And I think it needs blessing, for if there was any truth in
local gossip (and it is said, I think truly, that "There is never any
smoke without fire") he had lived a very queer life. Indeed, he was
held in such universal awe and abhorrence that we used to fly at his
approach, and never spoke of him amongst ourselves saving in such
terms as "Auld dour crab," or "The laird deil." Rownam Manor House, where he lived, was a fine specimen of
sixteenth-century architecture, and had it been called a castle would
have merited the appellation far more than many of the buildings in
Scotland that bear that name. It was approached by a long avenue of
trees--gigantic elms, oaks, and beeches, that, uniting their branches
overhead in summertime, formed an effectual barrier to the sun's rays. This avenue had an irresistible attraction for me. It literally
swarmed with rabbits and squirrels, and many are the times I have
trespassed there to watch them. I had a very secure hiding-place in
the hollow of an old oak, where I have often been secreted while Sir
E.C. and his keepers, without casting a glance in my direction, passed
unsuspectingly by, vowing all sorts of vengeance against trespassers. Of course, I had to be very careful how I got there, for the grounds
were well patrolled, and Sir E.C. had sworn to prosecute anyone he
caught walking in them without his permission. Had Sir E.C. caught me,
I should, doubtless, have been treated with the utmost severity, since
he and my father were the most bitter opponents politically, and for
that reason, unreasonable though it be, never lost an opportunity of
insulting one another. My father, a strong Radical, was opposed to all
big landed proprietors, and consequently winked his eye at my
trespassings; but I think nothing would really have pleased him better
than to have seen me brought to book by Sir E.C., since in my defence
he would have had an opportunity of appealing to the passions of the
local people, who were all Radicals, and of incensing them still
further against the principles of feudalism. But to continue. I had often heard it rumoured in the village that
Rownam avenue was haunted, and that the apparition was a lady in
white, and no other than Sir E.C. 's wife, whose death at a very early
age had been hastened, if not entirely accounted for, by her husband's
harsh treatment. Whether Sir E.C. was really as black as he was
painted I have never been able to ascertain; the intense animosity
with which we all regarded him, made us believe anything ill of him,
and we were quite ready to attribute all the alleged hauntings in the
neighbourhood to his past misdeeds. I believe my family, with scarcely
an exception, believed in ghosts; anyhow, the subject of ghosts was
so often discussed in my hearing that I became possessed of an
ungovernable curiosity to see one. If only "The White Lady" would
appear in the daytime, I thought, I should have no difficulty in
satisfying this curiosity, but unfortunately she did not appear till
night--in fact, not until long after boys of my age had been
ruthlessly ordered off to bed. I did not quite like the idea of
stealing out of the house at dead of night and going alone to see the
ghost, so I suggested to my schoolfellow that he should also break
loose one night and accompany me to Rownam to see "The White Lady." It
was, however, of no use. Much as he would have liked to have seen a
ghost in broad daylight, it was quite another matter at night, to say
nothing of running the risk of being caught trespassing by that
inveterate enemy, Sir E.C. At length, finding that neither persuasion,
bribery, nor taunts of cowardice had any effect on my schoolfellow,
who could not decide which appearance would be the more appalling,
for,--he assured me I should be certain to encounter either one or the
other--the White Lady, or the Laird Deil,--I gave up all further
effort to induce him to accompany me, and made up my mind to go to
Rownam avenue alone. Biding my opportunity, and waiting till my father was safely out of
the way,--on a visit to Greenock, where some business transaction
would oblige him to remain for some days,--I climbed out of my bedroom
window, when I deemed the rest of the household to be sound asleep,
scudded swiftly across the fields, and, making short work of the lofty
wall that formed the southernmost boundary of the Rownam estates,
quickly made my way to the avenue. It was an ideal Sunday night in
August, and it seemed as if all nature participated in the Sabbath
abstraction from noise and work. Hardly a sound broke the exquisite
silence of the woods. At times, overcome with the delightful sensation
of freedom, I paused, and, raising my eyes to the starry heavens,
drank in huge draughts of the pure country air, tainted only with the
sweet smell of newly mown hay, and the scent of summer flowers. I
became intoxicated, delirious, and in transports of joy threw myself
on the soft mossy ground, and, baring my throat and chest, bathed
myself in the moonbeams' kisses. Then, picking myself slowly up, I
performed the maddest capers, and, finally sobering down, continued my
course. Every now and again fancying I detected the stealthy footsteps
of a keeper, I hid behind a tree, where I remained till I was quite
assured I had been mistaken, and that no one was about. How long I
dallied I do not know, but it must have been fully one o'clock before
I arrived at the outskirts of the avenue, and, advancing eagerly,
ensconced myself in my favourite sanctuary, the hollow oak. All was
hushed and motionless, and, as I gazed into the gloom, I became
conscious, for the first time in my life, of a sensation of eeriness. The arched canopy of foliage overhead was strongly suggestive of a
funeral pall; not a glimmer of moonlight penetrated through it; and
all beneath seemed to me to be buried in the silence and blackness of
the grave. The loneliness got on my nerves; at first I grew afraid, only afraid,
and then my fears turned into a panic, a wild, mad panic, consisting
in the one desire to get where there were human beings--creatures I
knew and understood. With this end in view I emerged from my retreat,
and was preparing to fly through the wood, when, from afar off, there
suddenly came the sound of a voice, the harsh, grating voice of a man. Convinced this time that I had been discovered by a keeper, I jumped
back into the tree, and, swarming up the inside of the trunk, peeped
cautiously out. What I saw nearly made me jump out of my skin. Advancing along the avenue was the thing I had always longed to see,
and for which I had risked so much: the mysterious, far-famed "Lady in
White,"--a ghost, an actual, _bona fide_ ghost! How every nerve in my
body thrilled with excitement, and my heart thumped--till it seemed on
the verge of bursting through my ribs! "The Lady in White!" Why, it
would be the talk of the whole countryside! Some one had _really_--no
hearsay evidence--seen the notorious apparition at last.