The Canterville Ghost

Chapter 5

A few days after this, Virginia and her curly-haired cavalier went out

riding on Brockley meadows, where she tore her habit so badly in getting

through a hedge that, on their return home, she made up her mind to go

up by the back staircase so as not to be seen. As she was running past

the Tapestry Chamber, the door of which happened to be open, she fancied

she saw some one inside, and thinking it was her mother's maid, who

sometimes used to bring her work there, looked in to ask her to mend

her habit. To her immense surprise, however, it was the Canterville

Ghost himself! He was sitting by the window, watching the ruined gold of

the yellowing trees fly through the air, and the red leaves dancing

madly down the long avenue. His head was leaning on his hand, and his

whole attitude was one of extreme depression. Indeed, so forlorn, and so

much out of repair did he look, that little Virginia, whose first idea

had been to run away and lock herself in her room, was filled with pity,

and determined to try and comfort him. So light was her footfall, and so

deep his melancholy, that he was not aware of her presence till she

spoke to him.

"I am so sorry for you," she said, "but my brothers are going back to

Eton to-morrow, and then, if you behave yourself, no one will annoy

you."

"It is absurd asking me to behave myself," he answered, looking round in

astonishment at the pretty little girl who had ventured to address him,

"quite absurd. I must rattle my chains, and groan through keyholes, and

walk about at night, if that is what you mean. It is my only reason for

existing."

"It is no reason at all for existing, and you know you have been very

wicked. Mrs. Umney told us, the first day we arrived here, that you had

killed your wife."

"Well, I quite admit it," said the Ghost, petulantly, "but it was a

purely family matter, and concerned no one else."

"It is very wrong to kill any one," said Virginia, who at times had a

sweet puritan gravity, caught from some old New England ancestor.

"Oh, I hate the cheap severity of abstract ethics! My wife was very

plain, never had my ruffs properly starched, and knew nothing about

cookery. Why, there was a buck I had shot in Hogley Woods, a magnificent

pricket, and do you know how she had it sent to table? However, it is

no matter now, for it is all over, and I don't think it was very nice of

her brothers to starve me to death, though I did kill her."

"Starve you to death? Oh, Mr. Ghost--I mean Sir Simon, are you hungry? I

have a sandwich in my case. Would you like it?"

"No, thank you, I never eat anything now; but it is very kind of you,

all the same, and you are much nicer than the rest of your horrid, rude,

vulgar, dishonest family."

"Stop!" cried Virginia, stamping her foot, "it is you who are rude, and

horrid, and vulgar, and as for dishonesty, you know you stole the

paints out of my box to try and furbish up that ridiculous blood-stain

in the library. First you took all my reds, including the vermilion, and

I couldn't do any more sunsets, then you took the emerald-green and the

chrome-yellow, and finally I had nothing left but indigo and Chinese

white, and could only do moonlight scenes, which are always depressing

to look at, and not at all easy to paint. I never told on you, though I

was very much annoyed, and it was most ridiculous, the whole thing; for

who ever heard of emerald-green blood?"

"Well, really," said the Ghost, rather meekly, "what was I to do? It is

a very difficult thing to get real blood nowadays, and, as your brother

began it all with his Paragon Detergent, I certainly saw no reason why I

should not have your paints. As for colour, that is always a matter of

taste: the Cantervilles have blue blood, for instance, the very bluest

in England; but I know you Americans don't care for things of this

kind."

"You know nothing about it, and the best thing you can do is to emigrate

and improve your mind. My father will be only too happy to give you a

free passage, and though there is a heavy duty on spirits of every kind,

there will be no difficulty about the Custom House, as the officers are

all Democrats. Once in New York, you are sure to be a great success. I

know lots of people there who would give a hundred thousand dollars to

have a grandfather, and much more than that to have a family ghost."

"I don't think I should like America."

"I suppose because we have no ruins and no curiosities," said Virginia,

satirically.

"No ruins! no curiosities!" answered the Ghost; "you have your navy and

your manners."

"Good evening; I will go and ask papa to get the twins an extra week's

holiday."

"Please don't go, Miss Virginia," he cried; "I am so lonely and so

unhappy, and I really don't know what to do. I want to go to sleep and I

cannot."

"That's quite absurd! You have merely to go to bed and blow out the

candle. It is very difficult sometimes to keep awake, especially at

church, but there is no difficulty at all about sleeping. Why, even

babies know how to do that, and they are not very clever."

"I have not slept for three hundred years," he said sadly, and

Virginia's beautiful blue eyes opened in wonder; "for three hundred

years I have not slept, and I am so tired."

Virginia grew quite grave, and her little lips trembled like

rose-leaves. She came towards him, and kneeling down at his side, looked

up into his old withered face.

"Poor, poor Ghost," she murmured; "have you no place where you can

sleep?"

"Far away beyond the pine-woods," he answered, in a low, dreamy voice,

"there is a little garden. There the grass grows long and deep, there

are the great white stars of the hemlock flower, there the nightingale

sings all night long. All night long he sings, and the cold crystal

moon looks down, and the yew-tree spreads out its giant arms over the

sleepers."

Virginia's eyes grew dim with tears, and she hid her face in her hands.

"You mean the Garden of Death," she whispered.

"Yes, death. Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth,

with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have

no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forget life, to be at

peace. You can help me. You can open for me the portals of death's

house, for love is always with you, and love is stronger than death

is."

Virginia trembled, a cold shudder ran through her, and for a few moments

there was silence. She felt as if she was in a terrible dream.

Then the ghost spoke again, and his voice sounded like the sighing of

the wind.

"Have you ever read the old prophecy on the library window?"

"Oh, often," cried the little girl, looking up; "I know it quite well.

It is painted in curious black letters, and is difficult to read. There

are only six lines:

"They mean," he said, sadly, "that you must weep with me for my sins,

because I have no tears, and pray with me for my soul, because I have no

faith, and then, if you have always been sweet, and good, and gentle,

the angel of death will have mercy on me. You will see fearful shapes in

darkness, and wicked voices will whisper in your ear, but they will not

harm you, for against the purity of a little child the powers of Hell

cannot prevail."

Virginia made no answer, and the ghost wrung his hands in wild despair

as he looked down at her bowed golden head. Suddenly she stood up, very

pale, and with a strange light in her eyes. "I am not afraid," she said

firmly, "and I will ask the angel to have mercy on you."

He rose from his seat with a faint cry of joy, and taking her hand bent

over it with old-fashioned grace and kissed it. His fingers were as cold

as ice, and his lips burned like fire, but Virginia did not falter, as

he led her across the dusky room. On the faded green tapestry were

broidered little huntsmen. They blew their tasselled horns and with

their tiny hands waved to her to go back. "Go back! little Virginia,"

they cried, "go back!" but the ghost clutched her hand more tightly,

and she shut her eyes against them. Horrible animals with lizard tails

and goggle eyes blinked at her from the carven chimneypiece, and

murmured, "Beware! little Virginia, beware! we may never see you again,"

but the Ghost glided on more swiftly, and Virginia did not listen. When

they reached the end of the room he stopped, and muttered some words she

could not understand. She opened her eyes, and saw the wall slowly

fading away like a mist, and a great black cavern in front of her. A

bitter cold wind swept round them, and she felt something pulling at her

dress. "Quick, quick," cried the Ghost, "or it will be too late," and

in a moment the wainscoting had closed behind them, and the Tapestry

Chamber was empty.