CHAPTER XVIII.
MRS. TRUAX TALKS.
OCTOBER 7, 1791.
T]
This morning I was exceedingly startled by one of my guests suddenlyasking me before several of the others, if my inn had a ghost.
"A ghost!" I cried, for the moment quite aghast.
"Yes," was the reply; "it has the look of a house which could boast ofsuch a luxury. Don't you think so, Mr. Westgate?"
This is a newcomer who had just been introduced.
"Well," observed the latter, "as I have seen only this room, and as thisroom is anything but ghostlike at the present moment, I hardly considermyself competent to judge."
"But the exterior! Surely you noticed the exterior. Such a rambling oldstructure; such a beetling top to it, as if it had settled down here tobrood over a mysterious past. I never see it, especially at twilight,that I don't wonder what lies so heavily upon its conscience. Is it acrime? There would be nothing strange about it if it was. Such oldhouses rarely have a clean past."
It was nonchalantly said, but it sank deep into my heart. Not that Ifelt that he had any motive in saying it--I knew the young scapegracetoo well--but that I was conscious from his first word of two eyesburning on my face, which robbed me of all self-possession, though Ithink I sat without movement, and only paled the slightest in the world.
"A house that dates back to a time when the white men and the red foughtevery inch of the territory on which it stands would be an anomaly if itdid not have some drops of blood upon it," I ventured to say, as soon asI could command my emotions.
"True," broke in a low, slow voice--that of Madame Letellier. "Do youknow of any especial tragedy that makes the house memorable?"
I turned and gave her a look before replying. She was seated in theshadows of a remote corner, and had so withdrawn herself behind herdaughter that I could see nothing of her face. But her hands werevisible, and from the force with which she held them clasped in her lapI perceived that the subject we were discussing possessed a greaterinterest for her than for any one else in the room. "She has heardsomething of the tragedy connected with this house," was my inwardcomment, as I prepared to answer her.
"There is one," I began, and paused. Something of the instinct of thecat with the mouse had entered into me. I felt like playing with hersuspense, cruel as it may seem.
"Oh, tell us!" broke in the daughter, a sudden flush of interestsuffusing for a moment her white cheek. "That is, if it is not toohorrible. I never like horrible stories; they frighten me. And as for aghost--if I thought you kept such a creature about your house, I shouldleave it at once."
"We have no ghosts," I answered, with a gravity that struck even myselfunpleasantly, it was in such contrast to her mellow and playful tones."Ghosts are commonplace. We countenance nothing commonplace here."
"Good!" broke in a voice from the crowd of young men. "The house isabove such follies. It must have some wonderful secret, then. What isit, Mrs. Truax? Do you own a banshee? Have you a--"
"Mamma, you hurt me!"
The cry was involuntary. Madame had caught her daughter by the hand andwas probably unaware what passion she had put into her clasp.Mademoiselle Letellier blushed again at the sound of her own voice, andprayed her mother's pardon with the most engaging of smiles. As she didso, I caught a glimpse of that mother's face. It was white as death."Decidedly, she knows more than she ought to," thought I. "And yet shewants to know more. Why?"
"The Happy-Go-Lucky Inn," I observed, as soon as the flutter caused bythis incident had subsided, "is no more haunted by a banshee than by aghost. But that is not saying it should not be. It is old enough, it isrespectable enough; it has traditions enough. I could tell you tales ofits owners, and incidents connected with the coming and going of theinnumerable guests who have frequented it both before and during therevolution, that would keep you here till morning. But the one story Iwill tell must suffice. We should lose our character of mystery if Itold you all. Besides, how could I tell all? Who could ever tell thecomplete story of such a house as this?"
"Hear! hear!" cried another young man.
"Years ago--" I stopped again, wickedly stopped. "Madame, will you notcome forward where it is lighter?"
"I thank you," Madame Letellier responded.
She rose deliberately and came forward, tall, mute and commanding. Shesat down in the light; she looked me in the face; she robbed me even ofmy doubts. I felt my heart turn over in my breast and wondered.
"You do not proceed," she murmured.
"Pardon me," said I; and assuming a nonchalance I was far from feeling,I commenced again. I had played with her fears. I would play with themfurther. I would see how much she could bear. I resumed:
"Years ago, when I was younger and had been mistress of this place but ashort time, there entered this place one evening, at nightfall, a youngcouple. Did you speak, madame? Excuse me, it was your daughter, then?"
"Yes," chimed in the latter, coming forward and taking her stand by themother, greatly to the delight of the young gentlemen present, who askedfor nothing better than an opportunity to gaze upon her modest butexquisite face. "Yes; it was I. I am interested, that is all."
I began to hate my role, but went on stolidly.
"They were a handsome pair, and I felt an interest in them at once. Butthis interest immeasurably heightened when the young man, almost beforethe door had closed upon them, drew me apart and said: 'Madame, we arean unhappy couple. We have been married just four hours.'"
Here I paused for breath, and to take a good look at madame.
She was fixed as a stone, but her eyes were burning. Evidently sheexpected the relation of a story which she knew. I would disappoint her.I would cause in her first a shock of relief, and then I would reawakenher fears and probe her very soul. Slowly, and as if it were a matter ofcourse, I proceeded to say:
"It was a run-away match, and as the young husband remarked, 'a greatdisappointment to my wife's father, who is an English general and agreat man. My wife loves me, and will never allow herself to be tornfrom me; but she is not of age, and her father is but a few minutes'ride behind us. Will you let us come in? We dare not risk the encounteron the road; he would shoot me down like a dog, and that would kill myyoung wife. If we see him here, he may take pity on our love, and--'
"He needed to say no more. My own compassion had been excited, as muchby her countenance as by his words, and I threw open the doors of thisvery room.
"'Go in,' said I, 'I have a woman's heart, and cannot bear to see youngpeople in distress. When the general comes--'
"'We shall hear him,' cried the girl; 'he has half a dozen horsemen withhim. We saw them when we were on the brow of the hill.'
"'Take comfort, then,' I cried, as I closed the door, and went to seeafter the solitary horse which had brought them to this place.
"But before I could provide the meal with which I meant to strengthenthem for the scene that must presently ensue, I heard the anticipatedclattering of hoofs, and simultaneously with it, the unclosing of thisdoor and the cry of the young wife to her husband:
"'I cannot bear it. At his first words I should fall in a faint; and howcould I resist him then? No; let me fly; let me hide myself; and when hecomes in, swear that you are here alone; that you brought no bride; thatshe left you at the altar--anything to baffle his rage and give ustime.' And the young thing sprang out before me, and lifting her hands,prayed with great wide-open eyes that I would assist the lie, and swearto her father, when he came in, that her husband had ridden up alone.
"I was not as old then as I am now, I say, and I was very tender towardyouthful lovers. Though I thought the scheme a wild one and totallyimpracticable, she so governed me by her looks and tones that I promisedto do what she asked, saying, however, that if she hid herself she mustdo it well, for if she were found my reputation for reliability would beruined. And standing there where you see that jog in the wall, shepromised, and giving just one look of love to her companion, who sto
odwhite but firm on the threshold, she sped from our sight down the hall.
"A moment later the general's foot was where hers had been, and thegeneral's voice was filling the house, asking for his daughter.
"'She is not here,' came from the young man in firm and stern accents.'You have been pleased to think she was with me all these miles, but youwill not find her. You can search if you please. I have nothing to sayagainst that. But it will be time wasted.'
"'We will see about that. The girl is here, is she not?' the fatherasked, turning to me.
"'No,' was my firm reply; 'she is not.'
"I do not know how I managed the lie, but I did. Something in the youngman's aspect had nerved me. I began to think she would not be found,though I could see no good reason for this conclusion.
"'Scatter!' he now shouted to his followers. 'Search the house well. Donot leave a nook or cranny unpenetrated. I am not General B---- fornothing.' And turning to me, he added: 'You have brought this onyourself by a lie. I saw my daughter in this fellow's arms as theypassed over the ridge of the hill. She is here, and in half an hourwill be in my hands.'
"But the clock on the staircase struck not only the half hour, but thehour, and yet, though every room and corridor, the cellar and thegarret, were searched, no token was found of the young wife's presence.Meanwhile the husband stood like a statue on the threshold, waiting withwhat seemed to me a strange certitude for the return of the father fromhis fruitless search.
"'Has she escaped from one of the windows?' I asked, moved myself to astrange curiosity.
"He looked at me, but made no reply.
"'It is dark; it is late. If the general chooses to remain hereto-night--'
"'He will not find her,' was the reply.
"I was frightened--I know not why, but I was frightened. The young manhad a supernatural air. I began to think of demon lovers, and was gladwhen the general finally appeared, storming and raving.
"'It is a conspiracy!' was his cry. 'You are all in league to deceiveme. Where is my daughter, Mrs. Truax? I ask you because you have acharacter to lose.'
"'It is impossible for me to tell you,' was my reply. 'If she was to befound in my house, you must have found her. As you have not, there isbut one conclusion to draw. She is not within these walls.'
"'She is not outside of them. I set a watch in the beginning, at thefour corners of the house. None of my men have seen so much as a flutterof her dress. She is here, I say, and I ask you to give her up.'
"'This I am perfectly willing to do,' I rejoined, 'but I do not knowwhere to find her. Let that but once be done, and I shall not stand inthe way of your rights.'
"'Very well,' he cried. 'I will not search further to-night; butto-morrow--' A meaning gesture finished his sentence; he turned to theyoung man. 'As for you,' he cried, 'you will remain here. Unpleasant asit may be for us both, we will keep each other's company till morning. Ido not insist upon conversation.' And without waiting for a reply, thesturdy old soldier took up his station in the doorway, by which actionhe not only shut the young man in, but gave himself a position ofvantage from which he could survey the main hall and the most prominentpassages.
"The rest were under charge of his followers, whom he had stationed allthrough the house, just as if it were in a state of siege. One guardedthe east door and another the west, and on each landing of the staircasea sentinel stood, silent but alert, like a pair of living statues.
"I did not sleep that night; the mystery of the whole affair would havekept me awake even if my indignation had let me rest. I sat in thekitchen with my girls, and when the morning came, I joined the generalagain with offers of a breakfast.
"But he would eat nothing till he had gone through the house again; norwould he, in fact, eat here at all; for his second search ended asvainly as his first, and he was by this time so wroth, not only at thefailure to recover his child, but at the loss which his dignity hadsuffered by this failure, that he had no sooner reached this spot, andfound the young husband still standing where he had left him, than witha smothered execration, leveled not only at him, but the whole house, hestrode out through the doorway, and finding his horse ready saddled infront, mounted and rode away, followed by all his troop.
"And now comes the strangest part of the tale.
"He was no sooner gone, and the dust from his horse's hoofs lost in thedistance, than I turned to the young husband, and cried:
"'And now where is she? Let us have her here at once. She must behungry, and she must be cold. Bring her, my good sir.'
"'I do not know where she is. We must be patient. She will returnherself as soon as she thinks it safe.'
"I could not believe my ears.
"'You do not know where she is?' I repeated. 'How could you be soself-possessed through all these hours and all this maddened searchingif you did not know she was safe?'
"'I did know she was safe. She swore to me before she set foot on yourdoorstep that she could so hide herself in these walls that no one couldever find her till she chose to reveal herself; and I believed her, andfelt secure.'
"I did not know what to say.
"'But she is a stranger,' I murmured. 'What does she know about myhouse?'
"'She is a stranger to you,' he retorted, 'but she may not be a strangerto the house. How long have you lived here?'
"I could not say long. It was at the most but a year; so I merely shookmy head, but I felt strangely nonplussed.
"This feeling, however, soon gave way to one much more serious as themoments fled by and presently the hours, and she did not come. We triedto curb our impatience, tried to believe that her delay was only owingto extra caution; but as morning waxed to noon, alarm took the place ofsatisfaction in our breasts, and we began to search the house ourselves,calling her name up and down the halls and through the empty rooms, tillit seemed as if the very walls must open and reveal us the being sofrantically desired.
"'She is not in the house,' I now asserted to the almost frenziedbridegroom. 'Our lies have come back upon our heads, and it is in theriver we must look for her.'
"But he would not agree with me in this, and repeated again and again:'She said she would hide here. She would not deceive me, nor would shehave sought death alone. Leave me to look for her another hour. I must,I can, I will find her yet!'
"But he never did. After that last fond look with which she turned downthat very hall you see before you, we saw her no more; and if my houseowns no ghost and never echoes to the sound of a banshee's warning, itis not because it does not own a mystery which is certainly thrillingenough to give us either."
"Oh!" cried out several voices, as I ceased, "is that all? And whatbecame of the poor bridegroom? And did the father ever come back? Andhaven't you ever really found out where the poor thing went to? And doyou think she died?"
For reply I rose. I had never taken my eye off madame, and the strainupon us both had been terrible; but I let my glance wander now, andsmiling genially into the eager faces which had crowded around me, Iremarked:
"I never spoil a good story by too many explanations. You have heard allyou will from me to-night. So do not question me further. Am I notright, madame?"
"Perfectly," came in her even tones. "And I am sure we are all very muchobliged to you."
I bowed and slipped away into the background. I was worn out.
An hour later I was passing through the hall above on my way to my ownroom. As I passed madame's door, I saw it open, and before I had takenthree steps away I felt her soft hand on my arm.
"Your pardon, Mrs. Truax," were her words; "but my daughter has beenpeculiarly affected by the story you related to us below. She says it isworse than any ghost story, and that she cannot rid herself of thepicture of the young wife flitting out of sight down the hall. I amreally afraid it has produced a very bad effect upon her, and that shewill not sleep. Is it--was it a true story, Mrs. Truax, or were youmerely weaving fancies out of a too fertile brain?"
I smiled, for she was smiling, and
shook my head, looking directly intoher eyes.
"Your daughter need not lose her sleep," I said, "on account of anystory of mine. I saw they wanted something blood-curdling, so I made upa tale to please them. It was all imagination, madame; all imagination.I should not have told it if it had been otherwise. I think too much ofmy house."
"And you had nothing to found it upon? Just drew upon your fancy?"
I smiled. Her light tone did not deceive me as to the anxiety underlyingall this; but it was not in my plan to betray my powers of penetration.I preferred that she should think me her dupe.
"Oh," I returned, as ingenuously as if I had never had a suspiciousthought, "I do not find it difficult to weave a tale. Of course such astory could not be true. Why, I should be afraid to stay in the innmyself if it were. I could never abide anything mysterious. Everythingwith me must be as open as the day."
"And with me," she laughed; but there was a false note in her mirth,though I did not appear to notice it. "I did not suppose the story wasreal, but I thought you must have some old tradition to found it upon;some old wife's tale or some secret history which is a part and parcelof the house, and came to you with it."
But I shook my head, still smiling, and answered, quite at my ease:
"No old wife's tale that I have ever heard amounts to much. I can makeup a better story any day than those which come down with a house likethis. It was all the work of my imagination, I assure you. I tried toplease them, and I hope I did it."
Her face changed at once. It was as if a black veil had been drawn awayfrom it.
"My daughter will be so relieved," she affirmed. "I don't mind suchlugubrious tales myself, but she is young and sensitive, and sotender-hearted. I am sure I thank you, Mrs. Truax, for yourconsideration, and beg leave to wish you a good-night."
I returned her civility, and we passed into our several rooms. Would Icould know with what thoughts, for my own were as much a mystery to meas were hers.
* * * * *
OCTOBER 9, 1791.
Madame never addresses her daughter by her first name. Consequently wedo not know it. This is a matter of surprise to the whole house, andmany are the conjectures uttered by the young men as to what it can be.I have no especial curiosity about it--I would much rather know themother's, and yet I frequently wonder; for it seems unnatural for amother always to address her child as mademoiselle. Is she her mother?I sometimes think she is not. If the interest in the oak parlor is whatI think it is, then she cannot be, for what mother would wish to bringperil to her child? And peril lies at the bottom of all interest there;peril to the helpless, the trusting and the ignorant. But is she asinterested there as I thought her? I have observed nothing lately toassure me of it. Perhaps, after all, I have been mistaken.