THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD. (continued 2)

"Rachel! Rachel!" said I, "what is the matter?"

"Heaven and earth, Agnes, we are haunted!" she gasped, rather than spoke.

"Have you seen anything, Rachel?" I asked, now hoping that she had, for I felt it terrible to be alone in my spectral experiences.

"No, no, I have not seen anything! But that door! that door! that I am sure I fastened so carefully, was unlocked without a key, and opened without hands! I heard and saw it, for I was laying awake!"

"Let us hope that you were mistaken, Rachel."

"No, no, impossible! Oh, I would not sleep another night in this house for the wealth of the Indies!"

While we were talking, the fruitless search proceeded in, the opposite room, until at length it was given up and the friends retired.

Rachel left her bed and came into mine, where she lay and trembled.

Scarcely fifteen minutes of peace and silence passed ere the lock of both doors flew back, and the doors swung open.

Rachel began screaming; the occupants of the opposite chamber started up, exclaiming in every variety of interjection. I arose and donned my double wrapper, and put my feet in slippers, to go and procure restoratives, for Rachel had fallen into spasms.

"For Heaven's sake, what is the matter, Agnes?" inquired my brother, who had put on his dressing-gown and come to the door.

"Oh, the Lord only knows!"

I had seized a bottle of cologne from the dressing-table and began to deluge the face and hands of Rachel, while my brother went and brought his candle and put it inside of our door.

"Do go and wake up Mrs. Legare, John; I can do nothing for Rachel; I never saw anybody in hysterics before, if this is hysterics!" said I, feeling both frightened at the condition and angry at the weakness of my patient.

But, even while I spoke, Mr. Howard, who during this time had been hastily dressing himself, went downstairs to the old house in search of assistance.

The family were speedily aroused. Mr. and Mrs. Legare hurried into the new house. The lady herself entered the chamber where Rachel, as often as her eyes opened in the haunted chamber, fell into new spasms.

"She will not recover until she is removed from this, Mrs. Legare," I said.

"Perhaps not; assist me to put her wrapper on, and we will take her down, and lay her on the parlor sofa," my hostess replied.

And after we had dressed our patient, we carried her down stairs, where the fire was still smoldering, and only needed replenishment.

When the wood was brought and thrown on, and the fire blazed up brightly, lighting and warming the whole room, and the shutters were unclosed, and the rising sun smiled in upon us all, I felt that the gladsome scene was enough to put to flight all the ghosts in Hades, and all the superstitious terrors that ignorance is heir to. I almost began to doubt that I was haunted; and would have done so, but for the sombre and disturbed countenance of my host, who, as soon as Rachel Noales was soothed and put to sleep on the sofa, turned to us and inquired:

"Now, my friends, will you be so good as to explain the cause of your disturbance?"

"A mere trifle, sir," said my brother, brusquely; "the house is haunted."

"You, of course, do not speak seriously; you cannot credit such absurdities."

"My dear, sir, I never believed in ghosts until within the last two nights; but now, with such evidence before me, I should be the most unbelieving of infidels to refuse credence," said my brother, with a mixture of gravity and banter in his tone, that made it impossible to think him in earnest.

"Will you be so kind, Mr. Howard, as to enlighten us?" inquired Mr. Legare, turning toward that gentleman.

"Since you desire me to do so, my dear sir. Well, then, for the two nights we have passed beneath your very hospitable and delightful roof, our rest has been somewhat disturbed——"

"Somewhat disturbed! It has been altogether broken up!" interrupted my brother.

"Be silent, John," I whispered, pinching him.

Mr. Howard went on:

"By an inexplicable circumstance, namely, the flying open of the doors, after we had carefully and securely locked them."

"We haven't slept a wink since we have been in the house. We have spent the nights in jumping up out of bed to lock the doors, and only to have them unlocked and fly open in our faces," said John.

"I thank you, gentlemen, for the information you have given me. Agnes, my dear, have you been disturbed?"

"Yes, sir."

"How?"

"In the same manner, sir, by the unaccountable flying open of the door after I had locked it," said I, suppressing the fact, or fancy, of the mysterious midnight visitant.

"My dear, you have never complained of this before."

"No, sir."

"Why?"

"Because it was more an affair of interest than of complaint. I wished first to investigate alone."

"And have you done so?"

"As far as was possible."

"With what result, my dear Agnes?"

"With no satisfactory one, sir."

"Friends," said the old gentleman, turning toward the assembled guests, "it is vain to deny that a mystery does exist, and for the whole term of my residence here, if not before, has existed in this house, that has, heretofore, defied all investigation. Many of you have heard of the circumstances under which the transfer of property was made. You have heard that Madeleine Van Der Vaughan, the last inheritrix of this estate, was a high-spirited, haughty, self-willed woman, with one idea—the regeneration of her patrimonial estate; that everything—money, health, peace, conscience, life itself, was sacrificed to her monomania; that at last she died a victim to her own ruling passion; that her husband married again, sold the estate, even unto the very graveyard where her body lay, and left the neighborhood; that I became the purchaser; and, finally, that since I have lived in the house not one chamber door has been secure from a seemingly supernatural opening.

"The superstitious among my servants, and poor, ignorant neighbors, ascribe all these mysteries to the presence of Madeleine Van Der Vaughan's restless ghost, still haunting the scene of her toils, ambitions and disappointments. Modern spiritualists would, without doubt, ascribe it to the agency of spirits. I believe in none of these absurdities. But the annoying mystery remains unexplained, and I would give 'the half of my kingdom' to him who should elucidate it."

The old gentleman, at the conclusion of his speech, looked around for an answer among his audience.

"Do you not think that there may be a defect in the locks, sir?" inquired Mr. Howard.

"Oh, 'I cry you, mercy,' sir! Such a possibility did not in the very first instance escape us. The locks have been taken off and examined, and no perceptible defect could be discovered. The half—'the half of my kingdom' to the knight who shall rid me of this mysterious key-bearer."

I saw, by the twinkle of Mr. Howard's eyes, that he possessed a clew to the mystery. I saw him exchange glances with Mathilde, who had just joined us, looking blooming as Hebe in her fresh morning toilet.

Now, I was always a bashful girl—I mean moderately so; therefore, I never could account for the spirit that entered and moved me to say and do what I soon said and did. I happened to be standing beside Mr. Legare, and his hand rested caressingly upon my head, when he repeated:

"'The half of my kingdom' to the knight that shall deliver my castle from this dragon."

I answered:

"Oh, your majesty! Never offer the half of your kingdom! None but a mercenary wretch would undertake the enterprise for such a bribe! Offer the hand of your princess, and a thousand lances shall be laid in rest for such a prize!"

I do not know whether he discovered the serious meaning under my lightly-spoken words, for he fell into the humor of the jest, patted me on the head, and said:

"Agreed! the hand of my princess to the brave knight who shall deliver me from this plague!"

"I accept the challenge!" said Mr. Howard, "and promise that in twenty-four hours the mysterious carrier of the keys shall be vanquished!"

"It is a treaty! It is a treaty!" exclaimed one after another of the young men and maidens who were present.

Mr. Legare looked around in some confusion at being taken up so seriously, and then laughing, said:

"Very well—agreed! I ratify the compact, Mr. Howard; though I don't believe your part of it can be fulfilled. And now to breakfast!"

We adjourned to the old house—all who were in the secret wondering in what manner Mr. Howard would undertake to exorcise the key-demon; but all discussion was waived for the present, while we dispatched the necessary business of the table.

After breakfast, Frank Howard asked for a horse and rode up to Frost Height.

He was absent two hours, at the end of which time he returned, bringing with him a set of locksmith's tools, and flat piece of board, such as show-locks are sometimes screwed upon for a sign.

When he had brought these things into the new house he challenged Mr. Legare and all who wished to see the mystery evolved, to accompany him to the chambers above.

Of course, everybody accepted the invitation.

We all went first into the gentlemen's room, and stood around in a semi-circle, with our faces toward the door, and our eyes fixed upon the lock and Frank Howard. First he turned the key, and begged that we would observe that all was fast, and watch the result. Then he came away, and we waited with our eyes fixed upon the lock.

In a little less than fifteen minutes we both heard and saw the catch fly back, and the door swing open!

I cannot tell you with what a superstitious thrill we all shuddered, though this was in broad daylight, and in the mutually supporting presence of a dozen persons, and, though there was a machinist on the spot, professing himself ready to demonstrate that this was a purely mechanical phenomenon!

"There! ladies and gentlemen, you all see the action!"

"We all see!"

"No hand near the lock!"

"None!"

"There could have been no deception."

"Assuredly not," we all declared.

"Oh, certainly not—I have seen the thing twenty times," said Mr. Legare.

"And I indorse your declarations, sir; you were right. There was no deception—there is none! It is a purely mechanical phenomenon! But, listen! Spiritual powers reside in mechanical forces. Every year we live elucidates this mystery, though none but the deepest thinkers see this truth in all its importance. Look you! a savage thinks that there is a diabolism in the self-action of a watch—in the reflection of a looking-glass. We think both mysteries to be simple mechanical combinations! Pray look at the lock before us. I observe that it is Harmon's patent. Poor Harmon, a demented machinist, scarcely knew what he would be at, and so undertook to make an invaluable improvement in the common door-lock. This is one of his; its intricate machinery has got out of order, and hence 'the fantastic tricks before high heaven' that these rooms have witnessed! I am about to take off the lock, to prove what I have stated, as well as to remedy the evil."

"Oh, sir, that has been tried—I have seen it done—hope nothing from that!" exclaimed Mr. Legare.

"Patience, my dear sir!" said Frank Howard, taking up the tools with so much of the air of a man accustomed to the handling of them that old Mr. Legare winced and fidgeted.

But Frank speedily took off the lock, and brought it to us for inspection.

"Here! you notice that nothing seems amiss," he said.

"Nothing in the world—I told you that before," replied Mr. Legare.

"Furthermore, if now I were to turn the key, it would remain turned."

"Certainly, while the lock is off the door, it looks exactly right, and behaves exactly right; but just put it on the door and lock it, and in from ten to thirty minutes, more or less, it will fly open."

"Exactly; that is what I am about to explain," said Frank Howard, taking up a flat, smooth piece of board, and laying it upon the table; and then he took the lock, laid it on the board, screwed it tightly, turned the key and said:

"It is not the circumstance of this lock being attached to the door that has caused it to act in this manner; for I will prove to you that if the same lock be screwed tightly to any other resisting object—as, for instance, this board—it will act in the same irregular manner. Watch it now, and you will see."

We did so, and in a few minutes we saw the catch fly back, as before.

"I will tell you the reason," said Mr. Howard, unscrewing the lock from the board and inviting us to look on.

"Now, though there seems to be no defect whatever in this lock, yet in truth the whole inside machinery has started slightly outward. This does not affect its right action while detached; but when attached, the continued pressure of the board to which it is fastened, gradually acts upon the spring, and causes the catch in a given time to fly back, and unlock, and the force with which this occurs opens the door. I can well imagine that such unexplained movements, occurring in the middle of the night, should have rather a supernatural effect. But the evil can be remedied in a few minutes."

And then, while we were all dumb with astonishment, Frank Howard took up his tools, went to work, and in about twenty minutes fixed the inside of the lock, and replaced it on the door.

"Now," said he, "if ever this door comes open again without hands, I will consent to forfeit the fair reward of my triumph. And now, friends, I will go to work and mend the other."

And, inviting us to precede him, he passed out, locked the door, gave the key to Mr. Legare, and begged him to take notice that the door would remain fast until he (Mr. Legare) might choose to open it, or to give up the key.

We reached the other chamber door, where twenty minutes' work served to rectify the error. Then, locking that, as he had done the other, he called me to witness that it should remain fast until I should use, or give up the key that he placed in my charge.

We then went downstairs, Mr. Legare having one key safe in his pocket—I having the other secure in mine.

It was the last day of the old year, and company were expected in the evening—not to dance, but to watch it out.

Mrs. Legare went to attend to her extra housekeeping duties, and the young ladies retired to their chambers to arrange their dresses for the next day.

Mr. Legare, Frank Howard, my brother John, and the other gentlemen, took their guns and game-bags, called their dogs, and started off "birding."

I went into the parlor where Rachel Noales still lay upon the sofa, in the state of exhaustion that had succeeded her fright in the morning, and told her that the mystery of the locks was discovered, and explained, as far as I could, the process of demonstration. And Rachel rallied from that hour.

I had reassured her, but who should reassure me? I was still very deeply disturbed. True, the mystery of the opening doors was satisfactorily explained. True, that my midnight visitor might have been an optical illusion, produced by the mysterious surroundings acting upon my highly-susceptible temperament. And true, also, that the resemblance between my visionary woman and the portrait of Madeleine Van Der Vaughan, might have been a mere fancy. But the spot of blood on the floor. Who should explain that?

From time to time, during that day, I slipped upstairs to examine the state of the doors; they remained fast.

The gentlemen dined out, but joined us at an early tea. Nothing was said of the event of the morning, until, as we arose from the table, little Phlit sidled up to his master, and asked for the keys so that he might make fires in the bedrooms, "for de ladies an' gemlen to dress for ebenin.'"

"The deuce! You tell me that the doors remain fast?" demanded Mr. Legare, turning around upon us all.

I assured him that they did. He was too polite to doubt my statement; but he wished to see for himself.

We followed him, and found him in a state of admiration before Mr. Howard's door. When he had gazed some time at that, and tried it in various ways, he turned about and went to mine, which he proved in the same manner. And having found that both remained fast locked, without mistake, he extended his hand to Frank, and said:

"Candidly, Mr. Howard, I did not believe in your success until this moment. You have fairly vanquished the ghosts!"

Frank Howard took the offered hand, and bowed gravely and silently, as he again resigned it. The doors were then opened, and Phlit admitted to do his duties. And we separated to prepare for the evening watch-party.

It was eight o'clock when our friends from the neighborhood came in; and after partaking of a bowl of eggnog in the dining-room, we adjourned to the parlor, where we passed four hours in very pleasant social intercourse, conversing, singing and reading. And as the clock neared the stroke of twelve, Mr. Howard took a volume of Tennyson, and in an affecting manner read his tender and beautiful "Requiem of the Dying Year." All were moved, and as the reader finished, the tears were running down the cheeks of Mathilde, who said:

"Oh! I do not know how any one, even the most thoughtless, can bear to 'dance out the old year!' I could no more do it than I could dance beside the deathbed of a dear old friend! But I must not greet the infant New Year with tears," she exclaimed, and dashing aside the sparkling drops that spangled the roses of her cheeks, and turning to her parents, she said:

"Dearest father! Dearest mother! Let me be the first to wish you a Happy New Year, and many, ever happier returns of it!"

"You make our anniversaries happy, best child; now tell us truly what shall be our New Year's gift to you?" said Mr. Legare, while Mrs. Legare silently embraced her daughter.

Blushing deeply, Mathilde whispered one word to her father, who repressed a rising sigh, and asked:

"Is this so? Must this be so, my dearest child?"

"Yes, my father."

"Then am I doubly bound to do what I am about to do, Mr. Howard!"

Frank Howard stepped eagerly forward.

"Mr. Howard! I always settle outstanding debts at the first of the year," said Mr. Legare, taking the hand of Mathilde and placing it in that of Frank Howard, who gently pressed it, as he answered:

"Sir, I believe that for years, I have possessed the priceless heart of this dear maiden, but her fair hand, I would prefer to owe to her father's approval and good-will, rather than to a mere accident."

"Sir, there are no such things as accidents! I am sixty years old who say it! And as for the rest, sir, 'her father's approval and good-will' always follows his esteem and respect, and now goes with his consent! God bless you! Be true to Mathilde!"

"May Heaven deal with me as I with her!" said Frank Howard, earnestly.

While this important little family aside was going on the other guests were wishing each other a "Happy New Year," and chatting and laughing too merrily and noisily to hear what was there passing.

And now they asked for their cloaks and hoods, which Rachel Noales and I flew to bring; and in less than half an hour all the evening visitors had departed, and the returning sound of their sleighbells died away in the distance.

We that were left separated and retired. When we reached our chamber Rachel and I locked the door and went to bed.

We were sufficiently wearied out to go fast asleep, and sleep until late in the morning, when the loud knocking of little Jet at our chamber door aroused us. I jumped up and went and opened it.

"De doors do stay shet fas' 'nuff now!" exclaimed my little maid, with a broad grin, as she entered.

"Yes, Jet; thanks to Mr. Howard."

"Ain't him a smart gemlan, dough? Wunner if him's a wizard?"

"I really do not know, Jet. You must ask your Miss Mathilde."

"Law! Do she know?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Den I ax her, sure."

And so my little maid proceeded to light the fire.

This was a New Year's day, and a large company was expected to dinner. And it was upon this occasion that the engagement of the Hon. Frank Howard, of Massachusetts, and Miss Mathilde Legare, was announced.

But little is left to be told. For the remainder of my stay I rested in undisturbed peace, suffering no recurrence of opening doors and midnight visitors. I was almost sorry that my ghostly mysteries had found so commonplace a solution—a mechanical defect taking the place of the phantom key, and an optical illusion explaining my midnight vision!—all was accounted for except the spot of blood upon the floor! Upon the morning of my departure, I called Mathilde into the room, and striking an attitude like that of the woman of my vision, I silently pointed to the hidden spot, and gazed at Mathilde, to discover consciousness in her countenance.

But Mathilde first looked back in innocent surprise, and then recollecting herself, said:

"Oh! you allude to a stain there; yes, it is a pity! The men who were painting red lines on the doors over-turned the paint-pot and made a deep, ugly, crimson stain; and, like the spot of blood on Bluebeard's key, 'the more we scrub it the brighter it grows!' The next time a carpenter happens to be at work here, mamma intends to have it planed out."

So much for my last hold upon the supernatural! Let me repeat—the phantom key, a mere mechanical defect; the spot of blood, a mere stain of paint; and the midnight spectre, an optical illusion!

But the reader may ask, how I account for the resemblance between the woman of my vision and the portrait of the ill-fated Madeleine Van Der Vaughan? I answer, that at this distance of time, I regard it as the effect of imagination only, as was the whole vision!

It was about two months after the conclusion of my Christmas visit that I was summoned to Wolfbrake to act as bridesmaid for Mathilde, for it was immediately after the rising of Congress upon the fourth of March, that Mr. Howard went up to claim the hand of his betrothed. They were married upon the seventh. It was a wedding in the fine, old-fashioned country style, with a ball and supper the same evening, and dinner parties and dancing parties, given successively by the neighbors, in honor of the bride, almost every day and night for the next two weeks.

They have now been married several years, and have several children—boys and girls. Frank Howard now holds a "high official" position in the present administration. And old Mr. Legare is justly proud of his gifted son-in-law. As Mathilde is too much of a Creole to bear the rigor of a New England climate they divide the year, spending the summer in Massachusetts and the winter in Virginia "with the old folks at home."

And year after year I have visited them there, and slept in the haunted chamber, but never, since the locks were mended, have I been troubled by an opening door, or a midnight ghost!