 The Old Nurses' Story by Elizabeth Cleighhorne-Gaskill. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Jane Greensmith of JaneGS.com. The Old Nurses' Story by Elizabeth Cleighhorne-Gaskill. You know, my dears, that your mother was an orphan and an only child, and I daresay you have heard that your grandfather was a clergyman up in Westmoreland, where I come from. I was just a girl in the village school when, one day, your grandmother came in to ask the mistress if there was any scholar there who would do for a nursemaid. And mighty proud I was, I can tell you, when the mistress called me up and spoke to my being a good girl at my needle and a steady, honest girl and one whose parents were very respectable, though they might be poor. I thought I should like nothing better than to serve the pretty young lady who was blushing as deep as I was as she spoke of the coming baby and what I should have to do with it. However, I see you don't care so much for this part of my story, as for what you think is to come, so I'll tell you it once. I was engaged and settled at the Parsonage before Miss Rosmond. That was the baby who is now your mother, was born. To be sure, I had little enough to do with her when she came, for she was never out of her mother's arms and slept by her all night long and proud enough was I sometimes when Mrs. trusted her to me. There never was such a baby before or since, though you've all of you been fine enough in your turns, but for sweet, winning ways, you've none of you come up to your mother. She took after her mother, who was a real lady born, a Miss Fernival, a granddaughter of Lord Fernivals in Northumberland. I believe she had neither brother nor sister and had been brought up in my Lord's family till she had married your grandfather, who was just a curate, son to a shopkeeper in Carlisle, but a clever, fine gentleman as ever was and one who was a write-down hard worker in his parish, which was very wide and scattered all abroad over the Westmoreland fells. When your mother, little Miss Rosmond, was about four or five years old, both her parents died in a fortnight, one after the other. Ah, that was a sad time. My pretty young mistress and me was looking for another baby when my master came home for one of his long rides, wet and tired, and took the fever he died of. And then she never held up her head again, but just lived to see her dead baby and have it laid on her breast before she sighed away her life. My mistress asked me, on her deathbed, never to leave Miss Rosmond, but if she had never spoken a word, I would have gone with a little child to the end of the world. The next thing, and before we had well stilled our sobs, the executors and guardians came to settle the affairs. They were my poor young mistress's own cousin, Lord Furnival, and Mr. S. Thwait, my master's brother, a shopkeeper in Manchester. Not so well to do then as he was afterwards and with a large family rising about him. Well, I don't know if it were their settling but as of a letter my mistress wrote on her deathbed to her cousin, my Lord. But somehow it was settled that Miss Rosmond and me were to go to Furnival Manor House in Northumberland, and my Lord spoke as if it had been her mother's wish that she should live with his family, and as if he had no objections for that one or two more or less could make no difference in so grand a household. So, though, that was not the way in which I should have wished the coming of my bright and pretty pet to have been looked at, who was like a sunbeam in any family be it never so grand, I was well pleased that all the folks in the dale should stare and admire when they heard I was going to be young ladies made of my Lord Furnival's at Furnival Manor. But I made a mistake in thinking we were to go and live where my Lord did. It turned out that the family had left Furnival Manor House fifty years or more. I could not hear that my poor young mistress had ever been there, though she had been brought up in the family, and I was sorry for that, but I would have liked Miss Rosman's youth to have passed where her mothers had been. My Lord's gentlemen, from whom I asked as many questions as I durst said that the Manor House was at the foot of the Cumberland Fowls and a very grand place that an old Miss Furnival, a great aunt of my Lord's, lived there with only a few servants, but that it was a very healthy place and my Lord had thought it would suit Miss Rosman very well for a few years and that her being there might perhaps amuse his old aunt. I was bitten by my Lord to have Miss Rosman's things ready by a certain day. He was a stern, proud man as they say all the Lord's Furnival were, and he never spoke a word more than was necessary. Folk did say he had loved my young mistress, but that, because she knew that his father would object, she would never listen to him and married Mr. Esthway, but I don't know. He never married at any rate, but he never took much notice of Miss Rosman, if he had cared for her dead mother. He sent his gentlemen with us to the manor house, telling him to join him at Newcastle that same evening, so there was no great length of time for him to make us known to all the strangers before he, too, shook us off, and we were left too lonely young things. I was not eighteen in the great old manor house. It seems like yesterday that we drove there. We had left our own dear parsonage very early, and we had both cried as if our hearts would break, though we were traveling in my Lord's carriage, which I thought so much of once. And now it was long past noon on a September day, and we stopped to change horses for the last time at a little smoky town, all full of colliers and minors. Miss Rosman had fallen asleep, but Mr. Henry told me to waken her, that she might see the park and the manor house as we drove up. I thought it rather a pity, but I did what he bade me for fear he should complain of me to my Lord. We had left all signs of a town or even a village, and we were then inside the gates of a large wild park. Not like the parks here in the south, but with rocks and the noise of running water, and gnarled thorn trees and old oaks all white and peeled with age. The road went up about two miles, and then we saw a great stately house with many trees close around it, so close that in some places their branches dragged against the walls when the wind blew, and some hung broken down, for no one seemed to take much charge of the place, to lop the wood or to keep the moss covered carriageway in order. Only in front of the house all was clear. The great oval drive was without a weed, and neither tree nor creeper was allowed to grow over the long many windowed front, at both sides of which a wing projected, reached the ends of other side fronts. For the house, although it was so desolate, was even grander than I expected. Behind it rose the fells, which seemed unenclosed and bare enough, and on the left hand of the house, as you stood facing it, was a little old-fashioned flower garden, as I found out afterwards. A door opened out upon it from the west front. It had been scooped out of the thick dark wood for some old lady fernival, but the branches of the great forest trees had grown and overshadowed it again, and there were very few flowers that would live there at that time. When we drove up to the great front entrance and we went into the hall, I thought we should be lost. It was so large and vast and grand. There was a chandelier all of bronze hung down from the middle of the ceiling, and I had never seen one before and looked at it all in a maze. Then, at one end of the hall was a great fireplace as large as the sides of the houses in my country with messy and irons and dogs to hold the wood, and by it were heavy old-fashioned sofas. At the opposite end of the hall to the left as you went in, on the western side, was an organ built into the wall and so large that it filled up the best part of that end. Beyond it, on the same side, was a door, and opposite, on each side of the fireplace were also doors leading to the east front, as long as I stayed in the house, so I can't tell you what lay beyond. The afternoon was closing in and the hall, which had no fire lighted in it, looked dark and gloomy, but we did not stay there a moment. The old servant who had opened the door for us bowed to Mr. Henry and took us in through the door at the further side of the great organ and led us through several smaller halls and passages into the west drawing room where he said that Ms. Furnival was sitting. Ms. Rosamond held very tight to me as if she were scared and lost in that great place, and as for myself, I was not much better. The west drawing room was very cheerful looking with a warm fire in it and plenty of good comfortable furniture about. Ms. Furnival was an old lady not far from 80, I should think, but I do not know. She was thin and tall and had a face as full of fine wrinkles as if they had been drawn all over it with a needle's point. The only watchful to make up, I suppose, for her being so deaf is to be obliged to use a trumpet. Sitting with her, working at the same great piece of tapestry, was Mrs. Stark, her maid and companion and almost as old as she was. She had lived with Ms. Furnival ever since they both were young and now she seemed more like a friend than a servant. She looked so cold and gray and stony as if she had never loved or cared for anyone and I don't suppose she did care for anyone except her mistress and owing to the great deafness of the latter, Mrs. Stark treated her very much as if she were a child. Mr. Henry gave some message from my lord and then he bowed goodbye to us all taking no notice of my sweet little Rosamonds outstretched hand and left us standing there being looked at by two old ladies through their spectacles. I was right glad when they wrung for the old footman who had shown us in at first and told him to take us to our rooms. So we went out of that great drawing room and into another sitting room and out of that, and then up a great flight of stairs and along a broad gallery which was something like a library having books all down one side and windows and writing tables all down the other till we came to our rooms which I was not sorry to hear were just over the kitchens for I began to think I should be lost in the house. There was an old nursery that had been used for all the little lords and ladies long ago with a pleasant fire burning in the grate and the kettle boiling on the hob and tea things spread out on the table and out of that room was the night nursery with a little crib for Mrs. Rosamond close to my bed and old James called up Dorothy his wife to bid us welcome and both he and she were so hospitable and kind that by and by and by the time tea was over she was sitting on Dorothy's knee and chattering away as fast as her little tongue could go I soon found out that Dorothy was from Westmoreland and that bound her and me together as it were and I would never wish to meet with kinder people than were old James and his wife James had lived pretty nearly all his life in my lords family and thought there was no one so grand as they he even looked down a little on his wife because till he had married her he never lived in any but a farmer's household but he was very fond of her as well he might be they had one servant under them to do all the rough work Agnes they called her and she and me and James and Dorothy with Mrs. Arneval and Mrs. Stark made up the family always remembering my sweet little Miss Rosamond I used to wonder what they had done before she came they thought so much of her now kitchen and drawing room it was all the same the hard, sad, Miss Fernival and the cold Mrs. Stark looked pleased when she came fluttering in like a bird playing and pranking hither and thither with a continual murmur and pretty prattle of gladness I am sure they were sorry many a time when she flitted away into the kitchen though they were too proud to ask her to stay with them and were a little surprised at her taste though to be sure as Mrs. Stark said it was not to be wondered at wondering what stock her father had come of the great old rambling house was a famous place for Miss little Miss Rosamond she made expeditions all over it with me at her heels all except the east wing which was never open and whether we never thought of going but in the western and northern part was many a pleasant room full of things that were curiosities to us though they might not have been to people who had seen more the windows were darkened by the sweeping boughs and the ivy which had overgrown them but in the green gloom we could manage to see old china jars and carved ivory boxes in great heavy books and above all the old pictures once I remember my darling would have Dorothy go with us to tell us who they all were for they were all portraits of some of my lord's family though Dorothy could not tell us the names of every one we had gone through most of the rooms in the old state drawing room over the hall and there was a picture of Miss Furnival or as she was called in those days Miss Grace for she was the younger sister such a beauty she must have been but with such a set proud look and such scorn looking out of her handsome eyes with her eyebrows just a little raised as if she wondered how anyone could have the impertinence to look at her and her lip curled at us as we stood there gazing beyond the like of which I had never seen before but it was all the fashion when she was young a hat of some soft white stuff like beaver pulled a little over her brows and a beautiful plume of feather sweeping rounded on one side and her gown of blue satin was open in front to a quilted white stomacher well to be sure said I when I had gazed my fill flesh is grass they do say but who would have thought that Miss Furnival had been such an out and out beauty her now yes said Dorothy folks change sadly but if what my master's father used to say was true Miss Furnival the elder sister was handsomer than Miss Grace her picture is here somewhere but if I show it you you must never let on even to James that you have seen it can the little ladyholder thought tongue thank you as she I was not so sure for she was such as little sweet bold open spoken child so I set her to hide herself and that I helped Dorothy to turn a great picture that leaned with its face towards the wall and was not hung up as the others were to be sure it be Miss Grace for beauty and I think for scornful pride too though in that matter it might be hard to choose I could have looked at it an hour but Dorothy seemed half frightened at having shown it to me and hurried it back again and made me run and find Miss Rosamond for that there were some places about the house where she should like ill for the child to go I was a brave high-spirited girl and thought little of what the old woman said for I liked hide and seek as well as any child in the parish so off I ran to find my little one as winter drew on the days grew shorter I was sometimes almost certain that I heard a noise as if someone was playing on the great organ in the hall I did not hear it every evening but certainly I did often usually when I was sitting with Miss Rosamond after I had put her to bed and keeping quite still in silent in the bedroom then I used to hear it booming and swelling away in the distance the first night when I went down to my supper I asked Dorothy who had been playing music and James said very shortly that I was a gout to take the wind sowing among the trees for music but I saw Dorothy look at him very fearfully and Agnes the kitchen maid said something beneath her breath and went quite white I saw they did not like my question so I held my peace till I was with Dorothy alone when I knew I could get a good deal out of her so the next day I watched my time and I coaxed and asked her who it was that played the organ for I knew that it was the organ and not the wind well enough for all I had kept silence before James but Dorothy had had her lesson all warned and never a word could I get from her so then I tried Agnes though I had always held my head rather above her as I was evened to James and Dorothy and she was little better than their servant so she said I must never never tell and if I ever told I was never to say she had told me but it was a very strange noise and she had heard it many a time but most of all on winter nights and before storms and folks did say it was the old lord playing on the great organ in the hall that he used to when he was alive but who the old lord was or why he played and why he played on stormy winter evenings in particular she either could not or would not tell me well I told you I had a brave heart and I thought it was rather pleasant to have that grand music rolling about the house let who would be the player for now it rose above the great gusts of wind and wailed and triumphed just like a living creature and then it fell to a softness only it was always music and tunes so it was nonsense to call it the wind I thought at first that it might be Miss Furnival who played unknown to Agnes but one day when I was in the hall by myself I opened the organ and peeped all about it and around it as I had done to the organ in Crossweight Church once before and I saw it was all broken and destroyed inside though it looked so brave and fine and then though it was noonday my flesh began to creep a little and I shut it up and run away pretty quickly to my own bright nursery and I did not like hearing the music for some time after that any more than James and Dorothy did all this time Miss Rosamond was making herself more and more beloved the old ladies liked her to dine with them at their early dinner James stood behind Miss Furnival's chair and I behind Miss Rosamond's all in state and after dinner she would play about in a corner of the great drawing room as still as any mouse while Miss Furnival slept and I had my dinner in the kitchen but she was glad enough to come to me in the nursery afterwards for as she said Miss Furnival was so sad and Mrs. Stark so dull but she and I were merry enough and by and by I got not to care for that weird rolling music which did no one harm if we did not know where it came from that winter was very cold in the middle of October the frost began and lasted many many weeks I remember one day at dinner Miss Furnival lifted up her sad heavy eyes and said to Mrs. Stark I am afraid we shall have a terrible winter in a strange kind of meaning way but Mrs. Stark pretended not to hear and talked very loud of something else my little lady and I did not care for the frost not we as long as it was dry we climbed up the steep brows behind the house and went up on the fence which were bleak and bare enough and there we ran races in the fresh sharp air and once we came down by a new path that took us past the two old gnarled holly trees which grew about half way down by the east side of the house but the days grew shorter and shorter and the old lord if it was he played away more and more stormily and sadly on the great organ one Sunday afternoon it must have been towards the end of November I asked Dorothy to take charge of Little Missy when she came out of the drawing room after Miss Furnival had had her nap for it was too cold to take her with me to church and yet I wanted to go and Dorothy was glad enough to promise and was so fond of the child that all seemed well and Agnes and I set off very briskly though the sky hung heavy and black over the white earth as if the night had never fully gone away and the air though still was very biting and keen we shall have a fall of snow said Agnes to me and sure enough even while we were in church it came down thick in great large flakes so thick it almost darkened the windows it had stopped snowing before we came out but it lay soft, thick and deep beneath our feet as we tramped home before we got to the hall the moon rose and I think it was lighter then what with the moon and what with the white dazzling snow then it had been when we went to church between two and three o'clock I have not told you that Miss Furnival and Mrs. Stark never went to church they used to read the prayers together in their quiet gloomy way they seemed to feel the Sunday very long without their tapestry work to be busy at so when I went to Dorothy in the kitchen to fetch Miss Rosamond and take her upstairs with me I did not much wonder when the old woman told me that the ladies had kept the child close to them and that she had never come to the kitchen as I had bitten her when she was tired of behaving pretty in the drawing room so I took off my things and went to find her and bring her to her supper in the nursery but when I went into the best drawing room there sat the two old ladies very still and quiet dropping out a word now and then but looking as if nothing so bright and merry as Miss Rosamond had ever been near them still I thought she might be hiding from me it was one of her pretty ways and that she had persuaded them to look as if they knew nothing about her so I went softly peeping under the sofa and behind that chair making believe I was sadly frightened at not finding her what's the matter Hester said Mrs. Stark sharply I don't know if Miss Furnival had seen me for as I told you she was very deaf and she sat quite still idly staring into the fire with her hopeless face looking for my little rosy posy reply I still thinking that the child was there and near me though I could not see her Miss Rosamond is not here said Mrs. Stark she went away more than an hour ago to find Dorothy and she too turned and went on looking into the fire my heart sank at this and I began to wish I had never left my darling I went back to Dorothy and told her James was gone out for the day but she and me and Agnes took the lights and went up into the nursery first and then we roamed over that great large house calling and treating Miss Rosamond to come out of her hiding place and not to frighten us to death in that way but there was no answer no sound oh said I at last can she have got into the east wing and hidden there but Dorothy said it was not possible for that she herself had never been in there that the doors were always locked and my Lord Steward had the keys she believed at any rate neither she nor James had ever seen them so I said I would go back and see if after all she was not hidden in the drawing room unknown to the old ladies and if I found her there I said I would whip her well for the fright she had given me but I never meant to do it well I went back to the west drawing room and I told Mrs. Stark we could not find her anywhere and asked for leave to look all about the furniture there now that she might have fallen asleep in some warm hidden corner but no we looked Ms. Furnival got up and looked trembling all over and she was nowhere there then we set off again everyone in the house and looked in all the places we had searched before but we could not find her Ms. Furnival shivered and shook so much that Mrs. Stark took her back into the warm drawing room but not before they had made me promise to bring her to them when she was found well a day I began to think she never would be found when I thought me to look out into the great front court all covered with snow I was upstairs when I looked out but it was such clear moonlight I could see quite plain two little footprints which might be traced from the hall door and around the corner of the east wing I don't know how I got down but I tugged open the great stiff hall door and throwing the skirt of my gown head for a cloak I ran out I turned the east corner and there a black shadow fell on the snow but when I came again into the moonlight there were the little foot marks going up, up to the fells it was bitter cold so cold that the air almost took the skin off my face as I ran but I ran on crying to think how my poor little darling must be perished and frightened I was inside of the holly trees when I saw a shepherd coming down the hill burying something in his arms wrapped in his mod he shouted to me and asked me if I had lost a barn and when I could not speak for crying he bore towards me and I saw my wee Barney lying still and white and stiff in his arms as if she had been dead he told me he had been up to the fells to gather his sheep before the deep cold of the night came on and that under the holly trees black marks on the hillside where no other bush was for miles around he had found my little lady my lamb, my queen my darling stiff and cold in the terrible sleep which has frost begotten oh the joy and tears of having her in my arms once again for I would not let him carry her but took her mod and all into my own arms and held her near my own warm neck and heart and felt the life stealing slowly back again into her little gentle limbs but she was still insensible when we reached the hall and I had no breath for speech we went in by the kitchen door bringing the warming pan said I and I carried her upstairs and began undressing her by the nursery fire which Agnes had kept up I called my little lamb all the sweet and playful names I could think of even while my eyes were blinded by my tears and at last oh at length she opened her large blue eyes then I put her into her warm bed and sent Dorothy down to tell Ms. Furnival that all was well and I made up my mind to sit by my darling's bedside the live long night she fell away into a soft sleep as soon as her pretty head had touched the pillow and I watched by her till morning light when she wakened up bright and clear or so I thought at first am I dears so I think now she said that she had fancied that she should like to go to Dorothy for that both the old ladies were asleep and it was very dull in the darling room and that as she was going through the west lobby she saw the snow through the high window falling falling soft and steady but she wanted to see it lying pretty and white on the ground so she made her way into the great hall and then going to the window she saw it bright and soft upon the drive but while she stood there she saw a little girl not so old as she was but so pretty said my darling and this little girl beckoned to me to come out and oh she was so pretty and so sweet I could not choose but go and then this other little girl had taken her by the hand and side by side the two had gone round the east corner now you are a naughty little girl in telling stories said I what would your good mama that is in heaven and never told a story in her life she heard her and I dare say she does telling stories indeed Hester sobbed out my child I am telling you true indeed I am don't tell me said I very stern I tracked you by your foot marks through the snow there were only yours to be seen and if you had had a little girl to go hand in hand with you up the hill don't you think the footprints would have gone along with yours I can't help it dear dear Hester said she cried if they did not I never looked at her feet but she held my hand fast and tight in her little one and it was very very cold she took me up the fell path up to the holly trees and there I saw a lady weeping and crying but when she saw me she hushed her weeping and smiled very proud and grand and took me on her knee and began to lull me to sleep and that's all Hester but that is true said she crying so I thought the child was in a fever and pretended to believe her as she went over her story over and over again and always the same at last Dorothy knocked at the door with Miss Rosamond's breakfast and she told me the old ladies were down in the eating parlor and that they wanted to speak to me they had both been into the night nursery the evening before but it was after Miss Rosamond was asleep so they had only looked at her and asked me any questions I shall catch it thought I to myself as I went along the north gallery and yet I thought taking courage it was in their charge I left her and it's they that's to blame for letting her steal away unknown and unwatched so I went in boldly and told my story I told it all to Miss Furnival shouting a close to her ear but when I came to the mention of the other little girl out in the snow shouting her out and wiling her up to the grand and beautiful lady by the holly tree she threw up her arms her old withered arms and cried aloud oh heaven forgive have mercy Mrs. Stark took hold of her roughly enough I thought but she was past Mrs. Stark's management and spoke to me in a kind of wild warning and authority Hester keep her from that child it will lure her to her death that evil child tell her it is a wicked naughty child then Mrs. Stark hurried me out of the room where indeed I was glad enough to go but Miss Furnival kept shrieking out oh have mercy will thou never forgive it is many a long year ago I was very uneasy in my mind after that I durst never leave Mrs. Rosman night or day for fear less she might slip off again after some fancy or other and all the more because I thought I could make out that Miss Furnival was crazy from their odd ways about her and I was afraid less something of the same kind which might be in the family you know hung over my darling and the great frost never ceased all this time and whenever it was a more stormy night than usual between the gusts and through the wind we heard the old lord playing on the great organ but old lord or not wherever Miss Rosman went there I followed the love for her pretty helpless orphan was stronger than my fear for the grand and terrible sound besides it rested with me to keep her cheerful and merry as besieged her age so we played together and wandered together here and there and everywhere for I never dared to lose sight of her again in that large and rambling house and so it happened that one afternoon not long before Christmas day we were playing together on the billiard table not that we knew the right way of playing but she liked to roll the smooth ivory balls with her pretty hands and I liked to do whatever she did and by and by without our noticing it it grew dusk indoors though it was still light in the open air and I was thinking of taking her back into the nursery when all of a sudden she cried out look Hester look there is my poor little girl out in the snow I turned towards the long narrow windows and there sure enough I saw a little girl less than my Miss Rosman dressed all unfit to be out of doors such a bitter night crying and beating against the windowpains as if she wanted to be let in she seemed to sob and wail tell Miss Rosman could bear it no longer and was flying to the door to open it when all of a sudden and close upon us the great organ peeled out so loud and thundering it fairly made me tremble and all the more when I remembered me that even in the stillness of that dead cold weather I had heard no sound of little battering hands upon the window glass although the phantom child had seemed to put forth all its force and although I had seen it wail and cry no faintest touch of sound had fallen upon my ears whither I remembered all this at the very moment I do not know the great organ sound had so stunned me into terror but this I know I caught up Miss Rosman before she got the hall door open and clutched her and carried her away kicking and screaming into the large bright kitchen where Dorothy and Agnes were busy with their men's pies what is the matter with my sweet one cried Dorothy as I bore in Miss Rosman who was sobbing as if her heart would break she won't let me open the door for my little girl to come in and she'll die if she is out in the fells tonight cruel naughty hester she said to me but she might have struck harder for I had seen a look of gasly terror on Dorothy's face which made my very blood run cold shut the back kitchen door fast and bolted well said she to Agnes she said no more she gave me raisins and almonds to quiet Miss Rosman but she sobbed about the little girl in the snow and would not touch any of the good things I was thankful when she cried herself to sleep in bed then I stole down to the kitchen and told Dorothy I had made up my mind I would carry my darling back to my father's house in Applethwait where if we lived humbly we lived at peace I said I had been frightened enough with the old lords organ playing but now that I had seen for myself this little moaning child all decked out as no child in the neighborhood could be beating and battering to get in yet always without any sound or noise with the dark wound on its right shoulder and that Miss Rosman had known it again for the phantom that had nearly lured her to her death which Dorothy knew was true I would stand it no longer I saw Dorothy change color once or twice when I had done she told me she did not think I could take Miss Rosman with me for that she was my lord's ward and I had no right over her and she asked me would I leave the child that I was so fond of just for sounds and sights that could do me no harm and that they all had to get used to in their turns I was all in a hot trembling passion and I said it was very well for her to talk that knew what these sights and noises betokened and that had perhaps had something to do with the specter child while it was alive and I taunted her so that she told me all she knew at last and then I wished I had never been told for it only made me more afraid than ever she said she'd heard the tale from old neighbors that were alive when she was first married when folks used to come to the hall sometimes before it had got such a bad name on the countryside it might not be true or it might what she had been told the old lord was Miss Furnival's father Miss Grace as Dorothy called her for Miss Maude was the elder and Miss Furnival by rights the old lord was eaten up with pride such a proud man was never seen or heard of and his daughters were like him was good enough to wed them although they had choice enough but they were the great beauties of their day as I had seen by their portraits where they hung in the state drawing room but as the old saying is pride will have a fall and these two haughty beauties fell in love with the same man and he know better than a foreign musician whom their father had down from London to play music with him at the manor house for above all things next to his pride Lord loved music he could play on nearly every instrument that ever was heard of and it was a strange thing it did not soften him but he was a fierce, a dour old man and had broken his poor wife's heart with his cruelty he was mad after music and would pay any money for it so he got this foreigner to come who made such beautiful music that they said the very birds on the trees stopped their singing to listen and by degrees this foreign gentleman got such a hold over the old Lord that nothing would serve him but that he must come every year and it was he that had the great organ brought from Holland and built up in the hall where it stood now he taught the old Lord to play on it but many and many a time when Lord Furnival was thinking of nothing but his fine organ and his finer music the dark foreigner was walking abroad in the woods with one of the young ladies and then Miss Grace Miss Maude won the day and carried off the prize such as it was and he and she were married all unknown to anyone and before he made his next yearly visit she had been confined of a little girl at a farmhouse on the moors while her father and Miss Grace thought she was away at Doncaster Races but though she was a wife and a mother she was not a bit softened but as haughty and as passionate as ever and perhaps more so she was jealous of Miss Grace to whom her foreign husband paid a deal of court by way of blinding her as he told his wife but Miss Grace triumphed over Miss Maude and Miss Maude grew fiercer and fiercer both with her husband and with her sister and the former who could easily shake off what was disagreeable and hide himself in foreign countries went away a month before his usual time that summer and half threatened that he would never come back again meanwhile the little girl was left at the farmhouse and her mother used to have her horse saddled and galloped wildly over the hills to see her once every week at the very least for where she loved she loved and where she hated she hated and the old lord went on playing playing on his organ and the servants thought the sweet music he made had soothed down his awful temper of which Dorothy said some terrible tales could be told he grew infirm too and had to walk with a crutch his son, that was the present lord Furnival's father, was with the army in America and the other son at sea so Miss Maude had it pretty much her own way and she and Miss Grace grew colder and bitterer to each other every day till at last they hardly ever spoke except when the old lord was by the foreign musician came again the next summer but it was for the last time for they led him such a life with their jealousy and their passions that he grew weary and went away and never was heard of again and Miss Maude who had always meant to have her marriage acknowledged when her father should be dead was left now a deserted wife whom nobody knew to have been married with a child that she dared not own although she loved it to a distraction living with a father whom she feared and a sister whom she hated when the next summer passed over and the dark foreigner never came both Miss Maude and Miss Grace grew gloomy and sad they had a haggard look about them as ever but by and by Miss Maude brightened for her father grew more and more infirm and more than ever carried away by his music and she and Miss Grace lived almost entirely apart having separate rooms the one on the west side Miss Maude on the east those very rooms which were now shut up so she thought she might have her little girl with her and no one need ever know except those who dared not speak about it and were bound to believe that it was as she said a cottagers child she had taken a fancy to all this Dorothy said was pretty well known but what came afterwards no one knew except Miss Grace and Mrs. Stark who was even then her maid and much more of a friend to her than ever her sister had been but the servants opposed from words that were dropped that Miss Maude had triumphed over Miss Grace and told her that all the time the dark foreigner had been mocking her with pretend love he was her own husband the color left Miss Grace's cheek and lips that very day forever and she was heard to say many a time that sooner or later she would have her revenge and Mrs. Stark was forever spied about the east rooms one fearful night just after the new year had come in when the snow was lying thick and deep and the flakes were still falling fast enough to blind anyone who might be about and abroad there was a great and violent noise heard the Lord's voice above all cursing and swearing awfully and the cries of a little child and the proud defiance of a fierce woman and the sound of a blow and a dead stillness and moans and wailings dying away on the hillside then the old Lord summoned all his servants and told them with terrible oaths and words more terrible that his daughter had disgraced herself and that he had turned her out of doors her and her child and that if ever they gave her help or shelter he prayed that they might never enter heaven and all the while Miss Grace stood by him white and still as any stone and when he had ended she heaved a great sigh as much as to say her work was done and her end was accomplished the old Lord never touched his organ again and died within the year and no wonder for on the morrow of that wild and fearful night the shepherds coming down the fell side found Miss Maud sitting all crazy and smiling under the holly trees nursing a dead child with a terrible mark on its right shoulder but that was not what killed it said Dorothy it was the frost and the cold every wild creature was in its hold and every beast in its fold while the child and its mother were turned out to wander on the fells and now you know all and I wonder if you are less frightened now I was more frightened than ever but I said I was not I wished Miss Rosamond and myself well out of that dreadful house forever but I would not leave her and I dared not take her away but oh how I watched her and guarded her we bolted the doors and shut the window shutters fast an hour or more before dark rather than leave them open five minutes too late but my little lady still heard the weird child crying and mourning and not all we could do or say could keep her for wanting to go to her and let her in from the cruel wind in the snow all this time I kept away from Miss Furnival and Mrs. Stark as much as ever I could for I feared them I knew no good could be about them with their gray hard faces and their dreamy eyes looking back into the ghastly years that were gone but even in my fear I had a kind of pity for Miss Furnival at least those gone down to the pit can hardly have a more hopeless look than that which was ever on her face at last I even got so sorry for her who never said a word but what was quite forced from her that I prayed for her and I taught Miss Rosman to pray for one who had done a deadly sin but often when she came to those words she would listen and start up from her knees and say I hear my little girl plaining and crying very sad oh let her in or she will die one night just after New Year's Day had come at last and the long winter had taken a turn as I hoped I heard the west drawing room bell ring three times which was the signal for me I would not leave Miss Rosman alone for all she was asleep for the old lord had been playing wilder than ever and I feared lest my darling should waken to hear the specter child see her I knew she could not I had fastened the windows too well for that so I took her out of her bed and wrapped her up in such outer clothes as were most handy when I went to the drawing room where the old ladies sat at their tapestry work as usual they looked up when I came in and Miss Stark asked quite astounded why did I bring Miss Rosman there out of her warm bed I had begun to whisper because I was afraid of her being tempted out while I was away by the wild child in the snow when she stopped me short with a glance at Miss Fernable and said Miss Fernable wanted me to undo some work she had done wrong and which neither of them could see to unpick so I laid my pretty dear on the sofa and sat down on the stool by them and hardened my heart against them as I heard the wind rising and howling Miss Rosman slept on sound for all the wind blew so and Miss Fernable said never a word nor looked round when the gust shook the windows all at once she started up to her full height and put up one hand as if to bid us listen I hear voices said she I hear terrible screams I hear my father's voice just at that moment my darling awakened with a sudden start my little girl is crying oh how she is crying and she tried to get up and go to her but she got her feet entangled in the blanket and I caught her up for my flesh had begun to creep at these noises which they heard while we could catch no sound in a minute or two the noises came and gathered fast and filled our ears we too heard voices and screams and no longer heard the winter's wind that raged abroad Mrs. Stark looked at me and I at her but we dared not speak suddenly Miss Fernable went towards the door out into the anti-room through the west lobby and opened the door into the great hall Mrs. Stark followed and I durst not be left though my heart almost stopped beating for fear I wrapped my darling tight in my arms and went out with them in the hall the screams were louder than ever they seemed to come from the east wing nearer and nearer close on the other side of the locked up doors close behind them then I noticed that the great bronze chandelier seemed all alight though the hall was dim and that a fire was blazing in the vast hearth place though it gave no heat and I shuttered up with terror and folded my darling closer to me but as I did so the east door shook and she suddenly struggling to get free from me cried Hester I must go little girl is there I hear her she is coming Hester I must go I held her tight with all my strength with a set will I held her if I had died my hands would have grasped her still I was so resolved in my mind Miss Fernable stood listening and paid no regard to my darling who had got down to the ground and whom I upon my knees now was holding with both my arms clasped around her neck she was still striving and crying to get free all at once the east door gave way with a thundering crash as if torn open in a violent passion and there came into that broad and mysterious light the figure of a tall old man with gray hair and gleaming eyes he drove before him with many a relentless gesture of abhorrence a stern and beautiful woman with a little child clinging to her dress oh Hester Hester cried Miss Rosamond it's the lady the lady below the holly trees and my little girl is with her Hester Hester let me go to her they are drawing me to them I feel them I feel them I must go again she was almost convulsed by her efforts to get away but I held her tighter and tighter till I feared I should do her a hurt but rather than let her go towards those terrible phantoms they passed along towards the great hall door with the winds howled and ravened for their prey but before they reached that the lady turned and I could see that she defied the old man with a fierce and proud defiance but then she quailed and then she threw up her arms wildly impudiously to save her child her little child from a blow from his uplifted crutch and Miss Rosamond was torn as by a power stronger than mine and writhed in my arms and sobbed for by this time the poor darling was growing faint they want me to go with them on to the fells they are drawing me to them oh my little girl I would come but cruel wicked Hester holds me very tight but when she saw the uplifted crutch she swooned away and I thanked God for it just at this moment when the tall old man his hair streaming as in the blast of a furnace was going to strike the little shrinking child Miss fernival the old woman by my side cried out oh father father spare the little innocent child but just then I saw we all saw another phantom shape itself and grow clear out of the blue and misty light that filled the hall we had not seen her till now for it was another lady who stood by the old man with a look of relentless hate and triumphant scorn that figure was very beautiful to look upon with a soft white hat drawn down over the proud brows and a red curling lip it was dressed in an open robe of blue satin I had seen that figure before it was the likeness of Miss fernival in her youth and the terrible phantoms moved on regardless of old Miss fernival's wild and treaty and the uplifted crutch fell on the right shoulder of the little child and the younger sister looked on stony and deadly serene but at that moment the dim lights and the fire that gave no heat went out of themselves and Miss fernival lay at our feet stricken down by the palsy death stricken yes she was carried to her bed that night never to rise again she lay with her face to the wall muttering low but muttering always alas alas what is done in youth can never be undone in age what is done in youth can never be undone in age end of the old nurses story by elizabeth clighorn gaskell recording by jane greensmith of jngs.com the shout broke the lowering silence and reverberated through the black forest with sinister echoing this place had the forbidding aspect missy moth two men stood in front of the forest tavern the building was low long and rambling built of heavy logs its small windows were heavily barred and the door was closed above the door its sinister sign showed faintly a cleft skull the door swung slowly open and a bearded face peered out the owner of the face stepped back and motioned his guests to enter with a grudging gesture it seemed a candle gleamed on the table a flame smoldered in the fireplace your names solemn and cain said the taller man briefly gastone among the other spoke curtly but what is that to you strangers are few in the black forest grunted the host bandits many the two men sat down with the bearing of men who had traveled far one was a tall gaunt man clad in a featherless hat and somber black garments which set off the dark pallor of his forbidding face the other was of a different type entirely bedecked with lace and plumes although his finery was somewhat stained from travel he was handsome in a bold way and his restless eyes shifted from side to side never still an instant the host brought wine and food to the rough-hewn table and then stood back in the shadows like a somber image his features now receding into vagueness now luridly etched in the firelight as it leaped and flickered were mask in a beard which seemed almost animal-like in thickness a great nose curved above this beard and two small red eyes stared unblinkingly at his guests who are you suddenly asked the younger man the host of the cleft skull tavern sullenly replied the other his tone seemed to challenge the questioner to ask further do you have many guests? LeArman pursued few come twice the host grunted Kane started and glanced up straight into those small red eyes as if he sought some hidden meaning in the host's words the flaming eyes seemed to dilate then dropped sullenly I'm for bed, said Kane abruptly bringing his meal to a close I must take up my journey by daylight and I added the Frenchman host, show us to our chambers black shadows wavered on the walls as the two followed their silent host down the long dark hall the stocky, broad body of their guide seemed to grow and expand in the light of the small candle which he carried throwing a long, grim shadow behind him at a certain door he halted indicating that they were to sleep there they entered the host lit a candle with the one he carried then lurched back the way he had come in the chamber the two men glanced at each other the only furnishings in the room were a couple of bunks a chair or two and a heavy table let us see if we can make fast the door, said Kane I like not the looks of my host there are racks on the door and jam for a bar, said Gaston but no bar we might break up the table and use the pieces for a bar, mused Kane Mondeur, said Lamon you are timorous, monsieur Kane scowled I like not being murdered in my sleep, he answered gruffly my faith laughed the Frenchman we are a chance met until I overtook you on the forest road an hour before sunset we had never seen each other I have seen you somewhere before, answered Kane though I cannot now recall where as for the other I assume every man is an honest fellow until he shows me he is a rogue moreover, I am a light sleeper and I slumber with a pistol in my hand the Frenchman laughed again I was wondering how monsieur could bring himself to sleep in the room with a stranger all right, monsieur Englishman let's go forth and take a bar from one of the other rooms taking the candle with him they went into the corridor utter silence reigned and the small candle twinkled redly and evilly in the thick darkness mine host hath neither guests nor servants muttered Solomon Kane a strange tavern what is the name now the German words come not easily to me the cleft skull a bloody name, I faith they tried the rooms next to theirs but no bar rewarded their search at last they came to the last room at the end of the corridor they entered it was furnished like the rest except that the door was provided with a small barred opening and fastened from the outside with a heavy bolt which was secured at one end to the door-jam they raised the bolt and looked in there should be an outer window but there is not, muttered Kane look! the floors were stained darkly the walls and the one bunk were hacked in places great splinters having been torn away men have died in here, said Kane somberly is yonder not a bar fixed in the wall? I, but tis made fast, said the Frenchman tugging at it the a section of the wall swung back and Gaston gave a quick exclamation a small secret room was revealed and the two men bent over the grisly thing that lay upon its floor the skeleton of a man, said Gaston and behold his bony leg is shackled to the floor he was imprisoned here and died nay, said Kane the skull is cleft me thinks my host had a grim reason for the name of his hellish tavern this man, like us was no doubt a wanderer who fell into the fiend's hands likely, said Gaston without interest he was engaged in idly working the great iron ring from the skeleton's leg bones failing in this, he drew his sword and with an exhibition of remarkable strength cut the chain which joined the ring on the leg to a ring set deep in the log floor why should he shackle a skeleton to the floor mused the Frenchman tis a waste of good chain now, monsieur he ironically addressed the white heap of bones I have freed you and you may go where you like have done Kane's voice was deep no good will come of mocking the dead the dead should defend themselves left Le Armand now, I will slay the man who kills me though my corpse climb up 40 fathoms of ocean to do it Kane turned toward the outer door closing the door to the secret room behind him he liked not this talk which smacked of demonry and witchcraft and he was in haste to face the host with the charge of his guilt as he turned with his back to the Frenchman he felt the touch of cold steel against his neck and knew that a pistol muzzle was pressed close beneath the base of his brain move not, monsieur the voice was low and silky move not, or I will scatter your few brains over the room the Puritan, raging inwardly stood with his hands in the air while Le Armand slipped his pistols and soared from their sheaths now you can turn said Gaston, stepping back Kane bent a grim eye on the dapper fellow who stood bare-headed now hat in one hand the other hand leveling his long pistol Gaston the butcher said the Englishman somberly fool that I was to trust a Frenchman you range far, murderer I remember you now with that cursed great hat off I saw you in Calais some years are gone I, and now you will never see me again what was that rats exploring Yon's skeleton said Kane, watching the bandit like a hawk waiting for a single slight wavering of the black gun muzzle the sound was of the rattle of bones like enough returned the other now, Mr. Kane I know you carry considerable money on your person I had thought to wait until you slept and then slay you but the opportunity presented itself and I took it you trick easily I had little thought that I should fear a man with whom I had broken bread, said Kane a deep timbre of slow fury sounding in his voice and the eyes narrowed as he began to back slowly toward the outer door Kane's sinews tensed involuntarily he gathered himself like a giant wolf about to launch himself in a death leap but Gaston's hand was like a rock and the pistol never trembled we will have no death plunges after the shot said Gaston stand still, monsieur I have seen men killed by dying men and I wish to have distance enough between us to preclude that possibility my faith I will shoot you, you will roar and charge but you will die before you reach me with your bare hands and my host will have another skeleton in his secret niche that is if I do not kill him myself the fool knows me not, nor I him moreover the Frenchman was in the doorway now siding along the barrel the candle which had been stuck in a niche on the wall shed weird and flickering light which did not extend past the doorway and with the suddenness of death from the darkness behind Gaston's back a broad, vague form rose up and a gleaming blade swept down the Frenchman went to his knees like a butchered ox his brain spilling from his cleft skull above him towered the figure of the host a wild and terrible spectacle still holding the hanger with which he had slain the bandit ho-ho he roared back as Gaston fell but the host thrust into his face a very long pistol which he held in his left hand back he repeated in a tigerish roar and Cain retreated from the mincing weapon and the insanity in the red eyes the Englishman stood silent his flesh crawling as he sensed a deeper and more hideous threat than the Frenchman had offered there was something inhuman about this man who now swayed to and fro like a great forest beast while his mirthless laughter boomed out again Gaston the butcher he shouted, kicking the corpse at his feet ho-ho my fine brigand will hunt no more I had heard this fool roam the black forest he wished gold and he found death now your gold shall be mine and more than gold, vengeance I am no fool of yours Cain spoke calmly all men are my foes look, the marks on my wrists the marks on my ankles and deep in my back the kiss of the knot and deep in my brain the wounds of the years of the cold silent cells where I lay as punishment for a crime I never committed the voice broke in a hideous grotesque sob Cain made no answer this man was not the first he had seen whose brain had shattered amid the horrors of the terrible continental prisons but I escaped the scream rose triumphantly and here I make war on all men what was that did Cain see a flash of fear in those hideous eyes my sorcerer is rattling his bones whispered the host then laughed wildly dying he swore his very bones would weave a net of death for me I shackled his corpse to the floor and now deep in the night I hear his bare skeleton clash and rattle as he seeks to be free and I laugh ho ho how he yearns to rise and stalk like old King Death along these corridors when I sleep to slay me in my bed suddenly the insane eyes flared hideously you were in that secret room you in this dead fool did he talk to you Cain shuddered in spite of himself was it insanity or did he actually hear the faint rattle of bones as if the skeleton had moved slightly Cain shrugged his shoulders rats will even tug at dusty bones the host was laughing again he sidled around Cain keeping the Englishman always covered and with his free hand opened the door all was darkness within so Cain could not even see the glimmer of the bones on the floor all men are my foes mumbled the host in the incoherent manner of the insane why should I spare any man who lifted a hand to my aid when I lay for years in the vile dungeons of Karlsruhe and for a deed never proven something happened to my brain then I became as a wolf a brother to these of the black forest to which I fled when I escaped they have feasted my brothers on all who lay in my tavern all except this one who now clashes his bones this magician from Russia lest he comes stalking back through the black shadows when night is over the world and slay me for who may slay the dead I stripped his bones and shackled him his sorcery was not powerful enough to save him from me but all men know that a dead magician is more evil than a living one move not Englishman your bones I shall leave in this secret room beside this one too the maniac was standing partly in the doorway of the secret room now with his weapons still mencing Cain he seemed to topple backward and vanished into the darkness and at the same instant a vagrant gust of wind swept down the outer quarter and slammed the door shut behind him the candle on the wall flickered and went out Cain's groping hand sweeping over the floor found a pistol and he straightened facing the door where the maniac had vanished he stood in utter darkness his blood freezing while a hideous muffled screaming came from the secret room mingled with the dry, grisly rattle of fleshless bones then silence fell Cain found flint and steel and lighted the candle then holding it in one hand and the pistol in the other he opened the secret door great god he muttered as cold sweat formed on his body this thing is beyond all reason yet with my own eyes I see it two vows have here been kept for Gaston the butcher swore that even in death he would avenge his slaying and his was the hand who set Yon fleshless monster free and he the host of the cleft skull lay lifeless on the floor of the secret room his bestial face set in lines of terrible fear and deep in his broken neck were sunk the bare finger bones of the sorcerer's skeleton End of Rattle of Bones by Robert E. Howard The Red Room by H.G. Wells this is a LibriVox recording or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recorded by Virgil The Red Room by H.G. Wells I can assure you, said I that it would take a very tangible ghost to frighten me and I stood up before the fire with my glass in my hand it is your own choosing said the man with the withered arm and glanced at me as sconce 8 and 20 years said I, I have lived and never a ghost have I seen as yet the old woman sat staring harder to the fire her pale eyes wide open I, she broke in in 8 and 20 years you have lived and never seen the likes of this house I reckon there's many things to see when one still but 8 and 20 she swayed her head slowly from side to side how many things to see the sorrow for I have suspected the old people were trying to enhance the spiritual terrors of their house by their droning insistence I put down my empty glass on the table and looked about the room and caught a glimpse of myself I radiated and broadened your sturdiness and the queer old mirror at the end of the room well I said if I see anything tonight I shall be so much the wiser for I account to the business with an open mind it is your own choosing said the man with the withered arm once more I heard the sound of a stick and a shambling staff on the flags and the passage outside and the door creaked on his hinges as a second old man entered the room in a flash even then the first he supported himself by a single crutch his eyes were covered by shade and his lower lip half averted hung pale and pink from his decaying yellow teeth he may straight for an arm chair on the opposite side of the table sat down plumsily and began to cough the man with the withered arm gave this newcomer a short glance of positive dislike the old woman took no notice of his arrival and her eyes fixed steadily on the fire I said it's your own choosing said the man with the withered arm when the coughing had ceased for a while it's my own choosing I answered the man with the shade became aware of my presence for the first time and threw his head back for a moment and sideways to see me I caught a momentary glimpse of his eyes small and bright and inflamed then he began to cough and splutter again why don't you drink said the man with the withered arm pushing the bear towards him the man with the shade poured out a glass full with a shaky arm that splashed half as much again on the deal table a monstrous shadow crouched upon the wall and mocked his actions as he pulled and drank I must confess I had scarce expected these grotesque custodians there is to my mind something inhumanity something crouching and atravistic human qualities seem to drop from old people insensibly day by day the three of them made me feel uncomfortable with their gaunt silences their bent carriage they evidently unfriended us to me and to one another if said I, you will show me to this haunted room of yours I will make myself comfortable there the old man with the cough jerked his head back so suddenly that it stalled to me and shot another glance of his red eyes at me from under the shade but no one answered me just a minute glancing from one to the other if I said a little louder if you will show me to this haunted room of yours I will relieve you from the task of entertaining me there is a candle on the slab outside the door said the man with the withered arm looking at my feet as he addressed me but if you are going to the red room tonight this night of all nights said the old woman you go along very well and which way do I go you go along the passage for a bit said he until you come to a door and through that is a spiral staircase and half way up that is a landing and another door covered with bias go through that in down the long corridor to the end and the red room is on your left up the steps have I got that right I said and repeated his directions he corrected me in one particular and are you really going said the man with the shade looking at me again for the third time with that queer and natural tilting of the face this night of all nights said the old woman it is what I came for I said and moved towards the door as I did so the old man with the shade rose and staggered around the table so as to be closer to the others to the fire at the door I turned and looked at them and so they were all close together dark against the firelight staring at me over their shoulders with an intent expression on their ancient faces good night I said setting the door open it is your own choosing said the man with the withered arm I left the door wide open until the candle was well alight and then I shut them in and walked down a chilly echoing passage I must confess that the oddness of these three old pensioners in whose charge her ladyship had left the castle and a deep toned old fashioned furniture of the housekeepers room in which they foregathered effected me in spite of my efforts to keep myself at a matter of fact phase they seemed to belong to another age an older age an age when things spiritual were different from this of ours less certain an age when omens and witches were credible and ghosts beyond denying their very existence was spectral the cut of their clothing fashions born in dead brains the ornaments and conveniences of the rooms about them were ghostly the thoughts of vanished men were still hunted rather than participated in the world of today but with an effort I sent such thoughts to the right about the long drudy subterranean passage was chilly and dusty and my candle flared and made quiver the echoes ring up and down the spiral staircase and a shadow came sweeping up after me and one fled before me into the darkness overhead I came to the landing and stopped there for a moment listening to a rustling that I fancy I heard then satisfied of the absolute silence I pushed open the bay's covered door and stood in the corridor the effect was scarcely what I expected for the moonlight coming in by the great window on the grand staircase picked out everything of every black shadow or silvery illumination everything was in its place the house might have been deserted on the yesterday instead of 18 months ago there were candles in the sockets of the sconces and whatever dust had gathered on the carpets or upon the polished flooring was distributed so evenly as to be invisible in the moonlight I was about to advance and stopped abruptly a bronze group stood upon the landing hidden from me by the corner of the wall but its shadow fell with marvelous distinctness upon the white paneling and gave me the impression of someone crouching to wail at me I stared ready for half a minute perhaps then with my hand in the pocket that held my revolver I advanced only to discover that a game and age an eagle glistening in the moonlight that incident for a time restored my nerves and of course only in Chinaman on the bull table whose head rocked silently as I passed them and ghastly stouted me the door to the red room and steps up to it were in a shadowy corner I moved my candle from side to side in order to see clearly the nature of the recess in which I stood before opening the door here it was thought I that my predecessor was found and the memory of that story gave me a sudden twinge of apprehension I glanced over my shoulder at the gamut aid in the moonlight and opened the door of the red room rather hastily with my face have turned to the pallet silence of the landing I entered closed the door behind me at once turned the key I found in the lock within and stood with the candle held aloft surveying the scene of my vigil the great red room of Lorien castle in which the young Duke had died or rather in which he had begun his dying for he had opened the door and fallen headlong down the steps I had just ascended that had been the end of his vigil of his gallant attempt to conquer the ghostly tradition of the place and never I thought had apoplexy but to serve the ends of superstition and there were other and older stories that clung to the room back to the half credible beginning of it all the tale of a timid wife and the tragic end that came to her husband's jest of frightening her and looking around that large shadowy room with its shadowy window bays its recesses and alcoves one could well understand the legends that had sprouted in this black corners its germinating darkness my candle was a little tongue of flame in its vastness that fell to pierce the opposite end of the room and left an ocean of mystery and suggestion beyond its island of light I resolved to make a systematic examination of the place at once and dispel the fanciful suggestions of this obscurity before they obtained hold upon me after satisfying myself for the fastening of the door I began to walk about the room peering round each article of furniture tucking up the valances of the bed and opening its curtains wide I pulled up the blinds and examined the fastening of the several windows before closing the shutters lent forward and looked up at the blackness of the wide chimney and tapped a dark oak paddling for any secret opening there were two big mirrors in the room each with a pair of sconces bearing candles and on the mantle shift two were more candles and china candlesticks and these I lit one after the other the fire was laid an unexpected consideration from the old housekeeper and I lit it to keep down any disposition to shiver and when it was burning well I stood round with my back to it and regarded the room again I had pulled up a chintz covered armchair and a table to form a kind of barricade for me and on this I laid my revolver ready to hand my precise examination had done me good but I still found a remote darkness of the place and its perfect stillness too stimulating for the imagination the echoing of the stirrer and the crackling on the fire was no sort of comfort to me the shadow and the alcohol at the end in particular had that undefinable quality of a presence that odd suggestion of a lurking living thing that comes so easily in silence and solitude at last to reassure myself I walked with the candle into it and satisfied myself that there was nothing tangible there I stood that candle upon the floor of the alcove and left it in that position by this time I was in a state of considerable nervous tension although to my reason there was no adequate cause for the condition my mind however was perfectly clear I postulated quite unreversely that nothing supernatural could happen and to pass the time I began to string some rhymes together and goes by fashion of the original legend of the place a few I spoke aloud but the echoes were not pleasant for the same reason I also abandoned after a time a conversation with myself upon the impossibility of ghosts and hunting my mind reverted to the three and distorted people downstairs and I tried to keep it upon that topic the somber reds and blacks of the room troubled me even with the seven candles the place was merely dim the one in the alcove flared in a draught and the fire flickering kept the shadows and penumbra perpetually shifting and stirring casting about for a remedy I recalled the candles I had seen in the passage and with a slight effort walked out into the moonlight carrying a candle and leaving the door open and presently returned with as many as ten these I put in various knickknacks of china which wished the room was sparsely adorned lit in place where the shadows had lain deepest some on the floor, some in the windows recesses until at last my seventy candles were so arranged that not an inch of the room but had the direct light of at least one of them it occurred to me that when the ghost came I could warn him not to trip over them the room was now quite brightly illuminated there was something very cheery and reassuring in these little streaming flames and snuffing them gave me an occupation and afforded a reassuring sense of the passage of time even with that however the brooding expectation of the vigil weighed heavily upon me it was after midnight that the candle in the alcove suddenly went out and the black shadow springs back in its place I did not see the candle go out I simply turned and saw the darkness was there as one might start and see the unexpected presence of a stranger by jove I said aloud that dropped a strong one and taking the matches from the table I walked across the room in a leisurely manner to relight the corner again the match was not strike and as I succeeded with the second something seemed to blink on the wall before me I turned my head and voluntarily insulted two candles on the littered table by a fireplace that were extinguished I rose at once to my feet odd I said did I do that myself in a flash of absent-mindedness I walked back relit one and as I did so I saw the candle on the right sconce of one of the mirrors wink and go right out and almost immediately the canyon followed it there was no mistake about it the flame vanished as if the wicks have been suddenly nipped between a finger and a thumb leaving the wick neither glowing nor smoking but black while I stood gaping the candle at the foot of the bed went out and the shadows seemed to take another step towards me this won't do I said I in first one then another candle on the mantel shall followed I cried with a queer high note getting into my voice somehow at that the candle on the wardrobe went out and the one I had relit in the alcove followed steady on I said these candles I wanted speaking with a half hysterical fascistness and scratching away at a match the wow for the mantel candle sticks my hands trembled so that the twice I missed the rough paper of the matchbox as the mantel emerged from darkness again two candles at a remote where it eclipsed but with the same match I also relit the large americ candles and those on the floor near the doorway so that for the moment I seemed to gain on the extinctions but then in the valley there vanished four lights at once in different corners of the room and I struck another match in quivering haste and stood hesitating whether to take it as I stood undecided and the visible hand seemed to sweep out the two candles on the table with a cry of terror I dashed at the alcove then into the window relighting three as two more vanished by the fireplace then perceiving a better way I dropped the matches on the iron bound deed box in the corner and caught up the bedroom candlestick with this I avoided the delay of striking matches but for all that steady process of extinction went on and the shadows I feared and fought against returned and crept in upon me first a step gained on this side of me and then on that it was like a ragged storm cloud sweeping out the stars now and then one return for a minute and was lost again I was now almost frantic with the horror of coming darkness and my self-possession deserted me I left panting and disheveled from candle to candle in a vain struggle against that remorseless advance I bruised myself on the thigh against the table I sent a chair headlong I stumbled and fell and whisked a cloth from the table in my fall my candle rolled away from me and I snatched another as I rose abruptly this was blown out as I swung it off the table by the wind of my sudden movement and immediately the two remaining candles followed but there was light still in the room a red light that starved off the shadows from me the fire of course I could thrust my candle between the bars and relighted I turned to where the flames were dancing between the glowing coals and splashing red reflections upon the furniture made two steps towards the grate and incontinently the flames dwindled and vanished the glow vanished the reflections rushed together and vanished and as I thrust the candle between the bars darkness closed upon me like the shutting of an eye wrapped about me in a stifling embrace sealed my vision and crushed the last vestiges of reason from my brain the candle fell from my hand flung on my arms in a vain effort to thrust that ponderous blackness away from me and lifting my voice screamed with all my might once, twice, thrice then I think I must have staggered to my feet I know I thought certainly of the moonlit corridor and with my head bowed in my arms over my face made a run for the door but I had forgotten the exact position of the door and struck myself heavily against the corner of the bed I staggered back turned it was either struck or struck myself against some other bulky furniture I have a vague memory of battering myself to and fro in the darkness of a current struggle and of my own while crying as I dotted to and fro of a heavy blow at last upon my forehead a horrible sensation of falling that lasted in age of my last frantic effort to keep my footing I remember no more I opened my eyes in daylight my head was roughly bandaged and a man with a withered arm was watching my face I looked about me trying to remember what had happened and for space I could not recollect I turned to the corner and saw the old woman no longer abstracted pouring out some drops of medicine from a blue field into a glass where am I I asked I seem to remember you and yet I cannot remember who you are they told me then and I heard of the hunted red room as one who hears a tell we found you at dawn said he and there was blood on your forehead and lips it was very slowly I recovered my memory of my experience you believe now said the old man that the room is hunted spoke no longer as one who greets an intruder but as one who greets for a broken friend yes said I the room is haunted and you have seen it and we who have lived here our lives have never said eyes upon it because we have never dared tell us is it truly the old girl who no said I it is not I told you so in her hand it is this poor young countess who is frightened it is not I said there is not a ghost of earl nor ghost of countess in that room there is no ghost there at all but worse far worse well they said the worst of all things that hunt poor mortal man said I and that is and all this nakedness fear fear that will not have light or sound that will not bear with reason that deafens and darkens and overwhelms it followed me through the corridor it fought against me in the room I stopped abruptly there was an interval of silence my hand went up to my bandages then the man with the shade sighed and spoke that is it I knew that was it a power of darkness to put such a curse upon a woman it looks there always you can feel it even in the daytime even of a bright summer's day in the hangings in the curtains keeping behind you however you face about in the dusk it creeps along the corridor and follows you so that you dare not turn there is fear in that room of hers black fear and there will be so long as this house of sin endures end of the red room by H.G. Wells 7 Skulls in the Stars by Robert E. Howard 1 there are two roads to Torquertown 1 the shorter and more direct route leads across the barren upland more and the other, which is much longer winds its torturous way in and out among the hummocks and quagmires of the swamps skirting the low hills to the east it was a dangerous and tedious trail so Solomon Cain halted in amazement when a breathless youth from the village he had just left overtook him and implored him for God's sake to take the swamp road the swamp road Cain stared at the boy he was a tall gauntman with Solomon Cain his darkly pallid face and deep brooding eyes made more somber by the drab puritanical garb he affected yes sir, to safer the youngster answered to his surprised exclamation then the more road must be haunted by Solomon Cain himself for your townsmen warned me against traversing the other because of the quagmires sir that you might not see in the dark you had better return to the village and continue your journey in the morning sir taking the swamp road yes sir Cain shrugged his shoulders and shook his head the moon rises almost as soon as twilight dies by its light I could reach Torquertown in a few hours across the moor no one ever goes that way there are no houses at all upon the moor while in the swamp there is the house of old Ezra who lives there all alone since his maniac cousin Gideon wandered off and died in the swamp and was never found and old Ezra though a miser would not refuse you lodging should you decide to stop until morning since you must go you had better go the swamp road Cain eyed the boy piercingly the lad squirmed and shuffled his feet since the moor road is so dour to wayfarers said the Puritan why did not the villagers tell me the whole tale instead of vague mouthings men like not to talk of it sir we hope that you would take the swamp road after the men advised you to but when we watched and saw that you turned not at the forks they sent me to run after you and beg you to reconsider name of the devil exclaimed Cain sharply the unaccustomed oath showing his irritation the swamp road and the moor road what is it that threatens me and why should I go miles out of my way and risk the bogs and mires sir said the boy dropping his voice and drawing closer we be simple villagers who like not to talk of such things lest foul fortune befall us but the moor road is a way accursed and hath not been traversed by any of the countryside for a year or more it is death to walk those moors by night as hath been found by some score of unfortunates some foul whore haunts the way and claims men for his victims so and what is this thing like no man knows none has ever seen it and lived but late fairs have heard terrible laughter far out on the fin and men have heard the horrid shrieks of its victims sir in God's name return to the village there past the night and tomorrow take the swamp trail to Torquertown far back in Cain's gloomy eyes a scintillant light began to glimmer like a witch's torch glinting under fathoms of cold grey ice his blood quickened adventure the lure of life risk and drama not that Cain recognized his sensations as such he sincerely considered that he voiced his real feelings when he said these things be deeds of some power of evil the lords of darkness have laid a curse upon the country a strong man is needed to combat Satan and his might therefore I go who have defied him many times sir the boy began then closed his mouth as he saw the futility of argument he only added the corpses of the victims are bruised and torn sir he stood there at the crossroads sighing regretfully as he watched the tall rangy figure swinging up the road that led toward the moors the sun was setting as Cain came over the brow of the low hill which debauched into the upland fin huge and blood red it sank down behind the southern horizon of the moors seeming to touch the ranked grass with fire so for a moment the watchers seemed to be gazing out across a sea of blood the dark shadows came gliding from the east the western blaze faded and Solomon Cain struck out boldly in the gathering darkness the road was dim from disuse but was clearly defined Cain went swiftly but wearily sword and pistols at hand stars blinked out and night winds whispered among the grass like weeping specters the moon began to rise lean and haggard like a skull among the stars then suddenly Cain stopped short from somewhere in front of him sounded a strange and eerie echo or something like an echo again this time louder Cain started forward again were his senses deceiving him? no far out there peeled a whisper of frightful slaughter and again closer this time no human being ever laughed like that there was no mirth in it only hatred and horror and soul destroying terror Cain halted he was not afraid but for a second he was almost unnerved then stabbing through that awesome laughter came the sound of a scream that was undoubtedly human Cain started forward increasing his gait he cursed the elusive lights and flickering shadows which veiled the moor in the rising moon and made accurate sight impossible the laughter continued growing louder as did the screams then sounded faintly the drum of frantic human feet Cain broke into a run some human was being hunted to death out there on the fin and by what manner of horror God only knew the sound of flying feet halted abruptly and the screaming rose unbearably mingled with other sounds unnameable and hideous evidently the man had been overtaken and Cain, his flesh crawling visualized some ghastly fiend of the darkness crouching on the back of its victim crouching and tearing then the noise of a terrible and short struggle came clearly through the abysmal silence of the night and footfalls began again but stumbling and uneven the screaming continued but with a gasping gurgle the sweat stood cold on Cain's forehead and body this was heaping horror on horror in an intolerable manner God, for a moment's clear light the frightful drama was being enacted within a very short distance of him to judge from the ease with which the sounds reached him but this hellish half-light veiled all in shifting shadows so that the moors appeared a haze of blurred illusions the stunted trees and bushes seemed like giants Cain shouted striving to increase the speed of his advance the shrieks of the unknown broke into a hideous shrill squealing again there was the sound of a struggle and then from the shadows of the tall grass a thing came reeling a thing that had once been a man a gore covered frightful thing that fell at Cain's feet and writhed and groveled and raised its terrible face to the rising moon and gibbered and yammered and fell down again and died in its own blood the moon was up now and the light was better Cain bent above the body which lay stark in its unnameable mutilation and he shuttered a rare thing for him who had seen the deeds of the Spanish Inquisition and the witch-finders some wayfarer he supposed then like a hand of cold ice on his spine he was aware that he was not alone he looked up his cold eyes piercing the shadows once the dead man had staggered he saw nothing but he knew he felt that other eyes gave back his stare terrible eyes not of this earth he straightened and drew a pistol waiting the moonlight spread like a lake of pale blood over the moor and trees and grasses took on their proper sizes the shadows melted and Cain saw at first he thought it only a shadow of mist of moor fog that swayed in the tall grass before him he gazed, more illusion he thought then the thing began to take on shape vague and indistinct two hideous eyes flamed at him eyes which held all the stark horror which had been the heritage of man since the fearful dawn ages eyes frightful and insane with an insanity transcending earthly insanity the form of the thing was misty and vague a brain-shattering tragedy on the human form like yet horribly unlike the grass and bushes beyond showed clearly through it Cain felt the blood pound in his temples yet he was as cold as ice how such an unstable being as that which wavered before him could harm a man in a physical way was more than he could understand yet the red horror at his feet gave mute testimony that the fiend could act with terrible material effect of one thing Cain was sure there would be no hunting of him across the dreary moors no screaming and fleeing to be dragged down again and again if he must die he would die in his tracks wounds in front now a vague and grisly mouth gaped wide and the demonic laughter again shrieked but soul-shaking in its nearness and in the midst of feet-threat of doom Cain deliberately leveled his long pistol and fired a maniacal yell of rage and mockery answered the report and the thing came at him like a flying sheet of smoke long shadowy arms stretched to drag him down Cain, moving with the dynamic speed of a famished wolf fired the second pistol with as little effect snatched his long rapier from its sheath and thrust into the center of the misty attacker the blade sang as it passed clear through encountering no solid resistance and Cain felt icy fingers grip his limbs beastial talons, terrors, garments, and the skin beneath he dropped the useless sword and sought to grapple with his foe it was like fighting a floating mist the flying shadow armed with dagger-like claws his savage blows met empty air his leanly mighty arms in whose grafts strong men had died swept nothingness and clutched emptiness not with solid or real save the flaying ape-like fingers with their crooked talons and the crazy eyes which burned into the shattering depths of his soul Cain realized that he was in a desperate plight indeed already his garments hung in tatters and he bled from a score of deep wounds but he never flinched and the thought of flight never entered his mind he had never fled from a single foe and had the thought occurred to him he would have flushed with shame he saw no help for it now but that his form should lie there in the fragments of the other victim but the thought held no terrors for him his only wish was to give as good an account of himself as possible before the end came and if he could inflict some damage on his unearthly foe there above the dead man's torn body man fought with demon under the pale light of a rising moon with all the advantages with the demon save one and that one was enough to overcome the others for if abstract hate may bring into material substance a ghostly thing may not courage equally abstract form a concrete weapon to combat that ghost Cain fought with his arms and his hands and his feet and he was aware at last that the ghost began to give back before him and the fearful slaughter changed to screams of baffled fury for man's only weapon is courage that flinches not from the gates of hell itself and against such not even the legions of hell can stand of this Cain knew nothing he only knew that the talons which tore and rendered him seemed to grow weaker and wavering that a wild light grew and grew in the horrible eyes and reeling and grasping he rushed in grappled the thing at last and threw it and as they tumbled about on the moor it writhed and lapped his limbs like a serpent of smoke his flesh crawled and his hair stood on end for he began to understand its gibbering he did not hear and comprehend as a man hears and comprehends the speech of a man but the frightful secrets it imparted in whisperings and yammerings and screaming silences sank fingers of ice into his soul and he knew two the old hut of Ezra the miser stood by the road in the midst of the swamp half screened by the sullen trees which grew about it the walls were rotting the roof crumbling and great pallid and green fungus monsters clung to it and writhed about the doors and windows as if seeking to peer within the trees leaned above it and their gray branches intertwined so that it crouched in semi-darkness like a monstrous dwarf over whose shoulder ogres leer the road which wound down into the swamp among the rotting stumps and rank hummocks and scummy haunted pools and bogs crawled past the hut many people passed that way these days but few saw old Ezra save glimpses of a yellow face peering through the fungus screened windows itself like an ugly fungus old Ezra the miser partook much of the quality of the swamp for he was gnarled and bent and sullen his fingers were like clutching parasitic plants his locks hung like drab moss above eyes trained to the murk of the swamplands his eyes were like a dead man's yet hinted of depths abysmal and loathsome as the dead lakes of the swamplands these eyes gleamed now at the man who stood in front of his hut this man was tall and gaunt and dark his face was haggard and claw marked and he was bandaged of arm and leg somewhat behind this man stood a number of villagers are you Ezra of the swamp road? I? and what you want of me? where is your cousin Gideon the maniac youth who abode with you? Gideon? I? he wandered away into the swamp and never came back no doubt he lost his way and was set upon by wolves or died in a quagmire or was struck by an adder how long ago? over a year I? soon after your cousin's disappearance a country man coming home across the moors was set upon by some unknown fiend and torn to pieces and thereafter it became death to cross the moors first men of the countryside then strangers who wandered over the fin fell into the clutches of this thing many men have died since the first one last night I crossed the moors and heard the flight and pursuing of another victim a stranger who knew not the evil of the moors Ezra the miser it was a fearful thing for the wretch twice broke from the fiend terribly wounded and each time the demon caught him and dragged him down again at last he fell dead at my feet done to death in a manner that would freeze the statue of a saint the villagers moved restlessly and murmured to each other and old Ezra's eyes shifted fruitively yet the somber expression of Solomon Cain never altered and his condor-like stare seemed to transfix the miser I I muttered old Ezra hurriedly a bad thing a bad thing yet why do you tell this thing to me I a bad thing harken further Ezra the fiend came out of the shadows and I fought with it over the body of its victim I how I overcame it I know not for the battle was hard and long but the powers of good and light were on my side which are mightier than all the powers of hell at last I was stronger and it broke from me and fled and I followed to no avail yet before it fled it whispered to me a monstrous truth old Ezra started stared wildly seemed to shrink into himself nay why tell me this he muttered I returned to the village and told my tale said Cain for I knew that now I had the power to rid the moors of its curse forever Ezra come with us where gasped the miser to the rotting oak on the moors Ezra reeled as though struck he screamed incoherently and turned to flee on an instant at Cain's sharp order two brawny villagers sprang forward and seized the miser they twisted the dagger from his withered hand and pinned his arms shuddering as their fingers encountered his clammy flesh Cain motioned them to follow and turning strawed up the trail followed by the villagers who found their strength taxed to the utmost in their task of bearing their prisoner along through the swamp they went and out taking a little used trail which led them up over the low hills and out on the moors the sun was sliding down the horizon and old Ezra stared at it with bulging eyes stared as if he could not gaze enough far out on the moors reared up the great oak like a gibbit now only a decaying shell there Solomon Cain halted old Ezra writhed in his captors grasped and made inarticulate noises over a year ago Solomon Cain said you fearing that your insane cousin Gideon would tell men of your cruelties to him brought him away from the swamp by the very trail by which we came and murdered him here in the night Ezra cringed and snarled you cannot prove this lie Cain spoke a few words to an agile villager the youth clamored up the rotting bowl of the tree and from a crevice high up dragged something that fell with a clatter at the feet of the miser Ezra went limp with a terrible shriek the object was a man's skeleton the skull cleft you how knew you this you were Satan gibbered old Ezra the thing I fought last night told me this thing as we reeled in battle and I followed it to this tree for the fiend is Gideon's ghost Ezra shrieked again and fought savagely you knew said Cain somberly you knew what things did these deeds you feared the ghost of the maniac and that is why you chose to leave his body on the thin instead of concealing it in the swamp for you knew the ghost would haunt the place of his death he was insane in life and in death he did not know where to find his slayer else he had come to you in your hut he hates no man but you but his mazed spirit cannot tell one man from another and he slays all lest he let his killer escape yet he will know you and rest in peace forever after hate hath made his ghost a solid thing that can rend and slay and though he feared you terribly in life in death he fears you not at all Cain halted and glanced at the sun all this I had from Gideon's ghost in his yammerings and his whisperings and his shrieking silences not but your death will lay that ghost Ezra listened in breathless silence and Cain pronounced the words of his doom a hard thing it is said Cain somberly to sentence a man to death in cold blood in such a manner as I have in mind but you must die that others may live and God knoweth you deserve death you shall not die by noose, bullet, or sword but at the talons of him you slew for not else will satiate him at these words Ezra's brain shattered his knees gave way and he fell groveling and screaming for death begging them to burn him at the stake to flay him alive Cain's face was set like death and the villagers the fear rousing their cruelty bound the screeching wretch to the oak tree and one of them bade him make his peace with God but Ezra made no answer shrieking in a high shrill voice with unbearable monotony then the villager would have struck the miser across the face but Cain stayed him let him make his peace with Satan whom he is more like to meet said the Puritan grimly the sun is about to set loose his cords so that he may work loose by dark since it is better to meet death free and unshackled and bound like a sacrifice as they turned to leave old Ezra yammered and gibbered unhuman sounds and then fell silent staring at the sun with terrible intensity they walked away across the fin and Cain flung a last look at the grotesque form bound to the tree seeming in the uncertain light like a great fungus growing to the bowl and suddenly the miser screamed hideously death death there are skulls in the stars life was good to him though he was gnarled and churlish and evil Cain sighed may have God has a place for such souls where fire and sacrifice may cleanse them of their dross as fire cleans the forest or fungus things yet my heart is heavy within me nay sir one of the villagers spoke you have done but the will of God and good alone can come of this night's deeds nay answered Cain heavily I know not, I know not the sun had gone down and night spread with amazing swiftness as if great shadows came rushing down from unknown voids to cloak the world with hurrying darkness through the thick night came a weird echo and the men halted and looked back the way they had come nothing could be seen the moor was an ocean of shadows and the tall grass about them bent in long waves before a faint wind and the deathly stillness with breathless murmurings far away the red disc of the moon rose over the fin and for an instant a grim silhouette was etched blackly against it a shape came flying across the face of the moon a bent grotesque thing whose feet seemed scarcely to touch the earth and close behind came a thing like a flying shadow a nameless shapeless horror a moment the racing twain stood out to the moon then they merged into one unnameable formless mass and vanished in the shadows far across the fin sounded a single shriek of terrible laughter End of Skulls in the Stars by Robert E. Howard