MR

CHAPTER IX

SUPERSTITION

"In work to thee assigned,
Lean not on mortal aid;

Though danger cross thy path,
Shrink not, nor be dismayed"

R ELWYN paced the terrace-walk in his garden that evening as the sun' went down.

The air was cool and fresh after the heat of the day, and the golden sunset clouds shone brightly in the western sky, their colours

"In sweet confusion blending."

How beautiful it was! How full of calm and holy peace! The distant village sounds had sunk into a hum, and all nature was in repose. The very roses seemed to have kept back their best sweetness to give to the soft evening breeze

"Please, sir, Long John wishes to see you," said Susan, the parlour maid.

Mr Elwyn sighed; it seemed hard to be called away from the delicious repose of his garden after his hard day's work, but he never refused to see any of his parishioners when they desired his advice or assistance. told Susan to show Long John into his study.

So he

Drinking in, for one moment more, the glories of that lovely scene, he entered the house through the open window of his study, just as Susan was showing the sexton in at the door.

"Good evening, John," said Mr Elwyn; "fine weather this for the harvest."

John made no reply, and it was not till the vicar looked at him in surprise at his silence that he saw how pale and frightened he looked.

"What is the matter, John?" said the vicar kindly, "is any one ill?"

"No, sir," stammered John, as soon as his trembling lips would allow him to speak. "Nobody's ill, and there is nought amiss with any living creature, without 'tis me."

'Why, what is wrong with you, John? You look as if you had seen a ghost!"

"A ghost! that's just it, sir. I have seen it, and heard it too, and I have come to say that though I have been parish sexton nigh upon twenty years, and my father before me, I cannot stay another day in my place."

"Why not, John?" said Mr Elwyn, amazed. "You don't mean to say you are going to give up your situation, which you have held so long, on account of ghosts? Why I thought you were too sensible, and knew that ghosts do not really walk about churchyards."

"Oh, sir!" faltered John, his long legs trembling, and his knees knocking together from fright, "don't 'ee talk so; who knows what they might do to you? They do say as how ghosts is sure to punish them as don't believe in them; and as sure as my name is John Carter, there is ghosts round our church, and they have become uncommon venturesome lately."

"What have they been doing?" said the vicar, with difficulty repressing his inclination to laugh.

"I tell you, sir, I have heard them many times a-shrieking and a-groaning in the gloom of the evening, and this very night, as I was

finishing my job, which, owing to the ground being hard from the dry weather, took me longer than I expected, I heard first a kind of fluttering and screaming noise, and then, as sure as my name is John, the bells began to toll of their own accord, and when I went, as brave as I could, to the belfry, to find out what was going on, the sperrits half blinded me with their dust, and then I heard a rushing and scuffling past me, and by the time I could look round, they was gone."

Mr Elwyn had very hard work to keep his countenance at John's narrative, but seeing how much in earnest the poor man was, and knowing that as he was generally a silent man, this long history was the sign of great disturbance, he laid his hand kindly on his arm and said, "Sit down, John, and rest yourself a bit, and Susan shall bring you some tea, and then, when you are more yourself again, we will try if there is not something that we can do to lay these troublesome ghosts."

Mr Elwyn had no doubt in his own mind that the "flutterings and shriekings" John Carter complained of were caused by the owls which he had often heard in the church tower;

the only part of the story that struck him as strange was the dust that was thrown at him, but that might, in Long John's excited state, easily be accounted for by the fall of some plaster from the tower. He determined to go and see for himself if any unusual fall of rubbish had taken place, so leaving John in his sister's care, he took the key of the vestry, and let himself into the church.

Not being afraid of ghosts himself, Mr Elwyn felt no tremor or dread as he stood there alone in the dim light.

All was calm, quiet, and peaceful, nothing stirred, and the whole church looked as if it had been undisturbed since the evening service.

A ray of moonlight shone through one of the windows, and lighted up the stone tomb of an old knight in armour, the pride of the village church, and showed the dim outline of his recumbent form, with his arms folded on his breast, and the inscription carved in quaint old letters round his tomb

"This knight is dust,

And his good sword is rust,

His soul is with the saints, we trust."