The weeks have gone on since that miserable1 January time, bringing but little change to Coastdown or to those in it. Robert Hunter rested in his grave, uninquired for--though as to the word "rested" more hereafter--and Cyril Thornycroft had never returned. Lady Ellis had died in Cheltenham only a week after she went back to it.
That Cyril's remaining away so long and his not writing was singular in the extreme, no one doubted. Mr. Thornycroft grew uneasy, saying over and over again that some accident must have happened to him. Richard, however, had his private theory on the point, which he did not tell to the world. He believed now that Cyril and Hunter had returned that night together; that Cyril had witnessed the deliberate shot, had put off to the ship, and in his condemnation2 of the act would not come home to the Red Court so long as he, Richard, was in it.
But Richard could not tell this to his father, and Mr. Thornycroft one morning suddenly ordered his son Isaac abroad--to France, to Holland, to Flanders--to every place and town, in fact, where there was the least probability of Cyril's being found. The illicit3 business they had been engaged in caused them to have relations with several places on the Continent, and Cyril might be at any one of them. Isaac had but now returned--returned as he went, neither seeing nor hearing aught of Cyril. It was beginning to be more than singular. Surely if Cyril were within postal4 bounds of communication with England, he would write!
The supposition, held from the first that he had gone off in the smuggling5 boats to the ship that night, and sailed with her on her homeward voyage, was far more probable than it might seem to strangers. Richard and Isaac had each done the same more than once; as, in his younger days had Mr. Thornycroft, thereby6 causing no end of alarm; to his wife. Cyril, it is true, was quite different in disposition7, not at all given to wild rovings; but they had assumed the fact, and been easy. Richard, unwillingly8, but with a view to ease her suspense9, imparted the theory he had recently adopted to his sister; and she thought he might be right. As Mary Anne observed to her own heart, it was a miserable business altogether, looked at from any point.
No direct confidence had been reposed10 in Isaac. Richard shrank from it. Isaac had many estimable qualities, although he helped to cheat Her Majesty's revenue, and thought it glorious fun. But he could not avoid entertaining suspicions of his brother, and one day he asked a question. "Never mind," shortly replied Richard; "Hunter got his deserts." It was no direct avowal11, but Isaac drew his own conclusions, and was awfully12 shocked. He was as different from Richard in mind, in disposition, in the view he took of things in general, as light is from dark. The blow to Isaac was dreadful. He could not, so to say, lift up his head from it; it lay on him like an incubus14. Now, the coldness with which Anna had ever since treated him was explained, satisfactorily enough to his own mind. As a murderer's brother, her avoidance of him was only natural. No doubt she was overwhelmed with horror at being tied to him. If he could but have divined that she suspected him! But they were all going in for mistakes; Isaac amongst the rest.
As if the real sorrow, the never-ceasing apprehension15 under which some of them lived, were not enough to bear, rumours16 were about to arise of an unreal one.
On this evening, in early April, Miss Thornycroft was alone. As she paced her parlour, in the stately mourning robes of black silk and crape, ostensibly worn for her stepmother, the blight18 that had fallen on her spirit and her heart might be traced in her countenance19. The untimely and dreadful fate of Robert Hunter, to whom she had been so passionately20 attached, was ever present to her; the false part she had played at the inquest reddened her brow with shame; the guilt21 of her brother Richard haunted her dreams. She would start up in fright from sleep, seeing the officers of justice coming to apprehend22 him; she would fancy sometimes she saw her father taken, preparatory to the illicit practices he had carried on being investigated before a criminal tribunal. Mingling23 with this--worse, if possible, than the rest--was the keenest weight of self-reproach. She could not hide from herself, and no longer tried to do it, that her own deliberate disobedience had brought it all about--all, all! But for flying in the face of her father's express commands, in not stopping the visit of Robert Hunter, he had been living now, and Richard's hand guiltless.
All this was telling upon Mary Anne Thornycroft. You would scarcely know her, pacing the lonely drawing-room, pale and sad, for the blooming, high-spirited, haughty24 girl of two months before. Her father and Richard had gone to London on business, Isaac was out, she knew not where, and she was alone. Her thoughts were dwelling25 on that fatal night--when were they ever absent from it?--and were becoming, as they sometimes did, unbearable26. A nervous feeling came creeping over her; it had done so at times of late, fearless though she was by nature: a horror of being alone; a dread13 of her own lonely self; of the lonely room and its two candles; an imperative27 demand for companionship. She opened the door, and glided28 across the hall and lighted passages to the kitchen, framing an excuse as she went.
"Sinnett, will you--where's Sinnett?"
The maids, three of whom were present, stood up at her entrance. They had been seated at the table making household linen30.
"Sinnett is upstairs, miss. Shall I call her?"
"No; she will be down directly, I dare say. I'll wait."
At that moment a sort of wild noise, half shriek31, half howl, long-continued and ever-recurring, arose from without--at a distance as yet. Mary Anne Thornycroft turned her ear to listen, her face blanching32 with dread fear; the least thing was sufficient to excite fear now.
The sounds approached nearer: they seemed to come from one in the very extremity33 of terror, and, just then Sinnett entered the kitchen. Perhaps it has not been forgotten that the windows, of modern date, looked on the side walk, and thence towards the church and village. The shutters34 were not yet closed, the blinds not drawn35 down. In another instant, as the frightened women stood together in a group, one window was flung up, and a form propelled itself in, smashing a pane36 of glass. It proved to be Joe, the carter's boy; a sensitive, delicate lad, who had recently lost his mother, and was a favourite at the Red Court Farm. He lay for a moment amidst the shivers of glass, then rose up and clasped tight hold of Sinnett, his white face and shivering frame betokening37 some extraordinary cause of terror.
They put him in a chair, and held him there, he clinging to them. Miss Thornycroft authoritatively38 stopped all questions until he should be calmer. Sinnett brought him some wine, and the boy tried to sip39 it; but he could not keep his teeth still, and he bit a piece out of the glass. He looked over his shoulder at the window perpetually in ghastly fear, so one of the servants closed and barred the shutters. By degrees, he brought out that he had "seen a ghost."
Ghosts were rather favourite appendages40 to Coastdown, as we have read. They were not less implicitly41 believed in by the lower classes (not to bring in others) than they used to be, so the maids screamed and drew nearer Joe. This ghost, however, was not the old ghost of the plateau; as the boy is explaining, sobbing42 between whiles; but--Robert Hunter's.
"Nonsense!" reproved Sinnett. "Don't you be a coward, Joe, but just speak up and tell your tale sensibly. Come!"
"I went for the newspaper to Captain Copp's, as sent," answered the boy, doing his best to obey. "Mrs. Copp couldn't find it, and thought the captain had took it in his pocket to the Mermaid43. Coming back here to say so, I see a figure in the churchyard hiding, like, behind a tombstone. I thought it were old Parkes, a-taking the short cut over the graves to his home, and I stood and looked at him. Then, as he rose himself a bit higher, I see him out and out. It were Mr. Hunter, with his own face and his own coat on--that black and white thing."
"His own coat!"
"It were," groaned44 the lad. "I never were thinking of anybody but Parkes, but when I once saw the coat and the face, I see it were Mr. Hunter."
Joe's hearers did not know what to make of this. Miss Thornycroft privately45 thought she must fall in a fit, too, she felt so sick and ill.
"Was the face--" began one of the maids, and stopped. Remembering Miss Thornycroft's presence, she substituted another word for the one she had been about to speak. "Was the face red?"
"No. White. It--"
At this juncture46 there came a sharp knock at the window, as if the ghost were knocking to come in. The boy howled, the women shrieked47; and the ghost knocked again.
"Who's there?" called out Sinnett through the shutters.
"It's me," answered a voice, which they recognised for that of Sarah Ford48. "Is the kitchen a-fire?"
Sinnett went to the entrance-door and called to her to come in. On occasions, when pressed for time, Sarah would give her messages at the kitchen-window, to save going round. She had brought the newspaper, one lent by the Red Court to Captain Copp: Mrs. Copp had found it after Joe's departure.
"He have seen a ghost," lucidly49 explained one of the maids, pointing to Joe.
"Oh," said Sarah, who had a supreme50 contempt for such things, regarding them as vanities, akin29 to hysterics and smelling salts.
"I see it in the churchyard, close again his own grave," said the boy, looking helplessly at Sarah.
"See a old cow," responded she, emphatically. "That's more likely. They strays in sometimes."
"It were Mr. Hunter's ghost," persisted Joe. "He wore that there fur coat, and he stared at me like anything. I see his eyes a-glaring."
"The boy has been dreaming," cried Sarah, pityingly, as she turned to Sinnett. "I should give him a good dose of Epsom salts."
Which prescription51 Joe by no means approved of. However, Sarah could not stay to see it enforced; and we must go out with her.
Her master had come in when she reached home. It was supper time, and she began to lay the cloth. Old Mrs. Copp was there: she had arrived the previous day (after spending the winter in London) on another long visit. Peering through her tortoiseshell spectacles at Sarah, she told her in her decisive way that she had been twice as long taking home the newspaper as she need have been.
"I know that," answered Sarah, with composure. "A fine commotion52 I found the Red Court in: the maids screeching53 fit to deafen54 you, and young Joe in convulsions. I thought the kitchen-chimbly must be a-fire, and they were trying whether noise would put it out."
The captain looked up at this. He was in an easy-chair at the corner of the hearth-rug, a glass of rum-and-water on a small stand at his elbow: old Mrs. Copp sat in front of the fire, her feet on the fender; Amy was putting things to rights on a side-table near the sofa, and Anna Chester sat back on a low stool in the shade on the other side of the fire-place, a book on her knee, which she was making believe to read.
"Was the chimney on fire?" snapped Mrs. Copp.
"Just as much as this is," answered Sarah, making a rattle55 with the knives and forks. "Joe was telling them he had just seen Robert Hunter's ghost. They screeched56 at that."
The captain burst into a laugh: he had no more faith in ghosts than Sarah had. Sea-serpents and mermaids57 were enough marvel58 for him. Anna glanced up with a perceptible shudder59.
"By the way," said Mrs. Copp, taking her feet off the fender and turning round to speak, "I should like to come to the bottom of that extraordinary business. You slipped out of my questioning this morning, Anna; I hardly knew how. Who was the man that fired the pistol on the plateau? As to saying you did not see him properly, you may as well tell it to the moon. My belief is you are screening him," concluded shrewd Mrs. Copp, watching the poor girl's gradually whitening face.
"If I thought that; if I thought she could screen him, I'd--I'd--send her back to Miss Jupp's," roared Captain Copp, who was still very sore in regard to the part his women-kind had played in the transaction. "Screen a land murderer!"
Anna burst out crying.
"My impression is, that it was Cyril Thornycroft," resumed Mrs. Copp. "If he had not got something bad on his conscience why should he run away, and keep away."
Sarah took up the word, putting a tray of tumblers down to do it. "He may have his reasons for staying away, and nobody but himself know anything about them. But truth's truth, all the world over, and I'll stand to it. I don't care whether it was the King of England, or whether it was old Nick--it was not Cyril Thornycroft."
"She is right," nodded the captain. "He'd be the least likely in all Coastdown to rush on to the plateau at night, armed like a pirate, and shoot a man. It was no more Cyril Thornycroft did that than it was me, mother."
"But, Sarah, what about poor Joe and the ghost?" interposed her mistress gently, upon whom the tale had made an unpleasant impression.
"Some delusion60 of his, ma'am: as stands to reason. I don't believe the boy has been right since his mother died; he has had nothing but a down, scared look about him. He is just the one to see a ghost, he is."
"Where did he see it?"
"In the churchyard, he says, with its fur coat on."
"Fur coat!" broke in Captain Copp, his face aglow61 with merriment. "He meant a white sheet."
"Ah, he made a mistake there," said Sarah. And it was really something laughable to see how she as well as her master (mocking sceptics!) enjoyed the ghost in their grim way. In the midst of it, who should come in but Isaac Thornycroft.
He had not been a frequent visitor of late, rather to the regret of the hospitable62 captain. Set at rest on the score of any surreptitious liking63 for him on Anna's part--for it was impossible not to note her continual avoidance of him now--the captain would have welcomed him always in his pride and pleasure. Isaac Thornycroft was a vast favourite of his, and this was only the second visit he had paid since his return from abroad. Isaac looked as if he would like to join in the merriment, utterly64 unconscious what the cause might be.
"It's the best joke I've heard this many a day," explained the captain. "Your boy up at the Red Court--that Joe."
"Yes," said Isaac, the corners of his mouth relaxing in sympathy with the sailor's. "Well?"
"He went flying through the air, bellowing65 enough to arouse the neighbourhood, and tumbled in at your kitchen window in a fit, saying he had seen Robert Hunter's ghost."
"Breaking the glass and setting the maids a-screeching like mad," put in Sarah. "He saw it in the churchyard, he says, in its fur coat."
A troubled expression passed across Isaac's countenance. Captain Copp, attempting to drink some rum-and-water while he laughed, began to choke.
"What absurd story can they be getting up?" cried Isaac, sternly. "Some rumour17 of this sort--that Hunter had been seen in the churchyard--was abroad yesterday."
"You never saw a boy in such a state of fright, sir," observed Sarah. "Whether he saw anything or nothing, he'll not get over it this many a week."
"Saw anything or nothing! What d'ye mean?" fiercely demanded Captain Copp, suspending his laughter for the moment. "What d'ye suppose he saw?"
"Not a ghost," independently retorted Sarah. "I'm not such a simpleton. But some ill-disposed fellow may have dressed himself up to frighten people."
"If so, he shall get his punishment," spoke66 Isaac Thornycroft, with the imperative authority of a magistrate's son.
Captain Copp broke into laughter still. He could not forget the joke; but somehow all inclination67 for merriment seemed to have gone out of Isaac. He sat silent and abstracted for a few minutes longer, and then took his leave, declining to partake of supper.
"Where's Miss Anna gone?" cried the Captain to Sarah, suddenly missing her. "Tell her we are waiting."
Isaac lingered unseen in the little hall until she appeared, and took her hand in silence.
"Anna, this--"
But she contrived68 to twist it from him and turned to the parlour. He drew her forcibly to him, speaking in a whisper.
"Are you going to visit upon me for ever the work of that miserable night?"
"Hush69! they will hear you."
But there was no other answer. Her face grew white, her lips dry and trembling.
"Don't you know that you are my wife?"
"Oh, heaven, yes! I would rather have died. I would die now to undo70 that night's work."
She seemed bewildered, as if unconscious of her words; but there was always the struggle to get from him. Had he been an ogre who might eat her, she could not have evinced more terror. Sarah opened the kitchen door, and Anna took the opportunity to escape. Isaac looked after her. If ever misery71, horror, despair, were depicted72 on a human countenance, they were on Anna's.
"I did not think she was one to take it up like this," he said, as he let himself out. And in the tone of his voice, despairing as her face, there was a perfectly73 hopeless sound, as if he felt that he could not combat fate.
By the next day the story of the ghost, singular to say, had spread all over Coastdown; singular, because the report did not come from Joe, or from any of Joe's hearers. It appeared that a young fellow of the name of Bartlet, a carpenter's apprentice74, in passing the churchyard soon after poor Joe must have passed it, saw the same figure, which he protested--and went straight to the Mermaid and protested--was that of Mr. Hunter. He was a daring lad of sixteen, as hardy75 as Joe was timid. The company at the Mermaid accused him of having got frightened and fancied it; he answered that he feared "neither ghost nor devil," and persisted in his story with so much cool equanimity76, that his adversaries77 were staggered.
"It is well known that the ghosts of murdered people have been seen to walk," decided78 Mrs. Pettipher, the landlady79, "and that of poor Mr. Hunter may be there. But as to the fur-coat, that can't be. It must have been a optical delusion of yours, Tom Bartlet. The coat's here; we have held possession of it since the inquest; for the ghost to have it on in the churchyard is a moral impossibility."
"I'll never speak again if it hadn't got the coat upon it," loudly persisted young Bartlet. "But for that white coat, staring out in the moonlight, I might never have turned my head to the churchyard."
"Had it got that there black fur down it, Tom?" demanded a gentleman, taking his long pipe from his mouth to speak.
"In course it had. I tell ye it was the coat, talk as you will."
This was the tale that spread in Coastdown. When the additional testimony80 of Joe and the maids at the Red Court Farm came to be added to it, something like fear took possession of three-parts of the community. The ghost of the plateau, so long believed in, was more a tradition than a ghost, after all; latterly, at any rate, nobody had been frightened by it; but this spirit haunting the churchyard was real--at least in one sense of the word. An uncomfortable feeling set in. And when in the course of a day or two other witnesses saw it, or professed81 to see it, people began to object to go abroad after nightfall in the direction of the churchyard. A young man in the telegraph office at Jutpoint brought over a message for Isaac Thornycroft. He was a stranger to Coastdown, and had to inquire his way to the Red Court Farm: misunderstanding the direction, he took at first the wrong turning, which brought him to the churchyard. Afterwards, the despatch82 at length delivered, he turned into the Mermaid for a glass of ale, saying incidentally, not in any fear, he had seen "sum'at" in the churchyard, a queer fellow that seemed to be dodging83 about behind the upright gravestones. He had never seen or heard of Robert Hunter; he knew nothing of the report of the ghost; but his description of the "sum'at" tallied84 so exactly with the appearance expected, and especially with the remarkable85 coat, that no doubt remained. Upon which some ten spirits, well warmed with brandy-and-water, started off arm-in-arm to the churchyard, there and then--and saw nothing for their pains but the tombstones. Captain Copp heard of the expedition, and went into a storm of indignation at grown men showing themselves to be so credulous86.
"Go out to a churchyard to look for a ghost! Serve 'em right to put 'em into irons till their senses come to 'em!"
Thus another day or two passed on, Mr. Thornycroft and Richard being still absent from home. Fears were magnified; fermentation increased; for, according to popular report, the spirit of Robert Hunter appeared nightly in St Peter's churchyard.
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1
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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condemnation
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| n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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illicit
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| adj.非法的，禁止的，不正当的 | |
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postal
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| adj.邮政的，邮局的 | |
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smuggling
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| n.走私 | |
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thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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unwillingly
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| adv.不情愿地 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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avowal
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| n.公开宣称，坦白承认 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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incubus
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| n.负担；恶梦 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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blight
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| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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apprehend
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| vt.理解，领悟，逮捕，拘捕，忧虑 | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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blanching
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| adj.漂白的n.热烫v.使变白( blanch的现在分词 )；使（植物）不见阳光而变白；酸洗（金属）使有光泽；用沸水烫（杏仁等）以便去皮 | |
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extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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betokening
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| v.预示，表示( betoken的现在分词 ) | |
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authoritatively
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| 命令式地，有权威地，可信地 | |
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sip
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| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
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appendages
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| n.附属物( appendage的名词复数 )；依附的人；附属器官；附属肢体（如臂、腿、尾等） | |
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implicitly
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| adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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mermaid
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| n.美人鱼 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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lucidly
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| adv.清透地，透明地 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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53
screeching
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| v.发出尖叫声( screech的现在分词 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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54
deafen
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| vt.震耳欲聋；使听不清楚 | |
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55
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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56
screeched
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| v.发出尖叫声( screech的过去式和过去分词 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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57
mermaids
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| n.（传说中的）美人鱼( mermaid的名词复数 ) | |
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58
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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59
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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60
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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61
aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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66
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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67
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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69
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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apprentice
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| n.学徒，徒弟 | |
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hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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adversaries
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| n.对手，敌手( adversary的名词复数 ) | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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81
professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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82
despatch
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| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
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83
dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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84
tallied
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| v.计算，清点( tally的过去式和过去分词 )；加标签（或标记）于；（使）符合；（使）吻合 | |
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85
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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86
credulous
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| adj.轻信的，易信的 | |
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