The Ghost of Guir House | Page 8

that he had misunderstood the girl in her former allusion to the man.
Dorothy had not taken off her hat, nor did she seem to have the slightest intention of doing so; meanwhile Paul's appetite, which had been temporarily lulled by his novel surroundings, was beginning to assert itself, and as there was no prospect of an attendant to conduct him to his room, he was about to ask where he might find a bowl of water to relieve himself of some of the stains of travel. Before he had finished the sentence, however, his attention was arrested by the sound of a distant footstep. He listened; it came nearer, and in a minute was descending the black staircase in the corner. Paul watched, and saw the figure of an old man as it turned an angle in the stairs. Then it stopped, and coughed lightly as if to announce its approach.
"Come," cried Dorothy, "it's only Mr. Henley, and I'm sure he'll be glad to see you."
The figure advanced, and when it had descended far enough to be in range with the fire and lamplight, Paul saw a most extraordinary person. The man, although very old, was tall and dignified in appearance, with deep-set, mysterious eyes, and flowing white moustache and hair. The top of his head was lightly bound in a turban of some flimsy material, and a loose robe of crimson silk hung from his shoulders, gathered together with a cord about the waist. As he advanced Henley observed that the bones of his cheeks were high and prominent, and the eyes buried so deep beneath their projecting brows and skull, that he was at a loss to account for the strange sense of power which he felt to be lodged in so small a space.
"This is Ah Ben, Mr. Henley, of whom I have spoken," said Dorothy, rising.
The old man extended his hand and bowed most courteously. He hoped that they had had a pleasant drive from the station, and then took his seat beside the fire.
Paul was dumfounded. Probably he was expected to know all about the man, and he had only just decided that he had been dead for a century. How could he so have misinterpreted what he had heard?
Ah Ben stretched his long bony fingers to the fire, and observed that the nights were beginning to grow quite cold.
"Yes," said Henley, "I had hardly expected to find the season so far advanced in your Southern home."
"Our altitude more than amends for our latitude," answered the old man; and then, taking a pair of massive tongs from the corner of the mantel, he stirred the balsam logs into a fierce blaze, starting a myriad of sparks in their flight up the chimney. Dorothy was looking above, and Paul, following the direction of her eyes, observed a model of Father Time reclining upon a shelf near the ceiling. The figure's scythe was broken; his limbs were in shackles, and his body covered with chains. It was an original conception, and Henley could not help asking if Time had really been checked in his onward march at Guir House.
"Ah!" said Dorothy, "that is a symbol of a great truth; but I am not surprised at your asking"; then, turning to the old man, added: "Mr. Henley has not yet been shown to his room, and I am sure he would like to see it. It is the west chamber."
"True," said Ah Ben, rising and taking a candle from the mantel, which he lighted with a firebrand; "if Mr. Henley will follow me, I shall take pleasure in pointing it out to him."
Paul followed the elder man up the black stairs, through devious passages, and past doors with pictured panels, until he began to wonder if he could ever find his way back again. At last they stopped before a rough door, hung with massive hinges stretching half way across it, discolored with rust, and looking as if they had not been moved in an age, and which creaked dismally as Ah Ben entered.
"This will be your room," he said, bowing courteously, and placing the candle upon the table near the chimney. He then reminded Henley that their evening meal would soon be ready. "If there is anything further which you will need, pray let me know," he added, and then retired.
"I should like my luggage," said Paul, having left it below, with the exception of a small satchel.
"It shall be sent to you at once," the old man answered, as he walked slowly away.
Left to himself, Henley looked around with curiosity. Every comfort had been provided, even to an arm-chair and writing-table by the fire; but the room, as well as its furnishing, was old and quaint, and rapidly going to decay. Everything he saw related to