E. What shall I tell about?
S. O, anything—tell a ghost story.
E. Well, I will tell a ghost story.
There was once a house near New London, in Connecticut, situated on a lonely road, about a mile from any other dwelling. The man who built it was a farmer; and here he lived, with his wife and two children, for three years, when at last they began to hear a bell faintly ringing at night, apparently in the walls of the house.
Not much was thought of it at first, but it was so frequently repeated, that it began to attract the attention of the family. They then listened, and every night, about nine o’clock, it began to ring. The people were very superstitious, and soon they were dreadfully frightened. When they went to the spot where the mysterious sound seemed to come from, it appeared to issue from another place. Sometimes it was quick and lively, and again it was slow, and apparently at a distance. At one time it seemed to be in the parlor, and then it was in one corner of the kitchen.
The family became more and more alarmed; when the night set in, they gathered close together, and as soon as the ringing began, their faces grew pale, and they either sat in fearful silence, or whispered to each other, “there it is! there it is!”
Thus matters went on for several months, until at last the farmer and his family became so miserable that they sold the place, and removed to another town. He had not said much about the cause of his removal, for he feared people would laugh at him; and besides, he apprehended that the story might injure the character of the house, and thus prevent his selling it at a fair price.
But, by some means or other, after he had gone, the story got about, and for nearly two years the house was unoccupied. During this period it acquired the name of the “haunted house,” which, together with its lonely situation, rendered it difficult for the person who had bought it, to find any one willing to hire it. But at last a person who did not believe in haunted houses, leased the place, and with his family went there to reside.
For about a month they heard nothing of the awful visiter, and feeling quite secure against his return, they were accustomed to make sport of the fears of their predecessors. While they were actually cracking their jokes upon the subject one winter night, about the hour of nine, there was a sudden tinkling of a bell, distinctly heard, as if in one of the rooms above.
There was a sudden start among all present. “Hark! hark!” was whispered by several voices. They listened intently; all was silent as death, when again the bell was heard, apparently more distant, but still as distinct as before! The cheeks of the wife and children grew pale, and the face of the man himself was touched with a kind of awe.