An extract from a Manuscript Novel.
“’Twas nothing more, indeed my dear uncle! No, indeed, ’twas nothing more! Dear, dear, how could I suppose it to be any thing more? And yet I even tremble now,” exclaimed Miss Godfrey to her astonished uncle, as he entered the house. “For heaven’s sake, my beloved Frances what has thus dreadfully alarmed you?” returned the old gentleman. “Tell me I beseech you! I’m on the rack till I know what could possibly have the power of alarming you to this dreadful degree. Come my sweet girl, compose yourself and relate to me this “soul harrowing” tale; for I’m half inclined (seeing you smile) to suppose it some imaginary evil.” It is indeed, sir, an imaginary evil, and a very foolish fear: I am very, very angry with myself, and am seriously apprehensive, that in disclosing to you my weakness, I shall draw down your very just animadversion; but if you will give me a patient hearing, and not think me too circumstantial in my narrative, I will give you then the seeming cause for the disorder in which you found me.” Do not fear censure from me my dear Frances, we all have our weak moments; and I am convinced, a girl with my Fanny’s understanding, could not be so alarmed at a very trifling circumstance; therefore proceed, my love; I will promise not to fall asleep over the recital.”
“Sitting in my dressing room at work, I was surprised by a very hasty tap at the door, which I opened, when Monsieur l’ Abbé appeared before me, with his hair erect, his eyes starting from their sockets, and his whole frame so convulsed with terror, that I momentarily expected the wax taper which he bore in his hand would make a somerset on my muslin dress. I begged him to inform me if he was ill? whether any thing had alarmed him? if I should ring for his servant? He shook his head in token of disapprobation of my last interrogatory, and in broken and almost inarticulate accents, begged I would indulge him with a moment’s hearing. He then, with much difficulty, addressed me as follows:–
“You know Miss Godfrey, I am the last man in the world to be frightened at bugbears, or in other words, superstition and I were ever sworn enemies: I think, then, after reprobating this weakness in others for fifty years, I have this evening become its victim; for to that alone must I ascribe my fears. Listen then to the cause of this weakness in me. I was deeply immersed in Horace, when I heard a knocking against the partition that separates the rooms. I paid little or no attention to it at first, when a second time the knocks were repeated with more violence. I then arose, and proceeded to the room where the noise issued; and directing my eyes towards the bed, to my infinite surprise I perceived the bell-rope making rapid and extensive strides from one side of the partition to the other. After viewing it for a moment, I thought I would take the liberty of stopping the marble breasted gentleman’s progress; I grasped the bell-rope, it yielded to my embrace, and became quiescent; I sat a moment to observe it; it remained quiet, and I returned to my studies. The instant I was seated, the same noise was repeated with increased violence; I entered the room a second time, and a second time saw the bell-rope in rapid motion. I then examined every corner of the room, without discovering the least trace by which I might elucidate this singular appearance. I again grasped the rope, and again it was motionless: I sat two or three minutes in the room, I believe, during which every thing was perfectly quiet. I returned to my room, when scarcely had I seated myself, ere the same noise met my ear, with a sort of hard breathing. This was more than even my philosophy could bear at that moment, and must plead my excuse for appearing before you in the disordered state which you have just witnessed.” “You must pardon me, my good sir, for smiling,” I remarked, but I really have scarcely had patience to hear you out, so anxious am I to be introduced to this ghost in the shape of a bell-rope! lead me to the haunted room, and you will gratify me beyond measure!”
“Magnanimous courage! exclaimed Monsieur, with such a guide, I’d face e’en Beelzebub himself;” when each embracing our taper, we proceeded to the mysterious room. My eager eye sought the bell-rope; but no sooner did I perceive its motion (for it was moving as Monsieur had described) than all my boasted philosophy forsook me. Ashamed to confess as much, I begged my companion to once more stop its progress, and suppressing my emotions, I assisted Monsieur in searching the room. Nothing, however, which possessed animation could we discover, (ourselves excepted) and indeed we could scarcely be said to possess it. Monsieur prevailed on me to retire to his sitting room, when perhaps, he observed, we should hear the noise repeated. I acquiesced, when to my inexpressible horror our ears were assailed by a tremendous knocking, accompanied by a terrific scream. This was more than human nature could bear. I rang the bell with unusual violence, which brought up two of the female servants. Without communicating my fears, I requested that the groom might be called: he came, and thus, in a body we once more ventured to enter this terror striking room, every corner of which was searched without success; when the groom accidentally moving the bed, out sprung our–black cat! She had so completely concealed herself in the head curtain of the bed, that all our endeavours to discover anything were fruitless; and each time we left the room, she amused herself with patting the pull of the bell, which occasioned its motion to the infinite terror of a French philosopher, and an heroic maiden.
“The ‘terrific scream,’ was a faint groan, proceeding from a servant who was ill in the house.”
From: The Mirror of Taste and Dramatic Censor, Volume 1, Issue 4 (April 1810).
Im in ur bed, ringin ur bellz!