Part 9

"At this moment I was puzzled to observe that the black-garmented figure was a good deal less distinctly discernible than when it had been farther off. The sun was still as bright as ever, the air as clear, but the outline of the shape was blurred and undefined, as though seen out of focus through a telescope. General Burleigh now caught sight of me for the first time, and his cordial gesture of salute caused Edna quickly to raise her eyes. We saw despair in each other's looks, and then she dropped her eyes again, and moved wearily onward. Simultaneously with her glance the spectre (which appeared to be as unconscious of everything save Edna and myself, as everyone except us was of it)--the spectre also directed its gaze at me. I can never forget that face, Drayton. I seemed to grow older and more miserable as I confronted it. And all the while it was getting less and less perceptible; now it was magnified, clouded, and distorted; but the devilish expression of it was still recognisable. Now it faded or expanded into vagueness; only a foggy shadow seemed gliding by Edna's side; and when she was within ten paces, and her father's voice was speaking out its hearty welcome to me, every trace even of the shadow had disappeared; nothing was left but that chilliness and horror of the heart which I had felt the night previous, but now vastly intensified, because I was no longer ignorant of the cause of it. Edna and I would never again be alone together. This devil was to haunt us henceforth, mocking our love by its hideous mimicry and derision, marring and polluting our most sacred secrets, sickening our hearts and paralysing our hope and reliance in each other. We could neither escape it nor resist it; and its invisibility when we were together was not the least fearful thing about it. To see it, awful as it was, must be less unendurable than to imagine it, unseen; and the certainty that, so often as I left Edna, I should leave this devil in her company, visible once more the moment he was out of my reach, but never to be met and grappled with hand to hand--this was hard to bear! Had ever mortal man before such a rival?

"All this, of course, was but dimly apprehended by my mind at the time; but I had sufficient opportunity to muse upon it afterwards. General Burleigh seized my hand, and shook the head of his cane at me.

"'Shall be obliged to court-martial you, young man! What have you been doing to my daughter, sir? Why, no one can get a word or a smile out of her, since you came with your tomfooleries! She keeps all her good humour for you, confound you! It's witchcraft--you've bewitched my little girl with your lockets and your necklaces and your tomfooleries! You've bewitched her--and I'll have you court-martialed, and executed for witchcraft, by Jove! Ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha!' And with that he gripped my hand again, and vowing that the club was the only place for him since I had appeared with my tomfooleries and witchcraft, he swung round on his heel and strode away, his broad military shoulders shaking with jollity; and left Edna alone with me--and my rival!

"We strolled off along Piccadilly, and I daresay every man we met was envying me from the bottom of his heart. But though her arm was in mine, I knew I might as well have been miles away from her. And we both were reticent of our words on all matters lying near our hearts, as if that third presence had been as palpable and visible as it was otherwise real. We spoke constrainedly and coldly; nay, we even tried not to _think_ of our love or of our misery, lest it might possess power to see our thoughts as well as hear our voices. We walked on, seldom looking at one another, for fear of catching a glimpse of it in each other's eyes. I saw, however, that Edna still wore her locket--indeed, she had told me, the night before, that she would never take it off, until I bade her do so.

"'So your father thinks you bewitched, Edna,' I said at length, trying to throw off the incubus a little.

"'I am not very well, I think.'

"'He seemed to fancy the spell was connected with that old locket,' I continued; my very disinclination to the subject driving me to tamper with it.

"'Perhaps it is,' returned Edna listlessly, lifting her hand for a moment to her throat. 'I am not quite used to it yet.'

"'To witchcraft, do you mean? You have seen no phantoms, have you?'

"I felt her little hand clutch my arm with an involuntary start. I looked down, and she met my eye with a blush, and at the same time with a terrified shrinking expression that was bitter to behold.

"'I see nothing with my open eyes,' she said, scarcely above a whisper; 'but at night--I cannot help my dreams; and they follow me into the day.'

"It was as I had thought, therefore; the spectre was not objectively visible to her. She could not get away from her own self, and hence could gain no point of vantage whence her persecutor could be seen. There was little doubt, nevertheless, that her mental picture of him agreed with my ocular experience. It seemed to me, on the whole, that her burden must be far harder to bear than mine. There is a kind of relief in being able to face a horror; and my own feelings, since seeing this evil spirit which was haunting us, had been in a certain sense more tolerable, if more hopeless, than the night before. But how did I know what agony she might suffer? Even her innocent sleep was not sacred from this evil thing; all her maiden reserve and delicacy were outraged; she could be safe nowhere--no one could protect her; and with me, who would have given my life to please a whim of hers, her suffering and exposure must be less endurable than anywhere else. I could well understand her blush, poor girl--poor girl!"

Not for many years--not since, in fact, certain sad experiences of my own early days--had I been so deeply stirred as by this recital of Calbot's. His voice had great compass and expression, and the needs of his profession had given its natural powers every cultivation. He had a way of dwelling on certain words, and of occasionally pausing, or appearing to hesitate, which greatly added to the effect of his narrative. All this might be acquired by art, but not so the ever and anon recurring falterings and breaks, into which, as now, he was unexpectedly betrayed. I felt that it was unwise in me to listen to him, to sympathise with him, as I was doing; yet could I not find it in my heart to stop him. All fears of violence on his part had been for some time past allayed. I was well aware that my encouragement of his confidences could only result in my passing a feverish uncomfortable night, and a listless dismal morrow; and yet I forbore to interrupt him. Ah! it is we old bachelors who have hearts after all.

I blew my nose, Calbot cleared his throat, and continued.

VIII.

"Well, Drayton, I shan't keep you much longer. From Piccadilly we turned into Bond Street, and were walking up the side-walk on the left-hand side, when suddenly Edna stopped, and clasped both her hands round my arm. She uttered a low exclamation, and trembled perceptibly. Her face, as I looked at it, was quite rigid and colourless. I did not know what was the matter, but fearing she was about to swoon, I looked round for a cab. In so doing my eye caught my own reflection in a mirror, fixed at a shop entrance on the other side of the street. It was in this direction that Edna also was gazing, and the next moment I no longer wondered at her ghastly aspect. Close by her shoulder appeared the fantastic black-garmented figure which I had seen awhile before in Park Lane. He was making the wildest and most absurd gestures--grinning, throwing about his arms, making profound mock obeisances, and evidently in an ecstasy of enjoyment. I looked suddenly round, but the place which should have been occupied by the original of the reflection appeared entirely empty. Looking back to the mirror, however, there was the spectre again, actually capering with ugly glee.

"Meantime people were beginning to notice the strange behaviour of Edna and myself, and I was thankful when a passing cab enabled me to shield her from their scrutiny. No sooner were we seated than she fainted away, and only recovered a few moments before we stopped at her door. As I helped her out she looked me sadly in the face, and said:

"'Come to me to-morrow afternoon--for the last time.'

"I could say nothing against her decision, Drayton; I felt we should be really more united, living apart, than were we to force ourselves to outward association. Our calamity was too strong for us; separation might appease the mysterious malice of the phantom, and cause him to return whither he belonged. The persecution of our long-dead ancestors now recurred to me, as I had read it a few months before in those dusty old documents, and I could not help seeing a strange similarity between their fate and ours. Yet we had an advantage in not being married, and in having the warning of their history before us. You see," observed Calbot, somewhat bitterly, "even I can talk of advantages!

"I went to her house to-day and had a short interview. I cannot tell you in detail what we said, but it seems to me as though the memory of it would gradually oust all other memories from my mind. I told her that passage of history. We agreed to part--for ever in this world. I took back the chain and locket which I had given her but so short a time before. We said good-bye, in cold and distant words. We could not gratify the evil spirit, which we knew was watching us, by any embrace or show of grief and passion. We could be proud in our despair."

"One moment, Calbot," said I, interrupting him at this point; "you say she gave you back the locket?"

"Yes."

"Is it in your possession now?"

"It is at the bottom of the Thames."

"Good! And have you or Miss Burleigh seen anything of your phantom since then?"

"You forget that we parted only this afternoon. But I understand your question. No, Drayton, it is there that the fate of our ancestors gives us timely warning. We must never meet again."

"I don't consider the cases parallel; and besides," I added, with a glance at my MS., "there is perhaps another point to be considered. However, finish your story, if there be any more to tell."

"A little more, and then my story will be finished indeed! I am going with the new expedition to the North Pole, and it will be my own fault if I return. Well, after leaving her, I came straight downstairs and hurried out. I felt as though I must go mad, or kill someone--myself perhaps. As I stood on the doorstep, mechanically buttoning up my ulster, I felt that creeping sickening chill once more, and knew that the unholy Thing had passed me. I looked sharply about, and in a moment or two I saw it, as plainly as ever. It stood on the sunlit pavement, about fifty yards away, and appeared to be beckoning me to approach.

"I watched it for perhaps a minute, and then a sudden fury took possession of me. My hatred against this devil which had blighted my life and Edna's must have leapt up in my eyes, for I fancied, from the way the phantom leered at me, that he meant to claim a sort of relationship with me--as though I were become a devil too. Well, if I were a devil, perhaps I might be able to inflict some torture on this my fellow. I sprang down the steps, and set off towards it. It waited until I had passed over more than half the intervening distance, and then it suddenly turned and walked onward before me. So a chase began."

"Good gracious, Calbot," remonstrated I; "you don't mean to tell me you ran after it--in the face of all London too?"

"I would have followed it to its own hell if it had led me there," he returned. "At first it stalked along swiftly but easily, only occasionally cutting a grotesque caper in the air, with a flourish of its arms and legs. It kept always the same distance in front of me--with no effort could I lessen the interval. Nevertheless, I gradually increased my speed almost to a run, much to the apparent delight of the hobgoblin, who skipped with frantic glee over the cold pavements, occasionally half facing about to wave me on. It turned the corner of Piccadilly, and I lost sight of it for a moment; but, hurrying up, there it was again, a short distance up the street. It made me a profound mock obeisance, and immediately set off anew.

"As I need not tell you, the figure which I was pursuing was visible only to myself. The street was full of people, there were all the usual noise, bustle, and gaiety of the city at that hour; but though it passed through the midst of the crowd, in all the fantastic singularity of its costume and manner, no one stepped out of its way or turned to gaze at it. That it should be so terrible a reality to me, and at the same time so completely non-existent to the rest of the world, affected me strangely. Here was a new bond of relationship between me and it. My misery and I were one; but the link which united us was a cap of invisibility for the demon.

"_I_ was not invisible, however, nor unnoticed. I was conscious that everyone was staring at me--and no wonder! I must have presented an odd spectacle, hurrying onward with no apparent object, and with an expression of face which may well have been startling to behold. But so long as no attempt was made to stop me, I was indifferent to remark. I had determined to follow my black friend in the plumed hat, no matter where the chase might lead me.

"The pace grew quicker and quicker. We went down the Haymarket, and were now in the throng of the Strand. All the places which I know so well passed by like remembered dreams. They seemed illusions, and the only real substance in the world was this Thing that I pursued. The dark shape continued to glide forward with easy speed, ever and anon giving me a glimpse of the pallid malignance of its evil visage; but my own breath was beginning to come hard, and the difficulty of forcing a path through the press became greater as we neared the heart of the city. Passing beneath Temple Bar, the spectre stopped a moment and stamped its foot imperiously, at the same time beckoning to me with an impatient gesture. I sprang forward, yearning to grapple with it; but it was gone again, and seemed to flit like a shadow along the sidewalk. Its merriment, however, now forsook all bounds--it appeared to be in a ceaseless convulsion of chuckling laughter. We fled onward, but so absorbed in my pursuit had I now become, that I recollect nothing distinctly until the tower of St. G----'s came into view. I think a premonition of what was to occur entered my mind then. The hobgoblin disappeared--seemingly through the iron railing of the contracted graveyard which bounds the northern side of the church. I came up to the railing and looked within. It was sitting on an ancient headstone, blackened by London smoke and worn by time; it sat with its elbows on its knees, and its head in its hands. A sombre shadow fell about it, which the cheerful sunshine could not penetrate; but its awful eyes emitted a dusky phosphorescent glare, dimly illuminating the leering features. As I looked, a change came over them--they were now those of a corpse already mouldering in decay, crumbling into nothingness before my eyes. The whole figure gradually faded or darkened away: I cannot tell how or when it vanished. Presently I was staring fixedly at an old tombstone, with a name and a date upon it; but the churchyard was empty."

IX.

Of my own accord I now reproduced my decanter of port-wine, and Calbot and I finished it before either of us spoke another word.

What he was thinking of meanwhile I know not; for my part, I was endeavouring to put in order a number of disjointed ideas, imbibed at various epochs during this evening, whose logical arrangement, I was convinced, would go far towards elucidating much of the mystery. As to the positively supernatural part of Calbot's experience, of course I had no way of accounting for that; but I fancied there were materials at hand tolerably competent to raise a ghost, allowing such a thing as a ghost to be possible.

"I am glad, Calbot," I began, "that you came to me. Your good sense--or instinct, perhaps--directed you aright. Do not despair: I should not be surprised were we to manage between us to discover that your happiness, so far from being at an end, was just on the point of establishing itself upon a trustworthy foundation." Calbot shook his head gloomily. "Well, well," resumed I, "let us see. In the first place--as regards that locket. It will perhaps surprise you to learn that I had heard of it before you came this evening--had read quite a minute description of it, in fact."

"Where?" demanded my friend, raising his eyes.

"That will appear later. I must first ask you whether, in the old family documents you spoke of, the personal appearance of this Archibald Armstrong was particularly delineated?"

"I hardly know; I have no recollection of any especial passage--and yet I fancy it must have been given with some fulness; because when I saw the hobgoblin, its costume and aspect seemed curiously familiar."

"And had I seen it, there is little doubt in my mind that I should have recognised it also."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Calbot, sitting upright in his chair, "how happens that?"

"Wait a moment, I am merely collecting evidence. Now, have you any reason to suppose that a connection of any sort--friendly, business, or other--subsisted between your unhappy ancestor and this Armstrong previous to the former's marriage?"

"Do you mean whether he was under any obligations to Armstrong?"

"Yes."

"He may have been--but the idea is new to me. How----"

"I am not done yet. Now, did it never occur to you--or, I should say, does it not seem probable--that the locket which you had found hidden away in your mother's jewel-box was in some way connected with the family tragedy you told me of?"

"I have thought of it, Drayton; there is no difficulty in imagining such a thing; the trouble is, we haven't the slightest evidence of it."

"I was about to say," I rejoined, "that there is direct evidence of precisely such a locket having been bought, in the latter part of the seventeenth century, by precisely such a looking man as the hobgoblin you saw to-day. It was to be a wedding-gift to the woman he was to marry the next day."

"Drayton!"

"That woman deceived him, and eloped on the eve of her marriage with a protégé of his. He professed forgiveness, and sent the locket as a pledge of it."

"Odd!"

"He died in 1698, and his last recorded words were a curse invoked upon those whom he had before professed to pardon--upon them and their posterity."

"But, Drayton--what----"

"It is my opinion that his forgiveness was merely a cloak to his deadly and unrelenting hatred. It is my opinion, Calbot, that the pledge he gave was poisonous with evil and malicious influences. The locket was made of tourmaline, which has mysterious properties. No doubt he believed it a veritable witch's talisman; and from the sufferings which afterwards befell his enemies (not to speak of your own experience), one might almost fancy witchcraft to be not entirely a delusion after all."

"One might, indeed! But if, as you seem to imply, this locket enabled Armstrong to persecute Calbot and his wife, why did not they send it back or destroy it?"

"Simply because they were not aware of its evil nature, and fancied that Armstrong's (if it were his) profession of forgiveness had been genuine. Very likely Mrs. Calbot habitually wore it on her bosom, as Miss Burleigh did again yesterday, more than a century later. The persecutor must have been a devil incarnate, from the time he learnt his lady's faithlessness until his death; and after that----"

"A plain devil. But to come to the point, you think that the locket was the sole medium of his power over them?"

"Undoubtedly. Then, after their death, it remained in the family, but never happened to be used again: it is not a jewel to catch the eye by any means. It remained perdu until you fished it out for Miss Burleigh, and thereby stirred up the old hobgoblin to play his devilish tricks once more. But by a lucky combination of accidents you parted with her in time; she returned you the locket, thus freeing _herself_ from the spectre; and you, by throwing it in the Thames, have secured him against ever being able to make his appearance again."

"It may be so, Drayton," cried Calbot in great excitement. "I remember, too, that when I gave her the locket she promised fealty _to the giver_! Now, in fact, not I but this cursed Armstrong was the real giver; and so Edna was actually surrendering herself to his power. But, supposing your explanation correct, why may not Edna and I come together again?"

"Well, my dear fellow," replied I, as I lit another Cabana, "unless you have acquired a very decided aversion to each other during the last few hours, I really don't see why you shouldn't."

"Drayton, I'm afraid to believe this true! Tell me how you came upon your evidence, and what degree of reliance may be placed upon it."

I told him briefly about the MS., and added the conviction (at which I had arrived during his narrative) that it must have been sent to me by my former friend, Armstrong's executor; and probably comprised the very papers which I had made an ineffectual attempt to secure at the auction sale. "The only lame point about the matter," I added, "is, that the MS. is wholly anonymous. All the names are blanks, and though I have no doubt, now, that they are Armstrong, Burleigh, and Calbot, there is no direct proof of it."

My friend's face fell. "There, it may be only a coincidence after all!"

"Nonsense! a coincidence indeed! If you have credulity enough to believe in such a 'coincidence' as that, you have certainly mistaken your profession."

"If you were a lawyer," returned he, "you would know that there is no limit to the strangeness of coincidences. But let me see the MS."

"It is there on the table, at your elbow."

Calbot turned and took it up.

"How's this--it's wet, soaking wet!" he exclaimed. "Drayton, I'm afraid I must have cracked that old vase of yours. It has been leaking, and the table is flooded."

It was too true. The precious water of life had been preserved through so many generations merely for the sake of spoiling the morocco of my study table at last. Vanished were my hopes of earthly immortality. Cautiously lifting the vase, in the hope that somewhat of the precious ichor might yet be saved, the whole bottom fell out. Calbot was sorry, of course, but he had no conception of the extent of the misfortune. He observed that the vase could easily be mended, as if the vase were the chief treasure.

"Never mind," said I, rather soberly, after we had sopped up the inestimable elixir, as well as we could, with our handkerchiefs. "I shall die an eternity or two the sooner, and shall have to get my table new covered, that's all. I hope, Calbot, that the good which your visit here has done you, will be a small fraction as great as the loss it has inflicted on me. Well, and how has the MS. come out of the scrape? All washed out, I suppose."

With a penitent eye Calbot took it up once more, and ran his eye over the last page. I saw his expression change. He knit his brows--looked up at me with a quick questioning glance--looked back to the page, and finally said: "Oh!"

"What?"

"It seems you had filled in the blanks before I came?"

"With the first four letters of the alphabet. Yes!"

"With the names in full!"

"What names?"

"Why, Drayton, the first thing I looked at was this record of 'ondyinge Hatred,' &c. It contains all the four names--yours as one of the witnesses of Armstrong's signature. They are written out in pale red ink, as plain as can be----"