Chapter III: Front Matter (3)

"And I indorse your declarations, sir; you were right. There was no deception--there is none! It is a purely mechanical phenomenon! But, listen! Spiritual powers reside in mechanical forces. Every year we live elucidates this mystery, though none but the deepest thinkers see this truth in all its importance. Look you! a savage thinks that there is a diabolism in the self-action of a watch--in the reflection of a looking-glass. We think both mysteries to be simple mechanical combinations! Pray look at the lock before us. I observe that it is Harmon's patent. Poor Harmon, a demented machinist, scarcely knew what he would be at, and so undertook to make an invaluable improvement in the common door-lock. This is one of his; its intricate machinery has got out of order, and hence 'the fantastic tricks before high heaven' that these rooms have witnessed! I am about to take off the lock, to prove what I have stated, as well as to remedy the evil."

"Oh, sir, that has been tried--I have seen it done--hope nothing from that!" exclaimed Mr. Legare.

"Patience, my dear sir!" said Frank Howard, taking up the tools with so much of the air of a man accustomed to the handling of them that old Mr. Legare winced and fidgeted.

But Frank speedily took off the lock, and brought it to us for inspection.

"Here! you notice that nothing seems amiss," he said.

"Nothing in the world--I told you that before," replied Mr. Legare.

"Furthermore, if now I were to turn the key, it would remain turned."

"Certainly, while the lock is off the door, it looks exactly right, and behaves exactly right; but just put it on the door and lock it, and in from ten to thirty minutes, more or less, it will fly open."

"Exactly; that is what I am about to explain," said Frank Howard, taking up a flat, smooth piece of board, and laying it upon the table; and then he took the lock, laid it on the board, screwed it tightly, turned the key and said:

"It is not the circumstance of this lock being attached to the door that has caused it to act in this manner; for I will prove to you that if the same lock be screwed tightly to any other resisting object--as, for instance, this board--it will act in the same irregular manner. Watch it now, and you will see."

We did so, and in a few minutes we saw the catch fly back, as before.

"I will tell you the reason," said Mr. Howard, unscrewing the lock from the board and inviting us to look on.

"Now, though there seems to be no defect whatever in this lock, yet in truth the whole inside machinery has started slightly outward. This does not affect its right action while detached; but when attached, the continued pressure of the board to which it is fastened, gradually acts upon the spring, and causes the catch in a given time to fly back, and unlock, and the force with which this occurs opens the door. I can well imagine that such unexplained movements, occurring in the middle of the night, should have rather a supernatural effect. But the evil can be remedied in a few minutes."

And then, while we were all dumb with astonishment, Frank Howard took up his tools, went to work, and in about twenty minutes fixed the inside of the lock, and replaced it on the door.

"Now," said he, "if ever this door comes open again without hands, I will consent to forfeit the fair reward of my triumph. And now, friends, I will go to work and mend the other."

And, inviting us to precede him, he passed out, locked the door, gave the key to Mr. Legare, and begged him to take notice that the door would remain fast until he (Mr. Legare) might choose to open it, or to give up the key.

We reached the other chamber door, where twenty minutes' work served to rectify the error. Then, locking that, as he had done the other, he called me to witness that it should remain fast until I should use, or give up the key that he placed in my charge.

We then went downstairs, Mr. Legare having one key safe in his pocket--I having the other secure in mine.

It was the last day of the old year, and company were expected in the evening--not to dance, but to watch it out.

Mrs. Legare went to attend to her extra housekeeping duties, and the young ladies retired to their chambers to arrange their dresses for the next day.

Mr. Legare, Frank Howard, my brother John, and the other gentlemen, took their guns and game-bags, called their dogs, and started off "birding."

I went into the parlor where Rachel Noales still lay upon the sofa, in the state of exhaustion that had succeeded her fright in the morning, and told her that the mystery of the locks was discovered, and explained, as far as I could, the process of demonstration. And Rachel rallied from that hour.

I had reassured her, but who should reassure me? I was still very deeply disturbed. True, the mystery of the opening doors was satisfactorily explained. True, that my midnight visitor might have been an optical illusion, produced by the mysterious surroundings acting upon my highly-susceptible temperament. And true, also, that the resemblance between my visionary woman and the portrait of Madeleine Van Der Vaughan, might have been a mere fancy. But the spot of blood on the floor. Who should explain that?

From time to time, during that day, I slipped upstairs to examine the state of the doors; they remained fast.

The gentlemen dined out, but joined us at an early tea. Nothing was said of the event of the morning, until, as we arose from the table, little Phlit sidled up to his master, and asked for the keys so that he might make fires in the bedrooms, "for de ladies an' gemlen to dress for ebenin.'"

"The deuce! You tell me that the doors remain fast?" demanded Mr. Legare, turning around upon us all.

I assured him that they did. He was too polite to doubt my statement; but he wished to see for himself.

We followed him, and found him in a state of admiration before Mr. Howard's door. When he had gazed some time at that, and tried it in various ways, he turned about and went to mine, which he proved in the same manner. And having found that both remained fast locked, without mistake, he extended his hand to Frank, and said:

"Candidly, Mr. Howard, I did not believe in your success until this moment. You have fairly vanquished the ghosts!"

Frank Howard took the offered hand, and bowed gravely and silently, as he again resigned it. The doors were then opened, and Phlit admitted to do his duties. And we separated to prepare for the evening watch-party.

It was eight o'clock when our friends from the neighborhood came in; and after partaking of a bowl of eggnog in the dining-room, we adjourned to the parlor, where we passed four hours in very pleasant social intercourse, conversing, singing and reading. And as the clock neared the stroke of twelve, Mr. Howard took a volume of Tennyson, and in an affecting manner read his tender and beautiful "Requiem of the Dying Year." All were moved, and as the reader finished, the tears were running down the cheeks of Mathilde, who said:

"Oh! I do not know how any one, even the most thoughtless, can bear to 'dance out the old year!' I could no more do it than I could dance beside the deathbed of a dear old friend! But I must not greet the infant New Year with tears," she exclaimed, and dashing aside the sparkling drops that spangled the roses of her cheeks, and turning to her parents, she said:

"Dearest father! Dearest mother! Let me be the first to wish you a Happy New Year, and many, ever happier returns of it!"

"You make our anniversaries happy, best child; now tell us truly what shall be our New Year's gift to you?" said Mr. Legare, while Mrs. Legare silently embraced her daughter.

Blushing deeply, Mathilde whispered one word to her father, who repressed a rising sigh, and asked:

"Is this so? Must this be so, my dearest child?"

"Yes, my father."

"Then am I doubly bound to do what I am about to do, Mr. Howard!"

Frank Howard stepped eagerly forward.

"Mr. Howard! I always settle outstanding debts at the first of the year," said Mr. Legare, taking the hand of Mathilde and placing it in that of Frank Howard, who gently pressed it, as he answered:

"Sir, I believe that for years, I have possessed the priceless heart of this dear maiden, but her fair hand, I would prefer to owe to her father's approval and good-will, rather than to a mere accident."

"Sir, there are no such things as accidents! I am sixty years old who say it! And as for the rest, sir, 'her father's approval and good-will' always follows his esteem and respect, and now goes with his consent! God bless you! Be true to Mathilde!"

"May Heaven deal with me as I with her!" said Frank Howard, earnestly.

While this important little family aside was going on the other guests were wishing each other a "Happy New Year," and chatting and laughing too merrily and noisily to hear what was there passing.

And now they asked for their cloaks and hoods, which Rachel Noales and I flew to bring; and in less than half an hour all the evening visitors had departed, and the returning sound of their sleighbells died away in the distance.

We that were left separated and retired. When we reached our chamber Rachel and I locked the door and went to bed.

We were sufficiently wearied out to go fast asleep, and sleep until late in the morning, when the loud knocking of little Jet at our chamber door aroused us. I jumped up and went and opened it.

"De doors do stay shet fas' 'nuff now!" exclaimed my little maid, with a broad grin, as she entered.

"Yes, Jet; thanks to Mr. Howard."

"Ain't him a smart gemlan, dough? Wunner if him's a wizard?"

"I really do not know, Jet. You must ask your Miss Mathilde."

"Law! Do she know?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Den I ax her, sure."

And so my little maid proceeded to light the fire.

This was a New Year's day, and a large company was expected to dinner. And it was upon this occasion that the engagement of the Hon. Frank Howard, of Massachusetts, and Miss Mathilde Legare, was announced.

But little is left to be told. For the remainder of my stay I rested in undisturbed peace, suffering no recurrence of opening doors and midnight visitors. I was almost sorry that my ghostly mysteries had found so commonplace a solution--a mechanical defect taking the place of the phantom key, and an optical illusion explaining my midnight vision!--all was accounted for except the spot of blood upon the floor! Upon the morning of my departure, I called Mathilde into the room, and striking an attitude like that of the woman of my vision, I silently pointed to the hidden spot, and gazed at Mathilde, to discover consciousness in her countenance.

But Mathilde first looked back in innocent surprise, and then recollecting herself, said:

"Oh! you allude to a stain there; yes, it is a pity! The men who were painting red lines on the doors over-turned the paint-pot and made a deep, ugly, crimson stain; and, like the spot of blood on Bluebeard's key, 'the more we scrub it the brighter it grows!' The next time a carpenter happens to be at work here, mamma intends to have it planed out."

So much for my last hold upon the supernatural! Let me repeat--the phantom key, a mere mechanical defect; the spot of blood, a mere stain of paint; and the midnight spectre, an optical illusion!

But the reader may ask, how I account for the resemblance between the woman of my vision and the portrait of the ill-fated Madeleine Van Der Vaughan? I answer, that at this distance of time, I regard it as the effect of imagination only, as was the whole vision!

It was about two months after the conclusion of my Christmas visit that I was summoned to Wolfbrake to act as bridesmaid for Mathilde, for it was immediately after the rising of Congress upon the fourth of March, that Mr. Howard went up to claim the hand of his betrothed. They were married upon the seventh. It was a wedding in the fine, old-fashioned country style, with a ball and supper the same evening, and dinner parties and dancing parties, given successively by the neighbors, in honor of the bride, almost every day and night for the next two weeks.

They have now been married several years, and have several children--boys and girls. Frank Howard now holds a "high official" position in the present administration. And old Mr. Legare is justly proud of his gifted son-in-law. As Mathilde is too much of a Creole to bear the rigor of a New England climate they divide the year, spending the summer in Massachusetts and the winter in Virginia "with the old folks at home."

And year after year I have visited them there, and slept in the haunted chamber, but never, since the locks were mended, have I been troubled by an opening door, or a midnight ghost!

THE PRESENTIMENT.