Two Ghostly Mysteries | Page 2

her demeanour towards me was peremptory,
and often even harsh. It is not to be supposed, then, that I found in the
society of my parents much to supply the loss of my sister. About a
year after her marriage, we received letters from Mr. Carew, containing
accounts of my sister's health, which, though not actually alarming,
were calculated to make us seriously uneasy. The symptoms most
dwelt upon, were loss of appetite and cough. The letters concluded by
intimating that he would avail himself of my father and mother's

repeated invitation to spend some time at Ashtown, particularly as the
physician who had been consulted as to my sister's health had strongly
advised a removal to her native air. There were added repeated
assurances that nothing serious was apprehended, as it was supposed
that a deranged state of the liver was the only source of the symptoms
which seemed to intimate consumption. In accordance with this
announcement, my sister and Mr. Carew arrived in Dublin, where one
of my father's carriages awaited them, in readiness to start upon
whatever day or hour they might choose for their departure. It was
arranged that Mr. Carew was, as soon as the day upon which they were
to leave Dublin was definitely fixed, to write to my father, who
intended that the two last stages should be performed by his own horses,
upon whose speed and safety far more reliance might be placed than
upon those of the ordinary _post-horses_, which were, at that time,
almost without exception, of the very worst order. The journey, one of
about ninety miles, was to be divided; the larger portion to be reserved
for the second day. On Sunday, a letter reached us, stating that the party
would leave Dublin on Monday, and, in due course, reach Ashtown
upon Tuesday evening. Tuesday came: the evening closed in, and yet
no carriage appeared; darkness came on, and still no sign of our
expected visitors. Hour after hour passed away, and it was now past
twelve; the night was remarkably calm, scarce a breath stirring, so that
any sound, such as that produced by the rapid movement of a vehicle,
would have been audible at a considerable distance. For some such
sound I was feverishly listening. It was, however, my father's rule to
close the house at nightfall, and the window-shutters being fastened, I
was unable to reconnoitre the avenue as I would have wished. It was
nearly one o'clock, and we began almost to despair of seeing them upon
that night, when I thought I distinguished the sound of wheels, but so
remote and faint as to make me at first very uncertain. The noise
approached; it become louder and clearer; it stopped for a moment. I
now heard the shrill screaking of the rusty iron, as the avenue gate
revolved on its hinges; again came the sound of wheels in rapid motion.
"It is they," said I, starting up, "the carriage is in the avenue." We all
stood for a few moments, breathlessly listening. On thundered the
vehicle with the speed of a whirlwind; crack went the whip, and clatter
went the wheels, as it rattled over the uneven pavement of the court; a

general and furious barking from all the dogs about the house, hailed its
arrival. We hurried to the hall in time to hear the steps let down with
the sharp clanging noise peculiar to the operation, and the hum of
voices exerted in the bustle of arrival. The hall-door was now thrown
open, and we all stepped forth to greet our visitors. The court was
perfectly empty; the moon was shining broadly and brightly upon all
around; nothing was to be seen but the tall trees with their long spectral
shadows, now wet with the dews of midnight. We stood gazing from
right to left, as if suddenly awakened from a dream; the dogs walked
suspiciously, growling and snuffing about the court, and by totally and
suddenly ceasing their former loud barking, as also by carrying their
tails between their legs, expressing the predominance of fear. We
looked one upon the other in perplexity and dismay, and I think I never
beheld more pale faces assembled. By my father's direction, we looked
about to find anything which might indicate or account for the noise
which we had heard; but no such thing was to be seen--even the mire
which lay upon the avenue was undisturbed. We returned to the house,
more panic struck than I can describe. On the next day, we learned by a
messenger, who had ridden hard the greater part of the night, that my
sister was dead. On Sunday evening, she had retired to bed rather
unwell, and, on Monday, her indisposition declared itself unequivocally
to be malignant fever.