The Abbot's Ghost, (A Christmas Story) by Louisa May Alcott (the gingerbread man read aloud .TXT) 📕

“Bless me, how dull we are tonight!” exclaimed Rose, as the younger portion of the party wandered listlessly about the drawing rooms that evening, while my lady and the major played an absorbing game of piquet, and the general dozed peacefully at last.

“It is because Maurice is not here; he always keeps us going, for he is a fellow of infinite resources,” replied Sir Jasper, suppressing a yawn.

“Have him out then,” said Annon.

“He won't come. The poor lad is blue tonight, in spite of his improvement. Something is amiss, and there is no getting a word from him.”

“Sad memories afflict him, perhaps,” sighed Blanche.

“Don't be absurd, dear, sad memories are all nonsense; melancholy is always indigestion, and nothing is so sure a cure as fun,” said Rose briskly. “I'm going to send in a polite invitation begging him to come and amuse us. He'll accept, I haven't a doubt.”

The message was sent, but to Rose's chagrin a polite refusal was returned.

“He shall come. Sir Jasper, do you and Mr. Annon go as a deputation from us, and return without him at your peril” was her command.

They went, and while waiting their reappearance the sisters spoke of what all had observed.

“How lovely Mrs. Snowdon looks tonight. I always thought she owed half her charms to her skill in dress, but she never looked so beautiful as in that plain black silk, with those roses in her hair,” said Rose.

“What has she done to herself?” replied Blanche. “I see a change, but can't account for it. She and Tavie have made some beautifying discovery, for both look altogether uplifted and angelic all of a sudden.”

“Here come the gentlemen, and, as I'm a Talbot, they haven't got him!” cried Rose as the deputation appeared, looking very crestfallen. “Don't come near me,” she added, irefully, “you are disloyal cowards, and I doom you to exile till I want you. I am infinite in resources as well as this recreant man, and come he shall. Mrs. Snowdon, would you mind asking Mr. Treherne to suggest something to wile away the rest of this evening? We are in despair, and can think of nothing, and you are all-powerful with him.”

“I must decline, since he refuses you” was the decided answer, as Mrs. Snowdon moved away.

“Tavie, dear, do go; we must have him; he always obeys you, and you would be such a public benefactor, you know.”

Without a word Octavia wrote a line and sent it by a servant. Several minutes passed, and the gentlemen began to lay wagers on the success of her trial. “He will not come for me, you may be sure,” said Octavia. As the words passed her lips he appeared.

A general laugh greeted him, but, taking no notice of the jests at his expense, he turned to Octavia, saying quietly, “What can I do for you, Cousin?”

His colorless face and weary eyes reproached her for disturbing him, but it was too late for regret, and she answered hastily, “We are in want of some new and amusing occupation to wile away the evening. Can you suggest something appropriate?”

“Why not sit round the hall fire and tell stories, while we wait to see the old year out, as we used to do long ago?” he asked, after a moment's thought.

“I told you so! There it is, just what we want.” And Sir Jasper looked triumphant.

“It's capital—let us begin at once. It is after ten now, so we shall not have long to wait,” cried Rose, and, taking Sir Jasper's arm, she led the way to the hall.

A great fire always burned there, and in wintertime thick carpets and curtains covered the stone floor and draped the tall windows. Plants blossomed in the warm atmosphere, and chairs and lounges stood about invitingly. The party was soon seated, and Treherne was desired to begin.

“We must have ghost stories, and in order to be properly thrilling and effective, the lights must be put out,” said Rose, who sat next him, and spoke first, as usual.

This was soon done, and only a ruddy circle of firelight was left to oppose the rapt gloom that filled the hall, where shadows now seemed to lurk in every corner.

“Don't be very dreadful, or I shall faint away,” pleaded Blanche, drawing nearer to Annon, for she had taken her sister's advice, and laid close siege to that gentleman's heart.

“I think your nerves will bear my little tale,” replied Treherne. “When I was in India, four years ago, I had a very dear friend in my regiment—a Scotchman; I'm half Scotch myself, you know, and clannish, of course. Gordon was sent up the country on a scouting expedition, and never returned. His men reported that he left them one evening to take a survey, and his horse came home bloody and riderless. We searched, but could not find a trace of him, and I was desperate to discover and avenge his murder. About a month after his disappearance, as I sat in my tent one fearfully hot day, suddenly the canvas door flap was raised and there stood Gordon. I saw him as plainly as I see you, Jasper, and should have sprung to meet him, but something held me back. He was deathly pale, dripping with water, and in his bonny blue eyes was a wild, woeful look that made my blood run cold. I stared dumbly, for it was awful to see my friend so changed and so unearthly. Stretching his arm to me he took my hand, saying solemnly, 'Come!' The touch was like ice; an ominous thrill ran through me; I started up to obey, and he was gone.”

“A horrid dream, of course. Is that all?” asked Rose.

With his eyes on the fire and his left hand half extended, Treherne went on as if he had not heard her.

“I thought it was a fancy, and soon recovered myself, for no one had seen or heard anything of Gordon, and my native servant lay just outside my tent. A strange sensation remained in the hand the phantom touched. It was cold, damp, and white. I found it vain to try to forget this apparition; it took strong hold of me; I told Yermid, my man, and he bade me consider it a sign that I was to seek my friend. That night I dreamed I was riding up the country in hot haste; what led me I know not, but I pressed on and on, longing to reach the end. A half-dried river crossed my path, and, riding down the steep bank to ford it, I saw Gordon's body lying in the shallow water looking exactly as the vision