stories by modern american authors-第77节

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death　chamber　of　the　old　clergyman。　　Natural　connections　he　had

none。　　But　there　was　the　decorously　grave；　though　unmoved

physician；　seeking　only　to　mitigate　the　last　pangs　of　the　patient

whom　he　could　not　save。　　There　were　the　deacons；　and　other

eminently　pious　members　of　his　church。　　There；　also；　was　the

Reverend　Mr。　Clark；　of　Westbury；　a　young　and　zealous　divine；　who

had　ridden　in　haste　to　pray　by　the　bedside　of　the　expiring

minister。　　There　was　the　nurse；　no　hired　handmaiden　of　death；　but

one　whose　calm　affection　had　endured　thus　long　in　secrecy；　in

solitude；　amid　the　chill　of　age；　and　would　not　perish；　even　at

the　dying　hour。　　Who；　but　Elizabeth！　　And　there　lay　the　hoary　head

of　good　Father　Hooper　upon　the　death　pillow；　with　the　black　veil

still　swathed　about　his　brow；　and　reaching　down　over　his　face；　so

that　each　more　difficult　gasp　of　his　faint　breath　caused　it　to

stir。　　All　through　life　that　piece　of　crape　had　hung　between　him

and　the　world：　it　had　separated　him　from　cheerful　brotherhood　and

woman's　love；　and　kept　him　in　that　saddest　of　all　prisons；　his

own　heart；　and　still　it　lay　upon　his　face；　as　if　to　deepen　the

gloom　of　his　darksome　chamber；　and　shade　him　from　the　sunshine　of

eternity。



For　some　time　previous；　his　mind　had　been　confused；　wavering

doubtfully　between　the　past　and　the　present；　and　hovering

forward；　as　it　were；　at　intervals；　into　the　indistinctness　of　the

world　to　come。　　There　had　been　feverish　turns；　which　tossed　him

from　side　to　side；　and　wore　away　what　little　strength　he　had。　　But

in　his　most　convulsive　struggles；　and　in　the　wildest　vagaries　of

his　intellect；　when　no　other　thought　retained　its　sober

influence；　he　still　showed　an　awful　solicitude　lest　the　black

veil　should　slip　aside。　　Even　if　his　bewildered　soul　could　have

forgotten；　there　was　a　faithful　woman　at　this　pillow；　who；　with

averted　eyes；　would　have　covered　that　aged　face；　which　she　had

last　beheld　in　the　comeliness　of　manhood。　　At　length　the

death…stricken　old　man　lay　quietly　in　the　torpor　of　mental　and

bodily　exhaustion；　with　an　imperceptible　pulse；　and　breath　that

grew　fainter　and　fainter；　except　when　a　long；　deep；　and　irregular

inspiration　seemed　to　prelude　the　flight　of　his　spirit。



The　minister　of　Westbury　approached　the　bedside。



〃Venerable　Father　Hooper；〃　said　he；　〃the　moment　of　your　release

is　at　hand。　　Are　you　ready　for　the　lifting　of　the　veil　that　shuts

in　time　from　eternity？〃



Father　Hooper　at　first　replied　merely　by　a　feeble　motion　of　his

head；　then；　apprehensive；　perhaps；　that　his　meaning　might　be

doubted；　he　exerted　himself　to　speak。



〃Yea；〃　said　he；　in　faint　accents；　〃my　soul　hath　a　patient

weariness　until　that　veil　be　lifted。〃



〃And　is　it　fitting；〃　resumed　the　Reverend　Mr。　Clark；　〃that　a　man

so　given　to　prayer；　of　such　a　blameless　example；　holy　in　deed　and

thought；　so　far　as　mortal　judgment　may　pronounce；　is　it　fitting

that　a　father　in　the　church　should　leave　a　shadow　on　his　memory；

that　may　seem　to　blacken　a　life　so　pure？　　I　pray　you；　my　venerable

brother；　let　not　this　thing　be！　　Suffer　us　to　be　gladdened　by　your

triumphant　aspect　as　you　go　to　your　reward。　　Before　the　veil　of

eternity　be　lifted；　let　me　cast　aside　this　black　veil　from　your

face！〃



And　thus　speaking；　the　Reverend　Mr。　Clark　bent　forward　to　reveal

the　mystery　of　so　many　years。　　But；　exerting　a　sudden　energy；　that

made　all　the　beholders　stand　aghast；　Father　Hooper　snatched　both

his　hands　from　beneath　the　bedclothes；　and　pressed　them　strongly

on　the　black　veil；　resolute　to　struggle；　if　the　minister　of

Westbury　would　contend　with　a　dying　man。



〃Never！〃　cried　the　veiled　clergyman。　〃On　earth；　never！〃



〃Dark　old　man！〃　exclaimed　the　affrighted　minister；　〃with　what

horrible　crime　upon　your　soul　are　you　now　passing　to　the

judgment？〃



Father　Hooper's　breath　heaved；　it　rattled　in　his　throat；　but；

with　a　mighty　effort；　grasping　forward　with　his　hands；　he　caught

hold　of　life；　and　held　it　back　till　he　should　speak。　　He　even

raised　himself　in　bed；　and　there　he　sat；　shivering　with　the　arms

of　death　around　him；　while　the　black　veil　hung　down；　awful；　at

that　last　moment；　in　the　gathered　terrors　of　a　lifetime。　　And　yet

the　faint；　sad　smile；　so　often　there；　now　seemed　to　glimmer　from

its　obscurity；　and　linger　on　Father　Hooper's　lips。



〃Why　do　you　tremble　at　me　alone？〃　cried　he；　turning　his　veiled

face　round　the　circle　of　pale　spectators。　〃Tremble　also　at　each

other！　　Have　men　avoided　me；　and　women　shown　no　pity；　and　children

screamed　and　fled；　only　for　my　black　veil？　　What；　but　the　mystery

which　it　obscurely　typifies；　has　made　this　piece　of　crape　so

awful？　　When　the　friend　shows　his　inmost　heart　to　his　friend；　the

lover　to　his　best　beloved；　when　man　does　not　vainly　shrink　from

the　eye　of　his　Creator；　loathsomely　treasuring　up　the　secret　of

his　sin；　then　deem　me　a　monster；　for　the　symbol　beneath　which　I

have　lived；　and　die！　　I　look　around　me；　and；　lo！　on　every　visage　a

Black　Veil！〃



While　his　auditors　shrank　from　one　another；　in　mutual　affright；

Father　Hooper　fell　back　upon　his　pillow；　a　veiled　corpse；　with　a

faint　smile　lingering　on　the　lips。　　Still　veiled；　they　laid　him　in

his　coffin；　and　a　veiled　corpse　they　bore　him　to　the　grave。　　The

grass　of　many　years　has　sprung　up　and　withered　on　that　grave；　the

burial　stone　is　moss…grown；　and　good　Mr。　Hooper's　face　is　dust；

but　awful　is　still　the　thought　that　it　mouldered　beneath　the

Black　Veil！







Anonymous



Horror：　A　True　Tale





I　was　but　nineteen　years　of　age　when　the　incident　occurred　which

has　thrown　a　shadow　over　my　life；　and；　ah　me！　how　many　and　many　a

weary　year　has　dragged　by　since　then！　　Young；　happy；　and　beloved　I

was　in　those　long…departed　days。　　They　said　that　I　was　beautiful。

The　mirror　now　reflects　a　haggard　old　woman；　with　ashen　lips　and

face　of　deadly　pallor。　　But　do　not　fancy　that　you　are　listening　to

a　mere　puling　lament。　　It　is　not　the　flight　of　years　that　has

brought　me　to　be　this　wreck　of　my　former　self：　had　it　been　so　I

could　have　borne　the　loss　cheerfully；　patiently；　as　the　common　lot

of　all；　but　it　was　no　natural　progress　of　decay　which　has　robbed　me

of　bloom；　of　youth；　of　the　hopes　and　joys　that　belong　to　youth；

snapped　the　link　that　bound　my　heart　to　another's；　and　doomed　me　to

a　lone　old　age。　　I　try　to　be　patient；　but　my　cross　has　been　heavy；

and　my　heart　is　empty　and　weary；　and　I　long　for　the　death　that

comes　so　slowly　to　those　who　pray　to　die。



I　will　try　and　relate；　exactly　as　it　happened；　the　event　which

blighted　my　life。　　Though　it　occurred　many　years　ago；　there　is　no

fear　that　I　should　have　forgotten　any　of　the　minutest

circumstances：　they　were　stamped　on　my　brain　too　clearly　and

burningly；　like　the　brand　of　a　red…hot　iron。　　I　see　them　written　in

the　wrinkles　of　my　brow；　in　the　dead　whiteness　of　my　hair；　which

was　a　glossy　brown　once；　and　has　known　no　gradual　change　from　dark

to　gray；　from　gray　to　white；　as　with　those　happy　ones　who　were　the

companions　of　my　girlhood；　and　whose　honored　age　is　soothed　by　the

love　of　children　and　grandchildren。　　But　I　must　not　envy　them。　　I

only　meant　to　say　that　the　difficulty　of　my　task　has　no　connection

with　want　of　memoryI　remember　but　too　well。　　But　as　I　take　my　pen

my　hand　trembles；　my　head　swims；　the　old　rushing　faintness　and

Horror　comes　over　me　again；　and　the　well…remembered　fear　is　upon

me。　　Yet　I　will　go　on。



This；　briefly；　is　my　story：　I　was　a　great　heiress；　I　believe；

though　I　cared　little　for　the　fact；　but　so　it　was。　　My　father　had

great　possessions；　and　no　son　to　inherit　after　him。　　His　three

daughters；　of　whom　I　was　the　youngest；　were　to　share　the　broad

acres　among　them。　　I　have　said；　and　truly；　that　I　cared　little　for

the　circumstance；　and；　indeed；　I　was　so　rich　then　in　health　and

youth　and　love　that　I　felt　myself　quite　indifferent　to　all　else。

The　possession　of　all　the　treasures　of　earth　could　never　have　made

up　for　what　I　then　hadand　lost；　as　I　am　about　to　relate。　　Of

course；　we　girls　knew　that　we　were　heiresses；　but　I　do　not　think

Lucy　and　Minnie　were　any　the　prouder　or　the　happier　on　that

account。　　I　know　I　was　not。　　Reginald　did　not　court　me　for　my

money。　　Of　THAT　I　felt　assured。　　He　proved　it；　Heaven　be　praised！

when　he　shrank　from　my　side　after　the　change。　　Yes；　in　all　my

lonely　age；　I　can　still　be　thankful　that　he　did　not　keep　his　word；

as　some　would　have　donedid　not　clasp　at　the　altar　a　hand　he　had

learned　to　loathe　and　shudder　at；　because　it　was　full　of　goldmuch

gold！　　At　least　he　spared　me　that。　　And　I　know　that　I　was　loved；

and　the　knowledge　has　kept　me　from　going　mad　through　many　a　weary

day　and　restless　night；　when　my　hot　eyeballs　had　not　a　tear　to

shed；　and　even　to　weep　was　a　luxury　denied　me。



Our　house　was　an　old　Tudor　mansion。　　My　father　was　very　particular

in　keeping　the　smallest　peculiarities　of　his　home　unaltered。　　Thus

the　many　peaks　and　gables；　the　nu