The Lady of the Shroud by Bram Stoker (book series for 10 year olds .txt) 📕

soul unattached can have

a body built up for it or around it; or, again, whether the body of a

dead person can be made seeming quick through some diabolic influence

manifested in the present, or an inheritance or result of some

baleful use of malefic power in the past. The result is the same in

each case, though the ways be widely different: a soul and a body

which are not in unity but brought together for strange purposes

through stranger means and by powers still more strange.

 

Through much thought and a process of exclusions the eerie form which

seemed to be most in correspondence with my adventure, and most

suitable to my fascinating visitor, appeared to be the Vampire.

Doppelganger, Astral creations, and all such-like, did not comply

with the conditions of my night experience. The Wehr-Wolf is but a

variant of the Vampire, and so needed not to be classed or examined

at all. Then it was that, thus focussed, the Lady of the Shroud (for

so I came to hold her in my mind) began to assume a new force. Aunt

Janet’s library afforded me clues which I followed with avidity. In

my secret heart I hated the quest, and did not wish to go on with it.

But in this I was not my own master. Do what I would—brush away

doubts never so often, new doubts and imaginings came in their stead.

The circumstance almost repeated the parable of the Seven Devils who

took the place of the exorcised one. Doubts I could stand.

Imaginings I could stand. But doubts and imaginings together made a

force so fell that I was driven to accept any reading of the mystery

which might presumably afford a foothold for satisfying thought. And

so I came to accept tentatively the Vampire theory—accept it, at

least, so far as to examine it as judicially as was given me to do.

As the days wore on, so the conviction grew. The more I read on the

subject, the more directly the evidences pointed towards this view.

The more I thought, the more obstinate became the conviction. I

ransacked Aunt Janet’s volumes again and again to find anything to

the contrary; but in vain. Again, no matter how obstinate were my

convictions at any given time, unsettlement came with fresh thinking

over the argument, so that I was kept in a harassing state of

uncertainty.

 

Briefly, the evidence in favour of accord between the facts of the

case and the Vampire theory were:

 

Her coming was at night—the time the Vampire is according to the

theory, free to move at will.

 

She wore her shroud—a necessity of coming fresh from grave or tomb;

for there is nothing occult about clothing which is not subject to

astral or other influences.

 

She had to be helped into my room—in strict accordance with what one

sceptical critic of occultism has called “the Vampire etiquette.”

 

She made violent haste in getting away at cock-crow.

 

She seemed preternaturally cold; her sleep was almost abnormal in

intensity, and yet the sound of the cock-crowing came through it.

 

These things showed her to be subject to SOME laws, though not in

exact accord within those which govern human beings. Under the

stress of such circumstances as she must have gone through, her

vitality seemed more than human—the quality of vitality which could

outlive ordinary burial. Again, such purpose as she had shown in

donning, under stress of some compelling direction, her ice-cold wet

shroud, and, wrapt in it, going out again into the night, was hardly

normal for a woman.

 

But if so, and if she was indeed a Vampire, might not whatever it may

be that holds such beings in thrall be by some means or other

exorcised? To find the means must be my next task. I am actually

pining to see her again. Never before have I been stirred to my

depths by anyone. Come it from Heaven or Hell, from the Earth or the

Grave, it does not matter; I shall make it my task to win her back to

life and peace. If she be indeed a Vampire, the task may be hard and

long; if she be not so, and if it be merely that circumstances have

so gathered round her as to produce that impression, the task may be

simpler and the result more sweet. No, not more sweet; for what can

be more sweet than to restore the lost or seemingly lost soul of the

woman you love! There, the truth is out at last! I suppose that I

have fallen in love with her. If so, it is too late for me to fight

against it. I can only wait with what patience I can till I see her

again. But to that end I can do nothing. I know absolutely nothing

about her—not even her name. Patience!

 

RUPERT’S JOURNAL—Continued.

April 16, 1907.

 

The only relief I have had from the haunting anxiety regarding the

Lady of the Shroud has been in the troubled state of my adopted

country. There has evidently been something up which I have not been

allowed to know. The mountaineers are troubled and restless; are

wandering about, singly and in parties, and holding meetings in

strange places. This is what I gather used to be in old days when

intrigues were on foot with Turks, Greeks, Austrians, Italians,

Russians. This concerns me vitally, for my mind has long been made

up to share the fortunes of the Land of the Blue Mountains. For good

or ill I mean to stay here: J’y suis, j’y reste. I share henceforth

the lot of the Blue Mountaineers; and not Turkey, nor Greece, nor

Austria, nor Italy, nor Russia—no, not France nor Germany either;

not man nor God nor Devil shall drive me from my purpose. With these

patriots I throw in my lot! My only difficulty seemed at first to be

with the men themselves. They are so proud that at the beginning I

feared they would not even accord me the honour of being one of them!

However, things always move on somehow, no matter what difficulties

there be at the beginning. Never mind! When one looks back at an

accomplished fact the beginning is not to be seen—and if it were it

would not matter. It is not of any account, anyhow.

 

I heard that there was going to be a great meeting near here

yesterday afternoon, and I attended it. I think it was a success.

If such is any proof, I felt elated as well as satisfied when I came

away. Aunt Janet’s Second Sight on the subject was comforting,

though grim, and in a measure disconcerting. When I was saying good-night she asked me to bend down my head. As I did so, she laid her

hands on it and passed them all over it. I heard her say to herself:

 

“Strange! There’s nothing there; yet I could have sworn I saw it!”

I asked her to explain, but she would not. For once she was a little

obstinate, and refused point blank to even talk of the subject. She

was not worried nor unhappy; so I had no cause for concern. I said

nothing, but I shall wait and see. Most mysteries become plain or

disappear altogether in time. But about the meeting—lest I forget!

 

When I joined the mountaineers who had assembled, I really think they

were glad to see me; though some of them seemed adverse, and others

did not seem over well satisfied. However, absolute unity is very

seldom to be found. Indeed, it is almost impossible; and in a free

community is not altogether to be desired. When it is apparent, the

gathering lacks that sense of individual feeling which makes for the

real consensus of opinion—which is the real unity of purpose. The

meeting was at first, therefore, a little cold and distant. But

presently it began to thaw, and after some fiery harangues I was

asked to speak. Happily, I had begun to learn the Balkan language as

soon as ever Uncle Roger’s wishes had been made known to me, and as I

have some facility of tongues and a great deal of experience, I soon

began to know something of it. Indeed, when I had been here a few

weeks, with opportunity of speaking daily with the people themselves,

and learned to understand the intonations and vocal inflexions, I

felt quite easy in speaking it. I understood every word which had up

to then been spoken at the meeting, and when I spoke myself I felt

that they understood. That is an experience which every speaker has

in a certain way and up to a certain point. He knows by some kind of

instinct if his hearers are with him; if they respond, they must

certainly have understood. Last night this was marked. I felt it

every instant I was talking and when I came to realize that the men

were in strict accord with my general views, I took them into

confidence with regard to my own personal purpose. It was the

beginning of a mutual trust; so for peroration I told them that I had

come to the conclusion that what they wanted most for their own

protection and the security and consolidation of their nation was

arms—arms of the very latest pattern. Here they interrupted me with

wild cheers, which so strung me up that I went farther than I

intended, and made a daring venture. “Ay,” I repeated, “the security

and consolidation of your country—of OUR country, for I have come to

live amongst you. Here is my home whilst I live. I am with you

heart and soul. I shall live with you, fight shoulder to shoulder

with you, and, if need be, shall die with you!” Here the shouting

was terrific, and the younger men raised their guns to fire a salute

in Blue Mountain fashion. But on the instant the Vladika {1} held up

his hands and motioned them to desist. In the immediate silence he

spoke, sharply at first, but later ascending to a high pitch of

single-minded, lofty eloquence. His words rang in my ears long after

the meeting was over and other thoughts had come between them and the

present.

 

“Silence!” he thundered. “Make no echoes in the forest or through

the hills at this dire time of stress and threatened danger to our

land. Bethink ye of this meeting, held here and in secret, in order

that no whisper of it may be heard afar. Have ye all, brave men of

the Blue Mountains, come hither through the forest like shadows that

some of you, thoughtless, may enlighten your enemies as to our secret

purpose? The thunder of your guns would doubtless sound well in the

ears of those who wish us ill and try to work us wrong. Fellow-countrymen, know ye not that the Turk is awake once more for our

harming? The Bureau of Spies has risen from the torpor which came on

it when the purpose against our Teuta roused our mountains to such

anger that the frontiers blazed with passion, and were swept with

fire and sword. Moreover, there is a traitor somewhere in the land,

or else incautious carelessness has served the same base purpose.

Something of our needs—our doing, whose secret we have tried to

hide, has gone out. The myrmidons of the Turk are close on our

borders, and it may be that some of them have passed our guards and

are amidst us unknown. So it behoves us doubly to be discreet.

Believe me that I share with you, my brothers, our love for the

gallant Englishman who has come amongst us to share our sorrows and

ambitions—and I trust it may be our joys. We are all united