Best Horror Novels

Part 1 The Old Nurse's Story-3

'Bring me the warming-pan,' said I; and I carried her upstairs

and began undressing her by the nursery fire, which Bessy had kept

up. I called my little lammie all the sweet and playful names I

could think of, — even while my eyes were blinded by my tears; and

at last, oh! at length she opened her large blue eyes. Then I put

her into her warm bed, and sent Dorothy down to tell Miss Furnivall

that all was well; and I made up my mind to sit by my darling's

bedside the live-long night. She fell away into a soft sleep as

soon as her pretty head had touched the pillow, and I watched by

her till morning light; when she wakened up bright and clear — or

so I thought at first — and, my dears, so I think now.

She said, that she had fancied that she should like to go to

Dorothy, for that both the old ladies were asleep, and it was very

dull in the drawing-room; and that, as she was going through the

west lobby, she saw the snow through the high window falling —

falling — soft and steady; but she wanted to see it lying pretty

and white on the ground; so she made her way into the great hall;

and then, going to the window, she saw it bright and soft upon the

drive; but while she stood there, she saw a little girl, not so old

as she was, 'but so pretty,' said my darling, 'and this little girl

beckoned to me to come out; and oh, she was so pretty and so sweet,

I could not choose but go.' And then this other little girl had

taken her by the hand, and side by side the two had gone round the

east corner.

'Now you are a naughty little girl, and telling stories,' said

I. 'What would your good mamma, that is in heaven, and never told a

story in her life, say to her little Rosamond, if she heard her —

and I daresay she does — telling stories!'

'Indeed, Hester,' sobbed out my child, 'I'm telling you true.

Indeed I am.'

'Don't tell me!' said I, very stern. 'I tracked you by your

foot-marks through the snow; there were only yours to be seen: and

if you had had a little girl to go hand-in-hand with you up the

hill, don't you think the footprints would have gone along with

yours?'

'I can't help it, dear, dear Hester,' said she, crying, 'if they

did not; I never looked at her feet, but she held my hand fast and

tight in her little one, and it was very, very cold. She took me up

the Fell-path, up to the holly-trees; and there I saw a lady

weeping and crying; but when she saw me, she hushed her weeping,

and smiled very proud and grand, and took me on her knee, and began

to lull me to sleep; and that's all, Hester — but that is true; and

my dear mamma knows it is,' said she, crying. So I thought the

child was in a fever, and pretended to believe her, as she went

over her story — over and over again, and always the same. At last

Dorothy knocked at the door with Miss Rosamond's breakfast; and she

told me the old ladies were down in the eating parlour, and that

they wanted to speak to me. They had both been into the

night-nursery the evening before, but it was after Miss Rosamond

was asleep; so they had only looked at her — not asked me any

questions.

'I shall catch it,' thought I to myself, as I went along the

north gallery. 'And yet,' I thought, taking courage, 'it was in

their charge I left her; and it's they that's to blame for letting

her steal away unknown and unwatched.' So I went in boldly, and

told my story. I told it all to Miss Furnivall, shouting it close

to her ear; but when I came to the mention of the other little girl

out in the snow, coaxing and tempting her out, and willing her up

to the grand and beautiful lady by the holly-tree, she threw her

arms up — her old and withered arms — and cried aloud, 'Oh! Heaven

forgive! Have mercy!'

Mrs. Stark took hold of her; roughly enough, I thought; but she

was past Mrs. Stark's management, and spoke to me, in a kind of

wild warning and authority.

'Hester! keep her from that child! It will lure her to her

death! That evil child! Tell her it is a wicked, naughty child.'

Then, Mrs. Stark hurried me out of the room; where, indeed, I was

glad enough to go; but Miss Furnivall kept shrieking out, 'Oh, have

mercy! Wilt Thou never forgive! It is many a long year ago — —

'

I was very uneasy in my mind after that. I durst never leave

Miss Rosamond, night or day, for fear lest she might slip off

again, after some fancy or other; and all the more, because I

thought I could make out that Miss Furnivall was crazy, from their

odd ways about her; and I was afraid lest something of the same

kind (which might be in the family, you know) hung over my darling.

And the great frost never ceased all this time; and, whenever it

was a more stormy night than usual, between the gusts, and through

the wind, we heard the old lord playing on the great organ. But,

old lord, or not, wherever Miss Rosamond went, there I followed;

for my love for her, pretty, helpless orphan, was stronger than my

fear for the grand and terrible sound. Besides, it rested with me

to keep her cheerful and merry, as beseemed her age. So we played

together, and wandered together, here and there, and everywhere;

for I never dared to lose sight of her again in that large and

rambling house. And so it happened, that one afternoon, not long

before Christmas-day, we were playing together on the

billiard-table in the great hall (not that we knew the right way of

playing, but she liked to roll the smooth ivory balls with her

pretty hands, and I liked to do whatever she did); and, by-and-by,

without our noticing it, it grew dusk indoors, though it was still

light in the open air, and I was thinking of taking her back into

the nursery, when, all of a sudden, she cried out,

'Look, Hester! look! there is my poor little girl out in the

snow!'

I turned towards the long narrow windows, and there, sure

enough, I saw a little girl, less than my Miss Rosamond — dressed

all unfit to be out-of-doors such a bitter night — crying, and

beating against the window-panes, as if she wanted to be let in.

She seemed to sob and wail, till Miss Rosamond could bear it no

longer, and was flying to the door to open it, when, all of a

sudden, and close upon us, the great organ pealed out so loud and

thundering, it fairly made me tremble; and all the more, when I

remembered me that, even in the stillness of that dead-cold

weather, I had heard no sound of little battering hands upon the

windowglass, although the phantom child had seemed to put forth all

its force; and, although I had seen it wail and cry, no faintest

touch of sound had fallen upon my ears. Whether I remembered all

this at the very moment, I do not know; the great organ sound had

so stunned me into terror; but this I know, I caught up Miss

Rosamond before she got the hall-door opened, and clutched her, and

carried her away, kicking and screaming, into the large, bright

kitchen, where Dorothy and Agnes were busy with their

mince-pies.

'What is the matter with my sweet one?' cried Dorothy, as I bore

in Miss Rosamond, who was sobbing as if her heart would break.

'She won't let me open the door for my little girl to come in;

and she'll die if she is out on the Fells all night. Cruel, naughty

Hester,' she said, slapping me; but she might have struck harder,

for I had seen a look of ghastly terror on Dorothy's face, which

made my very blood run cold.

'Shut the back-kitchen door fast, and bolt it well,' said she to

Agnes. She said no more; she gave me raisins and almonds to quiet

Miss Rosamond; but she sobbed about the little girl in the snow,

and would not touch any of the good things. I was thankful when she

cried herself to sleep in bed. Then I stole down to the kitchen,

and told Dorothy I had made up my mind. I would carry my darling

back to my father's house in Applethwaite; where, if we lived

humbly, we lived at peace. I said I had been frightened enough with

the old lord's organ-playing; but now that I had seen for myself

this little moaning child, all decked out as no child in the

neighbourhood could be, beating and battering to get in, yet always

without any sound or noise — with the dark wound on its right

shoulder; and that Miss Rosamond had known it again for the phantom

that had nearly lured her to her death (which Dorothy knew was

true); I would stand it no longer.

I saw Dorothy change colour once or twice. When I had done, she

told me she did not think I could take Miss Rosamond with me, for

that she was my lord's ward, and I had no right over her; and she

asked me would I leave the child that I was so fond of just for

sounds and sights that could do me no harm; and that they had all

had to get used to in their turns? I was all in a hot, trembling

passion; and I said it was very well for her to talk; that knew

what these sights and noises betokened, and that had, perhaps, had

something to do with the spectre child while it was alive. And I

taunted her so, that she told me all she knew at last; and then I

wished I had never been told, for it only made me more afraid than

ever.

She said she had heard the tale from old neighbours that were

alive when she was first married; when folks used to come to the

hall sometimes, before it had got such a bad name on the country

side: it might not be true, or it might, what she had been

told.

The old lord was Miss Furnivall's father — Miss Grace, as

Dorothy called her, for Miss Maude was the elder, and Miss

Furnivall by rights. The old lord was eaten up with pride. Such a

proud man was never seen or heard of; and his daughters were like

him. No one was good enough to wed them, although they had choice

enough; for they were the great beauties of their day, as I had

seen by their portraits, where they hung in the state drawing-room.

But, as the old saying is, 'Pride will have a fall;' and these two

haughty beauties fell in love with the same man, and he no better

than a foreign musician, whom their father had down from London to

play music with him at the Manor House. For, above all things, next

to his pride, the old lord loved music. He could play on nearly

every instrument that ever was heard of, and it was a strange thing

it did not soften him; but he was a fierce dour old man, and had

broken his poor wife's heart with his cruelty, they said. He was

mad after music, and would pay any money for it. So he got this

foreigner to come; who made such beautiful music, that they said

the very birds on the trees stopped their singing to listen. And,

by degrees, this foreign gentleman got such a hold over the old

lord, that nothing would serve him but that he must come every

year; and it was he that had the great organ brought from Holland,

and built up in the hall, where it stood now. He taught the old

lord to play on it; but many and many a time, when Lord Furnivall

was thinking of nothing but his fine organ, and his finer music,

the dark foreigner was walking abroad in the woods with one of the

young ladies; now Miss Maude, and then Miss Grace.