CHAP. VI.
The comforts of a bed, and the prospect of being soon able to pursue his journey, gave him some hours of quiet rest at the castle of Danhaet; he awoke refreshed, and in spirits.—The steward and his wife were worthy people; advanced rather above the middle age, plain in their language and habits, but with excellent hearts, and an honest frankness that engaged confidence.
Ferdinand was extremely desirous to write to his brother and friends; the steward furnished him with materials for writing, and advised his taking a passage in one of the boats that took passengers between Lintz and Ulm. This advice the other readily agreed to follow, as the most easy way of proceeding for a person whose limbs had not yet recovered their strength and pliability. The steward told him they were about seven miles from a post town, but he would get his letters conveyed thither, and also inquire about his passage.
Ferdinand was charmed with the situation of this castle; it was built on the side of a hanging wood, which rose gradually to the top of a high hill, and sheltered it from the keen blasts of the north.—Large plantations of chestnuts seemed to surround it, among which were cut several beautiful walks and narrow vistas, terminated by some picturesque views. In front was a hanging garden of large extent, from whence there was a declivity down to the banks of the river. The castle itself was old and out of repair, but the apartments were noble, and the furniture, though faded and decayed, yet perfectly clean and commodious.
Talking with the steward, he observed the situation was so romantic, and the environs so beautiful, that he was astonished his lord never came to it.
"Why, Sir," answered he, "it is the general opinion of the country, that the left wing of the castle, or rather a detached pavilion, which you see is almost enveloped by the trees, is haunted; and the reason is this; a state prisoner was once confined there, and, as the story goes, was murdered; one of my lord's ancestors had the care of him; 'tis an old and a foolish story, I think—but so it is, our old lord never permitted any one to live in it, and they do say that the present lord was once much frightened, for he and his lady disagreed, and he confined her for a time in that place, only going to her by day himself; how it was, I don't know, but he was frightened, as they say; so he took her away, and put her into a convent, and since that time never returned here."
"A strange story," said Ferdinand; "but did you ever hear or see any thing to terrify you."
"Why, Sir," replied he, "I never go there, because 'tis shut up; but some of the peasants, who have come here of a night, or early in a morning, swear that they have heard strange noises.—For my part, I had no concern in the business, whatever it was; I do no harm to any one, and therefore I live here very quietly; and if there are ghosts there, why I never disturb them, nor they me; I have often wished that strange old man of the rock to live here with us, because the more the merrier; but whether he is afraid of ghosts, or likes his hole in the rock better than a good chamber, I can't tell, but here he won't live, because he says he likes to be alone.
"Here is a fine library—I offer him what books he likes; but two or three will serve him for months; he likes nothing but fishing, and lives upon very little."
"He is a strange worthless being, I think," said Ferdinand, "and altogether such a character as I had no idea of; for he is not a religious man, a man of knowledge, or in any shape desirous of obtaining useful information; a poor pusillanimous idle creature, that crawls upon the earth, insensible to every thing.
"However, if he has no curiosity, I have, and should like of all things, to examine this pavilion."
"You may walk to it, if you can, with all my heart," said the man; 'tis but a little way detached from the building you see;—there is a private communication below stairs, but that has long been nailed up.
"By day, Sir, I am sure you may go, because I often pass it, and never heard any thing in my life."
"Well, then," said Ferdinand, "I will take an opportunity to look at it; you have the keys, I suppose."
"I have, Sir; but the doors have never been opened for more than twelve, aye, more than fourteen years, I believe; therefore I don't suppose the keys will turn now; they hang in the hall, with a ticket to them."
"I shall try them to-morrow," said Ferdinand.
"As you please, Sir," answered he.
But the wife was not quite so easy; she besought him not to go; told several strange stories; declared she had heard odd noises sometimes, when down stairs near the communication passage, and though she trusted in Heaven, and injured no one, yet she would not go into the pavilion for any money.
Ferdinand, who had no fears of supernatural beings, and much curiosity, waited impatiently for the next day; and taking the keys, which the steward had cleaned a little from the rust, he walked to the pavilion;—he was yet but feeble, and when he came to a flight of steps, which led up to the apartments, he seated himself to take breath.
This sequestered spot was surrounded by high trees, at the foot of which were a profusion of shrubs and wild flowers; it seemed formed for retirement and contemplation;—but being long and totally neglected, the outside was decaying; the weeds almost obscured the lower apartments; the glass, in many places, was broken; and in short, the whole bore the marks of desolation.
After having rested for some time, Ferdinand prepared to view the inside of this forlorn place; he tried his keys, but found it impossible to turn them.—Vexed and disconcerted, he descended, and walked round among the weeds, when he discovered another small door with a padlock to it, but he had no key that looked likely to open that; he drew near to it, and taking up the lock in his hand with a sort of quick pull, the staple fell out, and directly he heard the sound of a bell, and saw a string was fastened to the staple.—Surprised, he waited a few moments, to see if any consequence followed the sound of the bell, but all remained still.
This is very singular, thought Ferdinand; and looking round, he observed the weeds seemed to be more broken, as if trodden down; he turned to pull open the door, which resisted his endeavour, and he found must be fastened inside.—He took up the staple, and pulling the string, the bell sounded a second time, and presently a hollow voice was heard, that muttered some inarticulate words, and then groaned.—Though extremely startled at the moment, yet he was convinced the voice was human; that some mystery was attached to the building, and that something more substantial than ghosts or shadowy forms resided there; else why the bell to alarm, and inside fastenings.
Revolving these circumstances in his mind, he made no reply for the present, but determined to watch near that place in the evening. He returned to the steward, repeated the strange account, and his own conjectures; but he found it impossible to encourage him in the idea of its being inhabited by living persons; and instead of deriving any help from him to elucidate the mystery, he had only strengthened the steward's apprehensions, and confirmed the report which he had often been inclined to doubt, and think proceeded from the superstition and credulity of the peasants.
No persuasions, therefore, could induce him to accompany Ferdinand in the evening to hide among the trees and make observations; he then applied to the two men who looked after the grounds and cattle, but they were still more terrified.—One of them declared, that oftentimes he had heard groans, and had seen smoke ascending among the weeds, which, however, were never burnt, and therefore it must come from "the old one's" house under-ground, where he would take good care never to disturb him.
It was in vain to combat against ignorance and cowardice; therefore Ferdinand saw he must make his own discoveries; and his strength not admitting of much exertion to force his way, or even to escape, if such a step should be necessary, he felt extremely perplexed how to proceed.
After several schemes formed and rejected, it suddenly darted into his mind, to wrap himself up in a sheet, outside of which he would throw the steward's great coat, and having a dark lanthorn with him, he could conceal himself among the trees, and if in danger of being discovered, by throwing off the coat, and presenting himself with the light, he had little doubt but that he might frighten those who had endeavoured to terrify others. This plan he prepared to put in execution, heedless and deaf to the prayers and remonstrances of his host and hostess, who gave him up for lost.
Towards the close of the evening, Ferdinand, properly habited with a tinder box and a dark lanthorn, placed himself among the trees, opposite to this small door, where he could see every transaction without being observed.
Night came on; every thing was still and silent; he began to grow weary of his situation; the castle clock had gone eleven, when suddenly he espied the figures of four people coming through the trees; he could not distinguish their persons, there being no moon. It must be observed, that Ferdinand had replaced the staple and padlock; they made towards the door; he saw them stand, and heard a faint sound of the bell, and in a moment he lost sight of them, and was convinced they were let in through the door.
"Now, then," said he, "the whole is discovered; this is a retreat for robbers, and we shall soon clear the haunted pavilion."
He returned to the castle, to the no small joy of his friends, but he found it impossible to convince them that the persons he described were living ones; they grew more strongly assured that they were wicked spirits, but that Mr. Ferdinand being good, they had no power to hurt him. He, provoked at their incredulity, at length asked the steward if it was possible to open the door of communication, which he said led underneath to the pavilion: The other hesitated a long time; but on being urged, said,
"Perhaps it might, as it was nailed up on this side, supposing that the ghosts had not fastened it on the other, as they did the padlock door."
"But," said the woman, "it would be better to go in the day-time, and force open the front door of the pavilion."
Ferdinand hesitated and considered.—"If, as I suppose," said he, "some part of the gang are always in the house, they are doubtless prepared for resistance, and will sell their lives dearly; in forcing the door, some of us may be killed; no, let us discover, if possible, who and what they are, and then we can take measures to surprise them, perhaps without danger."
The woman shook her head.
"Ah!" said she, "they are no living folks, I dare say; and it would be better to go by day, when they do not appear."
"But," replied Ferdinand, "that won't do; I wish to see them appear."
He then went down to the passage, which was like the colonnade of a cloister, and saw the door: By the help of an instrument, he drew the screws from the hinges, and with very little noise, opened the door, which discovered a similar passage to the one he was in, but quite dark; he procured his dark lantern, and proceeded softly through the passage; lamps were hung on one side, which no doubt were formerly lighted, but all was extremely gloomy and damp.
He came at length to a flight of steps, and hesitated a few minutes whether he should venture to proceed, yet it would be folly to go back so unsatisfied; he had just ascended the first stair, when he heard a loud laughing, as if of two or three persons: He listened—the sound seemed to come from no great distance, and he heard voices as if extremely merry.
He continued to ascend with great caution, and entered a sort of lobby, from whence he heard the voices more distinctly; to go forwards alone, he thought would be madness, as he must expect instant death, if discovered. He was now sufficiently assured of what mind the inhabitants were, and proper steps might be taken to secure them through this passage.
He turned, therefore, to make good his retreat; he heard the noise of feet directly over his head, and stepped forwards as quick and softly as possible, blaming his own rashness for advancing so far; he looked for the stairs, in his confusion he had past them; for this lobby went the whole length of the building. Sensible of his error, he was going back, when he heard some one coming down stairs, and the glimmering of a light approaching, he could not advance, but turned his lanthorn and retreated on one side, giving himself up for lost.
A man appeared with a light, and passed so close to Ferdinand, that it was impossible to avoid seeing him; he just snatched a look at him as he started, and, with a groan, fell on the floor.—Though infinitely surprised, he had no time to lose, as the fall and groan must alarm the others; he therefore quickly trod back through the lobby, found the stairs, and, with all the strength he could exert, run through the passage, which, having gained, he ventured not to close the door, but in a moment got up to the stair-case of the castle apartments, and appeared before the steward and his wife so out of breath and agitated, that they both concluded he had seen the ghosts.
When he could speak, he informed them of what he had heard and seen; and so far, said he, are the persons there from being shadowy beings, that I have no doubt, from the fellow's fright, but that he took me for one; at least I hope he did, as then my progress through the passages will not be discovered.
"And if it is," said the woman, 'then for a certain we shall all be murdered."
Ferdinand was not perfectly free from the same idea; yet still he thought no time should be lost, to get proper persons to secure those men, who were evidently a gang of banditti.
The steward was persuaded to take a horse, and ride immediately to the next post-town, declare what had happened, and bring a party as private as possible, to seize upon them at night—much against the opinion of the wife, who was for letting them rest quiet, whoever they were, alive or dead, rather than bring themselves into trouble; but at length Ferdinand prevailed, by saying what a great reward they would obtain by taking them.—This consideration a little reconciled her to the absence of her husband; therefore, at day-break, he got his horse, and set off with all haste.
He had been gone about three hours, when there was a knocking at the door; Ferdinand was gone to lay down on a sofa in the library; the good woman was alone, the men being about the grounds, and she was afraid to open the door without some one with her; she came to him in the library, and entreated he would have the goodness to come out, and then she would speak from the window, which she did, and asked the person what he wanted; he wished to speak with her husband; he was not at home; could he come in and wait for him, as he had business of consequence to tell him.—Without answering, she drew in her head to ask Ferdinand's opinion; he advanced to the window, and just as he was in view of the man, the fellow started, screamed, attempted to run, but fell on the ground.
Ferdinand hastened out, spoke, and took the man's arm to assist him; he turned, and looking up, discovered the very face of the servant his brother had sent to attend him back to Baden.
Both were thunderstruck, and for a moment speechless.—The man exclaimed,
"Alive! is it possible—alive!"
"Yes, my good friend," replied the other, "most wonderfully preserved from death, and I rejoice to see you; for I have often felt much concern for the uncertainty of your fate."
"Concern for me! Good God! but I see Providence will always bring wicked deeds to light.—Pray, Sir, tell me. Did I see you last night in the lobby of yonder pavilion?"
"I was certainly there," answered Ferdinand, and frightened a man, I believe—could that be you?"
"It was, Sir; and from that fright, you will now know all; for though I find it was no ghost, as I thought, yet, as I said before, Providence discovers all things, and I will make a free confession."
"Come in then," said Ferdinand, "and whatever you have to confess, speak freely, and assure yourself of my pardon, if you have done me any wrong."
He then entered into a long story, which, as the substance of it will be detailed hereafter, it is not necessary to give now; but it concluded with avowing, that he had orders to destroy Ferdinand on the most convenient spot, to avoid a discovery; that he had engaged others to assist him, who were in waiting in the grove at the top of the hill, one of which fired at him, and he being dismounted, as he fell, rolled him over the hill, supposing he must be dead.
That he hastened to his employer, received the sum agreed for, and only yesterday joined his friends; that having among them got a great deal of money and jewels, they proposed to leave off that trade, go over to England, set up for gentlemen, and take to the gaming-table.
This scheme they had intended to execute in about ten days time; there were six of them concerned, two of whom always remained in the pavilion; the other four occasionally dressed as gentlemen; found out when any travellers of consequence were going on the roads, and then came back, disguised themselves, and plundered where they expected a good booty. Some of his comrades had inhabited that pavilion many years, but he had only joined them lately.
Returning yesterday with his money, which he should not have done, but that he knew his share of their stock was considerably greater than what he possessed, and sure between them of making more money when they pleased, of his employer; he said, they had a feast, and were extremely merry last night, and he was sent down to the cellar for some particular fine wine; going through the lobby, he saw something stand against the wall; going nearer, he saw, as he thought, the ghost of Mr. Ferdinand; terror instantly seized him, and he fell into a fit.
The noise he made brought down the others; and when he recovered, so much had conscience overpowered his senses, that he still insisted that he saw him before his eyes, wherever he turned: Some of his friends ridiculed him, but one or two seemed as much terrified as himself.
In short, he went to bed, but could not stay alone; and when he reflected upon all his wickedness, he thought he would go to the castle, and confess the whole; only he did not intend to say he threw the murdered gentleman over the hill, and, as he did not fire at him, he hoped, by impeaching the rest, he should obtain pardon.
Following this resolution, when the other four went out before day-break, and left him and another in bed; he took the advantage of the other, and stole off; came to the castle, but again seeing Ferdinand, concluded the ghost haunted him, and intended to run away, when his fright threw him down.
This story and discovery so shocked Ferdinand, that he could hardly keep himself from fainting, but he assured the man of his protection, if he would repent of his past life.—This he faithfully promised; but his fears of the ghost having subsided, and his terrors of murder being done away, he already regretted the confession which horror and the fright of the moment had drawn from him.
Ferdinand told him by what means he entered the lobby, and the steps they intended to take that night, to surprise the whole gang, when at table. It was fortunate for him, perhaps, that the two men of the house now entered, and were a check upon the villain, who was inwardly cursing his stars for making him such a terrified coward.
He told Ferdinand they assembled together earlier than usual the last evening, to celebrate his return, but would hardly meet 'till one or two in the morning on this night; that he thought it best for himself to return, as he could account for his absence, and then he would take care to put aside all instruments of destruction against their appearing, to prevent any harm to Ferdinand and his party.
The unsuspecting Ferdinand praised the man's humanity, and advised him to depart immediately, and expect him about one o'clock. Away he went, cured of his fears, and like a true rogue, finding it most for his interest, he would make a merit of being true to his accomplices, and establish an opinion of his own courage and integrity.
The steward returned, properly accompanied for their intended expedition, and was astonished when informed of the visitor they had in his absence, and not sorry that they should have a friend to prevent mischief.
At the appointed hour, they silently proceeded through the passages, and ascending the stairs, reached the lobby; all was still;—not a voice heard.—This appeared extraordinary; however, two resolute men went before up the stairs to the apartment where Ferdinand had heard them the preceding evening; the door was open; the room empty; chairs, tables, and trunks, all in disorder.—They looked at each other.
"What can this mean?" cried Ferdinand
They run from room to room, on that floor which was the lower one; then ascended, searched the house through; it was entirely empty, not only of its inhabitants, but of the vast riches the man had boasted of.
"The villain has betrayed us," said Ferdinand; "they are all off."
They descended to the cellars, and there found the little door wide open, and all clear. "Twas now plain they had all taken their flight; and to have discovered and irritated such a band of ruffians, was a very serious business. The steward lamented his interference; he had no doubt but that they would return, and murder every one at the castle.
Ferdinand was not quite easy, though he seemed to make light of the fears of others, and they returned extremely disconcerted.
That the robbers could not be at any great distance was certain; but there were so many caves and subterranean passages in the hills and rocks adjacent, that it was judged both fruitless and dangerous to trace them, even if they had any clue to guide their search.—They had taken their riches with them; the informer had said, they intended to leave the place, therefore they were now reduced to hope they never might return.
Ferdinand bore all the vexation and mortification of this disappointment, since, had he not been too credulous, he never would have permitted the man to return back, but have retained him as a necessary evidence. He accused his own imprudence, and execrated the wretch whose feigned penitence had deceived him.