Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1852-05-17
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RaEAES RE0Us e.
BY CHARLES DICKENS.
PART TWO.
CHAPTER VII.
rHE eHosT's wALK.

THE GHOST 8 WALK.
While Esther sleeps, and while Esther wakes,
it is still wet weather down at the place IN LIN
colnshre. The rain is ever falling, drip, drip,
drip, by day and night, upon the broad tagged
terrace pavement, The Ghosts v ak. The
weather is so very bad, down in Lincolnshire,
that the lveIiest imagination can scarcely appre-
bend its ever being fine again. Not tina: there IS
any superintendent life ofimagination on the spot,
for Sir Leicester is not here (and, truly, even if
he were, would not do so much for 1t IN that par
ticular,) but is in Paris, with my Lady, and soil
tude, with dusky wings, sits broodlng upon Ches-
ney Void.
There may be some notions Of fancy among the
lower animals at Chesney Weld The horses IN
the sables-the long stables in barrenred-hrick
courtyard, where there Is great bell IN turret,
and clock with E large face, which the pigeons
who live near it, and who love to perch upon
its shoulders, seem to be always consutng-ihey
may contemplate some mental pictures OF hne
weather. on occasions, and may be better artists
at them than the grooms The old roam, SO lam
Gus for cross country work, turning his large eye
ball to the grated window near his rack, may
remember the fresh leaves that glisten there at
other times and the scents that steam in. and
may have fine run with the hounds, while the
human helper, clearing out the next stall, never
stirs beyond his pchforl and birch broom. The
grey, whose place is opposite the door, and who,
with an impatient rattle Of his halter, prcks his
ears and turns his head wistfuY when 1t Is
opened, and to whom the opener says, 'kVoa
grey then, steady! NoabodY wants youto-day'
may know it quite as well as the man. The
whole seemingly monotonous and uhcompanion-
able haf-dozen, stabbed together, may pass the
long wet hours, when the door is shut, in liyeier
communication then is held in the servants hall,
or at the Dedlock Arms or may even beguile
the time by improving (perhaps conupnng) the
/ pony in the oose-box in The corner.
| So, the maslif, doing III his kennel in the
courtyard, with his large head on his paws, may
think of the hot sunshine, when the shadows of
the stable buildings tire his patience ont by
changing, and leave him, at one time Of The day,
no broader refuge than the shadow of his own
house. where he sits on end, painting and giowl-
! ing short, and very much wanting something to
worry, besides hin self and bis cham So, now,
half-waSng and all walking, he may recall the
house full of company, the coach-houses full Of
vehicles, the stables full of horses and tie out
buildings full of attendants upon horses, u1tll he
is Undecided about the present, and comes forth
/ to see how ii is. Then with that impatient shake
of himself, he may growl in the spirit, Rain rain,
ran Nothing but ran,-- and no family herel'
as he goes in again, and lies down with gloomy
yawn
So with the dogs in the keunel-buildings across
the park, who have their restless its, and whose
i
stinate, have even made it known in the house
Itself up stairs, down stairs, and in my lady's
chamber. They may hunt the whole countryside,
while the rain drops patterng round their in
activity. So the rabbits, with their self-betrayin
tals risEing in and out of holes at roots of trees
may be lively with ideas of the breezy days when
their are blown about, or of those seasons of
interest when there are sweet young plants to
gnaw The turkey in the poultry-yard always
81 ,nl. 4
mas may be reminiscent of that sammer-morn-
ing wronglully taken from him, when he got into
the lane among the felled trees, where there was
a barn and barley. The discontented goose, who
stoops TO pass under the old gateway, twenty feet
high may gabble ont, if we only knew it, a wad-
ding preference for dry weather when the gate
waycasts its shadow on the ground
! Be this as it may there is not much fancy other
wise stirring at Chesney Void. If there be
little at any odd moment, ii goes, like little
noise in that old eehoing place, long way, and
usually leads off to ghosts and mystery.
1t has rained so hard and rained so long, down
in Lincolnshire, that Mrs. RounceweA, the old
housekeper al Chesney Void, has several times
taken off her spectaces and cleaned them, to
make certain that the drops were not upon the
glasses. Mrs. Rouncewell might have been suf-
icently assured by hearing the rain, but that she
is rather deaf, which nothing will induce her to
believe. She is fine old lady, handsome, state
ly, wonderfully neat, and has such a back, and
such stomacher, that if her stays should turn
out, when she dies, TO have been a broad, old
fashioned family fire CRATE, nobody who knows her
would have cause to be surprised. Weather af-
fects Mrs. Rouncewell little The house is there
in all weathers, and the house, as she expresses
it, SIS what she looks at She sits IN her room
/ lin side passage on the ground floor, with an
arched window commanding smooth quadrangle,
adorned az regular intervals with smooth round :.
trees, and smooth round blocks of stone, as the
trees going to play at bowls with the stones,l
and the whole house reposes, on her mind. She
can open il on occasion, and be busy ana iiutter-
ed; but it is shut up now and lies on the breadth
of Mrs. Rouncewell iron-bound bosom, IN a ma
jestlc sleep. ss.r
It's the next difficult thing to an mpossibility
10 imagine Chesney Void without Mrs Rounce-
well, but she has only been here fifty years. Ask
her how long, this rainy day, and she shall an
swer fifty year, three months and fortnight by
the blessing Of Heaven, if live till Tuesday,
MIR Rouncewe died some time before the de-
cease of the pretty fashion Of pig-tas, and mod
esiy hid his own (if he took it with him) in
corner of the churchyard in the park, near the
mouldy porch. He was born in the narkettown.
and so was his young widow. Her progress in
the family began in the time Of the last Sir Lei
ceser, and originated in the st-room.
The present representative Of the De6locks is
an excellent master He supposes all his depen-
dents to be utterly bereft of individual characters,
Intentions or opinions, and is persuaded that he
was born TO supersede the necessity Of their hav-
ing any. fhe were to make discovery to the
contrary, he would be SIMPLY stunned-woud
never recover himself, most likely, except to
gasp and die But he is an excellent master
still, holding it a part of his estate TO he So He