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Show A NIGHT OF TERROR. BY W. A. POE. The wind blew heavy blasts. Anon, the lightning flashed, and deep, muttering thunder caused the old house at Elmwood to tremble to its very center, on the night of the 8th of December, 1871. The shrieking wind struck terror to the inmates, an elderly lady and her granddaughter, and as chance and the stormy night brought Edward Harvey along the road to Cedarville, the nearest village postoffice [post office], he, too, claimed the protecting shelter of Elmwood House for the night. Heartily was he welcomed by the mistress and granddaughter; the younger lady, Rosa Ashton, experienced a sense of relief at having within the old house one male protector, though he was an entire stranger. <br><br> As the three sat before the large, open fireplace, louder and more tempestuous gales succeeded each peal of thunder, and as if agonized by its own destruction the old elm creaked louder than before as it fell upon the house torn from the earth by every root. "oh, grandmother! What is that fearful noise? The house is falling - the roof is torn off!" shrieked the terrified girl. <br><br> "No, no, my child; ‘tis the fall of our old friend, the elm which has faced the storms of many winters; but, like many of those who have rested beneath its wide-spreading branches, it has fallen." <br><br> The quiet, sad dignity of the old lady aroused Edward Harvey from his apathy, and he looked intently at the mistress of Elmwood for the first time since his entrance into the room. <br><br> "And this is Mrs. Ashton," said he to himself. "Well may they say she is pretty Mrs. Ashton. Why, I do believe I am really offended to hear the younger lady call her grandmother. Grandmother, indeed," he repeated; "if they are not sisters, I will acknowledge that Edward Harvey, attorney-at-law, is a poor judge of female appearance. Yes, and a poorer judge of a woman's age. Well, Edward Harvey, you should bless this storm, for who knows, who knows?" said he, still ruminating. <br><br> His self com??? was interrupted by a wild, piercing scream, which seemed to issue from an adjoining room. Involuntarily he sprang to his feet and rushed to the door, and grasping the knob, had partly drawn the bolt, when the command of Mrs. Ashton caused him to stand back abashed. <br><br> "Where would you go, sir! If anything is wanting allow me to call a servant." <br><br> "I - I would protect you, madam, from that voice," he stammered. "When I need your protection, Mr. Harvey, I will ask you for it," she said, leaving the room. <br><br> More dazed by the harshness of the mistress of Elmwood than abashed by his excitement, he seated himself opposite the younger lady, who he observed was pale and nervously excited. So excited did she appear that Harvey felt constrained to move his chair nearer hers, remarking: "Miss Ashton, tell me the cause of the horrible mystery." <br><br> "For mercy's sake, say no more," said she excitedly. In an instant the excitement was over and her pale cheeks were as scarlet. "I will see about supper. The storm seems to be spent and the servants can have no more fear," said she, leaving the room. <br><br> Left alone Edward Harvey began to pace the room with nervous haste. "Are these lonely women," said he, "the possessors of some mysterious secret? The older lady appeared calm and harsh, resenting my hasty attempt to rush to the assistance of that poor person, who, no doubt, was in mortal terror, for never did any one scream as he or she did unless influenced by fear. Miss Ashton certainly was fearful of some calamity. Well, Edward Harvey, you have excited yourself unreasonably, without knowing why and for whom. Ha, ha! Well may these ladies laugh at me for my folly - rushing to the rescue of some old waiting woman who feared the house was tumbling on her head when the old tree fell." <br><br> Ashamed of his excitement he resumed his chair near the fire. Not too soon, for both ladies entered the room as he seated himself. "I have ordered the servants to serve tea in this room. During the storm the servants' fear was so great that they have neglected to spread the table in the dining-room," remarked Mrs. Ashton. <br><br> "I trust, madam, you will pardon my excitement a few moments ago. I assure you I was actuated by the fear that some one was suffering and that I might render assistance to whoever it was." "We will forget the occurrence, I will forget your excitement," she replied, smiling. The servant entered the room bearing a tray and the fair entertainers and their guest were soon discoursing pleasantly over the sumptuous viands. <br><br> As soon as the tea tray was removed, Edward Harvey begged Miss Ashton to favor him with a song. Unhesitatingly she replied, and seating herself at the piano sang in a contralto voice of much power and sweetness, "The Rosebud." Harvey remained entranced long after the last note of the beautiful song was hushed. <br><br> "Beautiful, beautiful!" he exclaimed. "Do sing another, Miss Ashton. Any you may select, for I am a poor musician, and know but few songs by name." <br><br> "Not to-night, Mr. Harvey. I must beg that you will excuse me from singing any more." "Ring the bell, Rose, it is quite late. The storm delayed our tea," said Mrs. Ashton. <br><br> Miss Ashton rang a small bell upon the center-table, and the servant women and an elderly man entered the room and seated themselves upon chairs at the far corner of the room. <br><br> "Mr. Harvey, it is my custom to read family prayers night and morning. Will you remain?" "Gladly, madam," replied Harvey. <br><br> In a pure, sweet voice she read the fifteenth chapter of St John, and after kneeling invoked from on high protection through the watches of the night. As soon as this invocation was finished they arose. The ladies retired from the room. Conducted by the man servant, Harvey ascended two flights of stairs and entered a room on the right of the hall - a neat little room. Upon the mantle an exquisitely-arranged flower vase scented the room with the perfume of geraniums, heliotropes, and narcissus. <br><br> "Do you think the storm is over?" asked Harvey of the servant, after gazing admiringly around the room. "I fear not," he replied, apparently rearranging the cloth on the center-table. "I looked out before prayers, and the night is as dark as death. You may expect another storm before morning. Can I do anything for you, sir?" he asked, as he walked toward the door. "Nothing, thank you," replied Harvey. <br><br> Thomas Hatters (I may as well call him by name now as later) left the room, and Mr. Harvey seated himself near the table upon which stood the lamp. "Well, well, strange incidents have happened this night." Said he to himself, "I have formed the acquaintance of two as lovely ladies as ever fascinated an old bachelor, but I am impressed with the idea that those ladies have a deep secret which they are hiding from the world. Heigho! what is this?" said he, opening a note addressed to Edward Harvey, Esq. which lay on the table before him. <br><br> He began to read aloud. "If you will be advised, be ready for an emergency. I am fearfully impressed with impending danger. "Respectfully, ROSE ASHTON" <br><br> Determined not to fall asleep that night, Edward Harvey remained seated at the table for hours. The lamp began to flicker and then slowly burned out, leaving him in total darkness. The prediction of Thomas Hatters proved true. At midnight the wind began to blow in fearful gusts, the rain fell in torrents, and the winds shrieking around the gables of the old house, lashed the window shutters to and fro with great force. Edward Harvey endeavored once or twice to close the beating shutter, but his efforts were futile, the clasp was broken. <br><br> "What a fearful night! Perhaps I should go to the ladies, who are perhaps in terror, but no, I may be deemed officious," said he. His attention was attracted by a hasty and forcible wrench on the door knob, the door was forced open, and by the light of a lamp hanging in the hall he saw the wild face of an old man thrust in the room and as suddenly withdrawn. The face vanished and Harvey heard the steady tramp of feet ascending a stairway. A door was forcibly opened and a piercing scream was heard above the howling wind, echoing through the house. Hurried steps rushed by his room and a cry for help! help! Ascending the stairway rapidly he met Mrs. Ashton, frantically exclaiming: <br><br> "Get a ladder, sir; he is on the roof!" "Who?" "Albert Hartwell," she replied, passing him rapidly on the stairs. Mr. Harvey mounted the stairs which led to a trap door. Through this he emerged onto the roof. Total darkness surrounded him; through it he could discern nothing. Listening attentively he heard a low chuckle and then a wild voice chanting this rhyme: "I am the god of the wind, I rule the storm, I cry to the night, I cry in the morn." This was repeated over and over again, each time wilder and wilder. <br><br> "What shall I do, sir? Can you not devise some way to get him from the roof?" asked Miss Ashton in a whisper. "Do return below, Miss Ashton. I insist; you can render no assistance and will only expose yourself to the night. I will endeavor to persuade him to come in." "Too late! sir, too late!" shrieked the young lady, "did you not hear the fall? Oh, my poor grandmother!" <br><br> Edward Harvey descended the stairs rapidly and rushing out the front door, shouted for a light. Lying upon the paved court he found the mangled form of the man he saw at his bedroom door. <br><br> "Who is he?" he asked Miss Ashton, who stood beside him, lamp in hand. "My grandmother's brother, Albert Hartwell. Is life extinct?" she asked, kneeling beside the dead. "Yes, poor man, his days of suffering are over. Is Mrs. Ashton indeed your grandmother?" "No, not my own grandmother, but as dear to me as if she was. My grandfather married Agnes Hartwell in his old age, and this poor man is the present Mrs. Ashton's brother. As you have no doubt surmised, he was deranged, but only periodically. Strangely, when the day or night was stormy, his derangement became uncontrollable. You heard his cry to-night, before tea. That was why my grandmother appeared rude, no doubt, to you. We have excluded ourselves from society in our endeavor to hide from the world this sorrow. But the sacrifice was nothing; we would give all, everything to have him with us again." <br><br> "Is he dead, Rose, is my poor, afflicted Albert dead?" cried Mrs. Ashton, as she knelt by the inanimate form of him who in the life was her love and care. They carried the body into the house and placed in on a cot. Edward Harvey came and stood beside the bier, by the side of Rose Ashton, then left the room. Kind hands spread the winding sheet over that wild, sad face, sadder in life than in death, for now he rests, mind and body. <br><br> Two days afterwards Edward Harvey bade a sad adieu to the ladies of Elmwood, after having seen the body of Albert Hartwell consigned to the grave. This night of terror was long remembered by all at Elmwood as a dark epoch in the history of their lives. "And yet," said Rose Harvey, "It was grandmother's dark night and mine also, yet mine had a bright morning, for never did woman find so noble a husband as I found that night of our terror." <br><br> "And never a more precious wife given to man than was given to me," said Edward Harvey, affectionately stroking the bright hair of his beautiful wife. Yes, reader, they were married two years after that night of terror and now old Elmwood has a master whose [unreadable] and pride it is to soother the sorrow of Rose's grandmother, and indeed he has succeeded, for she says, looking lovingly at the happy young husband and wife: "Indeed it was a night of terror sent? by God as a blessing." |