# Adventures of Susan Hopley/Volume 1/Chapter 4

CHAPTER IV.
SUSAN HAS AN EXTRAORDINARY DREAM WHICH IS THE FORERUNNER OF ILL NEWS.
The period of the wedding was fast approaching, and a day was already appointed for signing the settlements, when Mr. Gaveston received a letter from a confidential friend at Bourdeaux, intimating that the bankruptcy of one of the houses with which Mr. Wentworth was connected, was supposed to be impending; and that it was of the last importance that he, Mr. Gaveston, should lose no time in repairing to the spot.
The serious consequences that might arise from a neglect of this caution, induced Mr. Wentworth to consent to the immediate departure of his intended son-in-law, and the postponement of the wedding; though, at the same ​time, he declared, that he did not believe there was any foundation for the report.
"Râoul and Bonstetten are much too steady men to fail," said he, "however, you may as well go; the marriage can as well take place in October, as now." Perhaps Mr. Wentworth was not sorry for the respite. "I have an idea," continued he, "of going down to the sea for a couple of months: and you can join us there on your return The doctor says, that that poor fellow Andrew will never recover perfectly till he has undergone a course of warm sea bathing; and as he got his illness in doing me a great service, the least I can do is to contribute all I can to his recovery."
Andrew had never been well since the day he jumped into the water to save Harry. He was very warm at the moment from working in the hayfield and running on his errand; and having remained some time in his wet clothes, being too anxious about Harry to think of himself, the chill had brought on a rheumatic fever, from which he had not perfectly recovered. Nothing could exceed the attention shown him by the family during his illness, and as for Harry, he could scarcely be induced to quit his bedside to take needful rest and sleep. And signal as was their kindness appeared ​Andrew's gratitude: he "only hoped," he often told Susan, "that he might find means during his life of testifying his sense of their great goodness to him."
Mr. Gaveston departed; when the young man got better, Harry returned to school; and not long afterwards, Mr. and Miss Wentworth, accompanied by Andrew, set out on their excursion. There had been, at one time, an idea of taking Susan; Miss Wentworth happening just then to be without a maid: the one that was to attend her after her marriage not having arrived. However this was finally given up, and they went alone.
"It was a lovely morning when they set out," said Susan; "just the last week in August; and we all assembled in the portico to see them off. I shall never forget it. Miss Fanny looking so fresh and so pretty, in her grey silk pelisse, and little straw bonnet lined with pink; and the dear old gentleman, with his broadskirted brown coat, and his wide-brimmed hat, looking so smiling and so benevolent, so he bade us good-by; and then handing his daughter into the carriage as proud as an emperor he'd reason to be proud of her; for she was a sweet creature, and as good as she was pretty!
"'We shall bring back Andrew to you quite ​well, Susan,' said master, putting his head out of the window.
"'God bless you, Sir,' said I, 'and my mistress too;' and I wiped the tears from my eyes with the corner of my apron.
"'Good-by, sister!' said Andrew, giving me a last kiss, and jumping up behind. 'All's right!' cried he; the postillions cracked their whips, and away they went. Lord! Sir; how little we poor mortals know what is before us!
"Well, Sir, nothing particular occurred after this till we received a letter to say the family would be home on the evening of the 16th; we were then in the month of October. The letter was written by Andrew at his master's desire; and he concluded by saying that he had quite recovered his health, and was as well as ever he had been. Then there followed a passage which I did not well understand, and which I promised myself to ask him the meaning of when he came back. He said, "Mr. Gaveston is arrived, and the marriage is to take place in November; but if I had courage to do something, I think I could prevent it; but I don't know how to act without assistance.'
"On the morning of the 16th, when we were all prepared, there came another letter from Andrew, to say that they should not be back ​till the 18th. Mr. Gaveston had a bet on a boat race that he wanted to see the result of; they had therefore arranged to start on the 17th, sleep at Maningtree that night, and reach home the next day to dinner.
"On the same evening, that is on the 16th, as we were sitting in the servants' hall after supper, there came a ring at the back-door. I remember we were all talking about Mabel the dairymaid, who had just got up and left the room, as she usually did, the moment meals were over. It was very well known that Andrew was in love with her; and as she was a beautiful creature, there was not a man in the house but was his rival; and they were not a little jealous because they fancied she showed him more favour than the rest. But, for my part, I always saw, that Mabel had no thoughts of Andrew more than of the others; and that she was much too proud to listen to a poor boy who had nothing but his livery. However, more out of envy, I believe, than because they thought it, they insisted that she liked him, recalling several little kindnesses that she had shown him during his illness, and prophesying that now he had recovered, it would soon be a match. But Mr. Jeremy, the butler, was of a different opinion. 'No, no,' said he, 'them ​little knows Mabel that looks to see her married to a footman. Mabel comes of a proud family-they were gentry once, as I've heard-howbeit, they never knew themselves nor their stations. Mabel was rocked in the cradle of pride, and she fed upon the bread of pride-and she'll have a fall, as all such pride has.'
"'Well, she'll fall to Andrew,' said the coachman, 'that'll be a fall.'
"'No, no,' said Mr. Jeremy, 'it'll be a worse fall than falling to an honest young fellow like Andrew. Mark my words. I was never deceived in no man, nor woman neither; and I ar'nt now.'
"Just as the butler had said those words, came the ring I spoke of; and as I happened to be going up stairs to look at my fires, I said I would see who it was.
"When I opened the door, I saw by the light of the candle I held in my hand, a stout man in a drab coat with his hat slouched over his eyes, and a red handkerchief round his throat, that covered a good deal of the lower part of his face; so that between the hat and the handkerchief, I saw very little of his features except his nose, but that was very remarkable. It was a good deal raised in the bridge and very much on one side; and it was easy to see that ​whatever it had been by nature, it's present deformity had been occasioned by a blow or an accident. He did not look like a common man, nor yet exactly like a gentleman; but something between both; or rather like a gentleman that had got a blackguard look by keeping bad company. However, sight is quick, or I should never have had time to make out the little that I tell you; for whether he thought I looked at him more than he liked, or what I don't know, but he dropped a stick he had in his hand, and in stooping to pick it up he contrived to knock the candle out of mine, and there we were both in the dark.
"As I did not quite like his appearance, and could not help thinking he had done this on purpose, I got frightened, suspecting he wanted to make a rush and get into the house, so I pushed the door and tried to slam it in his face; but he was stronger than I was; and putting his hand against it, firmly, but without violence, he said, in a quiet sort of a voice, that had certainly nothing in it to alarm me, 'When do you expect Mr. Wentworth home?'
"Well, Sir, the way he spoke and his asking such a natural harmless question, made me think myself a fool, and that his putting out the candle had been an accident; so answering him as ​civilly as I could, to make up for my rudeness, I said, that they would be home on the 18th to dinner, adding, that we had expected them sooner but that they were to sleep upon the road.
"'Thank ye,' replied he, turning away. 'I don't know exactly which way I should go, amongst all these buildings,' he added, looking round—'I suppose that's the stables with a light in the window?'
"'No, Sir, that's the dairy,' said I, 'the stables are on the other side. But if you go straight across you'll find your way.' "Good night,' said be, and away he went, whilst I proceeded up stairs to look after my fires. When I returned to the servants' hall, so little did I think of the matter that I only told them when they asked who had rung, it was a person called to inquire when master would be home.
"On the following day, which was the 17th, nothing particular occurred; and on the 18th we were all prepared for the family, with the cloth laid, and the fires blazing, and every body on the watch for the carriage. But the dinner hour came and passed, and tea time came, and supper time came, and still no signs of those we were looking for. The servants sat up till half-past eleven, wondering and guessing all manner ​of reasons for the delay: and then thinking all chance was over for that night, they went to bed. But for my part, I somehow or other felt so uneasy, that I was sure I shouldn't sleep, so I fetched a book, and sat myself down in an arm chair by master's bed-room fire, which as well as Miss Fanny's, I resolved to keep in, in case they might have been impeded by accident, and yet arrive, cold and uncomfortable, in the course of the night.
"I scarcely know how it was, but my thoughts, in spite of myself, took a melancholy turn. All the misery that had followed the disappointment about Major Leeson's arrival recurred to my mind, and I could not help anticipating that some ill news was to follow upon this. I thought of the odd passage in Andrew's letter, wondering what he could mean, and what it was he wanted to do. I knew he disliked Mr. Gaveston very much, and that the dislike was mutual. Andrew could not forgive him for having exposed Harry Leeson to so much danger, and, one day, when he was not aware that he was within hearing, he had called him a cowardly rascal for running away and leaving the child in the water. This, together with Andrew's having told Mr. Wentworth of the hunting accident, had made Mr. Gaveston his enemy; and I was often afraid ​of my brother's getting into some trouble through it; for much as he was a favourite with his master and mistress, of course, he could not have stood against Mr. Gaveston's influence if it had been exerted against him.
"All these things now took possession of my mind, and I kept pondering upon them, till insensibly my waking thoughts became dreams, and I gradually sunk into a slumber in which the same train of ideas seemed to be continued. At first, the images were all confused and mingled together-there was something about my master, and mistress, and Mr. Gaveston, and Andrew—there was trouble and strife-but nothing which I could reduce afterwards to any form; but what followed, was as distinct on my mind when I awoke-aye, and is so still, as any circumstance that ever occurred to me in my waking hours.
"I thought I was sitting in master's arm chair by his bed-room fire, just as indeed I was, and that I had just dropped asleep, when I heard a voice whisper in my ear, 'Look there! who's that? Upon that I thought I lifted up my head and saw my brother Andrew sitting on the opposite side of the fire in his grave clothes, and with his two dead eyes staring at me with a shocking look of fear and horror-then I thought he ​raised his hand slowly, and pointing with his thumb over his shoulder, I saw two man standing close behind him; one had a crape over his face, and I could not see who he was; but the other was the man with the crooked nose, who had rung at the bell two nights before. Presently they moved forwards, and passing me, went into my master's dressing-closet, which was behind where I was sitting. Then I fancied that I tried to myself, and shake off my sleep, that I might look after them, but I could not; and when I turned my eyes again on the chair where Andrew. had been sitting, instead of him I saw my master there, with a large gash in his throat, and his eyes stedfastly fixed on me, whilst he pointed to something at my back; he seemed to try to speak, but his jaw fell and he could make no sound. Whilst I was staring at this dreadful sight, shivering with horror, I thought that, though I could not see them, I was yet conscious that the two men had come out of the closet, and were standing close behind me, one with an open clasp-knife in his hand, and the other with a lantern; then I thought my brother Andrew suddenly came between us, and whispered, 'No, no; let her sleep! let her sleep!' and with that the light was, suddenly extinguished, and I could see no more.
​"Well, Sir, the moment the light seemed to go out, I awoke in reality; and as I did so, I fancied I heard a door gently closed, and the sound of feet moving softly away; but I was almost in darkness and could distinguish nothing. The bit of candle I had taken up with me had burned to the socket and gone out; and the fire, though there were some red ashes yet in the grate, shed but a faint glimmer on the hearth.
"What between cold, and fear, and horror, I felt as if my blood was frozen in my veins; and although I'd have given the world to move, and call the other servants who slept over head, I found it impossible at first to stir my limbs; and there I sat with my eyes staring on the imperfect outline of the chair where I had seen Andrew and my master sitting just before, expecting to see them there again; and my ears straining for a sound with that dreadful intensity that fear gives one, till I fancied I distinguished the approach of a horse's feet-presently, I became sure of it-I thought there were two horses-they drew near as if they came from the stables-passed under the window-turned the corner of the house-and then receding, I heard no more of them.
"Till the morning light began to peep in ​through the chinks of the shutters, I couldn't summon courage to move. Gradually, when it illuminated the objects around me sufficiently, I forced myself to survey the room, and with a great effort to turn my head and look behind me-but every thing as far as I could see, was just as it was when I went to sleep. By and by, as the light grew stronger, I arose and opened the door that led out upon the stairs-but nothing unusual was to be seen or heard. Then I went to the dressing-closet-there too I could perceive no change. I tried my master's drawers and boxes, which had been all locked when he went away-and locked they were still. Finally, I examined the other rooms, both on that floor and below; but all was right. Nothing could I find to induce the suspicion that my dream was any thing but a dream.
"Well, Sir, you know how differently one feels about things in the broad daylight that have frightened and puzzled us in the dark; and you may imagine that the lighter it grew, the more absurd my terror appeared to me; till, at last, by the time the sun was up, I was ready to laugh at myself for my folly, and when the servants came down stairs and found me warming myself by the kitchen fire, and ​looking very pale, I merely said that I had fallen asleep in master's arm chair, and had awakened shivered and uncomfortable. I did not mention my dream, for I knew it must appear ridiculous to others-and I had no pleasure in recalling the disagreeable images that the light had dispersed. However, I did remark to Mr. Jeremy, that I had heard horses passing under the window in the night; but he said it was probably nearer morning than I had imagined, and that it was the farm horses going to their work; and this I thought likely enough."