The Mammoth Book of Modern Ghost Stories

“And the joke of it is that he supposes I want to buy the place from you,” I said. “Are you selling?”

“Not for twice what I paid for it – now,” said M’Leod. “I’ll keep you in furs all your life, but not our Holmescroft.”

“No – never our Holmescroft,” said Miss M’Leod. “We’ll ask him here on Tuesday, mamma.” They squeezed each other’s hands.

“Now tell me,” said Mrs M’Leod – “that tall one I saw out of the scullery window – did she tell you she was always here in the spirit? I hate her. She made all this trouble. It was not her house after she had sold it. What do you think?”

“I suppose,” I answered, “she brooded over what she believed was her sister’s suicide night and day – she confessed she did – and her thoughts being concentrated on this place, they felt like a – like a burning glass.”

“Burning glass is good,” said M’Leod.

“I said it was like a light of blackness turned on us,” cried the girl, twiddling her ring. “That must have been when the tall one thought worst about her sister and the house.”

“Ah, the poor Aggie!” said Mrs M’Leod. “The poor Aggie, trying to tell every one it was not so! No wonder we felt Something wished to say Something. Thea, Max, do you remember that night –”

“We need not remember any more,” M’Leod interrupted. “It is not our trouble. They have told each other now.”

“Do you think, then,” said Miss M’Leod, “that those two, the living ones, were actually told something – upstairs – in your – in the room?”

“I can’t say. At any rate they were made happy, and they ate a big tea afterwards. As your father says, it is not our trouble any longer – thank God!”

“Amen!” said M’Leod. “Now, Thea, let us have some music after all these months. ‘With mirth, thou pretty bird,’ ain’t it? You ought to hear that.”

And in the half-lighted hall, Thea sang an old English song that I had never heard before.

With mirth, thou pretty bird, rejoice

Thy Maker’s praise enhanced;

Lift up thy shrill and pleasant voice,

Thy God is high advanced!

Thy food before He did provide,

And gives it in a fitting side,

Wherewith be thou sufficed!

Why shouldst thou now unpleasant be,

Thy wrath against God venting,

That He a little bird made thee,

Thy silly head tormenting,

Because He made thee not a man?

Oh, Peace! He hath well thought thereon,

Therewith be thou sufficed!

The Grove of Ashtaroth

John Buchan

Location:  Welgevonden, South Africa.

Time:  June, 1910.

Eyewitness Description:  “And then I honestly began to be afraid. I, a prosaic modern Christian gentleman, a half-believer in casual faiths, was in the presence of some hoary mystery of sin far older than creeds or Christendom. There was fear in my heart.”

Author:  John Buchan (1875–1940) was another man for whom the start of the 20th century would mean a significant shift in his fortunes from “half barrister and half writer”, to quote his own words. The early years of the new century were spent in South Africa, which would provide the raw material for some of his later books, notably the fantasy adventure Prester John (1910), and the spur five years later for his immortal spy thriller, The 39 Steps. “The Grove of Ashtaroth” draws on his knowledge of South African supernaturalism to tell the story of a young man who falls under the spell of an old temple dedicated to the worship of an ancient goddess. It is a significant story among Buchan’s work in that critics have in the past used the part-Jewish hero as an example of his anti-Semitism. In fact, although Buchan did make the occasional tasteless remark about Jews in his fiction – as did many other leading writers of the period – he numbered several among his friends and was one of the first important literary figures to denounce Hitler’s persecution of the race during his rise to power.

We were sitting around the camp fire, some thirty miles north of a place called Taqui, when Lawson announced his intention of finding a home. He had spoken little the last day or two, and I had guessed that he had struck a vein of private reflection. I thought it might be a new mine or irrigation scheme, and I was surprised to find that it was a country house.