The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror)

by Eliza Parsons

  "Now, then," said he, 'the whole is discovered; this is a retreat for robbers, and we shall soon clear the haunted pavilion."

  He returned to the castle, to the no small joy of his friends, but he found it impossible to convince them that the persons he described were living ones; they grew more strongly assured that they were wicked spirits, but that Mr. Ferdinand being good, they had no power to hurt him. He, provoked at their incredulity, at length asked the steward if it was possible to open the door of communication, which he said led underneath to the pavilion: The other hesitated a long time; but on being urged, said,

  "Perhaps it might, as it was nailed up on this side, supposing that the ghosts had not fastened it on the other, as they did the padlock door."

  "But," said the woman, "it would be better to go in the day-time, and force open the front door of the pavilion."

  Ferdinand hesitated and considered.—"If, as I suppose," said he, "some part of the gang are always in the house, they are doubtless prepared for resistance, and will sell their lives dearly; in forcing the door, some of us may be killed; no, let us discover, if possible, who and what they are, and then we can take measures to surprise them, perhaps without danger."

  The woman shook her head.

  "Ah!" said she, 'they are no living folks, I dare say; and it would be better to go by day, when they do not appear."

  "But," replied Ferdinand, 'that won't do; I wish to see them appear."

  He then went down to the passage, which was like the colonnade of a cloister, and saw the door: By the help of an instrument, he drew the screws from the hinges, and with very little noise, opened the door, which discovered a similar passage to the one he was in, but quite dark; he procured his dark lantern, and proceeded softly through the passage; lamps were hung on one side, which no doubt were formerly lighted, but all was extremely gloomy and damp.

  He came at length to a flight of steps, and hesitated a few minutes whether he should venture to proceed, yet it would be folly to go back so unsatisfied; he had just ascended the first stair, when he heard a loud laughing, as if of two or three persons: He listened—the sound seemed to come from no great distance, and he heard voices as if extremely merry.

  He continued to ascend with great caution, and entered a sort of lobby, from whence he heard the voices more distinctly; to go forwards alone, he thought would be madness, as he must expect instant death, if discovered. He was now sufficiently assured of what mind the inhabitants were, and proper steps might be taken to secure them through this passage.

  He turned, therefore, to make good his retreat; he heard the noise of feet directly over his head, and stepped forwards as quick and softly as possible, blaming his own rashness for advancing so far; he looked for the stairs, in his confusion he had past them; for this lobby went the whole length of the building. Sensible of his error, he was going back, when he heard some one coming down stairs, and the glimmering of a light approaching, he could not advance, but turned his lantern and retreated on one side, giving himself up for lost.

  A man appeared with a light, and passed so close to Ferdinand, that it was impossible to avoid seeing him; he just snatched a look at him as he started, and, with a groan, fell on the floor.—Though infinitely surprised, he had no time to lose, as the fall and groan must alarm the others; he therefore quickly trod back through the lobby, found the stairs, and, with all the strength he could exert, run through the passage, which, having gained, he ventured not to close the door, but in a moment got up to the stair-case of the castle apartments, and appeared before the steward and his wife so out of breath and agitated, that they both concluded he had seen the ghosts.

  When he could speak, he informed them of what he had heard and seen; and so far, said he, are the persons there from being shadowy beings, that I have no doubt, from the fellow's fright, but that he took me for one; at least I hope he did, as then my progress through the passages will not be discovered.

  "And if it is," said the woman, 'then for a certain we shall all be murdered."

  Ferdinand was not perfectly free from the same idea; yet still he thought no time should be lost, to get proper persons to secure those men, who were evidently a gang of banditti.

  The steward was persuaded to take a horse, and ride immediately to the next post-town, declare what had happened, and bring a party as private as possible, to seize upon them at night—much against the opinion of the wife, who was for letting them rest quiet, whoever they were, alive or dead, rather than bring themselves into trouble; but at length Ferdinand prevailed, by saying what a great reward they would obtain by taking them.—This consideration a little reconciled her to the absence of her husband; therefore, at day-break, he got his horse, and set off with all haste.

  He had been gone about three hours, when there was a knocking at the door; Ferdinand was gone to lay down on a sofa in the library; the good woman was alone, the men being about the grounds, and she was afraid to open the door without some one with her; she came to him in the library, and entreated he would have the goodness to come out, and then she would speak from the window, which she did, and asked the person what he wanted; he wished to speak with her husband; he was not at home; could he come in and wait for him, as he had business of consequence to tell him.—Without answering, she drew in her head to ask Ferdinand's opinion; he advanced to the window, and just as he was in view of the man, the fellow started, screamed, attempted to run, but fell on the ground.

  Ferdinand hastened out, spoke, and took the man's arm to assist him; he turned, and looking up, discovered the very face of the servant his brother had sent to attend him back to Baden.

  Both were thunderstruck, and for a moment speechless.—The man exclaimed,

  "Alive! is it possible—alive!"

  "Yes, my good friend," replied the other, "most wonderfully preserved from death, and I rejoice to see you; for I have often felt much concern for the uncertainty of your fate."

  "Concern for me! Good God! but I see Providence will always bring wicked deeds to light.—Pray, Sir, tell me. Did I see you last night in the lobby of yonder pavilion?"

  "I was certainly there," answered Ferdinand, "and frightened a man, I believe—could that be you?"

  "It was, Sir; and from that fright, you will now know all; for though I find it was no ghost, as I thought, yet, as I said before, Providence discovers all things, and I will make a free confession."

  "Come in then," said Ferdinand, "and whatever you have to confess, speak freely, and assure yourself of my pardon, if you have done me any wrong."

  He then entered into a long story, which, as the substance of it will be detailed hereafter, it is not necessary to give now; but it concluded with avowing, that he had orders to destroy Ferdinand on the most convenient spot, to avoid a discovery; that he had engaged others to assist him, who were in waiting in the grove at the top of the hill, one of which fired at him, and he being dismounted, as he fell, rolled him over the hill, supposing he must be dead.

  That he hastened to his employer, received the sum agreed for, and only yesterday joined his friends; that having among them got a great deal of money and jewels, they proposed to leave off that trade, go over to England, set up for gentlemen, and take to the gaming-table.

  This scheme they had intended to execute in about ten days time; there were six of them concerned, two of whom always remained in the pavilion; the other four occasionally dressed as gentlemen; found out when any travellers of consequence were going on the roads, and then came back, disguised themselves, and plundered where they expected a good booty. Some of his comrades had inhabited that pavilion many years, but he had only joined them lately.

  Returning yesterday with his money, which he should not have done, but that he knew his share of their stock was considerably greater than what he possessed, and sure between them of making more money when they pleased, of his employer; he said, they had a feast, and were extremely merry last night, and he was sent down to the cellar for some particula
r fine wine; going through the lobby, he saw something stand against the wall; going nearer, he saw, as he thought, the ghost of Mr. Ferdinand; terror instantly seized him, and he fell into a fit.

  The noise he made brought down the others; and when he recovered, so much had conscience overpowered his senses, that he still insisted that he saw him before his eyes, wherever he turned: Some of his friends ridiculed him, but one or two seemed as much terrified as himself.

  In short, he went to bed, but could not stay alone; and when he reflected upon all his wickedness, he thought he would go to the castle, and confess the whole; only he did not intend to say he threw the murdered gentleman over the hill, and, as he did not fire at him, he hoped, by impeaching the rest, he should obtain pardon.

  Following this resolution, when the other four went out before day-break, and left him and another in bed; he took the advantage of the other, and stole off; came to the castle, but again seeing Ferdinand, concluded the ghost haunted him, and intended to run away, when his fright threw him down.

  This story and discovery so shocked Ferdinand, that he could hardly keep himself from fainting, but he assured the man of his protection, if he would repent of his past life.—This he faithfully promised; but his fears of the ghost having subsided, and his terrors of murder being done away, he already regretted the confession which horror and the fright of the moment had drawn from him.

  Ferdinand told him by what means he entered the lobby, and the steps they intended to take that night, to surprise the whole gang, when at table. It was fortunate for him, perhaps, that the two men of the house now entered, and were a check upon the villain, who was inwardly cursing his stars for making him such a terrified coward.

  He told Ferdinand they assembled together earlier than usual the last evening, to celebrate his return, but would hardly meet 'till one or two in the morning on this night; that he thought it best for himself to return, as he could account for his absence, and then he would take care to put aside all instruments of destruction against their appearing, to prevent any harm to Ferdinand and his party.

  The unsuspecting Ferdinand praised the man's humanity, and advised him to depart immediately, and expect him about one o'clock. Away he went, cured of his fears, and like a true rogue, finding it most for his interest, he would make a merit of being true to his accomplices, and establish an opinion of his own courage and integrity.

  The steward returned, properly accompanied for their intended expedition, and was astonished when informed of the visitor they had in his absence, and not sorry that they should have a friend to prevent mischief.

  At the appointed hour, they silently proceeded through the passages, and ascending the stairs, reached the lobby; all was still;—not a voice heard.—This appeared extraordinary; however, two resolute men went before up the stairs to the apartment where Ferdinand had heard them the preceding evening; the door was open; the room empty; chairs, tables, and trunks, all in disorder.—They looked at each other.

  "What can this mean?" cried Ferdinand

  They run from room to room, on that floor which was the lower one; then ascended, searched the house through; it was entirely empty, not only of its inhabitants, but of the vast riches the man had boasted of.

  "The villain has betrayed us," said Ferdinand; 'they are all off."

  They descended to the cellars, and there found the little door wide open, and all clear. "Twas now plain they had all taken their flight; and to have discovered and irritated such a band of ruffians, was a very serious business. The steward lamented his interference; he had no doubt but that they would return, and murder every one at the castle.

  Ferdinand was not quite easy, though he seemed to make light of the fears of others, and they returned extremely disconcerted.

  That the robbers could not be at any great distance was certain; but there were so many caves and subterranean passages in the hills and rocks adjacent, that it was judged both fruitless and dangerous to trace them, even if they had any clue to guide their search.—They had taken their riches with them; the informer had said, they intended to leave the place, therefore they were now reduced to hope they never might return.

  Ferdinand bore all the vexation and mortification of this disappointment, since, had he not been too credulous, he never would have permitted the man to return back, but have retained him as a necessary evidence. He accused his own imprudence, and execrated the wretch whose feigned penitence had deceived him.

  CHAPTER VII

  That night was past without rest by any part of the family at the Castle. Every breath of wind, the least motion of the trees, was magnified into the sound of feet, and murmuring of voices. Day-light at last came, and their terrors began a little to subside; they met dejected and unrefreshed; Ferdinand, ashamed of his credulity, tortured by the recollection of the man's information, and grieved at the painful situation his imprudence had thrown the family into, who had so kindly attended to him, with many other additional causes of inquietude, appeared with a countenance so truly dejected, an air of such anxious concern for them, that instead of affording them any comfort, he more completely alarmed their fears.

  He found it impossible to raise his own spirits, or recall to his friends that cheerfulness his folly had deprived them of. On that day or the next, the passage boat was expected; but could he leave them in such a perilous situation, forsake them in the prospect of danger they incurred by complying with his wishes? Impossible, neither honour nor humanity would permit it.

  He had written to his friends at Vienna, he had little doubt but that some of them would come to him, at any rate he must remain where he was a few days, and share the danger, or, if contrary to their apprehensions, the robbers should have fled the country, he would then have the satisfaction of leaving them as happy as he found them.

  Waving therefore all considerations of self-interest, and repelling the extreme solicitude he felt for returning into Suabia, he frankly told the steward, "he would not leave them until he saw the event of what they so much dreaded. A day or two (said he) will, I hope, do away all your fears; there is nothing in this Castle to tempt their avarice, and surely they will scarcely neglect their own safety, and hazard a discovery, solely from a desire of revenge." They heard him, and were pleased at the moment; but when fear has taken absolute possession of the mind, hope is but a temporary guest, and is soon clouded with redoubled terrors at the slightest circumstance that justifies their first emotions.

  Thus it happened to them, for soon after he had succeeded in raising them from their dismal apprehensions of death and murder, one of the men came in with a small box he had found in the wood just behind the Castle. This box was opened, and, to their infinite surprise, contained a gold watch, three diamond rings, of no very great value, a purse with thirty Louis-d'ors, and two embroidered handkerchiefs.

  "This box was certainly dropped by the robbers," exclaimed the steward; 'they are hid in the wood, and when they have secured all their property they will come and be revenged on us." His wife instantly caught the alarm; she cried, and wrung her hands, "lamented the day that ever they had indulged people's curiosity to be their own destruction."

  Ferdinand was obliged to give way to the torrent, and remained silent till the turbulence of grief and passion had exhausted itself; then he told them, "he had no doubt but that the gang had dropped the box; at the same time he still believed they were gone from that neighbourhood without any intention of returning, and advised sending the two men at the different post towns to gain intelligence."

  But their fears would not let them part with the men beyond sight of the house, and they passed that day and the succeeding night under the same horrors, and with as little rest as the former ones. When the second morning came, it brought a return of spirits, and a glimmering of hope, which Ferdinand encouraged, as indeed his own apprehensions were now done away, and therefore the serenity of his aspect gave weight to his words, and had the desired effect of restoring some degree of tranquillity
to their minds.

  In the course of the day the steward's wife was capable of admiring the contents of the box, and asked, with some little earnestness, what was to be done with them, and to whom they must belong?

  "To you, undoubtedly," said Ferdinand; "it is impossible to guess at, or to find the owner, as they may have been years in the robber's possession; nor is the value of that magnitude to make them of any mighty consequence to a person, such as we may suppose the owner to have been. The watch and rings you will keep; should any inquiry be made, you can restore them; but the money you may use without scruple."

  This opinion of Ferdinand's so exactly corresponded with her's, that in a moment her countenance cleared, and if she had any fears, the loss of her riches was the most predominant one. A tolerable quiet night succeeded, and the third day restored them all to so much composure, that the good woman now praised Ferdinand for his courage in "routing the robbers, and convincing the neighbourhood that no ghosts had lived there."

  She was one of those very prudent persons, who, feeling their own interest concerned, choose always to judge by the event of things in their own favour, without considering the causes of the fit, or the unfit.

  Matters being thus returned into the accustomed channel with the steward and his family, Ferdinand was impatient to leave them, particularly as he had no letters from Vienna. He wrote a second time to the Count, declaring his intention of going immediately to Baden, and to remain in the house of Mr. Dunloff, until apprised of the Count's and Mr. D'Alenberg's arrival at their seats.——That same evening he had the satisfaction to hear, he might embark the next morning for Ulm. He took leave of his hospitable friends with much kindness, and requested to hear from them, should they gain any information of the robbers.