CHAPTER XI.A Chapter on Ghosts, and a Ghost-story.
The events detailed in the last chapter, or at least that portion ofthem in which he himself had borne a share, were related by NedHayward to the party at Sir John Slingsby's after he had rejoined themat the dinner table, having done his best to remove the traces of hisadventure from his personal appearance. The smoke and sand were washedaway, the burnt and singed garments had been changed for others, andNed Hayward still appeared a very good-looking fellow, not the lessinteresting perhaps in the eyes of the ladies there present for allthat he had done and suffered. Nevertheless, the fine wavy curls ofhis brown hair, which had been burnt off, were not to be recovered inso short a time, and both his hands showed evident signs of havingbeen injured by the fire. He was in high spirits, however, for theassurance that there could be nobody else in the cottage but the boy,unless it were Gimlet the poacher himself, of which there was noprobability, had relieved the young gentleman's mind of a heavyweight, and he jested gaily with Sir John Slingsby, who vowed thatwith those hands of his he would not be able to throw a line for afortnight, replied that he would undertake to catch the finest troutin the whole water before noon the next day.
"And now, my dear Sir," he continued, turning to the clergyman, "asyou seem to know something of this good gentleman, Gimlet, and hisaffairs, I wish you'd give me a little insight into his history."
"It is a sad and not uncommon one," answered Dr. Miles, gravely, "andI will tell it you some other time. My poor parishioners have asuperstitious feeling about that pit, and that cottage, for a man wasmurdered there some years ago. You will find multitudes of people whowill vouch for his ghost having been seen sitting on the bank above,and under a solitary birch-tree."
"It won't sit there any more," answered Ned Hayward, laughing, "forthe birch-tree and I rolled down into the pit together, as I tried todrop down by its help, thinking it was quite strong enough to supportme."
"Then I am afraid the ghost is gone altogether for the future," saidDr. Miles, in a tone of some regret.
"Afraid! my dear doctor," exclaimed Miss Slingsby, "surely you do notwant ghosts among your parishioners?"
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Sir John Slingsby, with a merry, fat,overflowing chuckle, "Isabella means, my dear doctor, that you maymake your flock as spiritual as you please, but not reduce them quiteto spectres."
"No, papa, you are a wrong interpreter," rejoined his daughter, "Imeant to say that of all men on earth, I should have thought Dr. Mileswas the last to patronise a ghost."
"I don't know, my dear," replied the worthy clergyman, "a ghost issometimes very serviceable in a parish. We are but children of abigger growth, and a bugbear is as necessary sometimes for greatbabies as small ones, not that I ever used it or should use it; butthe people's own imagination did that for me. I have heard, Sir John,that some men when they were lying out to shoot your deer, were scaredaway by one of them fancying he saw the ghost, and you saved two goodhaunches of venison, to say nothing of the pasty."
"By Jove, that was a jolly ghost indeed," answered Sir John Slingsby,"and I'll give him a crown the first time I meet him. Doctor, a glassof wine."
"If ghosts have such effects upon poachers," said Beauchamp, who hadbeen speaking in a low tone to Miss Slingsby, "how happens it thatthis man, the father of the boy whom Captain Hayward brought hither,fixed his abode in the spirit's immediate neighbourhood?"
"Oh he is a sad unbelieving dog," said Dr. Miles; but then suddenlychecking himself he added, "and yet I believe in that I do himinjustice; there is some good in the man, and a great deal ofimagination. Half his faults proceed from an ill-disciplined fancy;but the truth is, being a very fearless fellow, and of thisimaginative disposition, I believe he would just as soon have a ghostfor a next door neighbour as not. Therefore, I do not suppose that itwas from any doubt of the reality of the apparition, but rather indefiance of it, that he setup his abode there; and perhaps he thought,too, that it might serve as a sort of safeguard to him, a protectionagainst the intrusion of persons less bold than himself, at thosehours when ghosts and he himself are wont to wander. He knew well thatnone of the country people would come near him then, for all theignorant believe in apparitions more or less."
"Now, dear Dr. Miles, do tell me," cried Isabella Slingsby with a gaylaugh, "whether some of the learned do not believe in them too. If itwere put as a serious question to the Rev. Dr. Miles himself, whetherhe had not a little quiet belief at the bottom of his heart in theappearance of ghosts, what would he answer?"
"That he had never seen one, my dear," replied the clergyman, with agood-humoured smile, "but at the same time I must say that a belief inthe occasional appearance of the spirits of the dead for particularpurposes, is a part of our religion. I have no idea of a man callinghimself a Christian and taking what parts of the Bible he likes, andrejecting or explaining away the rest. The fact of the re-appearanceof dead people on this earth is more than once mentioned in Scripture,and therefore I believe that it has taken place. The purposes forwhich it was permitted in all the instances there noticed, were greatand momentous, and it may very possibly be that since the Advent ofOur Saviour, no such deviations from usual laws have been requisite.Of that, however, I can be no judge; but at all events my own reasontells me, that it is not probable a spirit should be allowed torevisit the glimpses of the moon for the purpose of making an oldwoman say her prayers, or frightening a village girl into fits."
"You are speaking alone of the apparition of the spirits of the dead,"said Beauchamp, "did you ever hear of the appearance of the spirits ofthe living?"
"Not without their bodies, surely!" said Miss Clifford.
"Oh yes, my dear Mary," answered Dr. Miles, "such things are recorded,I can assure you, ay, and upon testimony so strong that is impossibleto doubt that the witnesses believed what they related, whether theapparition was a delusion of their own fancy or not--indeed it isscarcely possible to suppose that it was a delusion, for in severalinstances the thing, whatever it was, made itself visible to severalpersons at once, and they all precisely agreed in the description ofit."
"One of the most curious occurrences of the kind that ever I heardof," said Beauchamp, "was told me by a German gentleman to whom ithappened. It was the case of a man seeing his own spirit, and althoughwe are continually told we ought to know ourselves, few men have everhad such an opportunity of doing so as this gentleman."
"Oh do tell us the whole story, Mr. Beauchamp," cried Isabella,eagerly, "I must beg and entreat that you would not tantalise us witha mere glimpse of such a delightful vision, and then let fall thecurtain again."
"My dear Bella, you are tantalising him," exclaimed her father. "Don'tyou see that you are preventing him from eating his dinner; at allevents, we will have a glass of wine first; shall it be Hermitage, Mr.Beauchamp? I have some of 1808, the year before that rascal, Napoleon,mixed all the vintages together."
The wine was drunk, but immediately this was accomplished, Isabellarenewed her attack, calling upon Mr. Beauchamp for the story, and inher eagerness laying one round taper finger upon his arm as he satbeside her, to impress more fully her commands upon him, as she said,"I must and will have the story, Mr. Beauchamp."
"Assuredly," he replied, in his usual quiet tone, "but first of all, Imust premise one or two things, that you may give it all the weight itdeserves. The gentleman who told it to me was, at the time of myacquaintance with him, a man of about seventy years of age, verysimple in his manners, and, however excitable his fancy might havebeen in youth, he was at the time I speak of, as unimaginative aperson as it is possible to conceive. He assured me most solemnly, asan old man upon the verge of eternity, that every word he spoke wastruth, and now I will tell it as nearly in his own language as I can,and my memory is a very retentive one. You must remember, however,that it is he who is speaking, and not I; and fancy us sittingtogether, the old man and the young one, warming ourselves by a stoveon a winter's night, in the fine old town of Nuremberg."
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