 In this cave by the restless sea, we are met to call from out the past stories strange and weird. Bellkeeper, hold the bell so all may know we are gathered again in the weird circle. Did you see her, Miss McMurdy? Did you write past her? Did I see who? A young lady. I was riding after her. She was walking this way. Saw no one, Alan? Oh, come now, you must have met her. Where did she go? What ills you? I met no young lady. But you must have. This head show was so high and so thick, she couldn't have got out of it. Confirmly, I don't understand this. I was in Poland, isn't it? For just now, on the top of Birki Hill, she turned and walked in this direction. She couldn't yet have been beyond this point. What did she look like, Alan? I declare I've never seen such a female figure. She had on a pure white ghost frock, a small green bonnet and feathers and a green veil. She was a fine looking girl, Mr. McMurdy. You're no making game of me. Did you know really, Mr. McMurdy? Alan, I'm a word of truth and honor, I did not. Come, ride back with me. We may meet her. She's given you the go-by on the road. I can't understand it, Mr. McMurdy. I do hope we'll find her. She was the loveliest thing I've ever seen. She had on a pure white ghost frock and a small... A small green bonnet with feathers and a green veil. Oh, I must have already told you that. Yes, and with a lover's gleam in your eye. Oh, Mr. McMurdy, look there. See? There she is at the very same spot where I saw her the first time. Where? A denacea. There? At the bend of the road? A still denacea. Look where I'm pointing. She's standing there in a white frock and green veil, as I told you. Oh, what a lovely creature. Alan, upon my word. There? There she turned the anglin' road. She's gone out of sight. Come, let's hurry. I can't lose her this time. She'll be right around this turn. I certainly hope so. Oh, good heavens. She's gone again. Alan, my lad. You must be imagining it. Alan, you look pale as death. What ails you? I remember now. Once I had a dream of the same nature. It ended in some sort of a terrible manner. And I think you're dreaming still. But never mind, Alan. It's quite common for handsome young men to dream of beautiful maidens with white frocks and green veils. But I'm worried about my dream, Mr. McMurdy. It had a very bad ending. What was it? Well, I can't rightly recollect. You know how dreams are. But I do know it was something terrible. Perhaps your dinner did not agree with you. And you merely fancied you saw this lady. No, no, Mr. McMurdy. My boy, you're trembling like a leaf. I did see her, I did. And I've got to see her again. And she was a very wraithous woman. For she proved the undoing of my good friend Alan Sanderson, Laird of Birkendale. He first saw her in St. Lawrence Eve in the year 1777. And from the afternoon he was bewitched. Each day he rode to the top of Berkey Hill, hoping to see his phantom. But the vision did not appear. At last his doctor directed him to visit his sister in Ireland. And there Margaret helped young Alan mend his health. One morning, well, anyway, here's what Alan told me later. Alan, are you awake? Hi. Hi, Margaret. Breakfast is ready. Will you be down soon? Almost immediately. I'll be out of bed in a minute. Hurry, Alan. A hot breakfast is much better eaten hot, you know. All right, Margaret. I'll hurry. Hello, there. I've been waiting for you. How did you get in here? No. No, I must be dreaming again. This is no dream. I dream. I was trying to forget you. If you're an operation... But I'm not. You'll see. Hold me close. Oh, you are real. I can't believe it. I love you so. From the very first moment I set eyes on you. I've loved you. And I've loved you, too. You'll never know how much I've suffered without you. No man has ever loved a woman as dear as I love you. Come. Come down and meet me, sister. Here? Yes. I came here to Ireland to stay with her for a wee while. What do you mean? I don't understand. Oh. We're not in no room at all. We're standing on Burkey Hill in Scotland. Of course. This is the only spot where you've ever seen me. I can't recollect how it happened. You mean you don't remember coming back from Ireland? No. No, I can't. But since we're here, come home with me now to my own house. No, Alan. I can't meet you anywhere but here on Burkey Hill. Till after our marriage. Can't marry you till St. Lawrence is. Two years from now. Two years? But why must we wait that long? I can't explain, Alan. There isn't time. I must go now. Oh, no, no. I don't even know your name. My name is Jane Ogilvy. Jane Ogilvy. You were the truth to me before you were born. I don't understand. It's true. It happened long ago. I came here the day to release you if you have the slightest... Release me? No, no, Jane, no. I'm yours forever, I swear it. When may I see you again? On St. Lawrence Eve. And every St. Lawrence Eve. Till the day we're married. I don't know how I can live till then, but I'll be here waiting for you. Pledge to each other. Will you change rings with me? Yes. Yes, darling, certainly. Here, you take this ring and keep it all. I'll love you forever. I'll be waiting here for you on St. Lawrence Eve. Jane, come back. Please come back. Jane, Jane, don't leave me. Jane, Jane, Jane. What is it? Alan, it's Margaret. Get dressed and come downstairs. Your breakfast is ready. Where are you having a nightmare? Oh, yes, sister, yes. It must have been dreaming. I'd rest and come down right away. It couldn't have been. It was too real. And her ring... It's on the finger. Then it was near dream. It wasn't a dream after all. Well, good friends, do you still hold the foolish belief that there's no such thing as ghosts and spirits? If poor Alan was puzzled to account for some things in the course of his dream, he was much more puzzled to account for them now that he was wide awake. He dressed himself and hurried down to the breakfast parlor, where he joined his sister, Margaret, and Lucky Black, the old woman who had known his family for so many years. Good morning, Margaret. And Lucky, I'm very glad to see you. Eh? Who is this now? Lucky. It's Alan, my brother. Alan. Hi, so it is. The way he stands there with his dark eyes and his black hair, he might be his father, or even his grandfather. Come over to my chair, Alan. Let me take your hand. Alan, are you all right? Yes, Margaret, I'm all right. No, my head's in the sort of a well. Alan, you're all a tremble. Are you ill? No, no, no, I'm all right. Thank you. You've got to be very careful about dampness and night vapors. I... I watched by the bedside of your poor mother. Night after night, she'll receive her finally to go off. You're sure you're not feeling ill? No, I tell you I'm all right. Alan just had a bad dream, Lucky. When I went up to awaken him, he was screaming as though he'd seen the old Nick. Bad dreams, Alan. You have bad dreams, too? It wasn't a bad dream, Lucky. When I got to your door, I heard you calling the name Jane. Yes, about Jane. Oh, it's nothing, nothing. What's for breakfast, Margaret? Here's a cup of hot tea. I'll get the oatmeal. What else did you dream, Alan? Tell me quickly. Lucky, I tell you it was nothing. But you said her name was Jane. Yes. Was it Jane or Goldie? Alan! Your teacup. How did you know her name? The rest of your dreams. There's no more. I tell you there's no more. Save. Save what? I'll not see her again to St. Lawrence Eve. But protect her, Lucky. What's the matter? St. Lawrence Eve sent two. Two for him and all his kids. What are you talking about? Margaret. Margaret. Don't let him go. Keep him here in Ireland. Find him, Margaret. Find him. What do you mean? I tremble to think on his fate. May the Lord preserve him from it. Oh, the old woman's death. What is that ring I see on your left hand? Let me look at the ring. Oh, Lucky. Oh, the poor old woman. She's fainted. What in the world? Alan, let me see that ring. Oh, Alan. Burn it. Burn it. It's not a right ring. Burn it, Alan, now. My dear sister, I am saying too. It's a very pretty ring it was given me. And I said great value by it. You haven't said destroy it and renounce the givers. I'll do no such thing. If you want peace, if you have any regard for your soul, destroy that ring. But why? If you saw with your own eyes, Alan, you'd know it's not a ring that's bitten a Christian to wear. Destroy it. Destroy it, Alan. When Alan Sanderson returned to Scotland, his mind was in great confusion. And they sought me out the very first day he arrived. We were sipping a bit of wine and Alan was... I'm at a great loss for an excuse. I'm at a great loss for an explanation, Mr. McMurray. I'm at a great loss for an explanation, Mr. McMurray. But I do know that I yell no more than ever for a glimpse of jailed ogle. How dare you say, Alan? Tell me this. Whatever calls the collapse of that old woman in your sister's house. You mean Lucky Black? She would never tell me. As a matter of fact, I couldn't have forced her to say anything at all. Her lips were sealed out of fear, I think. Do you think I have a look at it? No. No. I've sewed it within the vest, right next to my heart. And I'll now bring it out into the light till my wedding day. Well, did you notice anything strange about it? No. I did, Mr. McMurray. It's not but a gold ring with a bright emerald set in it. Then what is your explanation of the way the two women acted? I have none. But all my life I've had a feeling that this fate awaits me. But as long as I have my love, I'll no worry about the mystery of it. So young Alan was determined and patiently he waited as the months went by. He was so caught up in the wonder of his love for this phantom that no amount of talk could discourage him. No one again nor saw him wandering aimlessly about Birkey Hill. And at last came the eve of St. Lawrence. Would the phantom of this woman he loved appear again? Jane. Jane O'Gurphy. This is the magic night. Where are you on this eve, St. Lawrence? I'm here, Alan. Where, Jane? Where? In the darkness. In a moment, look. The moon is coming over the eastern hills. In the light of the moon, you can see me. Jane. Oh, my Jane. This year has been the longest of my life. Now, the moonlight comes and I come to you. Oh, my darling. How beautiful you are. Afraid. Afraid of you? How could it be? I love you more than I thought a man could ever love. I would gladly give him a life for the wonder of it. Then you will wait for me until I can be your bride. If I must. I will wait. The year is not forever. And then I'm yours. But why must we wait? Come with me now, Jane. I cannot now, my darling. But take me in your arms. The moon is coming over the eastern hills. The moonlight warms my heart. There is only a moment more. My Jane. My Jane. And now goodbye until a year has gone. And so before Alan Sanderson stretched another year, separating him from this specter girl he loved, his sister Margaret worried because of his silence wrote me often to know how young Alan was and I was able to write only that he seemed a happy man. How could a teller of my growing premonition that he was also a doomed man, doomed to die? So when the evil St. Lawrence came again, I purposely waited at my gate for a new Alan Sanderson would soon come riding by. I had not long to wait. And greetings to you, Alan. You see before you're the most impatient man in the world. Do I know? And why may I ask? Because tonight's the night. Tonight's the evil St. Lawrence. So it is. As if you didn't know. I suppose I did know, my boy. Tonight we to be married. Alan, it is not too late. Take the advice of an old man and dinner go to Berkey Hill. Oh, come now, Mr. McMurray. I have waited a lifetime for this night to come. I'm afraid for you, my boy. Because I'm in love? No. Tonight's our wedding night. The most saints protect you. You didn't know Jane Oglethey as I do. She loves me, Mr. McMurray. And tonight we're off on a long journey. But your sister Margaret, does she know? I have written to her in Ireland. Well, it's late. And soon the moon will rise. I must be at Berkey Hill when I dull. Goodbye, Mr. McMurray. You'll be seeing me again. Goodbye, my boy. I hope I'll be seeing you again. And I rode away toward Berkey Hill, a doomed man. And I was not surprised the next morning to receive an urgent message from Alan's sister Margaret, who during the night had come to Scotland. The note asked me to meet her at Alan's house. And when I arrived, the poor girl was in a pitiful state. Oh, Mr. McMurray, I'm so glad you've come. Have you just arrived from Ireland? Yes, but I'm afraid I've come too late. Too late? I, Mr. McMurray, as Alan told you everything. He's told me about his visions and his dreams and the meetings with this mysterious girl. When did you see him last? Last night, just as he rode off to the married. The eve of St. Lawrence. It's what I was afraid of. Is that old woman still in Ireland? No, I brought her back with me. She's in the next room, resting. I'd like to see her in questioner. Perhaps I can make her speak. Margaret, there's something about all this. I don't like a bit. You feel it too. The entire thing is weird and unnatural. May I speak to Lucky Black? Yes, but first read this letter. It's from Alan. He wrote it a long time ago and posted it to me in Ireland. Dearest sister, this time next month I shall be the most happy or most miserable man in the world. On St. Lawrence eve I have solemnly engaged myself to wed a young and beautiful lady named Jane Ogilvy, to whom it seems I was betrothed before I was born. That's the part I don't understand. Or do I? Read the rest of it. I have a most private and mysterious nature, but my troth is pledged and my resolution fixed. On the natural eve, we will set out on a far journey to the place of Hurrah-Bode. It will belong before I see you again. Yours till death, your brother Alan. Yours till death. I'm afraid, Mr. McMurray. What can we do? First, we've got to talk to the old lady. This way, then. No one might be able to make her talk. I'm almost afraid to hear what she has to say. Lucky? Lucky? This is Mr. McMurray. How do you do, sir? It's an urgent matter. I would like to speak to you about her. A matter perhaps of life or death for Alan. I have nothing to say about the young man. Dilemma, sir. But you must speak, Lucky. You must. There's something you know that may help him. I'm sure of it. You do not understand the strange workings of fate. We are only human beings. We have no way of combating a force that's outside our understanding. Oh, don't you see, Mr. McMurray? It's no use. Hey, listen. What is that? A horse. Coming up the path. Here. You can see it from the window. It's Alan's horse without a rider. How the height of him shines. He's been running that path, Mr. McMurray. Let me see. Oh, Heaven protect us. It has happened. What do you mean? What's happened? The deed is done. It's Jane Ogilvy. Lucky, tell us what you mean. Oh, it has happened now. I know it has. So I can speak. Then quickly, woman. A tale of sadness and horror it is. The first Alan Sanderson before he married the great heiress of Birkendelle was engaged to a beautiful young lady named Jane Ogilvy. Jane Ogilvy? Aye. He gave the lass anything but fair play. And they say he murdered her on Birkey Hill. Is it true? Do you believe this story? Aye. For I have good reason to believe it when I was a little lass I saw the red blood and the new grave. It filled me with such fright I never told anyone about it. And 20 years later the next Alan Sanderson was found dead on that very spot lying across the green mountain. Oh, it can be true. Miss Margaret, come quickly. Missouri is outside. But where? Birkey Hill. Heaven grant, there may still be time. This is the road where your brother saw the first time. And just around the bend is Birkey Hill. Oh, Mr. McNerdy. I'm afraid. Gee up. Birkey, look. Oh, there. Aye, Miss Margaret. Oh. We're too late. Oh. Alan. Oh, my poor. Just as his father and grandfather died there he lies on the green mound of his father's grave. Oh, that's why. Why? He's the last male of his line, Miss Margaret. And the Sanderson name dies wherever. It is a blessing in disguise. Take me away. I can't bear to look at him. Now the phantom will haunt the eve of St. Lawrence no longer. The wicked people of the world will now have a lesson on divine justice, Miss Margaret. Written for them in lines of blood. From the time or pages of the past we have brought you the story The Mysterious Bride.