The Second Macabre MEGAPACK®. Эдит НесбитЧитать онлайн книгу.
or removal of a pastor, it was always difficult to supply his place; since it was the common rumor among the inhabitants of the village that a curse hung over the dwelling, and that some misfortune would surely befall any one who might venture to become its occupant. Stories of the most extravagant sort were in circulation; and in truth the place was well suited for anything connected with the supernatural. It stood in a narrow valley, between high mountains, where, on cloudy days, the fog seemed to hang like a veil over the whole landscape, while the old church, situated near the parsonage, was covered with moss, and of dark and gloomy appearance. Two large trees before the former completely covered its roof and increased the gloominess of the dwelling; while at the foot of the garden waved a majestic yew, in England the symbol of something sad and mysterious, over a half-fallen stone bench, where many of the inhabitants asserted that they had seen a female figure, sitting in the moon-light, dressed in old fashioned garb; who, when they approached near enough for a close inspection, appeared to be a woman of middle age, of regular features, but with the countenance of a corpse. What was strangest of all was, that the oldest people in the village declared, that “the Gray Lady,” as she was called, had appeared from time to time, through a succession of years, always choosing this spot as her resting-place. There were different versions of the story, though it was generally agreed, that this nightly wanderer was no other than the spectre of the widow of the first Curate, who, it was said, had committed suicide, but whose small, half-crumbling tombstone, in a lonely corner of the church-yard, bore no legible inscription to prove the truth of the rumor.
However groundless may have been the report, yet it was certain that the various families, who had occupied the parsonage, had each been visited by some sudden misfortune, in the untimely death of the male branches; and where there were twins, as had been several times the case, one of the pair was always selected as the victim.
About the year 1750, the very respectable pastor, William Drummond, was elected to supply the church of the above mentioned village. For ten years after attaining manhood, he had been a candidate for the ministry; during the next ten, he had filled the place of Curate, with only forty pounds income; and as fifteen years had passed since he found himself an accepted lover, yet without possessing the means of marrying, it is not to be wondered at, that on becoming master of a hundred and sixty pounds per annum, his first act was to persuade his affectionate Joanna to enter into the holy bonds of matrimony, and to undertake the domestic economy of the parsonage, even though it were haunted by as many ghosts as there were leaves on the trees. About a year after their marriage, the honest couple were made happy by the birth of two sons, who, in memory of their grandfathers, were baptised by the same names, one being called John William and the other William John, a bright idea, which had its origin in the pastor’s own brain. Until this time Drummond had paid little attention to the stories circulated with regard to his dwelling, and often playfully observed that, as yet, he had not even had a sight of the hem of the Gray Lady’s garment, but when, after the birth of the twins, the village matrons hastened to offer their congratulations, with which were injudiciously mingled their hopes and prayers, that heaven would avert from the children the dark prophecy which had been accomplished in so many instances, his wife became so wretchedly anxious to inquire into the truth of the story, as to excite her husband to a like degree, and he determined to look into the church archives and discover whether there was any clue to be found to the rumor. His examination, however, met with but trifling success; since the church books referring to earlier times were very defective, and after turning over pages of discolored and worm-eaten paper, he could find nothing to corroborate the legend, except a small, half-obliterated note, which ran as follows, and which seemed to glance at some such occurrence as the one in which he now felt so deeply interested. “In the year of our Lord’s birth 1670, I, Albertus Marstonius, Theologia Magister, caused the fallen stone cross, which stands in the corner of the church-yard to be again set upright. The Lord grant rest to the unhappy remains which lie beneath it.”
Soon, however, Drummond received a stronger testimony through the following accident. It was on Monday, when the pastor sat in his study, busily engaged in writing out the heads of his next Sunday’s discourse. His wife, who, as an active and prudent housekeeper, contrived to get along with but one servant, had transported the cradle of the twins into her husband’s study, who, as she said, could easily give an eye to them, while she was stirring about the house; and thus the respectable pastor might be seen industriously wielding his pen, while from time to time he touched the cradle with his foot, as a whine from its drowsy inmates threatened a speedy outburst. Two hours had thus passed, when his wife entered the room, bearing in her hand a tattered and dusty roll of paper.
“You know, Magister,” said she, for so she called her husband, “I have been busy today putting the house in order.”
“No doubt, my dear, that is your favorite employment,” he rejoined, with something of a sigh.
“Nay! but you cannot reproach me for destroying any of your manuscripts this time; on the contrary, I have found this paper behind the chimney;” with these words she laid the roll on her husband’s writing-desk and retired.
On turning over the sheets, Mr. Drummond discovered that the manuscript was a sort of chronicle, left by one of his predecessors, many years before; among items referring to conflagrations, floods, and the scarcity of provisions, he came across the following. “On the 17th of October I had the misfortune to lose my beloved son Henry, who was accidentally killed by his brother Charles while hunting, thus has the prophecy been fearfully full filled in my family.” Again, in another place, Drummond met with the following paragraph.
“(Wednesday before Jubilate.) This morning I paid a visit to my brother in Christ, Paul Aiken, who is now seventy-eight years of age, and having been Curate of the parish of Penrith for the last fifty years, is a living chronicle of the events of that neighborhood. Speaking of the fate of my unhappy son, as connected with the singular prophecy, my worthy friend informed me that the circumstances regarding the widow were really true, since, from a well authenticated source, he had learned that she was the partner of the first Protestant minister in the village, and at the death of her husband, had hired a room from his successor in the parsonage. Her proud and impetuous temper, caused her, however, to be continually at strife with the Curate’s wife, till one day, when the twin boys of the latter were quarrelling on the stairs, greatly disturbing her by their noise, she rushed out and attacked them so furiously that one of them pushed the other over the balustrade, who thus received a blow of which he ultimately died. Exasperated by her harsh conduct, the Curate insisted that she should immediately leave his house; when carried beyond all bounds, she exclaimed:
“Yes, I will go, but in a different manner from what you imagine, for I will still visit it often; yes, as long as one stone stands upon another. You acquit me of the death of your son. I am innocent, since it was his brother who gave him the unlucky push; and as a proof of my innocence, I swear I that will bring misfortune on every family who may, in after time, occupy this accursed house.’ On the following morning she was found dead on the stone bench under the yew tree, while the dregs of a white powder in a glass at her side, left no doubt but that she had taken poison.”
The minister was not a little shocked by this unexpected testimony; and although neither he or his wife had yet met with the least trace of the ghost, he could not hide from her his newly gotten and painful information, and while their thoughts turned continually on this one subject, they watched their children with an anxiety, which it is impossible to conceive.
The twins grew rapidly into beautiful boys. William, who was quiet and of a thoughtful disposition, had the blue eyes and fair complexion of his mother; while the lively and unmanageable John resembled his father in his dark hair and skin.
As neither showed any decided turn for study their father determined to allow them both to enter on a sea-faring life, several of his relatives having become distinguished in that line, and almost anxiously he looked forward to the time when the boys could be separated; since even in their sports their mother particularly watched them with intense anxiety, as though a dark fate hung over them, and although devotedly attached to each other, it seemed at any moment the fatal prophecy might be accomplished.
These secret anxieties were greatly increased by the observations of their kind but ill-judging neighbors, who, when they