The Chain of Destiny by Bram Stoker (read full novel TXT) 📖

lovable in a real face that no art

can represent.

 

When we had been talking for a while in the usual conventional

style, Mrs. Trevor said, “Di, my love, I want to tell you of a

discovery Frank and I have made. You must know that I always call

Mr. Stanford, Frank—he is more like my own son than my friend, and

that I am very fond of him.”

 

She then put her arms round Miss Fothering’s waist, as they sat

on the sofa together, and kissed her, and then, turning towards

me, said, “I don’t approve of kissing girls in the presence of

gentlemen, but you know that Frank is not supposed to be here.

This is my sanctum, and who invades it must take the consequences.

But I must tell you about the discovery.”

 

She then proceeded to tell the legend, and about her finding

the name of Margaret Kirk on the back of the picture.

 

Miss Fothering laughed gleefully as she heard the story, and

then said, suddenly,

 

“Oh, I had forgotten to tell you, dear Mrs. Trevor, that I

had such a fright the other day. I thought I was going to be

prevented coming here. Aunt Deborah came to us last week for a

few days, and when she heard that I was about to go on a visit

to Scarp she seemed quite frightened, and went straight off to

papa and asked him to forbid me to go. Papa asked her why she

made the request, so she told a long family legend about any

of us coming to Scarp—just the same story that you have been

telling me. She said she was sure that some misfortune would

happen if I came; so you see that the tradition exists in our

branch of the family too. Oh, you can’t fancy the scene there

was between papa and Aunt Deborah. I must laugh whenever I

think of it, although I did not laugh then, for I was greatly

afraid that aunty would prevent me coming. Papa got very grave,

and aunty thought she had carried her point when he said, in

his dear, old, pompous manner,

 

“‘Deborah, Diana has promised to pay Mrs. Trevor, of Scarp, a

visit, and, of course, must keep her engagement. And if it were

for no other reason than the one you have just alleged, I would

strain a point of convenience to have her go to Scarp. I have

always educated my children in such a manner that they ought not

to be influenced by such vain superstitions; and with my will

their practice shall never be at variance with the precepts which

I have instilled into them.’

 

“Poor aunty was quite overcome. She seemed almost speechless

for a time at the thought that her wishes had been neglected, for

you know that Aunt Deborah’s wishes are commands to all our

family.”

 

Mrs. Trevor said—

 

“I hope Mrs. Howard was not offended?”

 

“Oh, no. Papa talked to her seriously, and at length—with a great

deal of difficulty I must say—succeeded in convincing her that her

fears were groundless—at least, he forced her to confess that such

things as she was afraid of could not be.”

 

I thought of the couplet—

 

“A man convinced against his will

 

Is of the same opinion still,”

 

but said nothing.

 

Miss Fothering finished her story by saying—

 

“Aunty ended by hoping that I might enjoy myself, which I am

sure, my dear Mrs. Trevor, that I will do.”

 

“I hope you will, my love.”

 

I had been struck during the above conversation by the mention

of Mrs. Howard. I was trying to think of where I had heard the name,

Deborah Howard, when suddenly it all came back to me. Mrs. Howard

had been Miss Fothering, and was an old friend of my mother’s. It

was thus that I had been accustomed to her name when I was a child.

I remembered now that once she had brought a nice little girl,

almost a baby, with her to visit. The child was her niece, and it

was thus that I now accounted for my half-recollection of the name

and the circumstance on the first night of my arrival at Scarp. The

thought of my dream here recalled me to Mrs. Trevor’s object in

bringing Miss Fothering to her boudoir, so I said to the latter—

 

“Do you believe these legends?”

 

“Indeed I do not, Mr. Stanford; I do not believe in anything

half so silly.”

 

“Then you do not believe in ghosts or visions?”

 

“Most certainly not.”

 

How could I tell my dream to a girl who had such profound

disbelief? And yet I felt something whispering to me that I ought

to tell it to her. It was, no doubt, foolish of me to have this

fear of a dream, but I could not help it. I was just going to risk

being laughed at, and unburden my mind, when Mrs. Trevor started

up, after looking at her watch, saying—

 

“Dear me, I never thought it was so late. I must go and see if

any others have come. It will not do for me to neglect my guests.”

 

We all left the boudoir, and as we did so the gong sounded for

dressing for dinner, and so we each sought our rooms.

 

When I came down to the drawingroom I found assembled a number

of persons who had arrived during the course of the afternoon. I

was introduced to them all, and chatted with them till dinner was

announced. I was given Miss Fothering to take into dinner, and when

it was over I found that we had improved our acquaintance very much.

She was a delightful girl, and as I looked at her I thought with a

glow of pleasure of Mrs. Trevor’s prediction. Occasionally I saw

our hostess observing us, and as she saw us chatting pleasantly

together as though we enjoyed it a more than happy look came into

her face. It was one of her most fascinating points that in the

midst of gaiety, while she never neglected anyone, she specially

remembered her particular friends. No matter what position she

might be placed in she would still remember that there were some

persons who would treasure up her recognition at such moments.

 

After dinner, as I did not feel inclined to enter the drawingroom

with the other gentlemen, I strolled out into the garden by myself,

and thought over things in general, and Miss Fothering in particular.

The subject was such a pleasant one that I quite lost myself in it,

and strayed off farther than I had intended. Suddenly I remembered

myself and looked around. I was far away from the house, and in the

midst of a dark, gloomy walk between old yew trees. I could not see

through them on either side on account of their thickness, and as

the walk was curved I could see but a short distance either before

or behind me. I looked up and saw a yellowish, luminous sky with

heavy clouds passing sluggishly across it. The moon had not yet

risen, and the general gloom reminded me forcibly of some of the

weird pictures which William Blake so loved to paint. There was a

sort of vague melancholy and ghostliness in the place that made me

shiver, and I hurried on.

 

At length the walk opened and I came out on a large sloping

lawn, dotted here and there with yew trees and tufts of pampass

grass of immense height, whose stalks were crowned with large

flowers. To the right lay the house, grim and gigantic in the

gloom, and to the left the lake which stretched away so far that

it was lost in the evening shadow. The lawn sloped from the

terrace round the house down to the water’s edge, and was only

broken by the walk which continued to run on round the house in

a wide sweep.

 

As I came near the house a light appeared in one of the windows

which lay before me, and as I looked into the room I saw that it

was the chamber of my dream.

 

Unconsciously I approached nearer and ascended the terrace

from the top of which I could see across the deep trench which

surrounded the house, and looked earnestly into the room. I

shivered as I looked. My spirits had been damped by the gloom

and desolation of the yew walk, and now the dream and all the

subsequent revelations came before my mind with such vividness

that the horror of the thing again seized me, but more forcibly

than before. I looked at the sleeping arrangements, and groaned

as I saw that the bed where the dying woman had seemed to lie

was alone prepared, while the other bed, that in which I had

slept, had its curtains drawn all round. This was but another

link in the chain of doom. Whilst I stood looking, the servant

who was in the room came and pulled down one of the blinds, but,

as she was about to do the same with the other, Miss Fothering

entered the room, and, seeing what she was about, evidently gave

her contrary directions, for she let go the window string, and

then went and pulled up again the blind which she had let down.

Having done so she followed her mistress out of the room. So

wrapped up was I in all that took place with reference to that

chamber, that it never even struck me that I was guilty of any

impropriety in watching what took place.

 

I stayed there for some little time longer purposeless and

terrified. The horror grew so great to me as I thought of the

events of the last few days, that I determined to tell Miss

Fothering of my dream, in order that she might not be frightened

in case she should see anything like it, or at least that she

might be prepared for anything that might happen. As soon as I

had come to this determination the inevitable question “when?”

presented itself. The means of making the communication was a

subject most disagreeable to contemplate, but as I had made up

my mind to do it, I thought that there was no time like the

present. Accordingly I was determined to seek the drawingroom,

where I knew I should find Miss Fothering and Mrs. Trevor,

for, of course, I had determined to take the latter into our

confidence. As I was really afraid to go through the awful

yew walk again, I completed the half circle of the house and

entered the backdoor, from which I easily found my way to the

drawingroom.

 

When I entered Mrs. Trevor, who was sitting near the door,

said to me, “Good gracious, Frank, where have you been to make

you look so pale? One would think you had seen a ghost!”

 

I answered that I had been strolling in the garden, but made

no other remark, as I did not wish to say anything about my dream

before the persons to whom she was talking, as they were strangers

to me. I waited for some time for an opportunity of speaking to

her alone, but her duties, as hostess, kept her so constantly

occupied that I waited in vain. Accordingly I determined to tell

Miss Fothering at all events, at once, and then to tell Mrs.

Trevor as soon as an opportunity for doing so presented itself.

 

With a good deal of difficulty—for I did not wish to do

anything marked—I succeeded in getting Miss Fothering away from

the persons by whom she was surrounded, and took her to one of

the embrasures, under the pretence of looking out