The Haunted House of Ben's Hollow, and other ghostly stories

Front matter

PRICE ONE SHILLING. <oh : JAMES ELLKHT & Co., Temple Chambers, Falcon Court, Fleet Street THE HAUNTED HOUSE OF BEN'S HOLLOW AND OTHER GHOSTLY STORIES. THE HAUNTED HOUSE OF BEN'S HOLLOW, AND OTHER GHOSTLY STORIES. i . A. M. STEIN Xon&on : Ja.-ues Elliott & Co., Temple Chambers, Falcon Court, Fleet Streei , E.C. 1894. CONTENTS : Page. The Haunted House of Ben's Hollow — Part I. — The Carman's Story Part II. — The Artist's Story ... ... iy Part III. — The Spirit's Narrative ... ... S6 Old Spearman's Ghost ... ... ... ... m The Stout Wooer and the haunted room ... 123 A Weird Tryste ._. 133 Epilogue "... Ill Haunted .House of Bens .Hollow. iN IHkLE PARTS 1' Vki 1.- I ' Chapter I. It was in the dusk of evening that we first saw the old house known as " Ben's Hollow," and my friend Jack. Masters always declared that this fact fully accounted for the vague sense of honor which we both experienced as we looked down upon its dilapidated portico, broken windows, and garden overgrown with rank grass and tall weeds.

A move dismal-looking place it would be difficult to imagine, or one more suited to be tbe scene of some great crime. It lay in a hollow between two low hills, and was sa surrounded by trees that we seemed to come upon it quite suddenly and unexpectedly, as the road we were driving along took a sudden sharp turn round tne spur of one of the hills. There was a small dark-looking lake about 300 yards from the house, and the hills were the barest and bleakest-looking I ever saw. with jagged tops like the teeth of a saw. We had just crossed a large bog, and the sudden change to the hills and the lake was most unexpected. M\ I : i ■■ ■ . - [ . ■ • s ■,,!■-! i,i i . ■ ■ ■ ■■■• ; - .- ■ il'l We It,*! Ii " ,1ml.- ii. . i . ' mi. .. .I. ........... ■ , r (|. .. -i, | , :, . .■■..-, v.i ■!-. .■ pal n|, i.i ■ ■ , ■ ' ■ . , , ' .,,..,,,,. ,,r id ,' i 1 ..!-■ ' ' I ■'■ . ' ' ' '■ •■' " ' ■" : cntil , , ,|, .:! ' -.

I' ' : ' ' 1 -''IT — '■ I .in ttel ■ to ■ ' ,..., i ji.i.Mi this ; - ■ ■■■ f1 ' .' ■ ' - - - . ivi . worthy ol .. ■ ' I te fhaii ttf b lef) tc ft i •jw'Is. Whn does il ->-i>" _• Co '" " Is it the story of the ould house you'd be after knowing? Sure, thin, it's meeself can tell you that, for me own grand mother was own sister to Mary Machree that was nurse-girl to his honour, Captain McMurrough, the last of his name that lived there, and it's many's the ghost that she's seen there.'' My friend Jack Masters gave a great " snort " of contempt at the mention of ghosts. " I knew there'd be a ghost some where about the place," he said. " I never knew a dirty old house that hadn't a ghost of some kind — if the place was only dirty enough and shabby enough! What's this one up to? Eh! Waving a white sheet about and howling, I suppose.

Part II

— THE ARTIST'S STORY. Chapter II. _ Tim Kelly's story had taken so long in telling that as he finished we drove up to the door of the little inn in the small town of M . It was a shabby, dirty little town, like most of the small country towns in Ireland ; but it was all the m<:>re picturesque for that, and as the little hotel proved clean and conifortable we resolved to stay some days and explore the neighbourhood, and amongst other things we agreed to pay a visit to the haunted house. The marvellous always had a great charm for me, and as for Jack Masters, he was bent on proving that Kelly's story was all " bosh, ' and offered to settle any ghosts that might visit him. Accordingly we called next day upon the agent, and, after a little talk with him, he gave us the keys, and with them permission to spend a night or two in the house if we wished.

At the same time he warned us that the story we had heard was well authenticated, and it was a fact that everyone whohad tried — as we were going to try — to stay at Ben's Hollow had been very glad to get out of it again. Jack was much entertained by the agent's serious manner, and said it only made him the more bent on staying in the house, for one night at all events. We took with us a couple of revolvers, some candles and matches, and a. couple of strong walking-sticks — some news papers to read, ar.d a basket of provisions and a bottle of wine, and walked over to Ben's Hollow about seven o'clock in the evening, after a good dinner at the inn. As it was in September the days were long, and when we arrived there was plenty of light to see all through the house. It was a large, rambling old place of two storys, and had been added at various times, which made the architecture peculiar.

There was no furniture in it except a few old chairs and tables, an old sideboard, and a few things in the bedrooms. Jack and I explored all the rooms and locked all the doors, taking the keys down to the dining-room, which opened off the hall, and in which we intended to spend the night. We brought a couple of chairs and a table into this room, and, as the house felt damp and mouldy, we collected some turf and logs of wood and lighted a fire in the old fashioned grate. Then we lighted our candles, and, leaving the matches handy, we began our watch. As I have said, the room was empty of furniture except an old sideboard and the chairs and table we had brought into it. There were several very villainous old portraits on the walls, and a large mirror over the sideboard which was cracked from top to bottom.

The room was wainscoated in dark oak, and there was a handsome carved mantelpiece and a queer old grate. The shutters were fastened, and we resolved to shut the door. For some hours we sat and read, and as nothing happened Jack suggested we might as well have some refreshment, so we got out our food and bottle of wine. Jack took a walk round the room to see that all was right, and also looked into the hall, where we had left a light burning. As he returned we both distinctly heard a footstep following him. Jack said it was "an echo," of course, whereupon there was a low laugh and a sound as if someone had clapped his hands. Jack declared this must be a " trick " and he was quite prepared for that sort of thing, but he looked uneasily round and also pulled out his watch to see the time. It was 18 minutes past 1 2 o'clock.

We sat down to table, and were just beginning to eat, when the door opened and shut and a chair was pushed, or iather it glided along the floor of itself, up to the table, and stopped between us. There was no one visible, and the chair was one of those we had seen upstairs. Jack at once got up and hit the seat a great bang with his stick, and immediately the stick was twisted out of his hand, broken in two. and Uirown on the floor, while again sounded that low. chuckling .?•' I __ 7eK both start,ed> but resolved to act as if nothing had happened, and began our supper. Jack had his back to the fire, which was burning brightly, and I sat opposite to him. while the mysterious chair was placed at the table with its back to the windows and facing the broken mirror As we began to eat we saw a hand— a man's hand and wrist, nothing more— lift up a plate and throw it on the floor Then one thing after the other was thrown, some afmost striking us, till everything was removed from the table.

Jack grasped one candlestick and I held on to the other to save them from going As I did so I happened to turn and look in the mirror and there I saw the most awful face imaginable— so malignant so evil, no words can describe it. I cried out to Jack to look, and he too saw the face. As we looked it laughed, and a horrid laugh ran through the room, and appeared to be echoed through the house; while a cold icy wind seemed to freeze our blood and almost deprive us of the power to move. Then the candlesticks were wrenched trom our grasp, and the room suddenly seemed to fill with dark forms, which as suddenly vanished again, and then by the light of the fire, which still burned in the grate, we 'saw a dark figure in a large cloak standing by the hearth. I tried to speak, but I could neither move nor utter a sound, and only felt an awful nameless sense of oppression and horror stealing over me, joined to a wild desire to leave the place I could feel hands passed over my head and face, and a heavy sense of weight, as of something large folding itself round me like a great coil and rendering me helpless.

Then I heard, as in a dream, Jack's voice saying, "Who and what are you? What do you want? Speak, or I fire," he added, pointing his revolver at the figure. Again that horrid laugh came as an answer, and Jack fired. The bullet passed right through the ghost, and with a wild cry it clutched at Jack's throat. As it did so the dark shadows of its form seemed to envelop my friend, and he fell senseless on the floor. I made a frantic effort to move, and as I did so I felt the spell that bound me suddenly broken, and seizing my friend I half dragged, half carried, him into the open air, the unearthly laughter following me, and being echoed by a dozen other voices through the empty rooms. Once out of the house, Jack soon revived, but we neither of us felt inclined to return to the place again, so we walked over to M , and took a stroll about the town till it was time for breakfast.

We decided that after all our boastful talk it would never do to say how we had left the haunted house, so we sent the keys back to the agent by a boy, and saying that business would require us to leave M at once, we beat as graceful a retreat as the circumstances permitted. What it was we bad seen and felt I was unable to determine to my own satisfaction. Jack Masters stood out stoutly that he could explain it all — that it was simply a case of our hypno tising each other, or some such thing — but, all the same, he grew very cross if I alluded to "Ben's Hollow," and the subject was always a sore one. For my own part I can only say that, like Major Myers and the others who at different times had interviewed the ghosts at " Ben's Hollow," I con cluded that such experiences were more strange than agreeable, and I certainly had no desire to repeat mine.

I little thought, however, how important a part in my life t'm's old house would play, nor how its strange history was to be worked into my own. How little, indeed, do we know of those mysterious causes which rule and shape our destinies in spite of our own wills ! Some slight event causes us to go to a certain place on a given day at a given hour, and from that one visit there springs a train of events that change and make or mar our whole future lives. This in our blind ignorance we call Chance, and think in our pride that it was within our limited powers to have avoided the train of events.

Chapter III

During the winter which followed our visit to Ireland, Jack and I were both fairly successful in the pursuit of our art. Jack got a berth on one of the illustrated papers that kept him busy and paid him well. Drawing was his strong point, and his vigorous studies in black and white had gained him im H-WIN • • • « - • ■ I ■! I "V quite a reputation in Paris, where we had been students together. My forte was colouring ; warm, soft bright colouring was my delight, and I confess that it was my dream to be able to visit the South of Fiance and Italy, and to draw my inspirations from the sunny brightness of those lovely coun tries, so rich in scenery and romance. ;■■ • ■ | I u>1 Ii I onrwki with q 1 , U ■ ihi Suutti '' .i i > . r II ,';.■'■ . ■ ■ ■ fOTOII ii i i' 1 ■ ; hoiiM rui I .,, , i. i| lf - .i, ,. ,-xl ,:,,'.,;,,'.'- nr'hd [it) ' ,: 'u i \ . ■ ■"•. ia<1 ' ill . ifi bit |.ir% - .1 i J l\i i foi u five ,■■" ■ ; . , , VI ... |tnd I I ■ i ii,. im, i tr-,ni tt,.> I ,: .■ I ,. : ■. ■ i| .■ ■ - , I ■ ■ 'I ■ ir, , i •, | n-, ;, | ■ ( ' i , , in i ■ •;"■.■ iih (.in ■. :■■ ■ , | ■ ' • . i . ' .

Fi • , ■ i , | : ■■- 1 ■ n-i-. . Favn i It i <' Ih l ! :> II ; "',- : ' Win • • ; i i t(v1 ,' ■' in. ■■.-.' i I'm - ■. ■ ■■■ ■ ■ ... , i ..■..:.,. , .1: . • .' ; beneath the n<V ■■■■•' i < ■ ■ ' ji it* ' ' '■ n, mnsl < ■-..,,..-. ..n,: I, ',..■,. fsJ j , i., ' •• fi | • r ■' il i ■ : i IRlflF .■ ... is Efferent i our ■ • ■ ■ . ■ ■■• : rttini .. ■-y,---, a$, wlii'r I lull II I '■ '. | ■ ■-! : m.i all '■ I- "■ v\ : i ■■ •■■ rtj bi u . at-. ; I ' r i"'' ■•!"•'. ' I Compiin' fj zA in the Cabvl n ci ■ ■ ■■■ i \'iih rrn-r. hrr n-.h rhjld 11>ci ■ fi d boa ., ,,. ■, ,-• .■":'.•,.[,. :d al ■ ■ n THE HAUNTED HOUSE OP BEN'S HOLLOW. to leave us, so we had to live on the very slender pension which my mother received as his widow, and it was a constant struggle to make ends meet. When I was ten years old my poor mother died, and I was taken charge of by my paternal grandfather, who sent me to a large grammar school in the South of England, where I spent most of my holidays, only paying a formal visit to m) grandfather once a year.

When I grew up he obtained a situation for me in a merchant's office at a salary of _£8o a year, and then told me that now I was started in life and need expect no further aid from him. My father, he said, had married in opposition to his wishes, and he did not consider that the son of such a marriage had any claim. With myself he had no fault to find, and if I liked to pay him a visit at any time he would be pleased to see me and hear how I was getting on, but I need not look for any further help from him, nor think he would leave me anything in his will. He had a large family of sons and daughters and their children to provide for, and it was " to the children of those who had been dutiful to him that he intended to leave his money." There was not much love lost between my grandfather and myself, and I need hardly say that I did not trouble him often with my visits.

I remained in that office four years — long, weary years they — and then my longing for art and an artist's life grew so strong that I resolved to give up my situation and devote myself to painting. This was the last straw to my grandfather. He wrote me a most indignant letter when he learned from his friend, the merchant, what I had done, and told me that henceforth he washed his hands of me and my concerns for ever — a proceed ing that did not afflict me much, I am bound to say. Then began for me a long struggle with poverty. I had saved some money, though not much, from my a year, during the years of my office drudgery, and had contrived also to attend a night class for students at the studio of a very good painter near Fitzroy Square, and at the end of my four years I got the offer (through one of my fellow students) of an appointment as drawing-master to a young ladies' school at Bayswater.

This appointment, though small, was some thing certain, and after a time I secured work, drawing designs for illustrations in one of the "penny dreadfuls." In this OF BENS HOLLOW. 23 way I contrived to live and, after a time, to save a little. As soon as I felt I could risk it, I went to Paris to study, and again I was fortunate enough to find work in illustrating cheap books and papers. Thus I was able to earn a living and, at the same time continue my studies under good masters ; but it was terribly hard work. I confess. Here Jack and T first met. I don't think I am very sociable by nature, and it was Jack who made the first advances, and his frank, cordial disposition did the rest. Pie had a charm for me that none of the other students possessed, and before we had worked together a fortnight at the atelier we had become quite intimate friends.

I don't suppose anyone before or since ever knew so much of my private history as Jack did in the first month, and I soon found myself making him the hero in all my pictures and dreams. He was very tall and big and fair. I am only between five feet eight and five feet nine, and am dark and sallow. Nature has given me health and strength, and I am athletic and active, but must admit that I am not handsome, and have no claims to that charm of manner which so often takes the place of good looks — a charm, moreover, which Jack possessed in a hiph degree. Jack was easy-tempered, rather careless, and reach to forgive or forget anything; indeed, I sometimes thought he forgot too easily, while I am somewhat passionate and find it hard to either forgive or forget a slight or an injury, and I can neither love nor hate in a quiet fashion.

I am also fond of the mysterious, the unknown, and all forms of so-called superstition in all countries have a great charm for me. and even at that time I had an intense desire to enquire into occult subjects, had I possessed the necessary time and money. What then was the attraction between us I cannot tell. I know as little as a man of science or a chemist knows what causes the attraction between certain chemicals or metals ; I only know the attraction existed, and that it seemed equally strong on both sides. For three years we studied together in Paris, and then Tack's father died suddenly. It was found that far from being so rich as was supposed he had been living up to his income, and bevond some furniture and about _£~4,ooo, he had left nothing. Jack had two sisters, both well married and settled in the country, and when the furniture and other property came to be realised, the share of each did not amount to very much.

Jack resolved, therefore, to return to London and start making money on his own account, and I, of course, his faithful shadow, returned with him. We took lodgings together and shared a studio in the next street, and there for two years patiently worked our way towards fame and fortune, and had so far succeeded that we now felt able to treat ourselves to quite an extensive trip abroad during our holidays. We travelled first to Paris — had a look round there — and then went by easy stages to Lyons and Marseilles, then crossed into Italy, and made our way to the picturesque old city of Genoa, where we intended to remain a short time, as it afforded so many fine opportunities for sketching, and there was so much that was interesting to see. We had spent three delightful days exploring this most quaint of cities, without making a single sketch — there was so much to sketch we did not know where to begin.

It was the evening of the third day. We were on our way back to the hotel after a walk through one of the lovely suburbs of Genoa, and were passing the Church of the Annunciata, when the approach of a procession of the " confraternitb,," who were engaged in performing their pious offices for the dead, caused us to turn into the church to escape the crowal in the narrow street, and once inside, the beauty of the building made us wander round, examining the paintings, sculpture, and monumental tablets. I was standing near the high altar, in front of one of the fine windows, trying to read the Latin inscription under it, when Jack attracted my attention by touching my arm and whispering, " Look, Dick ! did you ever see a prettier girl than that ? She is just the model I want for my new picture.

How I wish she would keep still while I try to sketch her!" I looked round and saw the object of his admiration, who was contemplating the altar with much attention — glancing occasionally at a guide-book she held in her hand — evidently a stranger like ourselves. Standing there with the light from the windows falling on her, the dim, mysterious arches of the church fading away in the growing darkness, and framing her slight figure with their dark background, she made a charming picture — a picture that I have often seen in my dreams since; a picture that rises now as I write, and I see again the cool, dim church, with its sprinkling of worshippers dotted about like dark specks — the gorgeous altar with its rows of flickering candles, and the fair, slight figure of the girl standing before it — and ourselves, whose lives that fair girl was to influence so wonderfully, watching her — all of us unconscious of the part each was to plav in the destiny of the other.

She was about middle height, rather slight, with golden brown hair, small features, and a fair, delicate complexion. She had a small, well-shaped head, and that graceful, well proportioned figure that made Jack notice her. A pretty girl, truly, and yet I had seen many quite as pretty, and none of them had cost me a second thought. Why, then, did my heart give such a sudden start at the sight of this stranger? What was the reason that my blood rushed through my veins, and that I felt a wild impulse to follow her and find out who she was. and where she lived ? I know not. I only know that it was so, and that I, who bad laughed hitherto at others in love as weak fools, had now unconsciously to myself fallen suddenly and violently in love with this girl whom I now saw for the first time. W:hat is that mysterious affinity which makes us often turn to a complete stranger as to an old friend, which, more wonderful still, can waken the master passion of our souls at the sight of one whose very name is even unknown ?

Is it the fore-knowledge of a life that is yet before us where we shall be all in all to each other, and in which all those long ings and aspirations that are as yet but shadows shall be realised ? Is it the recognition that has come to twin souls that now at last meet and long for reunion ? In this life, alas ! their hope is too often disappointed, but for those who have thus met and thus loved on earth there is, there must be reunion in that other and higher life beyond the grave and Gate of Death. As I now looked at this fair stranger, I was only conscious of an anxiety to learn who she was. The reason I was so anxious I did not e.-en guess, and had anyone told me that I had fallen in love I should have been most indignant. I suppose some instinct must have made her conscious that we were watching her (the same feeling, no doubt, that makes two people in the street turn to look after each other), for she turned round, and catching us both in the act of staring and Jack trying to make a sketch of her, she blushed deeply, and, in her hurry to go away, she dropped her parasol.

I stepped forward quickly to pick it up, saying as I handed it to her, "Pardon us for staring at you, but you were so absorbed, and you made such a pretty picture in this old church that we could not resist watching you." The girl blushed again, and bowing slightly, took her parasol and hurried from the church. Somehow, my interest in the building had gone, too, and I longed to follow her, but I felt that to do so would be almost an insult, and not for worlds would I have done that. How I hoped we should meet again! How I looked at every figure like hers as we explored the old town during the next few days. Alas ! I never saw her, and began to fear that she had left Genoa, and that we should not meet again, when chance or destiny brought us once more together, and this time made us known to each other.

Chapter IV

It was a few days after our meeting with the pretty girl in the church, that on returning to our hotel we found that some friends we had known in Paris were now in Genoa. They had called during our absence, and had left us invita tions to spend the next evening with them. They expected a few friends, and there would be music and dancing. Jack accepted at once, as he was fond of parties, and, after a slight hesitation, I agreed to go with him, in the hope, shall I confess, of meeting again my fair unknown. That we should meet again I felt almost certain, and my one idea was to look for her wherever I went. I felt terribly ashamed of my folly, but yet I could not keep my thoughts from her image. The rooms were already crowded when we arrived ait the Villa Fabrini, where our friends were staying.

Someone was playing the violin when we reached the door of the salon, so we remained outside till the music ceased, watching the groups of guests, and I, for my part, seeking for a glimpse of the girl whose image so haunted me. As my eyes glanced over a group by the window, I started and turned pale, for there, indeed, she was, talking to a small, dark Italian., who was fanning her gently with her fan and looking unutterable things out of his soft, dark eves. This sight made me most unreasonably angry, and I determined to get my hostess to introduce me at trie earliest opportunity. What the music was I do not know, I scarcely heard it. I could only think of those two by the window. She wore a dress of some soft, bluish-grey stuff, with a fewdark crimson roses which relieved its paleness, and became well the delicacy of her complexion.

Jack had not noticed her yet, and I did not feel anxious to point her out. He had just discovered someone he knew, and slipped away to speak to him after we had paid our respects to our hostess, while I asked Madame de Marteville (our friend) to present me to her fair guest, and in a few moments I was bowing to her and hearing, as in a dream, Madame saying, "Allow me, Miss Challoner, to present to you my friend, Monsieur Richard Harden, an artist of whom we expect great things, and who is anxious to make your ac quaintance." And then I saw Miss Challoner blush, and ■ i f t her soft grey-blue eyes to mine with an amused expression, as she returned my bow, saying — " Mr. Harden and I have met before, I believe, though we had not the honour of an introduction, and I think I have seen his pictures.