Puck — March 1877 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

PUCK. 13 MY MAD TENANT. AM rather of an eccentric turn of mind— fat least, so all my friends say, and perhaps they are correct. When I say I am ec- centric, I do not mean that I dress in peculiarly | cut clothes, let my hair fall on my shoulders in matted locks, or show an aversion for soap and water. On the contrary, I don’t think you will find a more tidy old. bachelor in dress and per- son than myself anywhere. My eccentrity is shown in an inordinate love of the mysterious. As a boy! ruined my eyesight by reading ter- rible tragedies, horrible histories, hideous hom- icides, and strange stories. ‘These I would re- peat to my nurse, Janet Gruesome, a plain and simple—I might say very plain and simple— country girl, holding her by my bedside of a night, shivering with cold and te:ror as she listened. Life was full of misfortune for me until I was turned forty, when a mystericus uncle of mine, who had left home whilst I was still a baby, died in Australia, and left me the sole heir to his vast wealth. I instantly settled with my creditors, and taking my “nurse” and my romances, started for the country, determined to wander about and seek for the marvelous. One day I came across a vast gloomy man- sion. that exactly suited my fancy. weird and ghostly building, with whispering voices in its ivy-clad walls, doors that opened directly they were shut, and shut directly they were opened. Long corridors lighted by nar- row windows led into recesses, so that on moon- light night the shadows of the tall trees outside took spectral shapes, aiid seemed pointing with bony fingers to spots where deeds of violence had been done; whilst the withered branches tapped eagerly against the window-panes, as if they were houseless ghosts wishing to take up their abode in this mysterious mansion. I was delighted, and determined to take it at once. | ‘The agent was soon found, and the terms agreed upon; but there was one clause in the lease which I did not like: it was even too myster- ious to please me, By it the superior landlord, Mr. ‘Thomas Balcombe, held all rights over one room on the first floor, a small chamber, the shutters and door of which were closed and securely fastened. I inquired the reason of this, but the agent could give me no positive information. He believed the room contained the family papers and portraits, and that Mr. Balcombe had locked them up there for security. “But,” said I, “it is so mysterious to have a sort of Bluebeard chamber in your house.” “TI quite agree with you, sir,” replied the agent; “and told Mr. Balcombe so; but he is a strange man, and will have his own way. It's nearly twenty years now since that room was locked up. At first it made a great noise i the village, and strange stories were circulated but that soon died out, and except telling t! stories at a Christmas time, or when a strapfer asks for them, they are never heard. Some- times people come for a picnic in the wood yonder, and go to see the ‘haunted house,’ as they call it, but I never let them in. / never heard it was really haunted.” We agreed eventually as to terms, and in a couple of weeks I arrived from town, bring- ing with me Janet Gruesome, two maid-servants, | and some fine old plate and jewelry my uncle had left me. It was a dreary night when I arrived at the “Yews,” as my new abode was called. But I was happy enough. A cheery fire was lighted in the oak-paneled room, and whilst the servants prepared my supper, I unpacked the plate, and arranged it on the sideboard to make the place look brighter.. When I had done this and fin- ished my supper, I drew an arm-chair to the fire, mixed, myself a stiff glass of somethin warm, lit my meerschaum-pipe, and commenc It was a | reading one of my most favorite tales of terror and imagination. I had just reached the most thrilling situation, when the parlor-door was | thrown violently open, and Janet Gruesome tushed into the room. “ Master!" she whispered, in trembling tones, “the secret room is open, and it’s coming out.” “It’s coming out?” I cried. “What is com- ing out?” “The ghost, master! it’s coming downstairs | a-following ofme.” | “Then shut the door, you idiot !” I exclaim- to see a ghost in all my life, ‘And bolt it!” | She turned to obey my orders, but was too late, for at that very moment a venerable white-haired old gentleman, clad in a velvet dressing-gown and scarlet slippers, entered the room. | “I beg your pardon,” he said, rather nerv- ously. “I hope I do not disturb you. I was not aware you haunted to-night. I believe you are fresh ghosts, “are you ghosts in embryo?” ir!” I exclaimed, ‘you must know that this house is mine.” | “Indeed !” said the creature, sitting down in | my arm-chair and drinking my grog; “has | my cousin Tom let it to you, or are you a Bal- combe?” “Tam not a Balcombe,” I cried impatiently, | for I knew now he could. not be a ghost— spectres don’t drink spints; ‘still, this house | is mine: from the chimneypots to the cellars, all. Z “But one room,” interrupted my mysterious | guest; ‘that Tom could not—would not—let. | You would not have been happy had he done | so. I keep the ghosts in there. Sometimes one or two escape, and then I come out to hunt for them. I thought you were ghosts— stray ones, you know—at first. I'll take a little more brandy and water. That room is cold, | and ghosts are dull fellows at best; they are | never lively. Come, my dear sir, sit down and | be cheerful.” Man or ghost, the creature evidently knew the art of making himself at home. He mixed | some more brandy and water, then took up my | pipe, lit it, and commenced smoking. “ Janet !” I whispered, “he is not a ghost: he is a madman.” “Madman!” cried the thing, looking up sud- | denly, for his ears were evidently as sharp as | his eyes. “Madman! why, that is what Cousin | ‘Tom used to call me, but he was wrong. I to strangle him; but then the change came, and I was light, ethereal—a spirit. Tom saw this, and knowing that I talked to the ghosts of our ancestors, gave me a room to collect them That’s te room. Get us some more glasses,” he continued, turning to Janet, ‘more glasses and pipes: we will be merry.” “He is mad,” I whispered. “Do as ne bids you; we must humor him. But make haste back, Janet.”” “Come! that looks well,” he cried, when we | all had some hot grog and I was smoking. name?”” “Judberry, sir,” I replied sternly, “Jud- aay «judberry, Judberry?” he muttered, absently; —‘don’t know the name. Perhaps he is a butler.” “No, sir,” I exclaimed, swelling with in- dignation, ‘I am not a butler. ‘This house is | mine, sir; the brandy you are drinking is mine, | sir, and the pipe you are smoking is mine, sir.” “All of them very nice, too, Mr. Judberry, | lam sure,” he answered, calmly puffing out his | | smoke and closing his. bright eyes in luxurious | enjoyment; ‘very nice indeed. So you are ed, for to tell the truth I never felt less inclined | or’—here he lowered his | was mad when I had fierce passions and tried | | “Your health, Mr. —— I beg pardon, what | Judberry? I am Briareus Balcombe. You know me, of course?” “I can’t say I do, sir. To tell you the truth, I never saw or heard of you until now—and,” I added to myself, “I never wish to again.” “Never heard of me?” he cried in astonish- ment. Then lowering his voice to a sweet melancholy, he added, “then I will tell you my history. Be silent; stir not, but listen to the history of Briareus, the poet of the Bal- combes; the betrayed lover—he of the broken heart Iwas in my glory—I was about ‘to hear the mystery of the Bluebeard chamber. “When I was but a youth,” commenced Briareus, “my uncle, who then owned this mansion, returned from Ituly, bringing with him a lovely girl, How can I describe her beauty? It is impossible! It was the beauty of a dark, wild night, wherein the placid moon and gentle stars are shining, yet the sighing of the wind proclaims the coming storm. So shone -her glorious face, calm and pure, yet ever and anon the flashes from those wondrous orbs, her eyes, told of the fire within her soul. I loved her. ‘Time passed on, and at last she owned that she returned my passion, but made me keep our love secret, as she dreaded my uncle's wrath. Just at this time my cousin Tom: procured me a lucrative berth in India, and with a light heart I started for that land of fortunes, for I believed I should soon amass riches and be able to return to claim Elvina. “On my arrival in India I learned that my uncle had died, and that. Tom had come into his estates. ‘My uncle dead, one obstacle to my marriage is removed,’ I cried; and I worked on with renewed vigor. But, alas! I was struck down by*a sun-stroke, fever followed, and I was ordered home. e% “How long we were making the passage I know not. A gentleman—rather a rough fel- low, though—who had volunteered to be my constant companion, said it was a short voy- age: to me it seemed years. At length we ar- rived, and taking a stage, we drove to the “Yews.’ I told my companion on the way that I did not require his company any more; but he would not leave me until he saw me, as he said, ‘safe in my cousin's care.’ But why dwell upon this painful history? I rushed into this very room, and embracing Elvina, cried, ‘Elvina | Elvina! behold thy Briareus returned to claim his bride!’ ‘To my horror she thrust. me from her, and rushing to my cousin, threw herself into his arms, asking her dear, dear Tom to-save her from the madman. “«Madam,’ I cried, ‘are you not my affi- anced?" “Briareus,’ exclaimed Tom, ‘you are mad; this lady is my wife? “T saw it all at a glance,” moaned the poor mad creature, making my heart bleed for him. “T knew then why I had been sent to India— why this woman had made me keep our en- gagement secret. She loved my cousin's gold ! “« My passion rose ; I could not control my- self. With a cry more like that of a wild beast than a man, I sprang upon Tom. 1 had him by the throat, and would have killed him, but the man who came with me from India—he who called himself my friend—turned traitor for gold. He dragged me away from my cousin and felled me to the earth. My keeper! They id I was mad, and locked me up in ¢he cham- | ber. Not alone: no, no, not alone; they can- not shut out the ghosts, They come and tell me stories—wild, horrible stories. I will tell them to you some night. Hark! the ghosts call me. I must go at once, er they will come here. Farewell: to-morrow !"” Slowly he crept from the room, Mrs. Grue- some and I.following. Our hearts ached for him. comicbooks.com