R. Lafferty - The 7th Ghost Story Megapack

Before I could answer, my cousin, Hilda Broughton, broke in:

“Oh yes: didn’t you know, Lady Glencoine, that Beatrice is a great medium? She can write automatically, and sees all sorts of strange things in a crystal ball. She’s a wonderful person!”

“Do you really?” said Lady Glencoine, rising from the rug. “My dear Mrs. Haywood, how exciting! I am so deeply interested in these things. Why did you never tell me about it?”

“I don’t know,” I answered shyly. “I do it sometimes. I have been a member of the Psychical Research Society for some time, and I took to it then, more or less; but I have not done it for a long time now.”

“But you know, Beatrice,” said Hilda, “you have done some wonderful things with your crystal.”

“Well,” I admitted, “I did see some rather curious things, and I made a few prophecies that came true.”

“Have you got it here?” asked Lady Mary eagerly. “Do show it to us.”

“What are you all so excited about?” asked Lord Glencoine, coming into the room at this moment.

“Oh, Herbert,” cried his wife, “Mrs. Haywood does all sorts of extraordinary things: she writes automatically, and has a crystal in which she sees things, and we are dying to see her do it.”

“I will go and get it,” I answered, seeing that nothing else would satisfy them; and I left the room, and made my way upstairs. The moon was just rising and pouring into the gallery windows, which, in spite of the artificial light with which it was lit, gave it a ghostly look, and I shivered slightly as I hurried through. Though I was not a nervous nor imaginative person, still I had felt, each of the three times I had walked down this gallery, a consciousness that someone or something walked with me. There were no steps—there was no sound—but there was something , and this time it seemed to be even more defined and more conscious.

I picked up my crystal, and, as quickly as I could, made my way downstairs. As I entered the drawing-room I was greeted with innumerable questions—where would I sit? Must the room be darkened? Should they all hold my hand and wish?—in fact, questions for which no one waited for an answer were poured into my ears.

As soon as there was a lull, I spoke:

“You can leave the room exactly as it is. I must sit where I get no reflection on the crystal, and I do not want any one to touch me.”

Lord Glencoine gave me a chair, and I moved it about till I got into what I considered a suitable light.

“Now,” I said, “is there any one who wants particularly to ask something? Of course I can’t promise that I shall see what they wish, or in fact anything; but I can try.”

“Oh, I know!” cried Charlie Glencoine: “I say, father, let’s ask about the jewels.”

“Yes, do,” said Lord Glencoine: “ask if you can see where the jewels are hidden—if they are hidden,” he added, in a lower tone.

“Very well. Now, please, don’t all stop talking; as long as you don’t talk to me it does not matter, and when I begin to see anything I will tell it to you. It may be very slow, and it may not come at all, but please don’t interrupt me till I take my eyes off the crystal again.

So they all seated themselves, and conversation went on in an undertone.

I concentrated all my sight on the crystal ball I had in my hand, and presently—after two or three minutes—I saw—what is always the first thing one does see—a kind of thickness in the glass; then that faded away, and I began to speak.

“I see,” I said, in a slow, dreamy way, “what appears to be a small stone vaulted chamber; there is no window in it, but apparently some light from inside; in the middle of the room a lady is standing”—here I paused, as her figure was not yet very clear—“a lady who seems to be very fair, with ringlets clustering on her forehead, dressed in a stiff white satin dress with lace; and she is radiant with jewels”—here I heard, amidst the almost dead silence, a muttered, “Ah,” from Lord Glencoine. “It looks like a diadem of rubies and diamonds on her head, and ropes of pearls hang from her neck and over the body of her dress; and she has a diamond girdle clasped round her waist. But what seems more than anything else to attract my attention is a ring she is wearing—a ring that almost covers the second finger of her left hand: it is quite the biggest I have ever seen, and it seems to be a magnificent square ruby in the middle, and two large diamonds at each side; and with this finger she is beckoning—she is looking full at me as if to entreat me to follow her, and her expression is very weary and anxious. She does not appear to move at all, and it is a face I have never seen before.”

“Mrs. Haywood,” said my host’s voice, trembling with excitement, “describe to me please once more her dress.”

I did so, telling him also that it struck me the dress was of the period of Sir Peter Lely’s pictures, or perhaps a little earlier than that; and then, my eyes beginning to ache with the continued strain, I lifted them from the crystal, and met the astonished and excited gaze of my audience.

“Do you know,” said Lord Glencoine, coming up to me and speaking in a low voice, “that you have described exactly the ancestress I told you of—the Lady Glencoine who disappeared with the jewels.”

“What do you mean? How do you know?” I asked eagerly.

“Because,” he said, “in my study, where you have not yet been, there is a life-sized picture of that Lady Glencoine; and the most extraordinary thing is that the jewels she is wearing answer exactly to your description, and above all that strange ring is on her second finger.”

I felt myself turning quite pale with my own discoveries. What did it all mean? And why was it given to me to see this strange picture?

Lady Glencoine came up. “You look so exhausted I am going to carry you off to bed, Mrs. Haywood. I have never been so much interested in my life as I have been tonight, but I think it has been too much for you—you look so pale and tired.”

I owned to feeling fatigued, and shortly afterwards we proceeded upstairs to bed.

My hostess accompanied me to my room, and, having lit my candles, wished me good-night. I could see she was much excited, but that she would not say more, thinking I had had enough and was tired.

I undressed, dismissed my maid, and, going to the window, drew up the blinds, letting the full moon pour into the room. The whole terrace below me was lit up with it, making long and ghostly shadows, and one could almost imagine one saw the human phantoms of the past flitting up and down.

I got into bed, still leaving the moon looking into my windows, and fell asleep very shortly.

How long after I cannot tell—but the room was still in moonlight, when I was awaked by that nameless consciousness that I was not alone. Turning my head to the door, I saw what made my heart stand still and my blood run cold within me.

There, bathed in the rays of the moon, stood the lady of my crystal—the same face, gown, jewels, and with that strange and wonderful ring on her second finger, the stones of which sparkled in the light. With that finger she was beckoning to me. Too terrified to move or even to scream, I watched her, fascinated; and then my voice—was it my voice?—found itself in a frightened whisper:

“Who are you? What are you? And why do you come here?” I whispered: “Go, go—you terrify me!” and, almost before I had finished, the face and figure grew indistinct and disappeared: there was no sound, there was no movement. The place where she had stood was still in brilliant moonlight, but she was gone. Thank Heaven she was gone! My teeth were chattering with fear, my hands were cold and clammy, and I was almost beside myself with terror. With trembling hands I lit my candle—two—three candles—and I got out of bed and walked round the entire room; and there was nothing, nothing anywhere, and I began to doubt myself. Had I dreamt it? Or was it a creation of my brain, overwrought with my “crystal” effort? I had gone to sleep with my mind full of this apparition, and doubtless I had dreamt it. I nearly persuaded myself that this was the case, anything else seemed so impossible, and with this determination I at last fell asleep.