Bracebridge Hall, or The HumoristsIrving, Washington
General
Bracebridge Hall, or The Humorists
Irving, Washington
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; National characteristics, English -- Fiction
Dolph was not naturally a coward; but he had been brought up in an
implicit belief in ghosts and goblins. A thousand stories came
swarming to his mind, that he had heard about this building; and as he
looked at this strange personage, with his uncouth garb, his pale
visage, his grizzly beard, and his fixed, staring, fish-like eye, his
teeth began to chatter, his hair to rise on his head, and a cold sweat
to break out all over his body. How long he remained in this situation
he could not tell, for he was like one fascinated. He could not take
his gaze off from the spectre; but lay staring at him with his whole
intellect absorbed in the contemplation. The old man remained seated
behind the table, without stirring or turning an eye, always keeping a
dead steady glare upon Dolph. At length the household cock from a
neighbouring farm clapped his wings, and gave a loud cheerful crow
that rung over the fields. At the sound, the old man slowly rose and
took down his hat from the peg; the door opened and closed after him;
he was heard to go slowly down the staircase--tramp--tramp--tramp!
--and when he had got to the bottom, all was again silent. Dolph lay
and listened earnestly; counted every footfall; listened and listened
if the steps should return--until, exhausted by watching and
agitation, he fell into a troubled sleep.
Daylight again brought fresh courage and assurance. He would fain have
considered all that had passed as a mere dream; yet there stood the
chair in which the unknown had seated himself; there was the table on
which he had leaned; there was the peg on which he had hung his hat;
and there was the door, locked precisely as he himself had locked it,
with the chair placed against it. He hastened down-stairs and examined
the doors and windows; all were exactly in the same state in which he
had left them, and there was no apparent way by which any being could
have entered and left the house without leaving some trace behind.
"Pooh!" said Dolph to himself, "it was all a dream;"--but it would not
do; the more he endeavoured to shake the scene off from his mind, the
more it haunted him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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