Lost Sir Massingberd: A Romance of Real Life. v. 2/2Payn, James
General
Lost Sir Massingberd: A Romance of Real Life. v. 2/2
Payn, James
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction
The change from the bright little Rectory, with all its hospitable
preparations, to the gloomy grandeur of the masterless mansion, was
very striking, when we three crossed the road next morning, to take the
seals off, which Mr. Long had placed upon the principal rooms, and so,
as it were, to break the blockade caused by the baronet's disappearance.
The contrast began even with things without. Half one of the globes had
been sliced from its pedestal on one side of the great iron gates; and
in the very centre of the avenue, the grass grew long and rank. The
sun-dial was cracked and gaped in zigzag, an emblem of the uncertainty
that overhung the place. The heraldic beasts at the foot of the
entrance-steps were much more mutilated than when I had seen them last,
and had indeed only one stone fore-paw or claw between them. Disuse is
sister to Abuse, but still how comes it that mere absence should beget,
as it always does, such absolute Ruin? Had the Squire been at home the
last three years, the globe upon the pedestal would have been whole, the
dial flawless, the griffins with at least their larger limbs intact; and
yet no man was ever seen to work this mischief. When the great door
swung reluctantly back to admit the new possessor, he took my hand, and
bade me Welcome, but his tone was far from gay. Every glance he cast
around him evoked, I could see, some unpleasant association, and even,
perhaps, a vague terror.
There is something uncanny in exploring any dwelling the rooms of which
have been locked up and unvisited for years--places that have been once
consecrated to humanity, but have afterwards been given up to Solitude
and slow decay. Memories of their ancient inmates seem to hang gloomily
about them, like the cobweb in their corners; they are eloquent of
desertion and of death. The shriek of the mouse, and the singing of the
blue fly in the pane, have perhaps alone been heard there in the
interim; but there seem to have been other and ghostlier noises, which
cease at our approach. Who knows what eerie deeds our sudden intrusion
may have interrupted!
"What faces glimmered through the doors,
What footsteps trod the upper floors,"
ere we broke in! The peculiar circumstances under which our search was
made intensified these feelings in us three, and even Gilmore, who
accompanied us, was affected by them.
"O'er all there hung the shadow of a fear;
A sense of mystery the spirit daunted,
And said, as plain as whisper in the ear,
This place is _worse_ than haunted."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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