CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.
FROM THE DEAD!
Eustace and the overseer were sitting on the _stoep_ smoking a finalpipe together before going to bed. It was getting on for midnight and,save these two, the household had long since retired.
Tempted by the beauty of the night they sat, well wrapped up, for it waswinter. But the whole firmament was ablaze with stars, and the broadnebulous path of the Milky Way shone forth like the phosphoric trail inthe wake of a steamer. The conversation between the two had turned uponthe fate of Tom Carhayes.
"I suppose we shall soon know now what his end really was," the overseerwas saying. "Kafirs are as close as death over matters of that kindwhile the war is actually going on. But they are sure to talkafterwards, and some of them are bound to know."
"Yes. And but for this administration business it might be just as wellfor us not to know," answered Eustace. "Depend upon it, whatever it is,it will be something more than ghastly, poor fellow. Tom made a greatmistake in going to settle in Kafirland at all. He'd have done muchbetter here."
"I suppose there isn't the faintest shadow of a chance that he may stillbe alive, Mr Milne?"
The remark was an unfortunate one. Cool-headed as he was, it awoke inEustace a vague stirring of uneasiness--chiming in, as it did, with themisgivings which would sometimes pass through his own mind.
"Not a shadow of a chance, I should say," he replied, after a slightpause.
Bentley, too, began to realise that the remark was not a happy one--forof course he could not all this time have been blind to the state ofaffairs. He felt confused and relapsed into silence--puffing vigorouslyat his pipe.
The silence was broken--broken in a startling manner. A terrifiedscream fell upon their ears--not very loud, but breathing unmistakabletones of mortal fear. Both men sprang to their feet.
"Heavens!" cried the overseer. "That's Mrs Carhayes--"
But the other said not a word. In about a half a dozen steps he wasthrough the sitting room and had gained the door which opened out of it.This was Eanswyth's bedroom, whence the terrified cry had proceeded.
"What is wrong, Eanswyth?" he cried, tapping at the door.
It opened immediately. She stood there wrapped in a long loose dressinggown, the wealth of her splendid hair falling in masses. But her facewas white as death, and the large eyes were dilated with such a pitiableexpression of fear and distress, as he certainly had never beheld there.
"What is it, my darling? What has frightened you so?" he said tenderly,moved to the core by this extraordinary manifestation of pitiableterror.
She gave a quick flurried look over her shoulder. Then clutching hishands--and he noticed that hers were trembling and as cold as ice--shegasped:
"Eustace--I have seen--him!"
"Who--in Heaven's name?"
"Tom."
"Darling, you must have dreamt it. You have been allowing your thoughtsto run too much on the subject and--"
"No. It was no dream. I have not even been to bed yet," sheinterrupted, speaking hurriedly. "I was sitting there, at the table,reading one of my little books. I just happened to look up and--OEustace"--with a violent shudder--"I saw _his_ face staring in at thewindow just as plainly as I can see you now."
Eustace followed her cowering glance. The window, black anduncurtained, looked out upon the _veldt_. There were shutters, but theywere hardly ever closed. His first thought, having dismissed thenightmare theory, was that some loafer was hanging about, and seeing thelighted window had climbed up to look in. He said as much.
"No. It was _him_," she interrupted decisively. "There was nomistaking him. If it were the last word I breathed I should still sayso. What does it mean? Oh, what does it mean?" she repeated in tonesof the utmost distress.
"Hush, hush, my dearest! Remember, Bentley will hear, and--"
"_There he is again_!"
The words broke forth in a shriek. Quickly Eustace glanced at thewindow. The squares of glass, black against the outer night, showednothing in the shape of a human countenance. A large moth buzzedagainst them, and that was all.
Her terror was so genuine, as with blanched face and starting eyes sheglared upon the black glass, that ever so slight a thrill ofsuperstitious dread shot through him in spite of himself.
"Quick!" she gasped. "Quick! Go and look all round the house! I amnot frightened to remain alone. Mr Bentley will stay with me. Go,quick!"
The overseer, who had judiciously kept in the background, now cameforward.
"Certainly, Mrs Carhayes. Better come into this room and sit down fora bit. Why, you must have been mistaken," he went on, cheerily placinga chair at the sitting room fire, and kicking up the nearly dead logs."Nobody could get up at your window. Why, its about fifteen feet fromthe ground and there's nothing lying about for them to step on. Noteven a monkey could climb up there--though--wait. I did hear once of acase where a baboon, a wild one out of the _veldt_, climbed up on to theroof of a house and swung himself right into a room. I don't say Ibelieve it, though. It's a little too much of a Dutchman's yarn to bereadily swallowed."
Thus the good-natured fellow rambled on, intent on cheering her up anddiverting her thoughts. The rooms occupied by himself and his familywere at the other end of the house and opened outside on the _stoep_,hence the sound of her terrified shriek had not reached them.
Eustace, on investigation intent, had slipped round the outside of thehouse with the stealth and rapidity of a savage. But, as he hadexpected, there was no sign of the presence of any living thing. He puthis ear to the ground and listened long and intently. Not a sound. Nostealthy footfall broke the silence of the night.
But as he crouched there in the darkness, with every nerve, everyfaculty at the highest tension, a horrible thought came upon him. Whatif Carhayes had really escaped--was really alive? Why should he notavow himself openly--why come prowling around like a midnight assassin?And then the answer suggested itself. Might it not be that his mind,unhinged by the experiences of his captivity, was filled with the oneidea--to exact a deadly vengeance upon the wife who had so soonforgotten him? Such things had been, and to this man, watching there inthe darkness, the idea was horrible enough.
Stay! There was one way of placing the matter beyond all doubt. Heremembered that the soil beneath Eanswyth's window was loose dust--atrifle scratched about by the fowls, but would give forth the print of ahuman foot with almost the distinctness of snow.
Quickly he moved to the spot. Striking a wax vesta, and then another,he peered eagerly at the ground. The atmosphere was quite still, andthe matches flamed like a torch. His heart beat and his pulsesquickened as he carefully examined the ground--then a feeling of intenserelief came upon him. _There was no sign of a human footprint_.
No living thing could have stood under that window, much less climbed upto it, without leaving its traces. There were no traces; ergo, noliving thing had been there, and he did not believe in ghosts. Thewhole affair had been a hallucination on the part of Eanswyth. This wasbad, in that it seemed to point to a weak state of health or anoverloaded mind. But it was nothing like so bad as the awful misfortuneinvolved by the reality would have been--at any rate, to him.
He did not believe in ghosts, but the idea crossed his mind that so faras from allaying Eanswyth's fears, the utter impossibility of any livingbeing having approached her window without leaving spoor in the sandy,impressionable soil, would have rather the opposite tendency. Once theidea got firmly rooted in her mind that the dead had appeared to herthere was no foreseeing the limits of the gravity of the results. Andshe had been rather depressed of late. Very anxiously he re-entered thehouse to report the utter futility of his search.
"At all events we'll soon make it impossible for you to get another_schrek_ in the same way, Mrs Carhayes," said the overseer cheerily."We'll fasten the shutters up."
It was long before the distressed, scared look faded from her eyes."Eustace," she said--
Bentley having judiciously left them together for awhile--"When _you_ were--when I thought you dead--I wearied Heaven withprayers to allow me one glimpse of you again. I had no fear then, butnow--O God! it is _his_ spirit that I have seen."
He tried to soothe her, to reassure her, and in a measure succeeded. Atlast, to the surprise of himself and the overseer, she seemed to shakeoff her terror as suddenly as it had assailed her. She was veryfoolish, she declared. She would go to bed now, and not keep them upall night in that selfish manner. And she actually did--refusing alloffers on the part of Eustace or the overseer to remain in the sittingroom in order to be within call, or to patrol around the house for therest of the night.
"No," she said, "I am ashamed of myself already. The shutters arefastened up and I shall keep plenty of light burning. I feel quite safenow."
It was late next morning when Eanswyth appeared. Thoroughly refreshedby a long, sound sleep, she had quite forgotten her fears. Only asdarkness drew on again a restless uneasiness came over her, but againshe seemed to throw it off with an effort. She seemed to have thefaculty of pulling herself together by an effort of will--even as shehad done that night beside the broken-down buggy, while listening forthe approaching footsteps of their savage enemies in the darkness. ToEustace's relief, however, nothing occurred to revive her uneasiness.
But he himself, in his turn, was destined to receive a rude shock.