stories by modern american authors-第69部分

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his　way。　　The　impertinence　of　the　latter　class　compelled　him　to

give　up　his　customary　walk　at　sunset　to　the　burial　ground；　for

when　he　leaned　pensively　over　the　gate；　there　would　always　be

faces　behind　the　gravestones；　peeping　at　his　black　veil。　　A　fable

went　the　rounds　that　the　stare　of　the　dead　people　drove　him

thence。　　It　grieved　him；　to　the　very　depth　of　his　kind　heart；　to

observe　how　the　children　fled　from　his　approach；　breaking　up

their　merriest　sports；　while　his　melancholy　figure　was　yet　afar

off。　　Their　instinctive　dread　caused　him　to　feel　more　strongly

than　aught　else；　that　a　preternatural　horror　was　interwoven　with

the　threads　of　the　black　crape。　　In　truth；　his　own　antipathy　to

the　veil　was　known　to　be　so　great；　that　he　never　willingly　passed

before　a　mirror；　nor　stooped　to　drink　at　a　still　fountain；　lest；

in　its　peaceful　bosom；　he　should　be　affrighted　by　himself。　　This

was　what　gave　plausibility　to　the　whispers；　that　Mr。　Hooper's

conscience　tortured　him　for　some　great　crime　too　horrible　to　be

entirely　concealed；　or　otherwise　than　so　obscurely　intimated。

Thus；　from　beneath　the　black　veil；　there　rolled　a　cloud　into　the

sunshine；　an　ambiguity　of　sin　or　sorrow；　which　enveloped　the　poor

minister；　so　that　love　or　sympathy　could　never　reach　him。　　It　was

said　that　ghost　and　fiend　consorted　with　him　there。　　With

self…shudderings　and　outward　terrors；　he　walked　continually　in

its　shadow；　groping　darkly　within　his　own　soul；　or　gazing　through

a　medium　that　saddened　the　whole　world。　　Even　the　lawless　wind；　it

was　believed；　respected　his　dreadful　secret；　and　never　blew　aside

the　veil。　　But　still　good　Mr。　Hooper　sadly　smiled　at　the　pale

visages　of　the　worldly　throng　as　he　passed　by。



Among　all　its　bad　influences；　the　black　veil　had　the　one

desirable　effect；　of　making　its　wearer　a　very　efficient

clergyman。　　By　the　aid　of　his　mysterious　emblemfor　there　was　no

other　apparent　causehe　became　a　man　of　awful　power　over　souls

that　were　in　agony　for　sin。　　His　converts　always　regarded　him　with

a　dread　peculiar　to　themselves；　affirming；　though　but

figuratively；　that；　before　he　brought　them　to　celestial　light；

they　had　been　with　him　behind　the　black　veil。　　Its　gloom；　indeed；

enabled　him　to　sympathize　with　all　dark　affections。　　Dying　sinners

cried　aloud　for　Mr。　Hooper；　and　would　not　yield　their　breath　till

he　appeared；　though　ever；　as　he　stooped　to　whisper　consolation；

they　shuddered　at　the　veiled　face　so　near　their　own。　　Such　were

the　terrors　of　the　black　veil；　even　when　Death　had　bared　his

visage！　　Strangers　came　long　distances　to　attend　service　at　his

church；　with　the　mere　idle　purpose　of　gazing　at　his　figure；

because　it　was　forbidden　them　to　behold　his　face。　　But　many　were

made　to　quake　ere　they　departed！　　Once；　during　Governor　Belcher's

administration；　Mr。　Hooper　was　appointed　to　preach　the　election

sermon。　　Covered　with　his　black　veil；　he　stood　before　the　chief

magistrate；　the　council；　and　the　representatives；　and　wrought　so

deep　an　impression；　that　the　legislative　measures　of　that　year

were　characterized　by　all　the　gloom　and　piety　of　our　earliest

ancestral　sway。



In　this　manner　Mr。　Hooper　spent　a　long　life；　irreproachable　in

outward　act；　yet　shrouded　in　dismal　suspicions；　kind　and　loving；

though　unloved；　and　dimly　feared；　a　man　apart　from　men；　shunned

in　their　health　and　joy；　but　ever　summoned　to　their　aid　in　mortal

anguish。　　As　years　wore　on；　shedding　their　snows　above　his　sable

veil；　he　acquired　a　name　throughout　the　New　England　churches；　and

they　called　him　Father　Hooper。　　Nearly　all　his　parishioners；　who

were　of　mature　age　when　he　was　settled；　had　been　borne　away　by

many　a　funeral：　he　had　one　congregation　in　the　church；　and　a　more

crowded　one　in　the　churchyard；　and　having　wrought　so　late　into

the　evening；　and　done　his　work　so　well；　it　was　now　good　Father

Hooper's　turn　to　rest。



Several　persons　were　visible　by　the　shaded　candlelight；　in　the

death　chamber　of　the　old　clergyman。　　Natural　connections　he　had

none。　　But　there　was　the　decorously　grave；　though　unmoved

physician；　seeking　only　to　mitigate　the　last　pangs　of　the　patient

whom　he　could　not　save。　　There　were　the　deacons；　and　other

eminently　pious　members　of　his　church。　　There；　also；　was　the

Reverend　Mr。　Clark；　of　Westbury；　a　young　and　zealous　divine；　who

had　ridden　in　haste　to　pray　by　the　bedside　of　the　expiring

minister。　　There　was　the　nurse；　no　hired　handmaiden　of　death；　but

one　whose　calm　affection　had　endured　thus　long　in　secrecy；　in

solitude；　amid　the　chill　of　age；　and　would　not　perish；　even　at

the　dying　hour。　　Who；　but　Elizabeth！　　And　there　lay　the　hoary　head

of　good　Father　Hooper　upon　the　death　pillow；　with　the　black　veil

still　swathed　about　his　brow；　and　reaching　down　over　his　face；　so

that　each　more　difficult　gasp　of　his　faint　breath　caused　it　to

stir。　　All　through　life　that　piece　of　crape　had　hung　between　him

and　the　world：　it　had　separated　him　from　cheerful　brotherhood　and

woman's　love；　and　kept　him　in　that　saddest　of　all　prisons；　his

own　heart；　and　still　it　lay　upon　his　face；　as　if　to　deepen　the

gloom　of　his　darksome　chamber；　and　shade　him　from　the　sunshine　of

eternity。



For　some　time　previous；　his　mind　had　been　confused；　wavering

doubtfully　between　the　past　and　the　present；　and　hovering

forward；　as　it　were；　at　intervals；　into　the　indistinctness　of　the

world　to　come。　　There　had　been　feverish　turns；　which　tossed　him

from　side　to　side；　and　wore　away　what　little　strength　he　had。　　But

in　his　most　convulsive　struggles；　and　in　the　wildest　vagaries　of

his　intellect；　when　no　other　thought　retained　its　sober

influence；　he　still　showed　an　awful　solicitude　lest　the　black

veil　should　slip　aside。　　Even　if　his　bewildered　soul　could　have

forgotten；　there　was　a　faithful　woman　at　this　pillow；　who；　with

averted　eyes；　would　have　covered　that　aged　face；　which　she　had

last　beheld　in　the　comeliness　of　manhood。　　At　length　the

death…stricken　old　man　lay　quietly　in　the　torpor　of　mental　and

bodily　exhaustion；　with　an　imperceptible　pulse；　and　breath　that

grew　fainter　and　fainter；　except　when　a　long；　deep；　and　irregular

inspiration　seemed　to　prelude　the　flight　of　his　spirit。



The　minister　of　Westbury　approached　the　bedside。



〃Venerable　Father　Hooper；〃　said　he；　〃the　moment　of　your　release

is　at　hand。　　Are　you　ready　for　the　lifting　of　the　veil　that　shuts

in　time　from　eternity？〃



Father　Hooper　at　first　replied　merely　by　a　feeble　motion　of　his

head；　then；　apprehensive；　perhaps；　that　his　meaning　might　be

doubted；　he　exerted　himself　to　speak。



〃Yea；〃　said　he；　in　faint　accents；　〃my　soul　hath　a　patient

weariness　until　that　veil　be　lifted。〃



〃And　is　it　fitting；〃　resumed　the　Reverend　Mr。　Clark；　〃that　a　man

so　given　to　prayer；　of　such　a　blameless　example；　holy　in　deed　and

thought；　so　far　as　mortal　judgment　may　pronounce；　is　it　fitting

that　a　father　in　the　church　should　leave　a　shadow　on　his　memory；

that　may　seem　to　blacken　a　life　so　pure？　　I　pray　you；　my　venerable

brother；　let　not　this　thing　be！　　Suffer　us　to　be　gladdened　by　your

triumphant　aspect　as　you　go　to　your　reward。　　Before　the　veil　of

eternity　be　lifted；　let　me　cast　aside　this　black　veil　from　your

face！〃



And　thus　speaking；　the　Reverend　Mr。　Clark　bent　forward　to　reveal

the　mystery　of　so　many　years。　　But；　exerting　a　sudden　energy；　that

made　all　the　beholders　stand　aghast；　Father　Hooper　snatched　both

his　hands　from　beneath　the　bedclothes；　and　pressed　them　strongly

on　the　black　veil；　resolute　to　struggle；　if　the　minister　of

Westbury　would　contend　with　a　dying　man。



〃Never！〃　cried　the　veiled　clergyman。　〃On　earth；　never！〃



〃Dark　old　man！〃　exclaimed　the　affrighted　minister；　〃with　what

horrible　crime　upon　your　soul　are　you　now　passing　to　the

judgment？〃



Father　Hooper's　breath　heaved；　it　rattled　in　his　throat；　but；

with　a　mighty　effort；　grasping　forward　with　his　hands；　he　caught

hold　of　life；　and　held　it　back　till　he　should　speak。　　He　even

raised　himself　in　bed；　and　there　he　sat；　shivering　with　the　arms

of　death　around　him；　while　the　black　veil　hung　down；　awful；　at

that　last　moment；　in　the　gathered　terrors　of　a　lifetime。　　And　yet

the　faint；　sad　smile；　so　often　there；　now　seemed　to　glimmer　from

its　obscurity；　and　linger　on　Father　Hooper's　lips。



〃Why　do　you　tremble　at　me　alone？〃　cried　he；　turning　his　veiled

face　round　the　circle　of　pale　spectators。　〃Tremble　also　at　each

other！　　Have　men　avoided　me；　and　women　shown　no　pity；　and　children

screamed　and　fled；　only　for　my　black　veil？　　What；　but　the　mystery

which　it　obscurely　typifies；　has　made　this　piece　of　crape　so

awful？　　When　the　friend　shows　his　inmost　heart　to　his　friend；　the

lover　to　his　best　beloved；　when　man　does　not　vainly　shrink　from

the　eye　of　his　Creator；　loathsomely　treasuring　up　the　secret　of

his　sin；　then　deem　me　a　monster；　for　the　symbol　beneath　which　I

have　lived；　and　die！　　I　look　around　me；　and；　lo！　on　every　visage　a

Black　Veil！〃



While　his　auditors　shrank　from　one　another；　in　mutual　affright；

Father　Hooper　fell　back　upon　his　pillow；　a　veiled　corpse；　with　a

faint　smile　lingering　on　the　lips。　　Still　veiled；　they　laid　him　in

his　coffin；　and　a　veiled　corpse　they　bore　him　to　the　grave。　　The

grass　of　many　years　has　sprung　up　and　withered　on　that　grave；　the

burial　stone　is　moss…grown；　and　good　Mr。　Hooper's　face　is　dust；

but　awful　is　still　the　thought　that　it　mouldered　beneath　the

Black　Veil！







Anonymous



Horror：　A　True　Tale





I　was　but　nineteen　years　of　age　when　the　incident　occurred　which

has　thrown　a　shadow　over　my　life；　and；　ah　me！　how　many　and　many　a

weary　year　has　dragged　by　since　then！　　Young；　happy；　and　beloved　I

was　in　those　long…departed　days。　　They　said　that　I　was　beautiful。

The　mirror　now　reflects　a　haggard　old　woman；　with　ashen　lips　and

face　of　deadly　pallor。　　But　do　not　fancy　that　you　are　listening　to

a　mere　puling　lament。　　It　is　not　the　flight　of　years　that　has