The White Old Maid Read online

  ‘Assuredly, then, it was something worse, in old Cæsar’s likeness!’ said the other adventurer.

  ‘Be it as God wills,’ answered the clergyman. ‘See! my strength, though it be much decayed, hath sufficed to open this heavy door. Let us enter, and pass up the staircase.’

  Here occurred a singular exemplification of the dreamy state of a very old man’s mind. As they ascended the wide flight of stairs, the aged clergyman appeared to move with caution, occasionally standing aside, and oftener bending his head, as it were in salutation, thus practising all the gestures of one who makes his way through a throng. Reaching the head of the staircase, he looked around, with sad and solemn benignity, laid aside his staff, bared his hoary locks, and was evidently on the point of commencing a prayer.

  ‘Reverend Sir,’ said his attendant, who conceived this a very suitable prelude to their further search, ‘would it not be well, that the people join with us in prayer?’

  ‘Well-a-day!’ cried the old clergyman, staring strangely around him. ‘Art thou here with me, and none other? Verily, past time were present to me, and I deemed that I was to make a funeral prayer, as many a time heretofore, from the head of this staircase. Of a truth, I saw the shades of many that are gone. Yea, I have prayed at their burials, one after another, and the “Old Maid in the Winding-Sheet” hath seen them to their graves!’

  Being now more thoroughly awake to their present purpose, he took his staff, and struck forcibly on the floor, till there came an echo from each deserted chamber, but no menial, to answer their summons. They therefore walked along the passage, and again paused, opposite to the great front window, through which was seen the crowd, in the shadow and partial moonlight of the street beneath. On their right hand, was the open door of a chamber, and a closed one on their left. The clergyman pointed his cane to the carved oak panel of the latter.

  ‘Within that chamber,’ observed he, ‘a whole lifetime since, did I sit by the death-bed of a goodly young man, who, being now at the last gasp’--

  Apparently, there was some powerful excitement in the ideas which had now flashed across his mind. He snatched the torch from his companion’s hand, and threw open the door with such sudden violence, that the flame was extinguished, leaving them no other light than the moonbeams, which fell through two windows into the spacious chamber. It was sufficient to discover all that could be known. In a high-backed, oaken arm-chair, upright, with her hands clasped across her breast, and her head thrown back, sat the ‘Old Maid in the Winding-Sheet.’ The stately dame had fallen on her knees, with her forehead on the holy knees of the Old Maid, one hand upon the floor, and the other pressed convulsively against her heart. It clutched a lock of hair, once sable, now discolored with a greenish mould. As the priest and layman advanced into the chamber, the Old Maid’s features assumed such a semblance of shifting expression, that they trusted to hear the whole mystery explained, by a single word. But it was only the shadow of a tattered curtain, waving betwixt the dead face and the moonlight.

  ‘Both dead!’ said the venerable man. ‘Then who shall divulge the secret? Methinks it glimmers to-and-fro in my mind, like the light and shadow across the Old Maid’s face. And now ’t is gone!’