Ivan the Terrible; or, Dark Deeds of Night — page 76: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

72 By a powerful effort, straining every nerve, he accomplished his urpose. ' E The massive cover slowly revolved upon its hinges. A giant’s struggle, another, and the chest is entirely open. Within Tony Foster secreted his papers, and with difficulty closed again the lid. He had closed it upon them for ever, for the chest was fastened by secret machinery, and a mysterious spring existed, of which, till then, he had no knowledge. He uttered a curse as he made the fatal discovery. In madness of rage he tried to force the coffer open. His expression was terrible when he found he was defeated. For a moment he fancied it yielded to his lusty sinews. That moment was one of triumph and joy. Again he fails. His hands slip from the surface of the metal. as Once more, and for the last time, he exerts all his remaining strength. aan He essays to elevate the lid, but it is more firmly fixed than ever. An oath of bitter disappointment. And all is darkness, despondence, despair. Footsteps drew near the grim entrance of the vault. They were upon the steps that led to the sepulchre. Tony stepped forward to meet, as he supposed, Lady Edgeworth, but started back in dismay and amazement as he beheld another in her stead. As the figure approached he was struck by its singular and ghasiful expression. ar Sorrow, not anger, was depicted in its looks. Tony was not mistaken, as in wonder, he exclaimed, ‘*Malediction! the grave gives up the dead! ’Tis the victim that was for twenty years entombed in this very vault.” The phantom glided past him casting a glance of silent reproach, while a second issued forth, and thus addressed him, ‘‘ Bloodspillers and murderers are we ; but the measure of our guilt is now filled up, and we must pay the penalty by subtle, con- suming and everlasting torment. I come to warn you—you will shortly follow me.”’ With these words the gory shade of Lady Edgeworth then vanished from the sight of Tony Foster. He watched her departure in dumb wonder. He started at its suddenness. And fixed his eyes upon the vacancy. He who knew not fear at that moment trembled. He who had never prayed before now fell on his kness to.ask for mercy. Will it be accorded to him who has denied it to others ? Let no man seek to learn, inscrutable are the edicts of the deity. Toney next gazed with awe at the spectre that now appeared before him; he recognised the well-known features of one whom he had before encountered. His face was cadaverous. His form as a skeleton, meagre, grim, and bony. His eyes were sunken in their sockets, encircled by a lambent flame. “Can it be?” *¢ Manetho !”’ A deep groan from his murderer betrayed how much he was under the influence of mortal terror. ‘‘ What seeks Tony Foster in the dungeon of his victim?” cried the spirit, in accents at once ghost-like and unearthly. With a changeless aspect, he continued, ‘“T know thy purpose!” By a superhuman effort, Tony replied, ‘‘ If you know it, wherefore make of me the demand in the first instance ?”’ ‘¢ The curse of blood is upon thy fell soul! * Of what?” “The arm of the avenger.” ‘© T heed it not, nor do I your hellish threats !” «6 You will die!” *¢ Ag I have lived, a fearless man.” ‘* Where are those papers which you but now concealed ?” ** Safely secured.” “© Where ?”” ‘* Where? Where none can find them !” ‘Then Adah Latimer ?” ** Is consigned to a gibbet.” ‘€ And her son ?”’ ‘€ Becomes a beggar, perhaps worse, a pauper.” ** Are you still implacable ?”’ *¢To the death!” *‘ Then merit the doom that awaits thee!” With these words the shadow of Manetho seemed as if it were to dissolve into air. oe t> deren Ef Beware !”’ | THE GHOST’S HOUSE IN THE LONELY ROAD. | become gin L MESO Tony, again awe-stricken, uttered not a cry. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth for very fear. The dungeon door closed with a hideous and fearful clang. The key was in the lock. The lock on the outside. The dread fact flashed as the electric shock to his guilty bosom. He was fixed and immovable as the chiselled statue! The appalling truth was revealed to him. He was a prisoner in the vault of death, and there was no escape for the tenant of the charnel-house. His heart beat, his senses wandered, and brain burnt as he con- templated his impending doom. Death by hunger. Death by thirst. | Death in darkness. , | Anon he paced the room in deep distraction ; he stamped upon the ; stones, which only echoed back his useless efforts to remove them, while the deor (massive and plated) yielded not to the blows that were imposed to burst it open. He bewailed his fate, first with the wild emotion of rage, then with frightful apprehension, fear, and terror. Once wore his breast throbs ; a footstep approaches. Loudly laughs Tony Foster. He bent and placed his ear to the key. He breathes not. Is he deceived ? es. The sound is no longer heard, and a death shriek would have been — music to his soul. To night succeeded day, to that the night again. A fourth and fifth arrived, and with it neither food, drink or succour. The sand of Time’s hour-glass plays on. Soon it must cease to run. All hope for deliverance is gone. The grinding pangs and horrors of famine assail the death im- prisoned wretch. He calls for water. Water, where no water flows ! His bruised body in agony is dashed against his dungeon walls! His tortures end not, but accumulate ! r Providence, all bounteous, is also benignly merciful. Death comes in the guise of friendship when mental torture racks the soul. ; BODY, Foster bends to the power which spins life or determines eath. His emaciated and wasted frame became a stark, stiff and rigid corpse ! . ane building is razed, his body is discovered, and upon the reast—— What? A musty roll of parchment and paper! They contain the claims of Frederick Edgeworth legitimately attested. He has ever worn them as one unentitled. ; This document concedes them to him as his just inheritance ! Here is another paper! Its purport. The atonement of a great wrong. Adah Latimer is freed from the stain of blood which sullied her — fair fame, and innocent, good, and virtuous comes once more to her own. She henceforth bears the title of which she has been so long de- priya and Adah is now the noble lady of the estates of the Edge- worths. * * % * = * & The wayfarer who may chance to wander through the purlieus of Rotherhithe will find the Jamaica Level now very different to what it was twenty years ago. In the place of neglected orchard and marshy meadow land will be found thriving gardens and well- drained pestureee: its rural aspect has given way to what Mr. Cunningham calls the ‘demon of building,” its rustic inns have puaee of the ‘slap, bang!” order, and modern, cosy suburban villas alone mark out the site where once stood the no and notorious ‘* Ghost’s House.” NOTICE TO OUR READERS. In our next Number will be commenced a New Tale of most absorb- ing interest, entitled, The BUZZARD’S FEAST; or, the SECRET MURDER. Written by a Colonel of the American Army, founded on an obs incident in the War of Indenenu t nn COMIGIOOKS, COM Tob iso