It was, however, but lost labour to endeavour henceforward to inspire
Barton with one ray of hope; he became utterly desponding. This
intangible and, as it seemed, utterly inadequate influence was fast
destroying his energies of intellect, character, and health. His first
object was now to return to Ireland, there, as he believed, and now
almost hoped, speedily to die. To Ireland, accordingly, he came, and one of the first faces he saw upon
the shore was again that of his implacable and dreaded persecutor. Barton seemed at last to have lost not only all enjoyment and every hope
in existence, but all independence of will besides. He now submitted
himself passively to the management of the friends most nearly
interested in his welfare. With the apathy of entire despair, he
implicitly assented to whatever measures they suggested and advised;
and, as a last resource, it was determined to remove him to a house of
Lady Rochdale's in the neighbourhood of Clontarf, where, with the advice
of his medical attendant (who persisted in his opinion that the whole
train of impressions resulted merely from some nervous derangement) it
was resolved that he was to confine himself strictly to the house, and
to make use only of those apartments which commanded a view of an
enclosed yard, the gates of which were to be kept jealously locked. These precautions would at least secure him against the casual
appearance of any living form which his excited imagination might
possibly confound with the spectre which, as it was contended, his
fancy recognized in every figure that bore even a distant or general
resemblance to the traits with which he had at first invested it. A
month or six weeks' absolute seclusion under these conditions, it was
hoped, might, by interrupting the series of these terrible impressions,
gradually dispel the predisposing apprehension, and effectually break up
the associations which had confirmed the supposed disease, and rendered
recovery hopeless. Cheerful society and that of his friends was to be
constantly supplied, and on the whole, very sanguine expectations were
indulged in, that under this treatment the obstinate hypochondria of the
patient might at length give way. Accompanied, therefore, by Lady Rochdale, General Montague, and his
daughter--his own affianced bride--poor Barton, himself never daring to
cherish a hope of his ultimate emancipation from the strange horrors
under which his life was literally wasting away, took possession of
the apartments whose situation protected him against the dreadful
intrusions from which he shrank with such unutterable terror. After a little time, a steady persistence in this system began to
manifest its results in a very marked though gradual improvement alike
in the health and spirits of the invalid. Not, indeed, that anything
at all approaching to complete recovery was yet discernible. On the
contrary, to those who had not seen him since the commencement of his
strange sufferings, such an alteration would have been apparent as might
well have shocked them. The improvement, however, such as it was, was
welcomed with gratitude and delight, especially by the poor young lady,
whom her attachment to him, as well as her now singularly painful
position, consequent on his mysterious and protracted illness, rendered
an object of pity scarcely one degree less to be commiserated than
himself. A week passed--a fortnight--a month--and yet no recurrence of the hated
visitation had agitated and terrified him as before. The treatment had,
so far, been followed by complete success. The chain of association had
been broken. The constant pressure upon the overtasked spirits had been
removed, and, under these comparatively favourable circumstances, the
sense of social community with the world about him, and something of
human interest, if not of enjoyment, began to reanimate his mind. It was about this time that Lady Rochdale, who, like most old ladies of
the day, was deep in family receipts, and a great pretender to medical
science, being engaged in the concoction of certain unpalatable mixtures
of marvellous virtue, despatched her own maid to the kitchen garden with
a list of herbs which were there to be carefully culled and brought back
to her for the purpose stated. The hand-maiden, however, returned with
her task scarce half-completed, and a good deal flurried and alarmed. Her mode of accounting for her precipitate retreat and evident agitation
was odd, and to the old lady unpleasantly startling. It appeared that she had repaired to the kitchen garden, pursuant to
her mistress's directions, and had there begun to make the specified
selection among the rank and neglected herbs which crowded one corner of
the enclosure, and while engaged in this pleasant labour she carelessly
sang a fragment of an old song, as she said, "to keep herself company." She was, however, interrupted by a sort of mocking echo of the air she
was singing; and looking up, she saw through the old thorn hedge, which
surrounded the garden, a singularly ill-looking, little man, whose
countenance wore the stamp of menace and malignity, standing close to
her at the other side of the hawthorn screen. She described herself as
utterly unable to move or speak, while he charged her with a message for
Captain Barton, the substance of which she distinctly remembered to have
been to the effect that he, Captain Barton, must come abroad as usual,
and show himself to his friends out of doors, or else prepare for a
visit in his own chamber. On concluding this brief message, the stranger
had, with a threatening air, got down into the outer ditch, and seizing
the hawthorn stems in his hands, seemed on the point of climbing through
the fence, a feat which might have been accomplished without much
difficulty. Without, of course, awaiting this result, the girl, throwing
down her treasures of thyme and rosemary, had turned and run, with the
swiftness of terror, to the house. Lady Rochdale commanded her, on pain
of instant dismissal, to observe an absolute silence respecting all that
portion of the incident which related to Captain Barton; and, at the
same time, directed instant search to be made by her men in the garden
and fields adjacent. This measure, however, was attended with the usual
unsuccess, and filled with fearful and indefinable misgivings, Lady
Rochdale communicated the incident to her brother. The story, however,
until long afterwards, went no further, and of course it was jealously
guarded from Barton, who continued to mend, though slowly and
imperfectly. Barton now began to walk occasionally in the courtyard which we have
mentioned, and which, being surrounded by a high wall, commanded no view
beyond its own extent. Here he, therefore, considered himself perfectly
secure; and, but for a careless violation of orders by one of the
grooms, he might have enjoyed, at least for some time longer, his
much-prized immunity.