Though they hated and reviled their heartless laird, the people of Bludananton loved and respected his wife, the beautiful and gentle Lady Helen, for many were her acts of kindness to the poor and afflicted, and did she but hear of someone who had suffered through the tyranny of her husband, she would straightaway make amends insofar as her slender purse would permit.
Lady Helen was the daughter of a northern laird, and at the time of her marriage, brought two of her old servants to live at Bludmanton Castle. These servants gossiped, as servants will, and it was not long until everyone in and about the castle was acquainted with the circumstances of her unhappy wedding.
It was said that this marriage to a man more than twice her age had not been of her own choosing, for she was only eighteen at the time and Sir Malcolm well past fifty, but was forced on her by her father when it had been offered him as the only alternative to foreclosure for a certain debt he owed the Laird of Bludmanton, and could not pay on account of reduced circumstances.
A loveless marriage is, at best, a tragic thing, but when there is added to it the despair of a hopeless lost love, then it is indeed a calamity. It seems that this was the case with Lady Helen, for there were whispers of a young theological student who had won her affection some time before the wedding, and on whose account she had been sternly rebuked by her father. Not that she ever showed it, either by word or action, for she was a true and faithful wife; ever submissive to the word of her laird and keen to please him in all things. Despite the secret sorrow that clutched at her heart she went about silently and uncomplainingly, gradually growing paler and more frail, until at the end of a year she was but a shadow of her former self.
It was about this time that the aged minister of the parish died, and a younger man who had but recently taken orders was sent to fill his place. As the Lady Helen was continually engaged in her ministrations to the suffering and needy it was natural that she should often meet the young minister in the homes of his parishioners, and while she did her best to alleviate their physical wants he supplied them with spiritual comfort.
It was but natural, too, that when through illness, she grew unable to leave the castle on her errands of mercy, she should request the young minister to act as her agent in distributing charity. In this capacity he became a frequent caller at the castle, and as the laird was much away, the busy tongues of malicious gossip were soon wagging with hints of a clandestine romance which at length reached the ears of the master.
Sir Malcolm flatly refused to believe these idle rumors at first; that is, until he learned that the young minister was one and the same with the theological student who had won her girlish love. This changed his views, and transformed him from a trusting though stern husband, to a crafty, unscrupulous fiend.
Thereafter, he spied continually on the doings of his wife, at the same time taking great care in order that she might not suspect she was being watched. But her conduct was above reproach at all times, and had it not been for a single unfortunate incident it is probable that he would have given over his spying, and perhaps taken no small amount of vengeance on her slanderers. But as luck would have it, she was taken with a giddiness one day when the young minister was present and would have fallen to the floor in a faint had he not caught her.
The maidservant, who was in the room at the time, was sent for restoratives, and it was during her absence that the suspicious laird appeared in the doorway. At sight of his young wife in the arms of his supposed rival, who did not note his presence, as his back was toward the door, he turned and strode to his room with clenched hands, and a look on his face that struck terror in the hearts of those servants who chanced to meet him.
He kept to his room all that night, and and the next day sent the Lady Helen to visit her father, saying that he was going to repair and remodel the castle. When she had started on her journey to the north he rode away alone to be absent for more than a month. He returned with a gang of foreign workmen, and ordered everyone from the castle while the remodeling was in progress, so it was done with absolute secrecy.
When the work was finished he personally conducted the foreigners to Edinburgh and put them aboard ship with their passages paid back to their own land.
On his return, he sent for the Lady Helen and gave a great feast in honor of the reopening of the castle. Guests were bidden from far and near, and for the first time in many years, the tenants were given the freedom of the place. Sir Malcolm, his wife, and the young minister were all present at the banquet in the early part of the evening, nor was their later absence noted until nearly twelve o'clock, at which time the laird put in an appearance, looking pale and haggard.
The Lady Helen and the minister were seen no more that night, nor were they ever seen afterward.
GOSSIP had it that the two had eloped, but there were whispered rumors among the servants that the jealous husband had made away with them in some secret recess of the castle. There was a lackey who swore that, on passing the master's room at eleven o'clock on the night of the banquet, he heard the scream of a woman in mortal terror. The maid who put the room in order the next day told of finding a great crimson bloodstain on the rug, and under one of the chairs, a silver goblet on which blood had dried and caked.
That the laird had taken some terrible revenge on them seemed proved beyond any shadow of doubt, though there were none who dared denounce him openly, or even to question him in the matter.
On the noon following the night of the banquet the laird had a stroke that sent him into a wild delirium. The old doctor who attended him said he had not long to live, and his nephew and heir, Sir Eric Blud, was summoned. As Sir Eric was in Aberdeen at the time, three days elapsed before his arrival.
Of all the servants in the household, there was but one with the courage to sit up with the raving master at night. Old Steenie MacDonald had been long in the service of the Lairds of Bludmanton, and he vowed that even the Old Nick himself should not turn him from his duty.
What Steenie saw or heard in that accursed bed-chamber, no man ever knew, but it was said that he came running from the room about eleven o'clock that night, struck dumb with horror, nor did he ever speak after that.
Servants who had occasion to pass through the hallway went by that door as fast as their legs would carry them, and told of hearing the sobbing and moaning of a woman, mingled with the cursing and raving of the laird, although everyone knew he was alone in that great room.
When Sir Eric arrived he went straight to the master's room, without heed to the tales concerning it, saying he feared neither man nor devil, and that if a sick man could withstand the power within that room, an able-bodied man with sword and pistols should have nothing to worry over. It was near the hour of eleven when he stepped to the bedside, while a group of curious, fearful servants cowered just outside the door.
Upon his arrival, the laird ceased his cursing and raving and greeted him with a feeble handshake. Though he was
