FEW days after this, Virginia and her curly-haired cavalier
went out riding on Brockley meadows, where she tore her habit
so badly in getting through a hedge, that, on her return home,
she made up her mind to go up by the back staircase so as not
to be seen. As she was running past the Tapestry Chamber, the
door of which happened to be open, she fancied she saw some one
inside, and thinking it was her mother's maid, who sometimes
used to bring her work there, looked in to ask her to mend her
habit. To her immense surprise, however, it was the Canterville
Ghost himself! He was sitting by the window, watching the ruined
gold of the yellowing trees fly through the air, and the red
leaves dancing madly down the long avenue. His head was leaning
on his hand, and his whole attitude was one of extreme depression.
Indeed, so forlorn, and so much out of repair did he look, that
little Virginia, whose first idea had been to run away and lock
herself in her room, was filled with pity, and determined to
try and comfort him. So light was her footfall, and so deep his
melancholy, that he was not aware of her presence till she spoke
to him.'I am so sorry for you,' she
said, 'but my brothers are going back to Eton to-morrow, and
then, if you behave yourself, no one will annoy you.'
'It is absurd asking me to behave
myself,' he answered, looking round in astonishment at the pretty
little girl who had ventured to address him, 'quite absurd. I
must rattle my chains, and groan through keyholes, and walk about
at night, if that is what you mean. It is my only reason for
existing.'
'It is no reason at all for existing,
and you know you have been very wicked. Mrs. Umney told us, the
first day we arrived here, that you had killed your wife.'
'Well, I quite admit it,' said
the Ghost petulantly, 'but it was a purely family matter, and
concerned no one else.'
'It is very wrong to kill any
one,' said Virginia, who at times had a sweet Puritan gravity,
caught from some old New England ancestor.
'Oh, I hate the cheap severity
of abstract ethics! My wife was very plain, never had my ruffs
properly starched, and knew nothing about cookery. Why, there
was a buck I had shot in Hogley Woods, a magnificent pricket,
and do you know how she had it sent up to table? However, it
is no matter now, for it is all over, and I don't think it was
very nice of her brothers to starve me to death, though I did
kill her.'
'Starve you to death? Oh, Mr.
Ghost, I mean Sir Simon, are you hungry? I have a sandwich in
my case. Would you like it?'
'No, thank you, I never eat anything
now; but it is very kind of you, all the same, and you are much
nicer than the rest of your horrid, rude, vulgar, dishonest family.'
'Stop!' cried Virginia, stamping
her foot, 'it is you who are rude, and horrid, and vulgar, and
as for dishonesty, you know you stole the paints out of my box
to try and furbish up that ridiculous blood-stain in the library.
First you took all my reds, including the vermilion, and I couldn't
do any more sunsets, then you took the emerald-green and the
chrome-yellow, and finally I had nothing left but indigo and
Chinese white, and could only do moonlight scenes, which are
always depressing to look at, and not at all easy to paint. I
never told on you, though I was very much annoyed, and it was
most ridiculous, the whole thing; for who ever heard of emerald-green
blood?'
'Well, really,' said the Ghost,
rather meekly, 'what was I to do? It is a very difficult thing
to get real blood nowadays, and, as your brother began it all
with his Paragon Detergent, I certainly saw no reason why I should
not have your paints. As for colour, that is always a matter
of taste: the Cantervilles have blue blood, for instance, the
very bluest in England; but I know you Americans don't care for
things of this kind.'
'You know nothing about it, and
the best thing you can do is to emigrate and improve your mind.
My father will be only too happy to give you a free passage,
and though there is a heavy duty on spirits of every kind, there
will be no difficulty about the Custom House, as the officers
are all Democrats. Once in New York, you are sure to be a great
success. I know lots of people there who would give a hundred
thousand dollars to have a grandfather, and much more than that
to have a family Ghost.'
'I don't think I should like
America.'
'I suppose because we have no
ruins and no curiosities,' said Virginia satirically.
'No ruins! no curiosities!' answered
the Ghost; 'you have your navy and your manners.'
'Good evening; I will go and
ask papa to get the twins an extra week's holiday.'
'Please don't go, Miss Virginia,'
he cried; 'I am so lonely and so unhappy, and I really don't
know what to do. I want to go to sleep and I cannot.'
'That's quite absurd! You have
merely to go to bed and blow out the candle. It is very difficult
sometimes to keep awake, especially at church, but there is no
difficulty at all about sleeping. Why, even babies know how to
do that, and they are not very clever.'
'I have not slept for three hundred
years,' he said sadly, and Virginia's beautiful blue eyes opened
in wonder; 'for three hundred years I have not slept, and I am
so tired.'
Virginia grew quite grave, and
her little lips trembled like rose- leaves. She came towards
him, and kneeling down at his side, looked up into his old withered
face.
'Poor, poor Ghost,' she murmured;
'have you no place where you can sleep?'
'Far away beyond the pine-woods,'
he answered, in a low dreamy voice, 'there is a little garden.
There the grass grows long and deep, there are the great white
stars of the hemlock flower, there the nightingale sings all
night long. All night long he sings, and the cold, crystal moon
looks down, and the yew-tree spreads out its giant arms over
the sleepers.'
Virginia's eyes grew dim with
tears, and she hid her face in her hands.
'You mean the Garden of Death,'
she whispered.
'Yes, Death. Death must be so
beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving
above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday,
and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.
You can help me. You can open for me the portals of Death's house,
for Love is always with you, and Love is stronger than Death
is.'
Virginia trembled, a cold shudder
ran through her, and for a few moments there was silence. She
felt as if she was in a terrible dream.
Then the Ghost spoke again, and
his voice sounded like the sighing of the wind.
'Have you ever read the old prophecy
on the library window?'
'Oh, often,' cried the little
girl, looking up; 'I know it quite well. It is painted in curious
black letters, and it is difficult to read. There are only six
lines:
When a golden girl can win
Prayer from out the lips of sin, When the barren almond bears,
And a little child gives away its tears, Then shall all the house
be still And peace come to Canterville.
But I don't know what they mean.''They mean,' he said sadly, 'that
you must weep for me for my sins, because I have no tears, and
pray with me for my soul, because I have no faith, and then,
if you have always been sweet, and good, and gentle, the Angel
of Death will have mercy on me. You will see fearful shapes in
darkness, and wicked voices will whisper in your ear, but they
will not harm you, for against the purity of a little child the
powers of Hell cannot prevail.'
Virginia made no answer, and
the Ghost wrung his hands in wild despair as he looked down at
her bowed golden head. Suddenly she stood up, very pale, and
with a strange light in her eyes. 'I am not afraid,' she said
firmly, 'and I will ask the Angel to have mercy on you.'
He rose from his seat with a
faint cry of joy, and taking her hand bent over it with old-fashioned
grace and kissed it. His fingers were as cold as ice, and his
lips burned like fire, but Virginia did not falter, as he led
her across the dusky room. On the faded green tapestry were broidered
little huntsmen. They blew their tasselled horns and with their
tiny hands waved to her to go back. 'Go back! little Virginia,'
they cried, 'go back!' but the Ghost clutched her hand more tightly,
and she shut her eyes against them. Horrible animals with lizard
tails, and goggle eyes, blinked at her from the carven chimney-piece,
and murmured 'Beware! little Virginia, beware! we may never see
you again,' but the Ghost glided on more swiftly, and Virginia
did not listen. When they reached the end of the room he stopped,
and muttered some words she could not understand. She opened
her eyes, and saw the wall slowly fading away like a mist, and
a great black cavern in front of her. A bitter cold wind swept
round them, and she felt something pulling at her dress. 'Quick,
quick,' cried the Ghost, 'or it will be too late,' and, in a
moment, the wainscoting had closed behind them, and the Tapestry
Chamber was empty.
[Chapter Six]
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Oscar Wilde Collection