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Penny Dreadfuls, 1854 · page 328 of 399

Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 328: what you’re looking at

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Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 328: Penny Dreadfuls, 1854

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JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMIORS OF A MAN-S£LRVANT. at the chymist’s: and I at once naturally associ- ciated that incident with Lanover’s trance—this death-like trance from which he was being revived ! Good heavens. I saw it all!—I comprehended every- thing! His alleged death was a fietion: but Oh! to what a state of desperation must the man have been either reduced or elevated—I know not which term to use—in order that he should have con- sented to pass through the hideous ordeal from which he was now awakening! Ah! and never shall I forget how fearful was the groan which slowly came forth from his lips, as life began to struggle successfully over death, and nature asserted her strength against the power of dissolution. It was a groan which methinks I can hear now as I pen this description,—a groan which was deep, hollow, and ghostly, as if coming up from the caverned breast of a corpse itself! But few words were exchanged between the Earl of Eccleston and the surgeon, while the two grave-diggers looked on in speechless astonishment. Doubtless they must have very well known for what purpose their services had been retained : but still they could hardly believe their own eyes at thus beholding the dead as it were brought to life. But that groan—that long, deep, sepulchral groan stole upon me with a sensation of such awful horror that a dimness once more came over my Vislon—my brain once more grew dizzy—and though I moved not, nor fell down senseless, yet was I like a somnambulist who had come to a full stop in the midst of his fearful night-wanderings. And thus for several minutes was I almost com- pletely unconscious of the progress of the wild, the wondrous, and the astounding drama, untii I slowly became aware that Lanover was being borne away from the spot. Yes—the Harl, the surgeon, and one of the grave-diggers were bearing him off amidst them,—his form enveloped in the cloak which the nobleman himself had worn. The other grave-digger continued on the spot, and began rapidly to shovel back the earth. I was utterly bewildered as to what course I should adopt—or more correctly speaking, I had not-the power to deliberate within myself. There was still a sense of appalling consternation in my soul—of over- whelming dismay, paralysing all my faculties. Again have I but an indistinct idea of the interval which followed upon my consciousness of the bearing-away of the resuscitated Lanover. I know not what impulse it was that made me creep stealthily off from the vicinage of the grave: but the next distinct recollection which I have of the incidents of that stupendous night of strangeness and wonder, is that I found myself stealing along by the side of the hedge with tue same caution that I had exercised when first making my way to the scene of that awful drama. Aud then all of a sudden I was startled by the sounds of an equipage dashing rapidly away : and then—Oh! then I knew that it was too late for me to take any step in the matter. : I stole back into the villa: the taper which I had left in the hall was still burning: I entered the dining-room—filled a tumbler with wine—and drank the contents at a draught. I ascended to my bed-chamber: but instead of undressing to retire to rest, I sate down to think. I could scarcely persuade myself that it was all a reality — and not. a fiction, as fantastic as it was horrible, ee eee 315 conjured up by my own imagination. When how- ever I could no longer doubt that it was all a reality, I began bitterly to blame myself for the part I had enacted—or rather for my abstention from enacting any positive part at all. “Oh! if IT had rushed forward and surprised the Earl of Eccleston in the midst of his pro- ceedings—or Lanover at the very moment when he was awakening to consciousness from that terrific trance—I might have enforced such con- fessions and revelations as ib is so important for me tolearn! But no! Fool thatLam! ‘Those who had gone to such lengths would not have hesitated to take my life in order to screen them- selyes!—-and had [I proclaimed my presence, I might now be lying a corpse in that very grave from which Lanover was disinterred!” This idea was so full of horror that it effectually put a stop to my self-vituperations; and I now thanked heaven that my conduct was such as it had proved to be. Lretired to rest; and my mind being exhausted with the powerful vicissitudes of emotion and feeling through which I had passed, I sank off into a profound slumber. To say that when I awoke in the morning, I had again some difficulty in convincing myself that it was not all a dream, would be to declare that which the reader has already supposed. I had not completed my toilet when I heard the sound of a horse’s hoofs approaching down the lane; and [ looked forth from the window, which I had opened for the purpose of letting in the fresh air to fan my feverish temples. The Count of Livorno entered the grounds: for he was the horseman whose advance I had thus heard. Before retiring from the window, I looked across into the ceme- tery:—I could scarcely believe that the spot on which the sun was now shining gloriously, could ‘but a few hours back have proved the scene of thas astounding drama which haunted my imagination like a horrible fantastic vision. I hastened down stairs; and on joining the Count, I instantaneously perceived that he was dismayed by my appearance. And no wonder ! -——for my mirror had told me that I was as pale, haggard, and careworn, as if only just recovering from a long and severe illness. “Good heavens, my dear Wilmot! what is the matter with you?’ asked the Count of Livorno. ** First of all tell me,” I said, “ what has brought you hither so early P” “The object of my visit is soon explained,” responded the Count. “Last night the Earl of Hecleston took his departure in his own travelling- chariot; and at an early hour this morning the Countess of Eccleston went away in a post-chaise. There seems to be something singular in such arrangements on their part: but nevertheless, the Earl is gone—he has left Floreice—of that you may be certain.” “Yes,” I said: and I felt that I had a strange bewildered air—perhaps too with a wild vacancy in my gaze,—“and I can account for all that seems singular in those arrangements. Tue Karl has gone—aud Lanover has gone with him!” The Count of Livorno started, and gazed upon me as if he feared that I had become mad. “T can assure you, my dear Count,” I said, “that I have not lost my senses—although it is natural enough for you to fancy that I have. OOO) S (CO)