was equally surprised and pleased at hearing in reply a
nobleman named, whom we shall call Lord Woodville. How fortunate! Much of
Browne’s early recollections, both at school and at college, had been
connected with young Woodville, whom, by a few questions, he now ascertained
to be the same with the owner of this fair domain. He had been raised to the
peerage by the decease of his father a few months before, and, as the
General learned from the landlord, the term of mourning being ended, was now
taking possession of his paternal estate, in the jovial season of merry
autumn, accompanied by a select party of friends to enjoy the sports of a
country famous for game.
This was delightful news to our traveller. Frank Woodville had been Richard
Browne’s fag at Eton, and his chosen intimate at Christ Church; their
pleasures and their tasks had been the same; and the honest soldier’s heart
warmed to find his early friend in possession of so delightful a residence,
and of an estate, as the landlord assured him with a nod and a wink,’ fully
adequate to maintain and add to his dignity. Nothing was more natural than
that the traveller should suspend a journey, which there was nothing to
render hurried, to pay a visit to an old friend under such agreeable
circumstances.
The fresh horses, therefore, had only the brief task of conveying the
General’s travelling carriage to Woodville Castle. A porter admitted them at
a modern Gothic lodge, built in that style to correspond with the castle
itself, and at the same time rang a bell to give warning of the approach of
visitors. Apparently the sound of the bell had suspended the separation of
the company, bent on the various amusements of the morning ; for, on
entering the court of the chateau, several young men were lounging about in
their sporting dresses, looking at and criticising the dogs which the
keepers held in readiness to attend their pastime. As General Browne
alighted, the young lord came to the gate of the hall, and for an instant
gazed, as at a stranger, upon the countenance of his friend, on which war,
with its fatigues and its wounds, had made a great alteration. But the
uncertainty lasted no longer than till the visitor had spoken, and the
hearty greeting which followed was such as can only be exchanged betwixt
those who have passed together the merry days of careless boyhood or early
youth.
“If I could have formed a wish, my dear Browne,’ said Lord Woodville, “it
would have been to have you here, of all men, upon this occasion, which my
friends are good enough to hold as a sort of holiday. Do not think you have
been unwatched during the years you have been absent from us. I have traced
you through your dangers, your triumphs, your misfortunes, and was delighted
to see that, whether in victory or defeat, the name of my old friend was
always distinguished with applause.”
The General made a suitable reply, and congratulated his friend on his new
dignities, and the possession of a place and domain so beautiful.
“Nay, you have seen nothing of it as yet,” said Lord Woodville, “and I trust
you do not mean to leave us till you are better acquainted with it. It is
true, I confess, that my present party is pretty large, and the old house,
like other places of the kind, does not possess so much accommodation as the
extent of the outward walls appears to promise. But we can give you a
comfortable old-fashioned room, and I venture to suppose that your campaigns
have taught you to be glad of worse quarters.”
The General shrugged his shoulders, and laughed, “I presume,” he said, “the
worst apartment in your chateau is considerably superior to the old
tobacco-cask, in which I was fain to take up my night’s lodging when I was
in the Bush, as the Virginians call it, with the light corps. There I lay,
like Diogenes himself, so delighted with my covering from the elements, that
I made a vain attempt to have it rolled on to my next quarters; but my
commander for the time would give way to no such luxurious provision, and I
took farewell of my beloved cask with tears in my eyes.”
“Well, then, since you do not fear your quarters,” said Lord Woodville, “you
will stay with me a week at least. Of guns, dogs, fishing-rods, flies, and
means of sport by sea and land, we have enough and to spare : you cannot
pitch on an amusement but we will find the means of pursuing it. But if you
prefer the gun and pointers, I will go with you myself, and see whether you
have mended your shooting since you have been amongst the Indians of the
back settlements.”
The General gladly accepted his friendly host’s proposal in all its points.
After a morning of manly exercise, the company met at dinner, where it was
the delight of Lord Woodville to conduce to the display of the high
properties of his recovered friend, so as to recommend him to his guests,
most of whom were persons of distinction. He led General Browne to speak of
the scenes he had witnessed; and as every word marked alike the brave
officer and the sensible man, who retained possession of his cool judgment
under the most imminent dangers, the company looked upon the soldier with
general respect, as on one who had proved himself possessed of an uncommon
portion of personal courage,—that attribute, of all others, of which
everybody desires to be thought possessed.
The day at Woodville Castle ended as usual in such mansions. The hospitality
stopped within the limits of good order. Music, in which the young lord was
a proficient, succeeded to the circulation of the bottle; cards and
billiards, for those who preferred such amusements, were in readiness ; but
the exercise of the morning required early hours, and not long after eleven
o’clock the guests began to retire to their several apartments.
The young Lord himself conducted his friend, General Browne, to the chamber
destined for him, which answered the description he had given of it, being
comfortable, but old-fashioned. The bed was of the massive form used in the
end of the seventeenth century, and the curtains of faded silk, heavily
trimmed with tarnished gold. But then the sheets, pillows, and blankets
looked delightful to the campaigner, when he thought of his “mansion, the
cask.” There was an air of gloom in the tapestry hangings, which, with their
worn-out graces, curtained the walls of the little chamber, and gently
undulated as the autumnal breeze found its way through the ancient
lattice-window, which pattered and whistled as the air gained entrance. The
toilet, too, with its mirror, turbaned, after the manner of the beginning of
the century, with a coiffure of murrey-coloured silk, and its hundred
strange-shaped boxes, providing for arrangements which had been obsolete for
more than fifty years, had an antique, and in so far a melancholy, aspect.
But nothing could blaze more brightly and cheerfully than the two large wax
candles; or if aught could rival them, it was the flaming bickering fagots
in the chimney that sent at once their gleam and their warmth through the
snug apartment, which, notwithstanding the general antiquity of its
appearance, was not wanting in the least convenience that modern habits
rendered either necessary or desirable.
“This is an old-fashioned sleeping apartment, General,” said the young lord;
“but I hope you find nothing that makes you envy your old tobacco-cask.”
“I am not particular respecting my lodgings,” replied the General; “yet were
I to make any choice, I would prefer this chamber by many degrees to the
gayer and more modern rooms of your family mansion. Believe me, that when I
unite its modern air of comfort with its venerable antiquity, and recollect
that it is your lordship’s property, I shall feel in better quarters here,
than if I were in the best hotel London could afford.”
“I trust—I have no doubt—that you will find yourself as comfortable as I
wish you, my dear General,” said the young nobleman; and once more bidding
his guest good-night, he shook him by the hand, and withdrew.
The General once more looked around him, and internally congratulating
himself on his return to peaceful life, the comforts of which were endeared
by the recollection of the hardships and dangers he had lately sustained,
undressed himself, and prepared for a luxurious night’s rest.
Here, contrary to the custom of this species of tale, we leave the General
in possession of his apartment until the next morning.
The company assembled for breakfast at an early hour, but without the
appearance of General Browne, who seemed the guest that Lord Woodville was
desirous of honouring above all whom his hospitality had assembled around
him. He more than once expressed himself surprised at the General’s absence,
and at length sent a servant to make inquiry after him. The man brought back
information that General Browne had been walking abroad since an early hour
of the morning, in defiance of the weather, which was misty and ungenial.
"The custom of a soldier,” said the young nobleman to his friends; “many of
them acquire habitual vigilance, and cannot sleep after the early hour at
which their duty usually commands them to be alert.”
Yet the explanation which Lord Woodville thus offered to the company seemed
hardly satisfactory to his own mind, and it was in a fit of silence and
abstraction that he awaited the return of the General. It took place near an
hour after the breakfast bell had rung. He looked fatigued and feverish. His
hair—the powdering and arrangement of which was at this time one of the most
important occupations of a man’s whole day, and marked his fashion as much
as, in the present time, the tying of a cravat, or the want of one—was
dishevelled, uncurled, void of powder, and dank with dew. His clothes were
huddled on with a careless negligence, remarkable in a military man, whose
real or supposed duties are usually held to include some attention to the
toilet; and his looks were haggard and ghastly in a peculiar degree.
“So you have stolen a march upon us this morning, my dear General,” said
Lord Woodville; “or you have not found your bed so much to your mind as I
had hoped and you seemed to expect. How did you rest last night?”
“Oh, excellently well! remarkably well! never better in my life,” said
General Browne rapidly, and yet with an air of embarrassment which was
obvious to his friend. He then hastily swallowed a cup of tea, and,
neglecting or refusing whatever else was offered, seemed to fall into a fit
of abstraction.
“You will take the gun to-day, General?” said his friend and host, but had
to repeat the question twice ere he received the abrupt answer, “No, my
lord; I am sorry I cannot have the opportunity of spending another day with
your lordship: my post horses are ordered, and will be here directly.”
All who were present showed surprise, and Lord Woodville immediately
replied, “Post horses, my good friend! what can you possibly want with them,
when you promised to stay with me quietly for at least a week?”
“I believe,” said the General, obviously much embarrassed, “that I might, in
the pleasure of my first meeting with your lordship, have said something
about stopping here a few days; but I have since found it altogether
impossible.”
“This is very extraordinary,” answered the young nobleman. “You seemed quite
disengaged yesterday, and you cannot have had a summons to-day; for our post
has not come up from the town, and therefore you cannot have received any
letters.
General Browne, without giving any further explanation, muttered something
about indispensable business, and insisted on the absolute necessity of his
departure in a manner which silenced all opposition on the part of his host,
who saw that his resolution was taken, and forbore all further importunity.
“At least, however,” he said, “permit me, my dear Browne, since go you will
or must, to show you the view from the terrace, which the mist, that is now
rising, will soon display.”
He threw open a sash window, and stepped down upon the terrace as he spoke.
The General followed him mechanically, but seemed little to attend to what
his host was saying, as, looking across an extended and rich prospect, he
pointed out the different objects worthy of observation. Thus they moved on
till Lord Woodville had attained his purpose of drawing his guest entirely
apart from the rest of the company, when, turning round upon him with an air
of great solemnity, he addressed him thus:
“Richard Browne, my old and very dear friend, we are now alone. Let me
conjure you to answer me, upon the word of a friend, and the honour of a
soldier. How did you in reality rest during last night ? ”
“Most wretchedly indeed, my lord,” answered the General, in the same tone of
solemnity; “so miserably, that I would not run the risk of such a second
night, not only for all the lands belonging to this castle, but for all the
country which I see from this elevated point of view.”
“This is most extraordinary,” said the young lord, as if speaking to
himself; “then there must be something in the reports concerning that
apartment.” Again turning to the General, he said, “For God’s sake, my dear
friend, be candid with me, and let me know the disagreeable particulars
which have befallen you under a: roof where, with consent of the owner, you
should have met nothing save comfort.”
The General seemed distressed by this appeal, and paused a moment before he
replied. “My dear lord,” he at length said, “what happened to me last night
is of a nature so peculiar and so unpleasant, that I could hardly bring
myself to detail it even to your lordship, were it not that, independent of
my wish to gratify any request of yours, I think that sincerity on my part
may lead to some explanation about a circumstance equally painful and
mysterious. To others, the communication I am about to make might place me
in the light of a weak-minded, superstitious fool, who suffered his own
imagination to delude and bewilder him; but you have known me in childhood
and youth, and will not suspect me of having adopted in manhood the feelings
and frailties from which my early years were free.” Here he paused, and his
friend replied :
“Do not doubt my perfect confidence in the truth of your communication,
however strange it may be,” replied Lord Woodville; “I know your firmness of
disposition too well to suspect you could be made the object of imposition,
and am aware that your honour and your friendship will equally deter you
from exaggerating whatever you may have witnessed.”
“Well, then,” said the General, “I will proceed with my story as well as I
can, relying upon your candour, and yet distinctly feeling that I would
rather face a battery than recall to my mind the odious recollections of
last night.”
He paused a second time, and then perceiving that Lord Woodville remained
silent and in an attitude of attention, he commenced, though not without
obvious reluctance, the history of his night adventures in the Tapestried
Chamber.
“I undressed and went to bed so soon as your lordship left me yesterday
evening; but the wood in the chimney, which nearly fronted my bed, blazed
brightly and cheerfully, and, aided by a hundred exciting recollections of
my childhood and youth, which had been recalled by the unexpected pleasure
of meeting your lordship, prevented me from falling immediately asleep. I
ought, however, to say that these reflections were all of a pleasant and
agreeable kind, grounded on a sense of having for a time exchanged the
labour, fatigues, and dangers of my profession, for the enjoyments of a
peaceful life, and the reunion of those friendly and affectionate ties,
which I had torn asunder at the rude summons of war.
“While such pleasing reflections were stealing over my mind, and gradually
lulling me to slumber, I was suddenly aroused by a sound like that of the
rustling of a silken gown, and the tapping of a pair of high-heeled shoes,
as if a woman were walking in the apartment. Ere I could draw the curtain to
see what the matter was, the figure of a little woman passed between the bed
and the fire. The back of this form was turned to me, and I could observe,
from the shoulders and neck, it was that of an old woman, whose dress was an
old-fashioned gown, which, I think, ladies call a sacque; that is, a sort ot
robe completely loose in the body, but gathered into broad plaits upon the
neck and shoulders, which fall down to the ground, and terminate in a
species of train.
"1 thought the intrusion singular enough, but never harboured for a moment
the idea that what I saw was anything more than the mortal form of some old
woman about the establishment, who had a fancy to dress like her
grandmother, and who, having perhaps (as your lordship mentioned that you
were rather straitened for room) been dislodged from her chamber for my
accommodation, had forgotten the circumstance, and returned by twelve to her
old haunt. Under this persuasion, I moved myself in bed and coughed a
little, to make the intruder sensible of my being in possession of the
premises. She turned slowly round, but, gracious Heaven, my lord, what a
countenance did she display to me ! There was no longer any question what
she was, or any thought of her being a living being. Upon a face which wore
the fixed features of a corpse were imprinted the traces of the vilest and
most hideous passions which had animated her while she lived. The body of
some atrocious criminal seemed to have been given up from the grave, and the
soul restored from the penal fire, in order to form, for a space, an union
with the ancient accomplice of its guilt. I started up in bed, and sat
upright, supporting myself on my palms, as I gazed on this horrible spectre.
The hag made, as it seemed, a single and swift stride to the bed where I
lay, and squatted herself down upon it in precisely the same attitude which
I had assumed in the extremity of horror, advancing her diabolical
countenance within half a yard of mine, with a grin that seemed to intimate
the malice and the derision of an incarnate fiend.”
Here General Browne stopped, and wiped from his brow the cold perspiration
with which the recollection of his horrible vision had covered it.
“My lord,” he said, “I am no coward. I have been in all the mortal dangers
incidental to my profession, and I may truly boast, that no man ever knew
Richard Browne dishonour the sword he wears; but in these horrible
circumstances, under the eyes, and, as it seemed, almost in the grasp of an
incarnation of an evil spirit, all firmness forsook me, all manhood melted
from me like wax in the furnace, and I felt my hair individually bristle.
The current of my life-blood ceased to flow, and I sank back in a swoon, as
very a victim to panic terror as ever was a village girl, or a child of ten
years old. How long I lay in this condition I cannot pretend to guess.
“But I was roused by the castle clock striking one, so loud that it seemed
as if it were in the very room. It was some time before I dared open my
eyes, lest they should again encounter the horrible spectacle. When,
however, I summoned courage to look up, she was no longer visible. My first
idea was to pull my bell, wake the servants, and remove to a garret or a
hay-loft, to be ensured against a second visitation. Nay, I will confess the
truth, that my resolution was altered, not by the shame of exposing myself,
but by the fear that, as the bell-cord hung by the chimney, I might, in
making my way to it, be again crossed by the fiendish hag, who, I figured to
myself, might be still lurking about some corner of the apartment.
“I will not pretend to describe what hot and cold fever-fits tormented me
for the rest of the night, through broken sleep, weary vigils, and that
dubious state which forms the neutral ground between them. An hundred
terrible objects appeared to haunt me; but there was the great difference
betwixt the vision which I have described, and those which followed, that I
knew the last vto be deceptions of my own fancy and over-excited nerves.
“Day at last appeared, and I rose from my bed ill in health and humiliated
in mind. I was ashamed of myself as a man and a soldier, and still more so,
at feeling my own extreme desire to escape from the haunted apartment,
which, however, conquered all other considerations ; so that, huddling on my
clothes with the most careless haste, I made my escape from your lordship’s
mansion, to seek in the open air some relief to my nervous system, shaken as
it was by this horrible encounter with a visitant, for such I must believe
her, from the other world. Your lordship has now heard the cause of my
discomposure, and of my sudden desire to leave your hospitable castle. In
other places I trust we may often meet; but God protect me from ever
spending a second night under that roof! ”
Strange as the General’s tale was, he spoke with such a deep air of
conviction, that it cut short all the usual commentaries which are made on
such stories. Lord Woodville never once asked him if he was sure he did not
dream of the apparition, or suggested any of the possibilities by which it
is fashionable to explain supernatural appearances, as wild vagaries of the
fancy, or deceptions of the optic nerves. On the contrary, he seemed deeply
impressed with the truth and reality of what he had heard; .and after a
considerable pause, regretted, with much appearance of sincerity, that his
early friend should in his house have suffered so severely.
“I am the more sorry for your pain, my dear Browne,” he continued, “that it
is the unhappy, though most unexpected, result of an experiment of my own.
You must know that, for my father and grandfather’s time at least,, the
apartment which was assigned to you last night had been shut on account of
reports that it was disturbed by supernatural sights and noises. When I
came, a few weeks since, into possession of the estate, I thought the
accommodation which the castle afforded for my friends was not extensive
enough to permit the inhabitants of the invisible world to retain possession
of a comfortable sleeping apartment. I therefore caused the Tapestried
Chamber, as we call it, to be opened; and, without destroying its air of
antiquity, I had such new articles of furniture placed in it as became the
modern times.
Yet as the opinion that the room was haunted very strongly prevailed among
the domestics, and was also known in the neighbourhood and to many of my
friends, I feared some prejudice might be entertained by the first occupant
of the Tapestried Chamber, which might tend to revive the evil report which
it had laboured under, and so disappoint my purpose of rendering it an
useful part of the house. I must confess, my dear'Browne, that your arrival
yesterday, agreeable to. me for a thousand reasons besides, seemed the most
favourable opportunity of removing the unpleasant rumours which attached to
the room, since your courage was indubitable, and your mind free of any
pre-occupation on the subject. I could not, therefore, have chosen a more
fitting subject for my experiment.”
“Upon my life,” said General Browne, somewhat hastily, “I am infinitely
obliged to your lordship— very particularly indebted indeed. I am likely to
remember for some time the consequences of the experiment, as your lordship
is pleased to call it.”
“Nay, now you are unjust, my dear friend,” said Lord Woodville. “You have
only to reflect for a single moment, in order to be convinced that I could
not augur the possibility of the pain to which you have been so unhappily
exposed. I was yesterday morning a complete sceptic on the subject of
supernatural appearances. Nay, I am sure that had I told you what was said
about that room, those very reports would have induced you, by your own
choice, to select it for your accommodation. It was my misfortune, perhaps
my error, but really cannot be termed my fault, that you have been afflicted
so strangely. ”
“Strangely indeed!” said the General, resuming his good temper; “and I
acknowledge that I have no right to be offended with your lordship for
treating me like what I used to think myself—a man of some firmness and
courage. But I see my post horses are arrived, and I must not detain your
lordship from your amusement.”
“Nay, my old friend,” said Lord Woodville, since you cannot stay with us
another day, which, indeed, I can no longer urge, give me at least half an
hour more. You used to love pictures and I have a gallery of portraits, some
of them by Vandyke, representing ancestry to whom this property and castle
formerly belonged. I think that several of them will strike you as
possessing merit.”
General Browne accepted the invitation, though somewhat unwillingly. It was
evident he was not to breathe freely or at ease till he left Woodville
Castle far behind him. He could not refuse his friend’s invitation, however;
and the less so, that he was a little ashamed of the peevishness which he
had displayed towards his well-meaning entertainer.
The General, therefore, followed Lord Woodville through several rooms, into
a long gallery hung with pictures, which the latter pointed out to his
guest, telling the names, and giving some account of the personages whose
portraits presented themselves in progression. General Browne was but little
interested in the details which these accounts conveyed to him. They were,
indeed, of the kind which are usually found in an old family gallery. Here,
was a cavalier who had ruined the estate in the royal cause ; there, a fine
lady who had reinstated it by contracting a match with a wealthy Roundhead.
There, hung a gallant who had been in danger for corresponding with the
exiled Court at Saint Germain’s; here, one who had taken arms for William at
the Revolution; and there, a third that had thrown his weight alternately
into the scale of Whig and Tory.
While Lord Woodville was cramming these words into his guest’s ear, “against
the stomach of his sense,” they gained the middle of the gallery, when he
beheld General Browne suddenly start, and assume an attitude of the utmost
surprise, not unmixed with fear, as his eyes were caught and suddenly
riveted by a portrait of an old, old lady in a sacque, the fashionable dress
of the end of the seventeenth century.
“There she is!” he exclaimed; “there she is, in form and features, though
inferior in demoniac expression, to the accursed hag who visited me last
night! ”
“If that be the case,” said the young nobleman, “there can remain no longer
any doubt of the horrible reality of your apparition. That is the picture of
a wretched ancestress of mine, of whose crimes a black and fearful catalogue
is recorded in a family history in my charter-chest. The recital of them
would be too horrible; it is enough to say, that in yon fatal apartment
incest and unnatural murder were committed.
I will restore it to the solitude to which the better judgment of those who
preceded me had consigned it; and never shall any one, so long as I can
prevent it, be exposed to a repetition of the supernatural horrors which
could shake such courage as yours.” Thus the friends, who had met with such
glee, parted in a very different mood; Lord Woodville to command the
Tapestried Chamber to be unmantled, and the door built up; and General
Browne to seek in some less beautiful country, and with some less dignified
friend, forgetfulness of the painful night which he had passed in Woodville
Castle. |
