Stories with a Vengeance — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

THE HAUNTED HANSON. turned to me, and with one of her rare smiles, said, “I’m very mueh afraid you find us dull company to-night, Mr. Ben- nett. But it has reat an inflexible rule of my mother’s, for some years now, to spend Christmas Eve as quietly as possible. So you must make the best you can of a stupid family party!’ she added, gaily. But as she turned away from me, I fancied I saw her lip quiver and her lovely eyes fill with something suspiciously like tears. Could I have been mistaken ? We shall zee. . Though we were but four, the dimner was not by any means a dull affair. In- deed, it would be impossible to feel gloomy in the presence of Beatrice Lawrence’s fascinating face and ways. Without at all approaching that béte now of young man- hood—a _ blue-stocking—she had read enough to be able to join in a conversation, which would have been a Chinese riddle or a Dutch conundrum to the majority of young ladies. She possessed a keen wit, and had a cer- tai charming way of “putting a fellow down,” that to my infatuated mind and heart was sweeter than any flattery I’d received from other lips. Yes, we were a quietly happy little circle that evening round the amiable widow’s dimner-table. How short and deceitful was the calm ! I have heard it said that at certain times there falls upon the beautiful Bay of Naples a calm unwonted even in that sunny clime. There is no rustle in the fragrant myrtle graves; the olive-trees cease their graceful swaying to and fro; the vine hangs heavy on the trellis; there is no voice of bird, or insect, or whispering breeze ; the very waters hush their murmur as they touch the silent shore. Then the dwellers in that delectable land know that Vesuvius is gathering all its fierce artillery together for one of its wild fewx de jove. o is it in our lives, whatever our lot may be. So was it in that peaceful home- ou ‘at The Priory that Christmas ive, Shortly after we had joimed the ladies in the drawing-room, a company of carol singers stationed themselves on the lawn heneath the window, and charmed our ears and touched our hearts with their simple, plaintive music. What memories those strains awakened in my heart! what emotions stirred my breast ! | Qur voices were hushed, our conversation | was dropped in a moment. Suddenly the silence in the room was broken by a stifled moan, expressing the Google 43 keenest, agony of soul, followed by bitter sobbing. : Looking round, I saw Mrs. Lawrence hurrying from the room, weeping pro- fusely. With a hastily-whispered apology. her daughter followed her, and Tom and I were left alone. And up through the clear, silent, frosty night came the voices of the singers, in softened harmony. How well I remember to this day the pathetic words they chanted to a plaintive tune— words that wrung. those anguished sobs and tears from that patient mother’s heart. How much she had suffered I was soon to know! CHAPTER IV. “Comer into the billiard-room, Martin,” said Tom, n a moment or two. “We sha’n’t see mother or Beta again to-mght. Whilst we smoke, I've something to tell you, though it will cost me no little pain. “ Dear old friend,” I replied, taking him by the arm, “if the telling of it, whatever it may be, will cause you a pang, I would rather it remained for ever untold.” “ Generous and thoughtful, as in the old days,” he answered, with asad smile; “ but it is due to you, as my guest and oldest friend, that some explanation of this even- ing’s occurrences should be given you.” When we'd reached the billiard-room, and had seated ourselves, one on each side of its merry sea-coal fire, I again urged Law- rence to consider his own feelings rather than a fancied duty to me; but it was no use. So having lighted our cigars, we sat and smoked in silence for a few minutes. watched my companion’s face, I could see that he was struggling with strong emo- tions, and in my heart I pitied him, for I knew the womanly tenderness of his brave disposition. At last he broke the spell, and looking me steadily in the face, began his absorbing story. ’ “You must have noticed, Martin, that my dear, good mother is prematurely aged, and that all to-day she has been under the cloud of an unusual melancholy; the carol- singers brought it toa climax to-night, and you must have wondered why their homely strains should have so utterly broken down my mother’s self-possession. She is natu- rally of the brightest, happiest disposition. Heavens ! how she has suffered though, and yet lived through it all. .“My father’s death left her with the heavy charge of a young family on her hands. But even then, tenderly as she Asi CY, S CO) JOO