The Macabre Megapack. Lafcadio Hearn

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СКАЧАТЬ the kindest of men; he saw Mary Stuart and at once pronounced her case to be monomania—that sort of “perilous stuff which weighs upon the heart,” and for which drugs have no healing and medical science no cure.

      “You must take her from here,” he said gently but firmly to her mother. “She is of a morbid temperament, and the close retirement of her life together with the vicinity of the churchyard has aided a predisposition to nervous excitement. She must have a change of scene.”

      “Alas, sir!” replied the mother, in tears, “I have not the power, my means are scanty—this little cottage is allowed us rent-free by the landlord, who was a dear friend of my husband—a single journey and moth’s residence in a strange city would consume all we have to live on for a year.”

      Doctor Burton was not one of those Sir Oracles who content themselves by saying, “this must be done,” without endeavoring to point out the way how; he smiled benevolently and took the widow’s hand—

      “Mrs. Stuart, I venture to predict a certain cure, if you will follow a pleasant and easy prescription, for your daughter; you must marry her at once to William Lindsay. Nothing so sure to chase ideas of death as the blushes of a bride.”

      “Oh! Doctor! They are poor enough now—if they marry and have a family, the expenses of the children—”

      “Will be better to bear than losing the only one you have!” interrupted the Doctor, gravely; “my dear, madam, Mr. Lindsay is very clever in his profession—he has industry and good will to work; but as long as your daughter’s illness distracts his mind, he can never be himself. He has friends, and the young couple will do well, I doubt not; but of this be sure,” he continued with solemn decision, as she was about to speak—“of this be sure—on my reputation as a physician, I affirm, that if Miss Stuart continues in this situation much longer, her reason or her life will pay the penalty.”

      And without allowing the querulous old lady time to answer, he left her to ponder on his words. Great was the joy of Lindsay at this advice, and as the wise physician had truly prophesied, the startling proposal of immediate marriage, produced a reaction in the mind of Mary and very soon evinced its beneficial effects. Resolved not to do things by halves, the excellent doctor employed Lindsay professionally in copying specimens of morbid anatomy, and invited Mary to pass a few weeks with his wife and daughters and to consult them concerning her future arrangements. Oh! How much happiness can be conferred by a few kind words and actions of those whose fortune or skill raises them above their ordinary fellow-creatures! How little studious of their own enjoyment are such as never buy the dear delight of giving pleasure! What epicurean delight—what fashionable luxury—what expensive purchase ever conferred the soul-felt rapture called forth by unhoped-for benediction? What public fame or loud-mouthed huzzas—what sugared praise or subtle flattery—ever gave the heart the self-content derived from beholding the bliss itself has created? The truth of this too-little-considered fact was essentially proved by the pleased Doctor Burton and his amiable wife, as they watched the mantling blush which came over and anon like a bright bird of passage over Mary’s faded features, as they saw the honest tear of gratitude glisten on William’s manly cheek, or heard the murmured blessing from the relieved mother who felt that her widowed age would not now be robbed of it’s only comfort.

      Cheerily passes the time when the heart is at ease. The few weeks previous to the wedding day of Mary glided by as if the footfall of June only fell upon flowers. Each of the Miss Burtons presented the expected bride with a bridal dress, and if their graceful simplicity could not add to her beauty, they certainly contributed to her honest pride and pleasure. The cake was made, the love knots twisted, the ring was bought and two days only intervened between the happy day, when one evening as the family of Doctor Burton were sitting cheerfully conversing, the sound of carriage-wheels stopped at the door, and a heavy lumbering noise sounded in the hall.

      “Oh, my father is arrived!” exclaimed Ellen Burton, rising rapidly.

      “What sort of luggage are they bringing in, in the name of wonder?” said her sister.

      “Let us go and see,” said Ellen.

      Mary stopped her; and, with a cheek as white as chalk, said, tremulously, “they tread like men who bear a heavy burden; they whisper, too, beneath their voices; there is a scent of camphor spreading through the house. It is a corpse they are bring in!”

      “You dream, dear Mary—come, let us go and meet this dreaded luggage; my life upon it, its terror will vanish when encountered.”

      With gentle but steady grasp she raised the trembling Mary, and would have let her out, but was stayed by the entrance of her father. He looked pale and somewhat excited, and hurriedly evaded their questions. Suddenly he heard a hard, suppressed breathing, and looking round, beheld Mary gazing at him with wild and rigid stare; her blue lips apart, and her clenched hands pressed forcibly upon her breast. All his presence of mind at once returned, and, advancing to her with composure, he said—“What, Miss Stuart, and have my luckless glass vials and electronic machinery startled you also? For shame, young ladies, I thought you were all better soldiers!”

      “It is William!” hissed poor Mary, never for a moment relaxing her distended gaze; “it is Lindsay’s corpse!”

      “Mary, my dear child! For God’s sake do not thus torture yourself; Lindsay is well; but to see you thus, might well make him otherwise. What! You do not believe me? Then come in yourself, William, and convince this obstinate heretic to happiness.”

      He went to the door of his private surgery and called out Lindsay, who instantly flew to his beloved girl. The instant Mary beheld him, she uttered a frantic shriek, and fell in his arms, exclaiming, “Not dead! Not yet doomed to the dreadful grave! William—my William!”

      A burst of tears relieved her o’ercharged heart, and the benevolent Doctor, smiling on her, said—

      “Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip!”

      In spite of this relief, the evening passed heavily; there seemed to be an indescribable something weighing on William’s heart. Mary was exhausted from over-excitement, and the Doctor appeared to listen uneasily to every sound. Mrs. Burton and the ladies retired early, and Ellen left Mary, as she believed, in a sweet and fast sleep. The mystery existing in the surgery was soon explained to William. A certain man had died in one of the London hospitals of a disease which baffled the skill of the physicians. His relations obstinately refused his body for dissection, and with extreme peril and difficulty, a select committee, of which Dr. Burton was the president, had contrived to steal it from the grave. Fearing, however, lest the loss might be discovered and search made, the Doctor had boxed up the body and brought it down to his own private surgery, where, besides having time to examine minutely, he had the advantage of William’s skill as a draughtsman to copy any peculiar appearance the system may present. It was the first time Lindsay had ever witnessed the process of dissection; and as the body had been many days in the grave, and was in an advanced state of decomposition, the trial to his nerves and senses was such, that he devoutly hoped it might be the last. He had for some time slept in a small room adjoining the surgery, and now, for the free circulation of air, left the intermediate door open. Towards the dead of night, his frightful occupation was interrupted by the sound of a footstep. He paused, looked round, called the Doctor by name, and then, seeing nothing, sat once more down to his awful task. All was as still as the grave which was thus robbed of its ghastly tenant; when, suddenly, a loud, long scream smote on his ear, more resembling the prolonged yell of a wild Indian, or the frantic howl of a maniac, than any natural cry of terror. He sprung up, and saw standing by him the figure of his Mary—if, as such, he might recognize the distorted face and writhing form that stood before him, glaring on the blackened corpse.

      To his СКАЧАТЬ