THE WOMAN IN WHITE (Illustrated Edition). Wilkie Collins Collins
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the whole school, Miss Halcombe, by declaring that he saw a ghost yesterday evening,” answered the master; “and he still persists in his absurd story, in spite of all that I can say to him.”
“Most extraordinary,” said Miss Halcombe “I should not have thought it possible that any of the boys had imagination enough to see a ghost. This is a new accession indeed to the hard labour of forming the youthful mind at Limmeridge, and I heartily wish you well through it, Mr. Dempster. In the meantime, let me explain why you see me here, and what it is I want.”
She then put the same question to the schoolmaster which we had asked already of almost every one else in the village. It was met by the same discouraging answer Mr. Dempster had not set eyes on the stranger of whom we were in search.
“We may as well return to the house, Mr. Hartright,” said Miss Halcombe; “the information we want is evidently not to be found.”
She had bowed to Mr. Dempster, and was about to leave the schoolroom, when the forlorn position of Jacob Postlethwaite, piteously sniffing on the stool of penitence, attracted her attention as she passed him, and made her stop goodhumouredly to speak a word to the little prisoner before she opened the door.
“You foolish boy,” she said, “why don’t you beg Mr. Dempster’s pardon, and hold your tongue about the ghost?”
“Eh! — but I saw t’ ghaist,” persisted Jacob Postlethwaite, with a stare of terror and a burst of tears.
“Stuff and nonsense! You saw nothing of the kind. Ghost indeed! What ghost — — ”
“I beg your pardon, Miss Halcombe,” interposed the schoolmaster a little uneasily — ”but I think you had better not question the boy. The obstinate folly of his story is beyond all belief; and you might lead him into ignorantly — — ”
“Ignorantly what?” inquired Miss Halcombe sharply.
“Ignorantly shocking your feelings,” said Mr. Dempster, looking very much discomposed.
“Upon my word, Mr. Dempster, you pay my feelings a great compliment in thinking them weak enough to be shocked by such an urchin as that!” She turned with an air of satirical defiance to little Jacob, and began to question him directly. “Come!” she said, “I mean to know all about this. You naughty boy, when did you see the ghost?”
“Yestere’en, at the gloaming,” replied Jacob.
“Oh! you saw it yesterday evening, in the twilight? And what was it like?”
“Arl in white — as a ghaist should be,” answered the ghost-seer, with a confidence beyond his years.
“And where was it?”
“Away yander, in t’ kirkyard — where a ghaist ought to be.”
“As a ‘ghaist’ should be — where a ‘ghaist’ ought to be — why, you little fool, you talk as if the manners and customs of ghosts had been familiar to you from your infancy! You have got your story at your fingers’ ends, at any rate. I suppose I shall hear next that you can actually tell me whose ghost it was?”
“Eh! but I just can,” replied Jacob, nodding his head with an air of gloomy triumph.
Mr. Dempster had already tried several times to speak while Miss Halcombe was examining his pupil, and he now interposed resolutely enough to make himself heard.
“Excuse me, Miss Halcombe,” he said, “if I venture to say that you are only encouraging the boy by asking him these questions.”
“I will merely ask one more, Mr. Dempster, and then I shall be quite satisfied. Well,” she continued, turning to the boy, “and whose ghost was it?”
“T’ ghaist of Mistress Fairlie,” answered Jacob in a whisper.
The effect which this extraordinary reply produced on Miss Halcombe fully justified the anxiety which the schoolmaster had shown to prevent her from hearing it. Her face crimsoned with indignation — she turned upon little Jacob with an angry suddenness which terrified him into a fresh burst of tears — opened her lips to speak to him — then controlled herself, and addressed the master instead of the boy.
“It is useless,” she said, “to hold such a child as that responsible for what he says. I have little doubt that the idea has been put into his head by others. If there are people in this village, Mr. Dempster, who have forgotten the respect and gratitude due from every soul in it to my mother’s memory, I will find them out, and if I have any influence with Mr. Fairlie, they shall suffer for it.”
“I hope — indeed, I am sure, Miss Halcombe — that you are mistaken,” said the schoolmaster. “The matter begins and ends with the boy’s own perversity and folly. He saw, or thought he saw, a woman in white, yesterday evening, as he was passing the churchyard; and the figure, real or fancied, was standing by the marble cross, which he and every one else in Limmeridge knows to be the monument over Mrs. Fairlie’s grave. These two circumstances are surely sufficient to have suggested to the boy himself the answer which has so naturally shocked you?”
Although Miss Halcombe did not seem to be convinced, she evidently felt that the schoolmaster’s statement of the case was too sensible to be openly combated. She merely replied by thanking him for his attention, and by promising to see him again when her doubts were satisfied. This said, she bowed, and led the way out of the schoolroom.
Throughout the whole of this strange scene I had stood apart, listening attentively, and drawing my own conclusions. As soon as we were alone again, Miss Halcombe asked me if I had formed any opinion on what I had heard.
“A very strong opinion,” I answered; “the boy’s story, as I believe, has a foundation in fact. I confess I am anxious to see the monument over Mrs. Fairlie’s grave, and to examine the ground about it.”
“You shall see the grave.”
She paused after making that reply, and reflected a little as we walked on. “What has happened in the schoolroom,” she resumed, “has so completely distracted my attention from the subject of the letter, that I feel a little bewildered when I try to return to it. Must we give up all idea of making any further inquiries, and wait to place the thing in Mr. Gilmore’s hands tomorrow?”
“By no means, Miss Halcombe. What has happened in the schoolroom encourages me to persevere in the investigation.”
“Why does it encourage you?”
“Because it strengthens a suspicion I felt when you gave me the letter to read.”
“I suppose you had your reasons, Mr. Hartright, for concealing that suspicion from me till this moment?”
“I was afraid to encourage it in myself. I thought it was utterly preposterous — I distrusted it as the result of some perversity in my own imagination. But I can do so no longer. Not only the boy’s own answers to your questions, but even a chance expression that dropped from the schoolmaster’s lips in explaining his story, have forced the idea back into my mind. Events may yet prove that idea to be a delusion, Miss Halcombe; but the belief is strong in me, at this moment, that the fancied ghost in the churchyard, and the writer of the anonymous letter, are one and the same person.”
She stopped, turned pale, and looked me eagerly in the face.
“What person?”
“The schoolmaster unconsciously told you. When he spoke of the figure that the boy saw in the churchyard he called it ‘a woman in white.’“
“Not Anne Catherick?”
“Yes, Anne Catherick.”
She put her hand through my arm and leaned on it heavily.
“I don’t know why,” she said in low tones, “but there is something in this suspicion of yours that seems to startle and unnerve me. I feel — — ” She stopped, and tried to laugh it off. “Mr. Hartright,” she went on, “I will show you the grave, and then go