Read Ebook: Betrothed for a day: Or Queenie Trevalyn's love test by Libbey Laura Jean

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Ebook has 1946 lines and 105903 words, and 39 pages

PART I

CATS

PAGE

DOGS

HORSES AND THE UNKNOWN

A Phantom Cavalcade--The Miller on the Grey Horse--A Phantom Horse and Rider--The White Horse of Eastover--The Afrikander's Story--Heralds of Death--Phantom Coach in U.S.A.--A Story from Marseilles--Summary of Horses--Phantasms of Living Horses--Horses and the Psychic Faculty of Scent--Phantom Policeman and Horse--Phantom Huntsmen and Horses 139

BULLS, COWS, PIGS, ETC.

The Kirk-grim--Phantasm of a Goat--Phantom Hogs of the Moat Grange--Sheep--Spectre Flock of Sheep in Germany 212

PART II

WILD ANIMALS AND THE UNKNOWN

Animal Phantasms and the Moon--The Case of Martin Tristram--Phantasms of Cat and Ape--Hauntings by a White Rabbit--John Wesley's Ghost--Psychic Faculty in Hares and Rabbits 223

INHABITANTS OF THE JUNGLE

Elephants, Lions, Tigers, etc.--The White Tiger--Jungle Animals and Psychic Faculties 254

BIRDS AND THE UNKNOWN

A BRIEF RETROSPECT 300

PART I

DOMESTIC ANIMALS AND THEIR ASSOCIATIONS WITH THE UNKNOWN

ANIMAL GHOSTS

CATS

In opening this volume on Animals and their associations with the unknown, I will commence with a case of hauntings in the Old Manor House, at Oxenby.

My informant was a Mrs. Hartnoll, whom I can see in my mind's eye, as distinctly as if I were looking at her now. Hers was a personality that no lapse of time, nothing could efface; a personality that made itself felt on boys of all temperaments, most of all, of course, on those who--like myself--were highly strung and sensitive.

She was classical mistress at L.'s, the then well-known dame school in Clifton, where for three years--prior to migrating to a Public School--I was well grounded in all the mysticisms of Kennedy's Latin Primer and Smith's First Greek Principia.

I doubt if she got anything more than a very small salary--governesses in those days were shockingly remunerated--and I know,--poor soul, she had to work monstrously hard. Drumming Latin and Greek into heads as thick as ours was no easy task.

But there were times, when the excessive tension on the nerves proving too much, Mrs. Hartnoll stole a little relaxation; when she allowed herself to chat with us, and even to smile--Heavens! those smiles! And when--I can feel the tingling of my pulses at the bare mention of it--she spoke about herself, stated she had once been young--a declaration so astounding, so utterly beyond our comprehension, that we were rendered quite speechless--and told us anecdotes.

Of many of her narratives I have no recollection, but one or two, which interested me more than the rest, are almost as fresh in my mind as when recounted. The one that appealed to me most, and which I have every reason to believe is absolutely true, is as follows:--I give it as nearly as I can in her own somewhat stilted style:--

"Up to the age of nineteen, I resided with my parents in the Manor House, Oxenby. It was an old building, dating back, I believe, to the reign of Edward VI, and had originally served as the residence of noble families. Built, or, rather, faced with split flints, and edged and buttressed with cut grey stone, it had a majestic though very gloomy appearance, and seen from afar resembled nothing so much as a huge and grotesquely decorated sarcophagus. In the centre of its frowning and menacing front was the device of a cat, constructed out of black shingles, and having white shingles for the eyes; the effect being curiously realistic, especially on moonlight nights, when anything more lifelike and sinister could scarcely have been conceived. The artist, whoever he was, had a more than human knowledge of cats--he portrayed not merely their bodies but their souls.

"In style the front of the house was somewhat castellated. Two semicircular bows, or half towers, placed at a suitable distance from each other, rose from the base to the summit of the edifice, to the height of four or five stairs; and were pierced, at every floor, with rows of stone-mullioned windows. The flat wall between had larger windows, lighting the great hall, gallery, and upper apartments. These windows were wholly composed of stained glass, engraved with every imaginable fantastic design--imps, satyrs, dragons, witches, queer-shaped trees, hands, eyes, circles, triangles and cats.

"The towers, half included in the building, were completely circular within, and contained the winding stairs of the mansion; and whoever ascended them when a storm was raging seemed rising by a whirlwind to the clouds.

"In the upper rooms even the wildest screams of the hurricane were drowned in the rattling clamour of the assaulted casements. When a gale of wind took the building in front, it rocked it to the foundations, and, at such times, threatened its instant demolition.

"Midway between the towers there stood forth a heavy stone porch with a Gothic gateway, surmounted by a battlemented parapet, made gable fashion, the apex of which was garnished by a pair of dolphins, rampant and antagonistic, whose corkscrew tails seemed contorted--especially at night--by the last agonies of rage convulsed. The porch doors stood open, except in tremendous weather; the inner ones were regularly shut and barred after all who entered. They led into a wide vaulted and lofty hall, the walls of which were decorated with faded tapestry, that rose, and fell, and rustled in the most mysterious fashion every time there was the suspicion--and often barely the suspicion--of a breeze.

"Interspersed with the tapestry--and in great contrast to its antiquity--were quite modern and very ordinary portraits of my family. The general fittings and furniture, both of the hall and house, were sombre and handsome--truss-beams, corbels, girders and panels were of the blackest oak; and the general effect of all this, augmented, if anything, by the windows, which were too high and narrow to admit of much light, was much the same as that produced by the interior of a subterranean chapel or charnel house.

"From the hall proceeded doorways and passages, more than my memory can now particularize. Of these portals, one at each end conducted to the tower stairs, others to reception rooms and domestic offices.

"The whole of the house being too large for us, only one wing--the right and newer of the two--was occupied, the other was unfurnished, and generally shut up. I say generally because there were times when either my mother or father--the servants never ventured there--forgot to lock the doors, and the handles yielding to my daring fingers, I surreptitiously crept in.

"Everywhere--even in daylight, even on the sunniest of mornings--were dark shadows that hung around the ingles and recesses of the rooms, the deep cupboards, the passages, and silent, winding staircases.

"There was one corridor--long, low, vaulted--where these shadows assembled in particular. I can see them now, as I saw them then, as they have come to me many times in my dreams, grouped about the doorways, flitting to and fro on the bare, dismal boards, and congregated in menacing clusters at the head of the sepulchral staircase leading to the cellars. Generally, and excepting at times when the weather was particularly violent, the silence girl, but the words are forcing themselves like a torrent from my heart to my lips--ah, Heaven, you must have guessed the truth ere this, Queenie! I love you! I love you with a passion so great it is driving me mad. Let me pray my prayer to you, let me kneel at your feet and utter it. Ah, Heaven! words fail me to tell you how dearly I love you, my darling. My life seems to have merged completely into yours. I love you so dearly and well, if you send me from you, you will wreck my life--break my heart. I cast my life as a die upon your yes or no. Look at me, darling, and answer me--will you be my wife, Queenie. For Heaven's sake say yes and end my agitation and my misery. Is your answer life or death for me, my love?"

"I have two lovers, both brave and gay; And they both have spoken their minds to-day; They both seem dying for love of me; Well, if I choose one of them, which shall it be? One is handsome, and tall, and grand, With gold in the bank and acres of land, And he says he will give them all to me If only I'll promise his wife to be. The other is bonny, and blithe, and true, With honest face bronzed, and eyes of blue; But the wealth of his heart is the only thing He can give to me with the wedding ring. Yes, both seem dying for love of me; Well, if I choose one of them, which shall it be?"

Queenie Trevalyn looked up archly into the handsome, agitated face bending over her, and blushed deeply.

"Before I answer you, let me remind you that you are quite a stranger to us, Mr. Dinsmore; you have not chosen to make a confidant of any one concerning your personal history--from whence you came, or--or--your standing in the community in which you reside," she murmured, sweetly.

"I am aware of that fact," he answered, gloomily, dropping her hands dejectedly, while a heavy sigh trembled over his pale lips. "The truth is, I dreaded telling you, lest I should, perhaps, lose your friendship at first, then, at last, your love; but no! you are too good, too noble, pure and true to let wealth and position weigh--against--love."

His words gave the girl something like a fright. She had counted upon this handsome, bearded adorer being a man of great wealth. She had even fondly hoped that he might be a prince, traveling in disguise--a personage of superior order. No wonder his words--which seemed to bid fair to scatter these delicious hopes--alarmed the girl whose sole ambition was wealth.

She did not answer; for the first time in her life this girl, who was so witty, versatile and brilliant, was at a loss for words.

"It is but right that you should know who and what I am," he pursued, slowly. "Indeed, I should have prefaced my declaration of love with that information. I am but a struggling author, Queenie--a man who is fighting hard to make his way in the crowded field of letters to future great achievements. I might have made money in the past had I grasped the opportunities held out to me. I have been of a roving disposition--nomadic in my tastes, eager to see the whole wide world, and give to the people who stay at home glimpses of foreign lands, through my pen.

"I was prodigal with the money I earned from this source. I gave it freely to the poor and needy, who were everywhere about. On the burning sands of Africa, or on the snowy plains of Russia, when I lay down to sleep, with only the sky above me, I was as happy as men who lie down in palaces. I had no care, I was as free from it as the joyous air that blows. I led a happy enough life of it until I came here and met you; from that hour the world has seemed to change for me. I am no longer the careless, happy-go-lucky fellow of a few short weeks ago, leading a merry, Bohemian existence--just as content without money as with it.

The sentence never was finished. Glancing up at that moment he caught sight of her face, which she had turned so that the white, bright moonlight fell full upon it.

The scorn on the beautiful face, the anger that blazed in the dark eyes, the contempt the curling lips revealed, appalled him. He had much more to tell her that was important, but the words fairly froze on his lips, and died away unmuttered.

"Hush! not another word," she cried, quite as soon as she was able to speak, through her intense anger. "You have basely deceived me, as well as every one else. You knew of the current report that you were a man of fabulous wealth and you let it go uncontradicted. You have sailed under false colors to force your way into society. You have cheated and deluded us into believing that you were a gentleman. Being what you are--a nobody--you insult me with your proposal of marriage. Conduct me back to the hotel at once, please."

His face had grown white as marble--even his lips were colorless. His eyes were dim with a sorrow too intense for words, and his strong hands trembled like aspen leaves in the wind, and his bosom heaved. Her cruel, taunting words had struck home to the very core of his heart, and made a cruel wound there, like the stinging cut of a deadly, poisoned dagger.

There was no mistaking the meaning of her words, she spoke plainly enough. If he had been rich he would have stood a fair chance of winning her. The love of a great, strong, honorable heart did not count with her. Her affection was not for exchange, but for sale. The beautiful girl whom he had thought little less than the angels above was but common clay, a mercenary creature, who weighed gold in the scale against marriage, and whose idea of a gentleman, one of nature's noblemen, was measured by his wealth. To her a poor man was less than the dust beneath her dainty feet.

"You have heard what I have said, Mr. Dinsmore," said Queenie Trevalyn, haughtily. "Pray conform with my request by taking me back to the ballroom at once. Were it not for appearances I would leave you and return myself."

Like one dazed he turned slowly around, setting his miserable face toward the lights and the music, but his overwrought nerves could stand no more, strong man though he was, and without a moan or a cry he fell headlong upon the white sands at her feet--like a hero in a great battle falls when he has received his death wound, crying out: "When love has conquered pride and anger, you may call me back again."

"Great heavens! what a dilemma!" cried Queenie Trevalyn, angrily. She did not pause a moment to lave his face with the cooling water so near at hand, or to take the trouble to ascertain if his headlong fall had injured him, so intent was she in hurrying away from the spot before a crowd gathered.

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