The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 112: what you’re looking at

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THE MYSTERIEG OF THE OOURT. 201 “TI positively charged my daughter as well as the servants,” said M. Volney, “ not to make that legend the subject of their idle gossip in respect to either your ladyship or your own domestics : for though I had too high an opinion of your intellect, Lady Octavian, to imagine fur a moment that such a tale would at all disturb your equanimity—yet I was less certain in respect to your maids. For the minds of those who are only partially educated, are more susceptible of the influence of supersti- tious terrors——”’ “I will candidly inform you, M. Volney,” said Zoe, “that it was the gardener who acquainted my maids with that legend : buat I beseech you not to visit him with your displeasure.” “ And you saw that form while as yet ignorant of the legend P” said M. Volney in a musing tone, and with a strange darkness of the looks, “Then I myself could not possibly have been deceived !” “What mean you?” inquired Zoe quickly, as well as anxiously. ‘What appearance had the figure?” asked M. Volney, without heeding Lady Octavian’s ques- tion. “T saw it but dimly,” rejoined her ladyship ; “and whatever it might have been——TI mean i it were some real living intruder——I could not conscientiously declare upon my oath in a Court of Justice that the description, as it was faintly impressed upon my mind, is the accurate one. But it certainly seemed to me to be the form of a tall man, of slender figure—young too, I should think—and apparelled in dark garments. My ear caught not the slightest sound of a footfall on either occasion ; and thus, when after the first occurrence I heard that legend which representa how the unfortunate Lenoir is supposed to glide with his shoeless feet through the passages of this Chateau, I was certainly struck with a strange feeling.” * Yes—strange, most strange!” muttered M. Volney : and then he looked deeply perplexed. “ And you yourself,” said Zoe, again in anxious inquiry, “ have some reason——” “Your ladyship has been candid with me,” interrupted the French gentleman: “I will be equally candid with you. Listen, Lady Octavian ! Never until this night was I in the faintest degree affected by that legend. Indeed, I have very rarely thought of it since the first day—some five years back—that it was communicated to me. But to-night it is different! I was ascending from my study to my own chamber, when me- thought that at the end of a passage I beheld a form—just as you have described it—and in exact dence with the superstitious details of tho Not however that I perceived the coun- tenance of that form: it was merely the figure itself; and it was gliding along noiselesaly as if with shoeless feet—as you yourself have just ex- plained it. I was staggered: methought it was an hallucination: I my hand across my eyes ; and when I looked again, the figure was gone. I proceeded to my chamber, endeavouring to persuade myself that it was more fancy on my part: but the idea haunted me. I repaired to the gardener’s room, to assure myself that it could not have been that man thus roaming stealthily about: I entered—he was sleeping soundly—I retired without awakening him. Then it occurred to me that some evil-intentioned individual might have got into the Chateau. The night being windy and unusually bleak for the season of the year, I enveloped myself in my cloak—secured a brace of pistols about my person—and prepared to issue forth to make the round of the pre- mises. As you are perhaps aware, there is a stair- case at each extremity of the gallery; and doors are at the bottom of those staircases. I descended the stairs of that extremity where I had seen the form: the door at the bottom was locked, as usual, but a general pass-key which I have about me at once opened it. I went forth: I made the circuit of the building: I could distinguish no signs of any burgiarious entry. I returned by a private staircase opening into this chapel, and the door of which is just behind that farther suit of armour. You may conceive my astonishment on beholding your ladyship here.” Zoe had listened with the deepest attention to his narrative,—a narrative which appeared most materially to confirm her own belief that what she had seen was very far from being a delusion. There was a silence of some minutes, during which both herself and M. Volney were buried io pro- if| found thought: but it was at length broken by that gentleman,—who said, “ It is impossible, Lady Octavian, we can blind ourselves to the fact that we have indeed seen something. But it were use- lees to inspire others beneath this roof with any apprebensions. Such I have already ascertained to be your ladyship’s own considerate idea; and therefore I need not suggest that we keep silent on these pointe.” Zoe readily gave M. Volney an assurance to a similar effect; and they separated. But when Lady Octavian once more found herself alone in her own chamber, she experienced a renewal of g superstitious terror, which despite all her efforts she could not cast off. At length, ashamed of her- self, she retired to rest: but when sleep stole upon her eyes, her dreams were haunted by the atealthily gliding form of the murdered Lenoir— by hideous shapes, uncouth and terrible—by suits of armour marching majestically before her mental vision, their plumes waving ominously above their helmete. And then, too, it appeared to her that the organ in the chapel was pouring forth ite full tide of lugubrious aud mournful harmony—swell- ing at length into a terrific volume of sound, which rolled its awful diapason through the entire build- ing. When Zoe awoke, the light of the refulgent sun was streaming in at the windows: the wind had completely gone down: the heavens were clear and beautiful; and the climate of thas Pyrenean region was as screne, as warm, and as genial as Zoe had at first known it, CHAPTER OLIV. THY PRECIPICR. WHEN Ledy Octavian Meredith met M. Volney and Clarine at the breakfast-table, she perceived that the countenance of the former was more pale, more haggard, and more care-worn than she had as yet seen it, and that Clarine’s cheeks had like- wise lost their colour. She herself was pallid COMIC DOG (CO