A Thin Ghost | Page 2

that she almost whispered to Dr.
Ashton, putting her head close to his, "He's in a very sad way, love,
worse, I'm afraid." "Tt--tt, is he really?" and he leaned back and looked
in her face. She nodded. Two solemn bells, high up, and not far away,
rang out the half-hour at this moment. Mrs. Ashton started. "Oh, do you
think you can give order that the minster clock be stopped chiming
to-night? 'Tis just over his chamber, and will keep him from sleeping,
and to sleep is the only chance for him, that's certain." "Why, to be sure,
if there were need, real need, it could be done, but not upon any light
occasion. This Frank, now, do you assure me that his recovery stands
upon it?" said Dr. Ashton: his voice was loud and rather hard. "I do
verily believe it," said his wife. "Then, if it must be, bid Molly run
across to Simpkins and say on my authority that he is to stop the clock
chimes at sunset: and--yes--she is after that to say to my lord Saul that I
wish to see him presently in this room." Mrs. Ashton hurried off.

Before any other visitor enters, it will be well to explain the situation.
Dr. Ashton was the holder, among other preferments, of a prebend in
the rich collegiate church of Whitminster, one of the foundations which,
though not a cathedral, survived dissolution and reformation, and
retained its constitution and endowments for a hundred years after the
time of which I write. The great church, the residences of the dean and
the two prebendaries, the choir and its appurtenances, were all intact
and in working order. A dean who flourished soon after 1500 had been
a great builder, and had erected a spacious quadrangle of red brick
adjoining the church for the residence of the officials. Some of these
persons were no longer required: their offices had dwindled down to
mere titles, borne by clergy or lawyers in the town and neighbourhood;
and so the houses that had been meant to accommodate eight or ten
people were now shared among three, the dean and the two
prebendaries. Dr. Ashton's included what had been the common parlour
and the dining-hall of the whole body. It occupied a whole side of the
court, and at one end had a private door into the minster. The other end,
as we have seen, looked out over the country.
So much for the house. As for the inmates, Dr. Ashton was a wealthy
man and childless, and he had adopted, or rather undertaken to bring up,
the orphan son of his wife's sister. Frank Sydall was the lad's name: he
had been a good many months in the house. Then one day came a letter
from an Irish peer, the Earl of Kildonan (who had known Dr. Ashton at
college), putting it to the doctor whether he would consider taking into
his family the Viscount Saul, the Earl's heir, and acting in some sort as
his tutor. Lord Kildonan was shortly to take up a post in the Lisbon
Embassy, and the boy was unfit to make the voyage: "not that he is
sickly," the Earl wrote, "though you'll find him whimsical, or of late
I've thought him so, and to confirm this, 'twas only to-day his old nurse
came expressly to tell me he was possess'd: but let that pass; I'll warrant
you can find a spell to make all straight. Your arm was stout enough in
old days, and I give you plenary authority to use it as you see fit. The
truth is, he has here no boys of his age or quality to consort with, and is
given to moping about in our raths and graveyards: and he brings home
romances that fright my servants out of their wits. So there are you and

your lady forewarned." It was perhaps with half an eye open to the
possibility of an Irish bishopric (at which another sentence in the Earl's
letter seemed to hint) that Dr. Ashton accepted the charge of my Lord
Viscount Saul and of the 200 guineas a year that were to come with
him.
So he came, one night in September. When he got out of the chaise that
brought him, he went first and spoke to the postboy and gave him some
money, and patted the neck of his horse. Whether he made some
movement that scared it or not, there was very nearly a nasty accident,
for the beast started violently, and the postilion being unready was
thrown and lost his fee, as he found afterwards, and the chaise lost
some paint on the gateposts, and the wheel went over the man's foot
who was taking out the baggage. When Lord Saul came