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<h2> CHAPTER V. HOW FOUR OF US CAME TO BE UNDER THE SHADOW OF CLOOMBER </h2>
<p>I trust that my readers will not set me down as an inquisitive busybody
when I say that as the days and weeks went by I found my attention and my
thoughts more and more attracted to General Heatherstone and the mystery
which surrounded him.</p>
<p>It was in vain that I endeavoured by hard work and a strict attention to
the laird's affairs to direct my mind into some more healthy channel. Do
what I would, on land or on the water, I would still find myself puzzling
over this one question, until it obtained such a hold upon me that I felt
it was useless for me to attempt to apply myself to anything until I had
come to some satisfactory solution of it.</p>
<p>I could never pass the dark line of five-foot fencing, and the great iron
gate, with its massive lock, without pausing and racking my brain as to
what the secret might be which was shut in by that inscrutable barrier.
Yet, with all my conjectures and all my observations, I could never come
to any conclusion which could for a moment be accepted as an explanation
of the facts.</p>
<p>My sister had been out for a stroll one night, visiting a sick peasant or
performing some other of the numerous acts of charity by which she had
made herself beloved by the whole countryside.</p>
<p>"John," she said when she returned, "have you seen Cloomber Hall at
night?"</p>
<p>"No," I answered, laying down the book which I was reading. "Not since
that memorable evening when the general and Mr. McNeil came over to make
an inspection."</p>
<p>"Well, John, will you put your hat on and come a little walk with me?"</p>
<p>I could see by her manner that something had agitated or frightened her.</p>
<p>"Why, bless the girl!" cried I boisterously, "what is the matter? The old
Hall is not on fire, surely? You look as grave as if all Wigtown were in a
blaze."</p>
<p>"Not quite so bad as that," she said, smiling. "But do come out, Jack. I
should very much like you to see it."</p>
<p>I had always refrained from saying anything which might alarm my sister,
so that she knew nothing of the interest which our neighbours' doings had
for me. At her request I took my hat and followed her out into the
darkness. She led the way along a little footpath over the moor, which
brought us to some rising ground, from which we could look down upon the
Hall without our view being obstructed by any of the fir-trees which had
been planted round it.</p>
<p>"Look at that!" said my sister, pausing at the summit of this little
eminence.</p>
<p>Cloomber lay beneath us in a blaze of light. In the lower floors the
shutters obscured the illumination, but above, from the broad windows of
the second storey to the thin slits at the summit of the tower, there was
not a chink or an aperture which did not send forth a stream of radiance.
So dazzling was the effect that for a moment I was persuaded that the
house was on fire, but the steadiness and clearness of the light soon
freed me from that apprehension. It was clearly the result of many lamps
placed systematically all over the building.</p>
<p>It added to the strange effect that all these brilliantly illuminated
rooms were apparently untenanted, and some of them, so far as we could
judge, were not even furnished. Through the whole great house there was no
sign of movement or of life—nothing but the clear, unwinking flood
of yellow light.</p>
<p>I was still lost in wonder at the sight when I heard a short, quick sob at
my side.</p>
<p>"What is it, Esther, dear?" I asked, looking down at my companion.</p>
<p>"I feel so frightened. Oh, John, John, take me home, I feel so
frightened!"</p>
<p>She clung to my arm, and pulled at my coat in a perfect frenzy of fear.</p>
<p>"It's all safe, darling," I said soothingly. "There is nothing to fear.
What has upset you so?"</p>
<p>"I am afraid of them, John; I am afraid of the Heatherstones. Why is their
house lit up like this every night? I have heard from others that it is
always so. And why does the old man run like a frightened hare if any one
comes upon him. There is something wrong about it, John, and it frightens
me."</p>
<p>I pacified her as well as I could, and led her home with me, where I took
care that she should have some hot port negus before going to bed. I
avoided the subject of the Heatherstones for fear of exciting her, and she
did not recur to it of her own accord. I was convinced, however, from what
I had heard from her, that she had for some time back been making her own
observations upon our neighbours, and that in doing so she had put a
considerable strain upon her nerves.</p>
<p>I could see that the mere fact of the Hall being illuminated at night was
not enough to account for her extreme agitation, and that it must have
derived its importance in her eyes from being one in a chain of incidents,
all of which had left a weird or unpleasant impression upon her mind.</p>
<p>That was the conclusion which I came to at the time, and I have reason to
know now that I was right, and that my sister had even more cause than I
had myself for believing that there was something uncanny about the
tenants of Cloomber.</p>
<p>Our interest in the matter may have arisen at first from nothing higher
than curiosity, but events soon look a turn which associated us more
closely with the fortunes of the Heatherstone family.</p>
<p>Mordaunt had taken advantage of my invitation to come down to the laird's
house, and on several occasions he brought with him his beautiful sister.
The four of us would wander over the moors together, or perhaps if the day
were fine set sail upon our little skiff and stand off into the Irish Sea.</p>
<p>On such excursions the brother and sister would be as merry and as happy
as two children. It was a keen pleasure to them to escape from their dull
fortress, and to see, if only for a few hours, friendly and sympathetic
faces round them.</p>
<p>There could be but one result when four young people were brought together
in sweet, forbidden intercourse. Acquaintance-ship warmed into friendship,
and friendship flamed suddenly into love.</p>
<p>Gabriel sits beside me now as I write, and she agrees with me that, dear
as is the subject to ourselves, the whole story of our mutual affection is
of too personal a nature to be more than touched upon in this statement.
Suffice it to say that, within a few weeks of our first meeting Mordaunt
Heatherstone had won the heart of my dear sister, and Gabriel had given me
that pledge which death itself will not be able to break.</p>
<p>I have alluded in this brief way to the double tie which sprang up between
the two families, because I have no wish that this narrative should
degenerate into anything approaching to romance, or that I should lose the
thread of the facts which I have set myself to chronicle. These are
connected with General Heatherstone, and only indirectly with my own
personal history.</p>
<p>It is enough if I say that after our engagement the visits to Branksome
became more frequent, and that our friends were able sometimes to spend a
whole day with us when business had called the general to Wigtown, or when
his gout confined him to his room.</p>
<p>As to our good father, he was ever ready to greet us with many small jests
and tags of Oriental poems appropriate to the occasion, for we had no
secrets from him, and he already looked upon us all as his children.</p>
<p>There were times when on account of some peculiarly dark or restless fit
of the general's it was impossible for weeks on end for either Gabriel or
Mordaunt to get away from the grounds. The old man would even stand on
guard, a gloomy and silent sentinel, at the avenue gate, or pace up and
down the drive as though he suspected that attempts had been made to
penetrate his seclusion.</p>
<p>Passing of an evening I have seen his dark, grim figure flitting about in
the shadow of the trees, or caught a glimpse of his hard, angular, swarthy
face peering out suspiciously at me from behind the bars.</p>
<p>My heart would often sadden for him as I noticed his uncouth, nervous
movements, his furtive glances and twitching features. Who would have
believed that this slinking, cowering creature had once been a dashing
officer, who had fought the battles of his country and had won the palm of
bravery among the host of brave men around him?</p>
<p>In spite of the old soldier's vigilance, we managed to hold communication
with our friends.</p>
<p>Immediately behind the Hall there was a spot where the fencing had been so
carelessly erected that two of the rails could be removed without
difficulty, leaving a broad gap, which gave us the opportunity for many a
stolen interview, though they were necessarily short, for the general's
movements were erratic, and no part of the grounds was secure from his
visitations.</p>
<p>How vividly one of these hurried meetings rises before me! It stands out
clear, peaceful, and distinct amid the wild, mysterious incidents which
were destined to lead up to the terrible catastrophe which has cast a
shade over our lives.</p>
<p>I can remember that as I walked through the fields the grass was damp with
the rain of the morning, and the air was heavy with the smell of the
fresh-turned earth. Gabriel was waiting for me under the hawthorn tree
outside the gap, and we stood hand-in-hand looking down at the long sweep
of moorland and at the broad blue channel which encircled it with its
fringe of foam.</p>
<p>Far away in the north-west the sun glinted upon the high peak of Mount
Throston. From where we stood we could see the smoke of the steamers as
they ploughed along the busy water-way which leads to Belfast.</p>
<p>"Is it not magnificent?" Gabriel cried, clasping her hands round my arm.
"Ah, John, why are we not free to sail away over these waves together, and
leave all our troubles behind us on the shore?"</p>
<p>"And what are the troubles which you would leave behind you, dear one?" I
asked. "May I not know them, and help you to bear them?"</p>
<p>"I have no secrets from you, John," she answered, "Our chief trouble is,
as you may guess, our poor father's strange behaviour. Is it not a sad
thing for all of us that a man who has played such a distinguished part in
the world should skulk from one obscure corner of the country to another,
and should defend himself with locks and barriers as though he were a
common thief flying from justice? This is a trouble, John, which it is out
of your power to alleviate."</p>
<p>"But why does he do it, Gabriel?" I asked.</p>
<p>"I cannot tell," she answered frankly. "I only know that he imagines some
deadly danger to be hanging over his head, and that this danger was
incurred by him during his stay in India. What its nature may be I have no
more idea than you have."</p>
<p>"Then your brother has," I remarked. "I am sure from the way in which he
spoke to me about it one day that he knows what it is, and that he looks
upon it as real."</p>
<p>"Yes, he knows, and so does my mother," she answered, "but they have
always kept it secret from me. My poor father is very excited at present.
Day and night he is in an agony of apprehension, but it will soon be the
fifth of October, and after that he will be at peace."</p>
<p>"How do you know that?" I asked in surprise.</p>
<p>"By experience," she answered gravely. "On the fifth of October these
fears of his come to a crisis. For years back he has been in the habit of
locking Mordaunt and myself up in our rooms on that date, so that we have
no idea what occurs, but we have always found that he has been much
relieved afterwards, and has continued to be comparatively in peace until
that day begins to draw round again."</p>
<p>"Then you have only ten days or so to wait," I remarked, for September was
drawing to a close. "By the way, dearest, why is it that you light up all
your rooms at night?"</p>
<p>"You have noticed it, then?" she said. "It comes also from my father's
fears. He does not like to have one dark corner in the whole house. He
walks about a good deal at night, and inspects everything, from the attics
right down to the cellars. He has large lamps in every room and corridor,
even the empty ones, and he orders the servants to light them all at
dusk."</p>
<p>"I am rather surprised that you manage to keep your servants," I said,
laughing. "The maids in these parts are a superstitious class, and their
imaginations are easily excited by anything which they don't understand."</p>
<p>"The cook and both housemaids are from London, and are used to our ways.
We pay them on a very high scale to make up for any inconvenience to which
they may be put. Israel Stakes, the coachman, is the only one who comes
from this part of the country, and he seems to be a stolid, honest fellow,
who is not easily scared."</p>
<p>"Poor little girl," I exclaimed, looking down at the slim, graceful figure
by my side. "This is no atmosphere for you to live in. Why will you not
let me rescue you from it? Why won't you allow me to go straight and ask
the general for your hand? At the worst he could only refuse."</p>
<p>She turned quite haggard and pale at the very thought.</p>
<p>"For Heaven's sake, John," she cried earnestly, "do nothing of the kind.
He would whip us all away in the dead of the night, and within a week we
should be settling down again in some wilderness where we might never have
a chance of seeing or hearing from you again. Besides, he never would
forgive us for venturing out of the grounds."</p>
<p>"I don't think that he is a hard-hearted man," I remarked. "I have seen a
kindly look in his eyes, for all his stern face."</p>
<p>"He can be the kindest of fathers," she answered. "But he is terrible when
opposed or thwarted. You have never seen him so, and I trust you never
will. It was that strength of will and impatience of opposition which made
him such a splendid officer. I assure you that in India every one thought
a great deal of him. The soldiers were afraid of him, but they would have
followed him anywhere."</p>
<p>"And had he these nervous attacks then?"</p>
<p>"Occasionally, but not nearly so acutely. He seems to think that the
danger—whatever it may be—becomes more imminent every year.
Oh, John, it is terrible to be waiting like this with a sword over our
heads—and all the more terrible to me since I have no idea where the
blow is to come from."</p>
<p>"Dear Gabriel," I said, taking her hand and drawing her to my side, "look
over all this pleasant countryside and the broad blue sea. Is it not all
peaceful and beautiful? In these cottages, with their red-tiled roofs
peeping out from the grey moor, there live none but simple, God-fearing
men, who toil hard at their crafts and bear enmity to no man. Within seven
miles of us is a large town, with every civilised appliance for the
preservation of order. Ten miles farther there is a garrison quartered,
and a telegram would at any time bring down a company of soldiers. Now, I
ask you, dear, in the name of common-sense, what conceivable danger could
threaten you in this secluded neighbourhood, with the means of help so
near? You assure me that the peril is not connected with your father's
health?"</p>
<p>"No, I am sure of that. It is true that Dr. Easterling, of Stranraer. has
been over to see him once or twice, but that was merely for some small
indisposition. I can assure you that the danger is not to be looked for in
that direction."</p>
<p>"Then I can assure you," said I, laughing, "that there is no danger at
all. It must be some strange monomania or hallucination. No other
hypothesis will cover the facts."</p>
<p>"Would my father's monomania account for the fact of my brother's hair
turning grey and my mother wasting away to a mere shadow?"</p>
<p>"Undoubtedly," I answered, "The long continued worry of the general's
restlessness and irritability would produce those effects on sensitive
natures."</p>
<p>"No, no!" said she, shaking her head sadly, "I have been exposed to his
restlessness and irritability, but they have had no such effect upon me.
The difference between us lies in the fact that they know this awful
secret and I do not."</p>
<p>"My dear girl," said I, "the days of family apparitions and that kind of
thing are gone. Nobody is haunted nowadays, so we can put that supposition
out of the question. Having done so, what remains? There is absolutely no
other theory which could even be suggested. Believe me, the whole mystery
is that the heat of India has been too much for your poor father's brain."</p>
<p>What she would have answered I cannot tell, for at that moment she gave a
start as if some sound had fallen upon her ear. As she looked round
apprehensively, I suddenly saw her features become rigid and her eyes
fixed and dilated.</p>
<p>Following the direction of her gaze, I felt a sudden thrill of fear pass
through me as I perceived a human face surveying us from behind one of the
trees—a man's face, every feature of which was distorted by the most
malignant hatred and anger. Finding himself observed, he stepped out and
advanced towards us, when I saw that it was none other than the general
himself. His beard was all a-bristle with fury, and his deepset eyes
glowed from under their heavily veined lids with a most sinister and
demoniacal brightness.</p>
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