even that there is noimposture, there must be a human being like ourselves by whom, orthrough whom, the effects presented to human beings are produced. Itis so with the now familiar phenomena of mesmerism or electro-biology;the mind of the person operated on is affected through a materialliving agent. Nor, supposing it true that a mesmerized patient canrespond to the will or passes of a mesmerizer a hundred miles distant,is the response less occasioned by a material being; it may be througha material fluid--call it Electric, call it Odic, call it what youwill--which has the power of traversing space and passing obstacles,that the material effect is communicated from one to the other. Hence,all that I had hitherto witnessed, or expected to witness, in thisstrange house, I believed to be occasioned through some agency ormedium as mortal as myself; and this idea necessarily prevented theawe with which those who regard as supernatural things that are notwithin the ordinary operations of Nature, might have been impressed bythe adventures of that memorable night.
As, then, it was my conjecture that all that was presented, or wouldbe presented to my senses, must originate in some human being giftedby constitution with the power so to present them, and having somemotive so to do, I felt an interest in my theory which, in its way,was rather philosophical than superstitious. And I can sincerely saythat I was in as tranquil a temper for observation as any practicalexperimentalist could be in awaiting the effects of some rare, thoughperhaps perilous, chemical combination. Of course, the more I kept mymind detached from fancy, the more the temper fitted for observationwould be obtained; and I therefore riveted eye and thought on thestrong daylight sense in the page of my Macaulay.
I now became aware that something interposed between the page and thelight,--the page was over-shadowed. I looked up, and I saw what Ishall find it very difficult, perhaps impossible, to describe.
It was a Darkness shaping itself forth from the air in very undefinedoutline. I cannot say it was of a human form, and yet it had moreresemblance to a human form, or rather shadow, than to anything else.As it stood, wholly apart and distinct from the air and the lightaround it, its dimensions seemed gigantic, the summit nearly touchingthe ceiling. While I gazed, a feeling of intense cold seized me. Aniceberg before me could not more have chilled me; nor could the coldof an iceberg have been more purely physical. I feel convinced that itwas not the cold caused by fear. As I continued to gaze, Ithought--but this I cannot say with precision--that I distinguishedtwo eyes looking down on me from the height. One moment I fancied thatI distinguished them clearly, the next they seemed gone; but still tworays of a pale-blue light frequently shot through the darkness, asfrom the height on which I half believed, half doubted, that I hadencountered the eyes.
I strove to speak,--my voice utterly failed me; I could only think tomyself, "Is this fear? It is _not_ fear!" I strove to rise,--in vain;I felt as if weighed down by an irresistible force. Indeed, myimpression was that of an immense and overwhelming Power opposed to myvolition,--that sense of utter inadequacy to cope with a force beyondman's, which one may feel _physically_ in a storm at sea, in aconflagration, or when confronting some terrible wild beast, orrather, perhaps, the shark of the ocean, I felt _morally_. Opposed tomy will was another will, as far superior to its strength as storm,fire, and shark are superior in material force to the force of man.
And now, as this impression grew on me,--now came, at last, horror,horror to a degree that no words can convey. Still I retained pride,if not courage; and in my own mind I said, "This is horror, but it isnot fear; unless I fear I cannot be harmed; my reason rejects thisthing; it is an illusion,--I do not fear." With a violent effort Isucceeded at last in stretching out my hand towards the weapon on thetable; as I did so, on the arm and shoulder I received a strangeshock, and my arm fell to my side powerless. And now, to add to myhorror, the light began slowly to wane from the candles,--they werenot, as it were, extinguished, but their flame seemed very graduallywithdrawn; it was the same with the fire,--the light was extractedfrom the fuel; in a few minutes the room was in utter darkness. Thedread that came over me, to be thus in the dark with that dark Thing,whose power was so intensely felt, brought a reaction of nerve. Infact, terror had reached that climax, that either my senses must havedeserted me, or I must have burst through the spell. I did burstthrough it. I found voice, though the voice was a shriek. I rememberthat I broke forth with words like these, "I do not fear, my soul doesnot fear;" and at the same time I found strength to rise. Still inthat profound gloom I rushed to one of the windows; tore aside thecurtain; flung open the shutters; my first thought was--LIGHT. Andwhen I saw the moon high, clear, and calm, I felt a joy that almostcompensated for the previous terror. There was the moon, there wasalso the light from the gas-lamps in the deserted slumberous street. Iturned to look back into the room; the moon penetrated its shadow verypalely and partially,--but still there was light. The dark Thing,whatever it might be, was gone,--except that I could yet see a dimshadow, which seemed the shadow of that shade, against the oppositewall.
My eye now rested on the table, and from under the table (which waswithout cloth or cover,--an old mahogany round-table) there rose ahand, visible as far as the wrist. It was a hand, seemingly, as muchof flesh and blood as my own, but the hand of an aged person, lean,wrinkled, small too,--a woman's hand. That hand very softly closed onthe two letters that lay on the table; hand and letters both vanished.There then came the same three loud, measured knocks I had heard atthe bedhead before this extraordinary drama had commenced.
As those sounds slowly ceased, I felt the whole room vibrate sensibly;and at the far end there rose, as from the floor, sparks or globuleslike bubbles of light, many colored,--green, yellow, fire-red, azure.Up and down, to and fro, hither, thither, as tiny Will-o'-the-Wisps,the sparks moved, slow or swift, each at its own caprice. A chair (asin the drawing-room below) was now advanced from the wall withoutapparent agency, and placed at the opposite side of the table.Suddenly, as forth from the chair, there grew a shape,--a woman'sshape. It was distinct as a shape of life,--ghastly as a shape ofdeath. The face was that of youth, with a strange, mournful beauty;the throat and shoulders were bare, the rest of the form in a looserobe of cloudy white. It began sleeking its long, yellow hair, whichfell over its shoulders; its eyes were not turned towards me, but tothe door; it seemed listening, watching, waiting. The shadow of theshade in the background grew darker; and again I thought I beheld theeyes gleaming out from the summit of the shadow,--eyes fixed upon thatshape.
As if from the door, though it did not open, there grew out anothershape, equally distinct, equally ghastly,--a man's shape, a youngman's. It was in the dress of the last century, or rather in alikeness of such dress (for both the male shape and the female, thoughdefined, were evidently unsubstantial, impalpable,--simulacra,phantasms); and there was something incongruous, grotesque, yetfearful, in the contrast between the elaborate finery, the courtlyprecision of that old-fashioned garb, with its ruffles and lace andbuckles, and the corpse-like aspect and ghost-like stillness of theflitting wearer. Just as the male shape approached the female, thedark Shadow started from the wall, all three for a moment wrapped indarkness. When the pale light returned, the two phantoms were as if inthe grasp of the Shadow that towered between them; and there was ablood-stain on the breast of the female; and the phantom male wasleaning on its phantom sword, and blood seemed trickling fast from theruffles, from the lace; and the darkness of the intermediate Shadowswallowed them up,--they were gone. And again the bubbles of lightshot, and sailed, and undulated, growing thicker and thicker and morewildly confused in their movements.
The closet door to the right of the fireplace now opened, and from theaperture there came the form of an aged woman. In her hand she heldletters,--the very letters over which I had seen _the_ Hand close; andbehind her I heard a footstep. She turned round as if to listen, andthen she opened the letters and seemed to read; and over her shoulderI saw a livid face, the face as of a man long drowned,--bloated,bleached, seaweed tangled in its dripping hair; and at her feet
lay aform as of a corpse; and beside the corpse there cowered a child, amiserable, squalid child, with famine in its cheeks and fear in itseyes. And as I looked in the old woman's face, the wrinkles and linesvanished, and it became a face of youth,--hard-eyed, stony, but stillyouth; and the Shadow darted forth, and darkened over these phantomsas it had darkened over the last.
Nothing now was left but the Shadow, and on that my eyes were intentlyfixed, till again eyes grew out of the Shadow,--malignant, serpenteyes. And the bubbles of light again rose and fell, and in theirdisordered, irregular, turbulent maze, mingled with the wan moonlight.And now from these globules themselves, as from the shell of an egg,monstrous things burst out; the air grew filled with them: larvae sobloodless and so hideous that I can in no way describe them except toremind the reader of the swarming life which the solar microscopebrings before his eyes in a drop of water,--things
The Haunted and the Haunters; Or, The House and the Brain Page 4