Gaslit Horror Read Free Page A

“Doom” and “Judgement” passed from mouth to mouth in stifled undertones.
    As the white coffin of the maiden was being carried into the house, Cuffy, standing under the piazza, heard William Walcot give Dan instructions for the opening of the Corbyn mausoleum. Uplifting his head and his bony hands in superstitious horror, he ejaculated: “There! Berry young Missy Walcot in Corbyn grabe! Nebber. Old massa’s flesh creep in him shroud if dat blue-nailed missy laid inside there!”
    The tall old man, venerable with the greyness of his hundred years, drew a long breath, then stalked unbidden into the presence of Matthias and Dr. Hawley, and stood before them erect, with fiery eyes, much as Elijah must have stood before usurping Ahab.
    â€œMassa Walcot better not berry him dead with the Corbyn dead. Sure’s you live, Massa Arch’bald nebber ’low it!”
    â€œNot allow it, Cuffy! What do you mean?” said Mr. Walcot testily, looking up amazed and annoyed.
    â€œMassa Corbyn leave him hall, leave him plantation, leave him money to him friend; but him keep de Corbyn maus’lum for de Corbyn only . IF”—and undaunted Cuffy laid special emphasis on the “if”—“If no heir, an Massa Arch’bald be last ob de Corbyns, den dat maus’lum be closed till Judgement-day!”
    â€œCuffy, you presume on your grey hairs. I shall lay my poor child where I think fit. I do not suffer my slaves to dictate to me. Your mind is wandering. Quit the room; this is no season for intrusion.”
    Dr. Hawley listened in silence. Cufty still maintained his ground.
    â€œMassa Walcot, de ’mighty God above send Cuffy to warn you. Dere am doom on dis house till Corbyn heir be found, and de first thun’erbolt fell last night. For own sake, Massa Walcot” (Cuffy never said “ massa ” only), “berry pretty missy in de churchyard!”
    A similar scene was enacted upstairs.
    Dinah, arranging the folds of the fine muslin shroud, and the fan-shaped face cover to stand stiffly up until the last moment, made way for the bereaved mother to kiss the pallid lips ere it was folded down. She ventured to ask the place of interment.
    Being told, she bent her aged knees, and implored her mistress to change her plans, or evil would be sure to come of it.
    Mr. and Mrs. Walcot were alike obdurate and indignant. Cuffy and Dinah were declared crazy and superstitious, and cautioned to make less free in future.
    But though they laid their daughter’s corpse in the Corbyn mausoleum, in spite of premonition, for some innate reason they did not place it in any one of the unfilled niches; it was left on the floor in the centre of the sepulchre.
    And then the Corbyn vault closed for the first time on one of another name and another caste.
    III. THE MYSTERY OF THE MAUSOLEUM
    It is not customary for Barbadians to court the heavy noxious dews and the bloodthirsty mosquitoes by being abroad after nightfall; but the unwonted events of ball and burial on two consecutive days had brought to that lonely plantation a concourse of people, some of whom were detained by the claims of friendship, others of business, to a late hour.
    It was close upon midnight when Dr. Hawley and another friend shook hands with Mr. Walcot under the portico of the Corbyn mansion; and stepping into his light cane phaeton, he bade his black Jehu “Tear away home.”
    Once clear of the sombre avenue, where accommodating fireflies hung out their tiny lamps, the white marly road shone like a streak of silver in the bright moonlight. They spun along rapidly, to the drowsy music of their own wheels, in concert with the droning trumpet of obsequious mosquitoes, and the thin metallic pipe of an occasional cicada, to which their pony’s hoof beat time. Otherwise the stillness was unbroken, save by Sambo’s involuntary ejaculations to the steed.
    As they neared the point where the road branched