The next
day the ghost was very weak and tired. The terrible excitement of the last four
weeks was beginning to have its effect. His nerves were completely shattered,
and he started at the slightest noise. For five days he kept his room, and at
last made up his mind to give up the point of the blood-stain on the library
floor. If the Otis family did not want it, they clearly did not deserve it.
They were evidently people on a low, material plane of existence, and quite
incapable of appreciating the symbolic value of sensuous phenomena. The
question of phantasmic apparitions, and the development of astral bodies, was
of course quite a different matter, and really not under his control. It was
his solemn duty to appear in the corridor once a week, and to gibber from the
large oriel window on the first and third Wednesdays in every month, and he did
not see how he could honorably escape from his obligations. It is quite true
that his life had been very evil, but, upon the other hand, he was most
conscientious in all things connected with the supernatural. For the next three
Saturdays, accordingly, he traversed the corridor as usual between midnight and
three o'clock, taking every possible precaution against being either heard or
seen. He removed his boots, trod as lightly as possible on the old worm-eaten
boards, wore a large black velvet cloak, and was careful to use the Rising Sun
Lubricator for oiling his chains. I am bound to acknowledge that it was with a
good deal of difficulty that he brought himself to adopt this last mode of
protection.
However,
one night, while the family were at dinner, he slipped into Mr. Otis's bedroom
and carried off the bottle. He felt a little humiliated at first, but
afterwards was sensible enough to see that there was a great deal to be said
for the invention, and, to a certain degree, it served his purpose. Still, in
spite of everything, he was not left unmolested. Strings were continually being
stretched across the corridor, over which he tripped in the dark, and on one
occasion, while dressed for the part of `Black Isaac, or the Huntsman of Hogley
Woods,' he met with a severe fall, through treading on a butter-slide, which
the twins had constructed from the entrance of the Tapestry Chamber to the top
of the oak staircase. This last insult so enraged him, that he resolved to make
one final effort to assert his dignity and social position, and determined to visit
the insolent young Etonians the next night in his celebrated character of
`Reckless Rupert, or the Headless Earl.'
He had
not appeared in this disguise for more than seventy years: in fact, not since
he had so frightened pretty Lady Barbara Modish by means of it, that she
suddenly broke off her engagement with the present Lord Canterville's
grandfather, and ran away to Gretna Green with handsome Jack Castletown,
declaring that nothing in the world would induce her to marry into a family
that allowed such a horrible phantom to walk up and down the terrace at
twilight. Poor Jack was afterwards shot in a duel by Lord Canterville on
Wandsworth Common, and Lady Barbara died of a broken heart at Tunbridge Wells
before the year was out, so, in every way, it had been a great success. It was,
however, an extremely difficult `make-up,' if I may use such a theatrical
expression in connection with one of the greatest mysteries of the
supernatural, or, to employ a more scientific term, the higher-natural world,
and it took him fully three hours to make his preparations. At last everything
was ready, and he was very pleased with his appearance. The big leather
riding-boots that went with the dress were just a little too large for him, and
he could only find one of the two horse-pistols, but, on the whole, he was
quite satisfied, and at a quarter past one he glided out of the wainscoting and
crept down the corridor. On reaching the room occupied by the twins, which I
should mention was called the Blue Bed Chamber, on account of the colour of its
hangings, he found the door just ajar. Wishing to make an effective entrance,
he flung it wide open, when a heavy jug of water fell right down on him,
wetting him to the skin, and just missing his left shoulder by a couple of
inches. At the same moment he heard stifled shrieks of laughter proceeding from
the four-post bed. The shock to his nervous system was so great that he fled
back to his room as hard as he could go, and the next day he was laid up with a
severe cold. The only thing that at all consoled him in the whole affair was
the fact that he had not brought his head with him, for, had he done so, the
consequences might have been very serious. He now gave up all hope of ever
frightening this rude American family, and contented himself, as a rule, with
creeping about the passages in list slippers, with a thick red muffler round
his throat for fear of draughts, and a small arquebuse, in case he should be
attacked by the twins. The final blow he received occurred on the 19th of
September. He had gone downstairs to the great entrance-hall, feeling sure that
there, at any rate, he would be quite unmolested, and was amusing himself by
making satirical remarks on the large Saroni photographs of the United States Minister
and his wife, which had now taken the place of the Canterville family pictures.
He was simply but neatly clad in a long shroud, spotted with churchyard mould,
had tied up his jaw with a strip of yellow linen, and carried a small lantern
and a sexton's spade. In fact, he was dressed for the character of `Jonas the
Graveless, or the Corpse-Snatcher of Chertsey Barn,' one of his most remarkable
impersonations, and one which the Cantervilles had every reason to remember, as
it was the real origin of their quarrel with their neighbour, Lord Rufford. It was
about a quarter past two o'clock in the morning, and, as far as he could
ascertain, no one was stirring. As he was strolling towards the library,
however, to see if there were any traces left of the blood-stain, suddenly
there leaped out on him from a dark corner two figures, who waved their arms
wildly above their heads, and shrieked out `BOO!' in his ear.
Seized
with a panic, which, under the circumstances, was only natural, he rushed for
the staircase, but found Washington Otis waiting for him there with the big
garden-syringe; and being thus hemmed in by his enemies on every side, and
driven almost to bay, he vanished into the great iron stove, which, fortunately
for him, was not lit, and had to make his way home through the flues and
chimneys, arriving at his own room in a terrible state of dirt, disorder, and
despair.
After
this he was not seen again on any nocturnal expedition. The twins lay in wait
for him on several occasions, and strewed the passages with nutshells every
night to the great annoyance of their parents and the servants, but it was of
no avail. It was quite evident that his feelings were so wounded that he would
not appear. Mr. Otis consequently resumed his great work on the history of the
Democratic Party, on which he had been engaged for some years; Mrs. Otis
organised a wonderful clam-bake, which amazed the whole county; the boys took
to lacrosse, euchre, poker, and other American national games; and Virginia
rode about the lanes on her pony, accompanied by the young Duke of Cheshire,
who had come to spend the last week of his holidays at Canterville Chase. It
was generally assumed that the ghost had gone away, and, in fact, Mr. Otis
wrote a letter to that effect to Lord Canterville, who, in reply, expressed his
great pleasure at the news, and sent his best congratulations to the Minister's
worthy wife.
The
Otises, however, were deceived, for the ghost was still in the house, and
though now almost an invalid, was by no means ready to let matters rest,
particularly as he heard that among the guests was the young Duke of Cheshire,
whose grand-uncle, Lord Francis Stilton, had once bet a hundred guineas with
Colonel Carbury that he would play dice with the Canterville ghost, and was
found the next morning lying on the floor of the card-room in such a helpless
paralytic state, that though he lived on to a great age, he was never able to
say anything again but `Double Sixes.' The story was well known at the time,
though, of course, out of respect to the feelings of the two noble families,
every attempt was made to hush it up; and a full account of all the
circumstances connected with it will be found in the third volume of Lord Tattle's
Recollections of the Prince Regent and his Friends. The ghost, then, was
naturally very anxious to show that he had not lost his influence over the
Stiltons, with whom, indeed, he was distantly connected, his own first cousin
having been married en secondes noces to the Sieur de Bulkeley, from whom, as
every one knows, the Dukes of Cheshire are lineally descended. Accordingly, he
made arrangements for appearing to Virginia's little lover in his celebrated
impersonation of `The Vampire Monk, or, the Bloodless Benedictine,' a
performance so horrible that when old Lady Startup saw it, which she did on one
fatal New Year's Eve, in the year 1764, she went off into the most piercing shrieks,
which culminated in violent apoplexy, and died in three days, after
disinheriting the Cantervilles, who were her nearest relations, and leaving
all her money to her London apothecary. At the last moment, however, his terror
of the twins prevented his leaving his room, and the little Duke slept in peace
under the great feathered canopy in the Royal Bedchamber, and dreamed of
Virginia.
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