CHAPTER III.
"It was to her a real _grief of heart_, acute, as children's sorrows often are.
"We beheld this from the opposite windows--and, seen thus from a little distance, how many of our own and of other people's sorrows might not seem equally trivial, and equally deserving of ridicule!"
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN.
When Bill got home he found the household busy with a much morepractical subject than that of ghosts and haunted yew-trees. Bessywas ill. She had felt a pain in her side all the day, which towardsnight had become so violent that the doctor was sent for, who hadpronounced it pleurisy, and had sent her to bed. He was just comingdownstairs as Bill burst into the house. The mother was too muchoccupied about her daughter to notice the lad's condition; but thedoctor's sharp eyes saw that something was amiss, and he at onceinquired what it was. Bill hammered and stammered, and stopped short.The doctor was such a tall, stout, comfortable-looking man, he lookedas if he couldn't believe in ghosts. A slight frown, however, had comeover his comfortable face, and he laid two fingers on Bill's wrist ashe repeated his question.
"Please, sir," said Bill, "I've seen--"
"A mad dog?" suggested the doctor.
"No, sir."
"A mad bull?"
"No, sir," said Bill, desperately, "I've seen a ghost."
The doctor exploded into a fit of laughter, and looked morecomfortable than ever.
"And _where_ did we see the ghost?" he inquired, in a professionalvoice, as he took up his coat-tails and warmed himself at the fire.
"In Yew-lane, sir; and I'm sure I did see it," said Bill, halfcrying; "it was all in white, and beckoned me."
"That's to say you saw a white gravestone, or a tree in the moonlight,or one of your classmates dressed up in a table-cloth. It was allmoonshine, depend upon it," said the doctor, with a chuckle at his ownjoke; "take my advice, my boy, and don't give way to foolish fancies."
At this point the mother spoke--
"If his father knew, sir, as he'd got any such fads in his head, he'dsoon flog 'em out of him."
"His father is a very good one," said the doctor; "a little too fondof the stick, perhaps. There," he added, good-naturedly, slippingsixpence into Bill's hand, "get a new knife, my boy, and cut a goodthick stick, and the next ghost you meet, lay hold of him and let himtaste it."
Bill tried to thank him, but somehow his voice was choked, and thedoctor turned to his mother.
"The boy has been frightened," he said, "and is upset. Give him somesupper, and put him to bed." And the good gentleman departed.
Bill was duly feasted and sent to rest. His mother did not mention thematter to her husband, as she knew he would be angry; and occupiedwith real anxiety for her daughter, she soon forgot it herself.Consequently, the next night-school night she sent Bill to "cleanhimself," hurried on his tea, and packed him off, just as if nothinghad happened.
The boy's feelings since the night of the apparition had not beenenviable. He could neither eat nor sleep. As he lay in bed at night,he kept his face covered with the clothes, dreading that if he peepedout into the room the phantom of the murdered horseman would beckon tohim from the dark corners. Lying so till the dawn broke and the cocksbegan to crow, he would then look cautiously forth, and seeing by thegrey light that the corners were empty, and that the figure by thedoor was not the Yew-lane Ghost, but his mother's faded print dresshanging on a nail, would drop his head and fall wearily asleep. Theday was no better, for each hour brought him nearer to the next nightschool; and Bessy's illness made his mother so busy, that he nevercould find the right moment to ask her sympathy for his fears, andstill less could he feel himself able to overcome them. And so thenight-school came round again, and there he sat, gulping down a fewmouthfuls of food, and wondering how he should begin to tell hismother that he neither dare, could, nor would, go down Yew-lane againat night. He had just opened his lips when the father came in, andasked in a loud voice "Why Bill was not off." This effectually put astop to any confidences, and the boy ran out of the house. Not,however, to school. He made one or two desperate efforts atdetermination, and then gave up altogether. He _could_ not go!
He was wondering what he should do with himself, when it struck himthat he would go whilst it was daylight and look for the grave withthe odd verse of which Bessy had spoken. He had no difficulty infinding it. It was marked by a large ugly stone, on which theinscription was green and in some places almost effaced.
SACRED TO THE MEMORY
OF
EPHRAIM GARNETT--
He had read so far when a voice close by him said--
"You'll be late for school, young chap."
Bill looked up, and to his horror beheld Bully Tom standing in theroad and kicking the churchyard wall.
"Aren't you going?" he asked, as Bill did not speak.
"Not to-night," said Bill, with crimson cheeks.
"Larking, eh?" said Bully Tom. "My eyes, won't your father give ityou!" and he began to move off.
"Stop!" shouted Bill in an agony; "don't tell him, Tom. That would bea dirty trick. I'll go next time, I will indeed; I can't go to-night.I'm not larking, I'm scared. You won't tell?"
"Not this time, maybe," was the reply; "but I wouldn't be in yourshoes if you play this game next night;" and off he went.
Bill thought it well to quit the churchyard at once for some placewhere he was not likely to be seen; he had never played truant before,and for the next hour or two was thoroughly miserable as he slunkabout the premises of a neighbouring farm, and finally took refuge ina shed, and began to consider his position. He would remain hiddentill nine o'clock, and then go home. If nothing were said, well andgood; unless some accident should afterwards betray him. But if hismother asked any questions about the school? He dared not, and hewould not, tell a lie; and yet what would be the result of the truthcoming out? There could be no doubt that his father would beat him.Bill thought again, and decided that he could bear a thrashing, butnot the sight of the Yew-lane Ghost; so he remained where he was,wondering how it would be, and how he should get over the nextschool-night when it came. The prospect was so hopeless, and the poorlad so wearied with anxiety and wakeful nights, that he was almostasleep when he was startled by the church clock striking nine; and,jumping up, he ran home. His heart beat heavily as he crossed thethreshold; but his mother was still absorbed by thoughts of Bessy, andhe went to bed unquestioned. The next day too passed over without anyawkward remarks, which was very satisfactory; but then night-schoolday came again, and Bill felt that he was in a worse position thanever. He had played truant once with success; but he was aware that itwould not do a second time. Bully Tom was spiteful, and Master Arthurmight come to "look up" his recreant pupil, and then Bill's fatherwould know all.
On the morning of the much-dreaded day, his mother sent him up to theRectory to fetch some little delicacy that had been promised forBessy's dinner. He generally found it rather amusing to go there. Heliked to peep at the pretty garden, to look out for Master Arthur, andto sit in the kitchen and watch the cook, and wonder what she did withall the dishes and bright things that decorated the walls. To-day allwas quite different. He avoided the gardens, he was afraid of beingseen by his teacher, and though cook had an unusual display of potsand pans in operation, he sat in the corner of the kitchen indifferentto everything but the thought of the Yew-lane Ghost. The dinner forBessy was put between two saucers, and as cook gave it into his handsshe asked kindly after his sister, and added--
"You don't look over-well yourself, lad! What's amiss?"
Bill answered that he was quite well, and hurried out of the house toavoid further inquiries. He was becoming afraid of everyone! As hepassed the garden he thought of the gardener, and wondered if he wouldhelp him. He was very young and very good-natured; he had taken oflate to coming to see Bessy, and Bill had his own ideas upon thatpoint; finally, he had a small class at the night-school. Billwondered whether if he screwed up his cour
age to-night to go, JohnGardener would walk back with him for the pleasure of hearing thelatest accounts of Bessy. But all hopes of this sort were cut off byMaster Arthur's voice shouting to him from the garden--
"Hi, there! I want you, Willie! Come here, I say."
Bill ran through the evergreens, and there among the flower-beds inthe sunshine he saw--first, John Gardener driving a mowing-machineover the velvety grass under Master Arthur's very nose, so there wasno getting a private interview with him. Secondly, Master Arthurhimself, sitting on the ground with his terrier in his lap, directingthe proceedings by means of a donkey-headed stick with elaboratelycarved ears; and thirdly, Master Arthur's friend.
Now little bits of gossip will fly; and it had been heard in thedining-room, and conveyed by the parlour-maid to the kitchen, andpassed from the kitchen into the village, that Master Arthur's friendwas a very clever young gentleman; consequently Beauty Bill had beenvery anxious to see him. As, however, the clever young gentleman waslying on his back on the grass, with his hat flattened over his faceto keep out the sun, and an open book lying on its face upon hiswaistcoat to keep the place, and otherwise quite immovable, and verylike other young gentlemen, Bill did not feel much the wiser forlooking at him. He had a better view of him soon, however, for MasterArthur began to poke his friend's legs with the donkey-headed stick,and to exhort him to get up.
"Hi! Bartram, get up! Here's my prime pupil. See what we can turn out.You may examine him if you like. Willie: this gentleman is a veryclever gentleman, so you must keep your wits about you. _He'll_ putquestions to you, I can tell you! There's as much difference betweenhis head and mine, as between mine and the head of this stick." AndMaster Arthur flourished his "one-legged donkey," as he called it, inthe air, and added, "Bartram! you lazy lout! _will_ you get up andtake an interest in my humble efforts for the good of myfellow-creatures?"
Thus adjured, Mr. Bartram sat up with a jerk which threw his book onto his boots, and his hat after it, and looked at Bill. Now Bill andthe gardener had both been grinning, as they always did at MasterArthur's funny speeches, but when Bill found the clever gentlemanlooking at him, he straightened his face very quickly. The gentlemanwas not at all like his friend ("nothing near so handsome," Billreported at home), and he had such a large prominent forehead that helooked as if he were bald. When he sat up, he suddenly screwed up hiseyes in a very peculiar way, pulled out a double gold eye-glass, fixedit on his nose, and stared through it for a second; after which hiseyes unexpectedly opened to their full extent (they were not smallones), and took a sharp survey of Bill over the top of his spectacles;and this ended, he lay back on his elbow without speaking. Bill thenand there decided that Mr. Bartram was very proud, rather mad, and themost disagreeable gentleman he ever saw; and he felt sure could see aswell as he (Bill) could, and only wore spectacles out of a peculiarkind of pride and vain-glory which he could not exactly specify.Master Arthur seemed to think, at any rate, that he was not verycivil, and began at once to talk to the boy himself.
"Why were you not at school last time, Willie? couldn't your motherspare you?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Then why didn't you come?" said Master Arthur, in evidentastonishment.
Poor Bill! He stammered as he had stammered before the doctor, andfinally gasped--
"Please, Sir, I was scared."
"Scared? What of?"
"Ghosts," murmured Bill in a very ghostly whisper. Mr. Bartram raisedhimself a little. Master Arthur seemed confounded.
"Why, you little goose! How is it you never were afraid before?"
"Please, Sir, I saw one the other night."
Mr. Bartram took another look over the top of his eye-glass and satbolt upright, and John Gardener stayed his machine and listened, whilepoor Bill told the whole story of the Yew-lane Ghost.
When it was finished, the gardener, who was behind Master Arthur,said--
"I've heard something of this, Sir, in the village," and then addedmore which Bill could not hear.
"Eh, what?" said Master Arthur. "Willie, take the machine and driveabout the garden a-bit wherever you like. Now, John."
Willie did not at all like being sent away at this interesting point.Another time he would have enjoyed driving over the short grass, andseeing it jump up like a little green fountain in front of him; butnow his whole mind was absorbed by the few words he caught atintervals of the conversation going on between John and the younggentlemen. What could it mean? Mr. Bartram seemed to have awakened toextraordinary energy, and was talking rapidly. Bill heard the words"lime-light" and "large sheet," and thought they must be planning amagic-lantern exhibition, but was puzzled by catching the word"turnip." At last, as he was rounding the corner of a bed ofgeraniums, he distinctly heard Mr. Bartram ask--
"They cut the man's head off, didn't they?"
Then they were talking about the ghost, after all! Bill gave themachine a jerk, and to his dismay sliced a branch off one of thegeraniums. What was to be done? He must tell Master Arthur, but hecould not interrupt him just now; so on he drove, feeling very muchdispirited, and by no means cheered by hearing shouts of laughter fromthe party on the grass. When one is puzzled and out of spirits, it isno consolation to hear other people laughing over a private joke;moreover, Bill felt that if they were still on the subject of themurdered man and his ghost, their merriment was very unsuitable.Whatever was going on, it was quite evident that Mr. Bartram was theleading spirit of it, for Bill could see Master Arthur waving the onelegged donkey in an ecstasy, as he clapped his friend on the back tillthe eye-glass danced upon his nose. At last Mr. Bartram threw himselfback as if closing a discussion, and said loud enough for Bill tohear--
"You never heard of a bully who wasn't a coward."
Bill thought of Bully Tom, and how he had said he dared not risk thechance of meeting with a ghost, and began to think that this was aclever young gentleman, after all. Just then Master Arthur called tohim; and he took the bit of broken geranium and went.
"Oh, Willie!" said Master Arthur, "we've been talking over yourmisfortunes--geranium? fiddle-sticks! put it in your button-hole--yourmisfortunes, I say, and for to-night at any rate we intend to help youout of them. John--ahem!--will be--ahem!--engaged to-night, and unableto take his class as usual; but this gentleman has kindly consented tofill his place ("Hear, hear," said the gentleman alluded to), and ifyou'll come to-night, like a good lad, he and I will walk back withyou; so if you do see the ghost, it will be in good company. But,mind, this is on one condition. You must not say anything aboutit--about our walking back with you, I mean--to anybody. Say nothing;but get ready and come to school as usual. You understand?"
"Yes, Sir," said Bill; "and I'm very much obliged to you, Sir, and theother gentleman as well."
Nothing more was said, so Bill made his best bow and retired. As hewent he heard Master Arthur say to the gardener--
"Then you'll go to the town at once, John. We shall want the things assoon as possible. You'd better take the pony, and we'll have the listready for you."
Bill heard no more words; but as he left the grounds the laughter ofthe young gentlemen rang out into the road.
What did it all mean?
Melchior's Dream and Other Tales Page 10