J. S. Le Fanu's Ghostly Tales, Volume 2Le Fanu, Joseph Sheridan
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J. S. Le Fanu's Ghostly Tales, Volume 2
Le Fanu, Joseph Sheridan
Ghost stories
As the alarm and inquiry subsided, their father made them, now and then,
a brief and stealthy visit. At first these were but of a night's
duration, and with great precaution; but gradually they were extended
and less guarded. Still he was, as the phrase is in Munster, "on his
keeping." He had firearms always by his bed, and had arranged places of
concealment in the castle in the event of a surprise. But no attempt nor
any disposition to molest him appearing, he grew more at ease, if not
more cheerful.
It came, at last, that he would sometimes stay so long as two whole
months at a time, and then depart as suddenly and mysteriously as he
came. I suppose he had always some promising plot on hand, and his head
full of ingenious treason, and lived on the sickly and exciting dietary
of hope deferred.
Was there a poetical justice in this, that the little _ménage_ thus
secretly established, in the solitary and timeworn pile, should have
themselves experienced, but from causes not so easily explicable, those
very supernatural perturbations which they had themselves essayed to
inspire?
The interruption of the old priest's secret visits was the earliest
consequence of the mysterious interference which now began to display
itself. One night, having left his cob in care of his old sacristan in
the little village, he trudged on foot along the winding pathway, among
the gray rocks and ferns that threaded the glen, intending a ghostly
visit to the fair recluses of the castle, and he lost his way in this
strange fashion.
There was moonlight, indeed, but it was little more than quarter-moon,
and a long train of funereal clouds were sailing slowly across the
sky--so that, faint and wan as it was, the light seldom shone full out,
and was often hidden for a minute or two altogether. When he reached the
point in the glen where the castle-stairs were wont to be, he could see
nothing of them, and above, no trace of the castle-towers. So, puzzled
somewhat, he pursued his way up the ravine, wondering how his walk had
become so unusually protracted and fatiguing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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