CHAPTER XIX
A Mysterious Happening
It was now nearly the end of July. The weather, which for many weekshad been fine and warm, suddenly changed to a spell of cold and wet.Rain dripped dismally from the eaves, the tennis courts were sodden,and the orchard was a marsh. The girls had grown accustomed tospending almost all their spare time out of doors, and chafed at theirenforced confinement to the house. They hung about in disconsolatelittle groups, and grumbled. Miss Beasley, who was generally wellaware of the mental atmosphere of the Grange, registered the barometerat stormy, and decided that prompt measures were necessary. To workoff the steam of the school, she suggested a good old-fashioned gameof hide-and-seek, and gave permission for it to be played on thoseupper landings which were generally forbidden ground. Twenty-sixdelighted girls started at once upstairs, and passed through the wiredoor, specially unlocked for their benefit, to the dim and mysteriousregions that lay under the roof. It was the best place in the worldfor the purpose--long labyrinths of passages leading round into oneanother, endless attics, and innumerable cupboards. The smallness ofthe latticed windows, combined with the wetness of the afternoon,produced a twilight that was most desirable, and highly suited to thegame.
Hermie and Veronica picked sides, and the former's band stole off toconceal themselves, while the others covered their eyes in orthodoxfashion, and counted a hundred.
"Cuckoo! We're coming!" shouted Hermie at last, and the fun began.
Up and down, and in and out, diving through doorways, racing alongpassages, chasing one another round corners, groping in cupboards,panting, squealing, laughing or shuddering, the girls pervaded theupper story. There was a ghostly gloom about the old place which madeit all the more thrilling, and gave the players a feeling that at anymoment some bogy might spring upon them from a dark recess, or askinny hand be stretched downwards through a trap-door. Flushed,excited, and really a little nervous, both sides at last sought thesafety of the "den." Two or three of them began to compare notes. Theywere joined by others. In a very short time the whole school knew thatat least a third of their number had seen a "something." They werequite unanimous in their report. "It" was a girl of about their ownage, in a dark-green dress with a wide white collar. Hermie andArdiune had noticed her most distinctly. She had smiled and beckonedto them, and run along the passage, but when they turned the cornershe had disappeared; and Linda and Elsie, whom they had met coming inthe opposite direction, declared that they had seen nobody. Lois andKatherine had caught a glimpse of her as they chased Maudie in one ofthe attics, and Joan declared positively that she had seen herflitting down the stairs.
"It's queer in the extreme," murmured Valentine.
"Are you quite sure it wasn't really only one of us?" urged Meta.
"Absolutely!" declared Hermie emphatically. "We all have on our brownserges to-day, and I tell you this girl was in dark green; not a gym.costume to wear over a blouse, like ours, but a dress with longsleeves and a big white collar."
"I don't believe she's a real girl at all," faltered Magsietremulously. "She's a spook!"
Magsie voiced the opinion of the majority. It was what most of theschool had been feeling for the last five minutes. The interest in thesupernatural, which had been a craze earlier in the term until sternlyrepressed by Miss Beasley, suddenly revived. Daphne remembered themagazine article she had read entitled "The Borderland of the SpiritWorld," and cold thrills passed down her spine. Veronica ventured thesuggestion that the apparition might be an astral body or an elementalentity.
"It's a case for the Society for Psychical Research to investigate,"she nodded gravely. "I always said the Grange was bound to behaunted."
"What was this girl like?" asked Raymonde reflectively. "Ancient ormodern?"
"Modern, decidedly. She had on a green dress with a white----"
"So you've told us already,"--impatiently. "We know about her clothes.What was she like?"
Hermie stood for a moment with eyes shut, as if calling up a mentalpicture.
"About Ardiune's height, but slimmer: rosy face, and dark hair done ina plait--really not so unlike you, Ray, only I should say decidedlyprettier."
"Thank you!" sniffed Raymonde.
"That just about sizes her up!" agreed those who had seen the vision.
"She didn't look spooky at all," continued Hermie. "She was quitesubstantial. You couldn't see through her, and she didn't melt intothe air."
"And yet she disappeared?"
"Yes, she certainly disappeared, and in a passage where there were nodoors."
"Do you remember the story I told you of the lady whose astral doubleleft her body during sleep, and haunted a friend's house?" beganVeronica darkly.
"Don't tell any ghost stories up here--don't!" implored Fauvette."I'll have hysterics in another minute!"
"I'm frightened!" whimpered Joan.
"I vote we go downstairs," suggested Morvyth. "I don't want to playany more hide-and-seek at present."
Nobody else seemed anxious to pursue the game. The attics were toocharged with the occult to be entirely pleasant. Everybody made aunanimous stampede for the lower story, passing down the windingstaircase with a sense of relief. Once on familiar ground again,things looked more cheery.
"Back already?" commented Miss Gibbs, who had met them on thelanding.
"Yes, we're all--er--a little tired!" evaded Hermie, with one of herconscious blushes.
"Better go to the dining-room and get out your sewing, then," repliedthe mistress, eyeing her keenly.
The girls proceeded soberly downstairs, still keeping close togetherlike a flock of sheep. Raymonde, however, lagged behind. For a momentor two she stood pondering, then she ran swiftly up the windingstaircase again into the attic.
The talk of the school that evening turned solely upon the ghost girl.Meta, who had not seen the vision, declared it was nothing butover-excited imagination, and feared that some people were apt to gethysterical; at which Hermie retorted that no one could be further fromhysteria than herself, and that six independent witnesses couldscarcely imagine the same thing at the same moment, without some basisfor their common report. Veronica considered that they had enteredunwittingly into a psychic circle, and encountered either athought-form that had materialized, or a phantasm of the living.
"Some people have capacities for astral vision that others don'tpossess," she said in a lowered voice. "It's quite probable thatHermie may be clairvoyante."
Hermie sighed interestedly. It was pleasanter to be dubbedclairvoyante than hysterical. She had always felt that Meta did notappreciate her.
"We've none of us been trained to realize our spiritualpossibilities," she replied, her eyes wide and thoughtful.
While a few girls disbelieved entirely in the spectre, and othersaccepted the explanation according to Veronica's occult theories, mostof the school considered the attic to be haunted by a plainold-fashioned ghost, such as anybody might expect to find in anancient mansion like the Grange. They waived the subject of moderncostume, deciding that in the dim light such details could hardly havebeen adequately distinguished, and that the apparition must have beena cavalier or Jacobite maiden, whose heart-rending story was buried inthe oblivion of years.
"Perhaps her lover was killed," commented Fauvette, with a quiver ofsympathy.
"Or her father was impeached by Parliament," added Maudie.
"She may have had a cruel stepmother who ill-treated her," sighedMuriel softly.
Raymonde alone offered no suggestions, and when asked for her opinionas to the explanation of the mystery, shook her head sagely, and saidnothing. The immediate result of the experience was that Veronica wentto Miss Beasley, and borrowed _An Antiquarian Survey of the County ofBedworthshire, including a description of its Castles and MoatedHouses, together with a History of its Ancient Families_--a ponderousvolume dated 1823, which had before been offered for the girls'inspection, but which nobody had hitherto summoned courage to attack.She studied it now with deep attention
, and gave a digest of itsinformation for the benefit of weaker minds, less able than her own,to grapple with the stilted language. The school preferred lighterliterature for their own reading, but were content to listen tolegends of the past when told by Veronica, who had rather a gift fornarrative, and could carry her audience with her. As the nextafternoon was still hopelessly wet, the girls gathered in one of theschoolrooms with their sewing, and were regaled with a story whilethey worked.
"I found out all about the Grange," began Veronica. "It belonged to afamily named Ferrers, and they took the side of the King in the CivilWar. While Sir Hugh was away fighting in the north, the house wasbesieged by Cromwell's troops. The Lady of the Manor, Dame JoanFerrers, had to look after the defence. She had not many men, nor agreat deal of ammunition, and not nearly as much food as wasnecessary. She at once put all the household upon short rations, anddrew up the drawbridge, barred the great gates, and prepared to holdout as long as she possibly could. She knew that the Cavalier forcesmight be marching in the direction of Marlowe at any time to relieveher, and that if she could keep the enemy at bay even for a few weeksthe Grange might be saved. The utmost vigilance was used. Sentrieswere posted in the tower over the great gate, and the lady herselfconstantly patrolled the walls. With so small a garrison it was adifficult task, for the men had not adequate time to rest or sleep,and were soon nearly worn out. The scanty supply of food was almost atan end. Unless help should arrive within a few days, they would beobliged to capitulate. All the flour was gone, and the bacon andsalted beef, and the cocks and hens and pigeons, and even the horseshad been killed and eaten, though these had been kept till the verylast. The worst of the trouble was that there was treachery within thewalls. Dame Joan was well aware of it, though she could not beabsolutely sure which of her men were disaffected, for they all stillpretended loyalty to their master and to the King. Nobody, she felt,was really to be trusted, though the walls were still manned, and thecannon blazed away with what ammunition was left. If the Grange wereto be saved at all, it was imperative that a message asking for helpshould be conveyed to the Royalist forces. But how could it be taken?The Roundheads were encamped all round the walls, and would promptlyshoot anyone who attempted to penetrate their lines. None of thegarrison would be stout-hearted enough to venture.
"Sir Hugh's eldest son was away fighting with his father, but therewas a daughter at home, a girl of about thirteen, named Joyce. Shecame now to her mother, and begged to be allowed to take the message.It was a long time before Dame Joan would give her consent, for sheknew the terrible danger to which Joyce would be exposed; but she hadthe lives of her younger children to think of as well, and in the endshe gave her reluctant permission. Just when it was growing dusk, shetook her little daughter to a secret doorway in the panelling, fromwhich a subterranean passage led underneath the moat into theadjoining wood. This secret passage was known only to Sir Hugh and hiswife and their eldest son, and it was now shown to Joyce for the firsttime. It was a horrible experience to go down it alone, but she was abrave lassie, and ready to risk her life for the sake of her mother,and her younger brothers and sisters. She took a lantern to guideher, and set off with as cheerful a face as she could show. The airwas stale and musty, and in some places she felt as if she couldscarcely breathe. Her footsteps, light though they were, rang hollow.After what seemed to her a very long way, she found herself in a smallcave, and could catch a gleam of twilight sky through the entrance.She at once extinguished the lantern, and advanced with extremecaution. She was in the wood at the farther side of the moat, a placewhere she had often played with her brothers, and had gatheredprimroses and violets in the springtime. She could recognize the groupof tall elms, and knew that if she kept to the right she might creepthrough a hole in the hedge, and make her way across some fields intothe high road. As quietly as some little dormouse or night animal shestole along.
"Not far off she could see the great camp fire, round which thetroopers were preparing their supper. She hoped they would all be toobusy with their cooking to notice her. As she passed behind somebushes she suddenly caught the gleam of a steel helmet within a fewyards of her. She crouched down under the shelter of a clump of gorse.But in doing so she made a faint rustle.
"'Halt! Who goes there?' came the challenge.
"Joyce's heart was beating so loudly that she thought it must surelybe heard.
"The sentry listened a moment, then levelling his pistol, sent a shotthrough the gorse bush. It passed within a few inches of her head, butshe had the presence of mind not to cry out or move. Evidentlythinking he was mistaken, the sentry paced farther on, and Joyce,seizing her golden opportunity, slipped through the hole in the hedge.Still using the cover of bushes, she made her way across three fields,and reached the road. It was quite dark now, but she knew herdirection, and turned up a by-lane where she would be unlikely to meettroopers. All night she walked, guiding herself partly by the stars,for she knew that Charles's Wain always pointed to the north. At dawna very tired and worn-out little maiden presented herself at thegateway of Hepplethorpe Manor, demanding instant audience of Sir RogerRivington. That worthy knight and loyal supporter of the Crown, onhearing her story, immediately sent horsemen with a letter to GeneralBright, of the King's forces, who lay encamped only five miles off;and he, marching without delay for Marlowe Grange, surprised theParliamentarians and completely routed them. The half-starved garrisonopened the great gates to their deliverers with shouts of joy, and, wemay be sure, welcomed the supplies of food that poured into the houselater on. As for Joyce, she must have been the heroine of thefamily."
"Is that all?" asked the girls, as Veronica paused and began to countthe stitches in the sock she was knitting.
"All that's in the book, and I've embroidered it a little. It was toldin such a very dull fashion, so I put it in my own words. It's quitetrue, though."
"What became of Joyce afterwards?"
"She married Sir Reginald Loveday, and became the lady of ClopgateTowers. The tomb is in Byford Church."
"If she'd been shot by the trooper, I should have thought she was theghost girl!" commented Ardiune. "I don't quite see how we could fixthat up, though. It doesn't seem to fit. You're quite sure sheescaped?"
"Perfectly certain. How else could the Grange have been saved?"
Veronica's argument settled the question, but the girls felt that thedramatic interest of the situation would have been better suited ifthe story had ended with the melancholy death of the heroine, and hersubsequent haunting of the Manor.
"I always heard that Cromwell's soldiers destroyed the walls and madethose big holes in the gateway with their cannon-balls," said Morvyth,still only half convinced.
"So they did, but that was two years afterwards, and the children wereall sent safely away before the second siege."
"It hasn't solved the mystery of the ghost girl," persisted Ardiune."Ray, what do you think about it?"
Raymonde, lost in a brown study, started almost guiltily, andrecommenced her sewing with feverish haste.
"Think? Why, it's a pretty story, of course. What more can I think?Why d'you ask me?"
"Oh! I don't know, except that you generally have ideas abouteverything. Who can the ghost girl be?"
But Raymonde, having lost her scissors, was biting her thread, andonly shook her head in reply.