Curious, if True: Strange TalesGaskell, Elizabeth Cleghorn
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Curious, if True: Strange Tales
Gaskell, Elizabeth Cleghorn
Curiosities and wonders -- Fiction; Horror tales; Short stories
what came afterwards no one knew, except Miss Grace and Mrs. Stark, who
was even then her maid, and much more of a friend to her than ever her
sister had been. But the servants supposed, from words that were
dropped, that Miss Maude had triumphed over Miss Grace, and told her
that all the time the dark foreigner had been mocking her with
pretended love--he was her own husband. The colour left Miss Grace's
cheek and lips that very day for ever, and she was heard to say many a
time that sooner or later she would have her revenge; and Mrs. Stark
was for ever spying about the east rooms.
One fearful night, just after the New Year had come in, when the snow
was lying thick and deep; and the flakes were still falling--fast
enough to blind any one who might be out and abroad--there was a great
and violent noise heard, and the old lord's voice above all, cursing
and swearing awfully, and the cries of a little child, and the proud
defiance of a fierce woman, and the sound of a blow, and a dead
stillness, and moans and wailings dying away on the hill-side! Then the
old lord summoned all his servants, and told them, with terrible oaths,
and words more terrible, that his daughter had disgraced herself, and
that he had turned her out of doors--her, and her child--and that if
ever they gave her help, or food, or shelter, he prayed that they might
never enter heaven. And, all the while, Miss Grace stood by him, white
and still as any stone; and, when he had ended, she heaved a great
sigh, as much as to say her work was done, and her end was
accomplished. But the old lord never touched his organ again, and died
within the year; and no wonder! for, on the morrow of that wild and
fearful night, the shepherds, coming down the Fell side, found Miss
Maude sitting, all crazy and smiling, under the holly-trees, nursing a
dead child, with a terrible mark on its right shoulder. 'But that was
not what killed it,' said Dorothy: 'it was the frost and the cold.
Every wild creature was in its hole, and every beast in its fold, while
the child and its mother were turned out to wander on the Fells! And
now you know all! and I wonder if you are less frightened now?'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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