""Of course you don"t know exactly what," I interrupted. "Come now, be a sensible little woman. You surely don"t believe in presentiments. It is the heat; this sticky, Southern heat! I feel a little queer myself."
"But nothing I could say quite banished the singular fancy which had taken possession of my young wife. Womenkind cling tenaciously to absurd ideas, especially when they are of the worrying kind; and Elizabeth looked so troubled and sad that I soon caught the feeling and became melancholy too.
"It was long past noon and intensely sultry, and we were sitting on the porch where occasionally the faintest shadow of a breeze made life more endurable. Our horses, maddened by the flies and heat, chafed and stamped restlessly out at the gate. Elizabeth tried to amuse herself with a huge alb.u.m of daguerreotypes which occupied the place of honor in the cabin parlor, and I smoked and lounged about, wondering what had become of Ailsee.
""Well," said I at last, "we can not wait here forever. If I am not greatly mistaken there will be a storm before night, and we had better get out of this at once. We can come down here some other day and renew our acquaintance with the mysterious child of the forest." So back through the marsh we splashed our way, and arrived at Raven Hill barely in time to escape the storm, which broke with fury just as Uncle Ashby came around for our mud-bespattered steeds.
"Elizabeth went upstairs to change her dress and rest before dinner, and I settled down in the library with the _Country Gentleman_. There was a knock at the door, and Uncle Ashby came in.
""Ma.r.s.e Livingstone," he asked huskily, "whar has you been wif de horses?"
"I told him; and during the brief account of our adventures his face grew ashen and his eyes seemed about to start out of his head. When I was through he tottered over to the window, muttering, "Gawd help us!
Gawd help us!"
""What"s the matter, Uncle Ashby?" I asked curiously. "What on earth are you so excited about?"
""Boss," said he entreatingly, "doan" make me tell you--you"ll be sorry ef you do. "Deed, Marster, I really mus" go now, sah; dey"s waitin" fer me at de stables. And youse been down dar an" seen it! Oh, Lordy, Lordy!"
""Come back here," said I, my curiosity getting the better of me. "Don"t be a fool, old man; brace up. What"s the trouble? You are not afraid to speak out, eh?"
""Well, Ma.r.s.e Livingstone, ef I mus" tell you, I "spose I mus"--thar doan" "pear to be no help fer it. But I"d ruther not, boss; "deed, I"d ruther not."
""Go on; tell your story," said I impatiently. "I guess I can stand it.
Just try me, anyhow." So in the semi-darkness a marvellous tale was unfolded to my ears.
"In the first place, Uncle Ashby solemnly a.s.sured me that I had that day seen a ghost. The flesh-and-blood Ailsee, he declared, had been dead many years. Her father, Coot Harris, was a rough customer who took up his abode in the marsh--"mash," Uncle Tucker called it--at the close of the Civil War. Here he gained a precarious livelihood by "pot-hunting"; for Harris and others of his ilk paid but little attention to the poorly enforced game laws of the section. Coot Harris, the marshman, had a daughter, who, as Uncle Ashby contemptuously remarked, "was peart enuff, as pore white trash folkses go."
"This daughter was named Ailsee. Thwarted by her father in some love affair with a swain of the neighborhood, she had drowned herself in a gloomy pool in the very darkest part of the forest. The body was found shortly afterward and buried in the cottage garden. Harris then left the country and has never since been heard of. All this, according to Uncle Ashby, happened twenty years ago. The ghost of the ill-starred Ailsee had occasionally been seen by the country folk, but always with dire results. Bad luck, disease, and in some cases death, had been the fate of those who saw the "ha"nt." One man lost his house by fire within forty-eight hours after the shadowy form crossed his path. The body of another unfortunate was found floating in the creek; his eyes wide open, staring horribly. The drowned man had but the day before made known the fact that he had seen the wraith of the marshman"s daughter. Still another poor fellow had been taken, raving and violent, to the asylum.
Numerous additional instances, equally as harrowing, were cited by Uncle Ashby, whose fervent belief in all that he said was rather impressive than otherwise.
"I listened patiently to the old man until he finished. By that time the storm had ceased and the sky, suddenly clearing in the west, revealed the last rays of the setting sun, which brightened the room for a few moments. I laughed softly when Uncle Ashby went out, and all that I had heard of the ignorance, credulity, and superst.i.tion of the Southern negro came into my mind. I sat for a while, musing in the gathering dusk, and then went up to my room.
"The lamps had not been lighted in that portion of the house, and it was quite dark. The atmosphere was stifling, as all the windows had been closed at the approach of the storm. I raised them, and the cool, damp air, heavy with the odor of jessamine, floated into the room. Elizabeth, evidently greatly fatigued by the day"s exertions, had thrown herself upon a lounge at the foot of the bed. She was in her dressing-gown, and her face was framed in ma.s.ses of wavy brown hair which had become uncoiled in her restless movements. I hesitated to awaken her, but as sounds from below indicated the near approach of dinner I called her--at first softly, and then in louder tones, an indefinable fear stealing over me as I did so. I approached the couch, and tremblingly placed my hand upon her forehead.... Ah, G.o.d, I cannot tell the rest!
"Seven years have dragged their weary length along since I lost my dear young wife and the light of my life was extinguished forever! Now, all is darkness! darkness!
"Subsequent investigation, supported by the testimony of well-known and thoroughly reliable residents of the country, confirmed in every particular the truth of Uncle Ashby"s story. A visit to the marshman"s cottage some days after my wife"s death revealed a ruinous mouldering habitation, in the midst of a wilderness of weeds and vines. A mournful, desolate spot, shunned and avoided by all for the past twenty years, and yet had I not seen----" Tippett paused abruptly, with bowed head and eyes tear-dimmed.
"Here, old chap, take this," said Colonel Manysnifters, hastily pouring out and handing him a stiff drink. Tippett, obeying, was somewhat revived, and continued.
"I returned to Brooklyn with the body of my wife. My mother followed her to the grave a few months later. All in the world that was dear to me was now lost. I took to drink; I sunk lower and lower, dissipated my little fortune, friends forsook me; and by quick stages in the descending scale I found myself, as I said before--an outcast! Yet, through all my troubles I have never entertained the thought of self-destruction. I have no desire whatever to seek--
""The undiscover"d country, from whose bourn No traveler returns,--puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than to fly to others we know not of.""
It was long after midnight when Tippett concluded his story and the gathering broke up; not, however, before sleeping-quarters had been found for the unfortunate man, and a promise given by Senator Bull to put him on his feet again in the far West--an offer gladly accepted in all sincerity, and a venture which proved highly successful, as most of the long-headed Senator"s usually did.
Morning brought relief, the track was cleared, and our train proceeded on its way, arriving at Washington many hours behind schedule; its occupants but little the worse for their experience--Colonel Manysnifters, I believe, with a slight headache.