Stories with a Vengeance — page 98: what you’re looking at

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

DM: accepted, and papa, mamma, as well as I, agreed. So everything was settled; the “true so” ordered, and Maria Vaz, the best cook in une country, requested to make the wedding cake. . Meantime, Mr and Mrs, Bordmann went to Spanish Town on some important busi- ness, leaving Bella here in my charge. Captain Clarkson was now at Falmouth, on the north side of the island, one hun- dred and fifty miles away, and could not get to Reculvers on account of the dis- tance. Indeed, it had been decided that he was not to make his appearance again at the estate until a few days before the marriage. But if he in person did nut come, his letters did every day—gilt-edged paper, sealed with rose-coloured wax, and a little spot of the same dropped on the back to represent a kiss; that was the fashion of the time. One day, however, there came no epistle as usual from her sweetheart to Bella, nor the next, nor the next, nor the next; and the dear child began to get uneasy and to fret. ’ ‘‘ Araminta,” said she (Mr. and Mrs. Bordmann were still away), “ I wonder why Jack does not write. Again to-day not a line: yesterday none; for four days none. J am very nervous and low, nurse dear, and these feelings are worked upon and in- creased by a presentiment that there is something wrong with my darling. Besides —you know how superstitious we creoles are,—two nights ago I fancied that I saw corpse-lights over the cane-field there; last night I heard the ticking of the death- watch; and just now, while I was sitting in the piazza, such a strange creepy feeling ‘came suddenly over me, as if a cold blast of air had suddenly passed me. Jack must be ill, perhaps dying.” | “Hi! my king! da warra dis, you stupid lub-sick gal, making all dis bodder ’bout noting! What in dis blessed world can be wrong? P’r’aps Cappen Clarkson gone to Mentego Bay for order fine clodes for wedding; p’r’aps colonel send him wid sojers to Grand Camanas to guard some pro- perty from de wreckers ; p’r’aps—p’r’aps— - you make me quite rejected like, you do, wid your nonsense. Corpse-lights, pooh! More likely one blackgard tief wid lantern, tiefing canes! Death watch, chugh! Massa’s big timepiece tick, tick, tick in him dressing-room! Creeps! De cold wind from de mountain pass, noting else! You go to bed, missie. Sleep it off; and to-morrow big, big letter come wid two, tree, five, six Piss inside and out !” Google SOME AUTHENTICATED GHOST STORIES But, I assure you, sir, the words’ of my young mistress had made me most wretched; for although I had endeavoured | to cheer her, I, too, felt a full conviction that something was amiss. Miss Bella went up-stairs to her room, and cried herself to sleep. I lay on a mat spread on the floor of the same apartment, and fell asleep, too. About midnight her voice suddenly awoke me. | “‘ Araminta— Araminta, what is that noise P” I listened, and heard distinctly the heavy tread of a man coming slowly step by step up the wooden staircase, and at each of his footfalls the clank, clank, clank of a sword trailing after him. “ What can it be, Araminta P” said the . poor frightened child. get up and see !”’ I lighted a candle and crept out. Then I saw—but no, you won’t believe me, though it is true, nevertheless—the figure of a white soldier, in full uniform, and with a sword at his side, ascending the stairs. Without the least noise, now he came almost within touching distance of me. My flesh crept; every hair of my head stood on end; a cold perspiration oozed from every pore; my teeth chattered; my tongue clove to my mouth; but yet some- how or other I managed to gasp out; though I knew I was addressing one from the grave, “Mr. Jack—Captain Clarkson !—why are you hereP Howdid youcomeP What— what, oh, great goodness, is the matter P” He made no answer—poor soul, how could heP—but he looked for a moment, oh, so lovingly, to the room where his be- trothed was—and disappeared! Then I shrieked out, and fell down in 9 faint. When I recovered Bella was standing by my side. “What is it, nurse? What has fright- ened youP What have you seen? Him P— him? Tell me at once! Oh, no, you need not! Iknowit! My darling, my beloved, my own—own Jack, my heart’s sunshine! aT aa Father, he is dead—dead— ead !” “Yes, my dearest, he must be, for I have seen his ghost.” Two days after (for, as you know, there were neither telegraphs, nor railways, nor even rapid postal communication in those Jamaica times) we learnt that Captain Clarkson had died from yellow fever, then prevailing in Falmouth. “For mercy’s sake, Now, sar, you ab my story, and I takes my leabe. > a JOO S CO)