Christian fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
The young man halted at a little distance from the dark building, and
surveyed it moodily. "Can this be Bergan Hall?" he murmured. "Can
this gloomy old ruin be the open, cheery, hospitable mansion, full of
light and life, that my mother has so often described to me? It looks
a habitation for ghosts--and for ghosts only! I wonder if any living
being--"
Breaking off abruptly, he ascended the moss-grown steps, only to find
that the vines which so heavily draped the portico, had woven a thick
network across the door. It was plain that it had not been opened for
months, perhaps years. Nevertheless, not to be easily daunted, he
found and lifted the knocker. It fell with a dull lifeless sound, that
smote the young man's heart like a sudden chill. A dreary
reverberation came from within, and then died away into silence. He
knocked again, and, listening intently, he fancied that he heard the
sound of stealthy footsteps within, and a slight creaking of the floor.
But so dead a silence followed upon these imaginary sounds, that he
soon became convinced of his involuntary self-deception.
Turning from the door, he now noticed a little footpath running round
the end of one of the long wings. Committing himself to this timely
guide, he soon came in sight of the rear of the mansion, which looked
upon a sort of court; where a few ornamental shrubs still held an
uncertain tenure against the encroachments of divers sorts of lawless
and vagrant vegetation. At a little distance, was a long range of
dilapidated offices, showing upon what an almost princely scale the
housekeeping had once been administered. But this part of the premises
was not less dark, silent, and deserted, than the other.
The footpath still held on, however, past the court and the offices,
toward a bright light at a considerable distance, "The negro quarter!"
muttered the young man, recognizing the whereabout of one of the most
salient features of his mother's well-remembered descriptions. "At
least, I may learn there what it all means." And, quickening his
steps, he soon came upon a busy and picturesque scene.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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