They were then so close beside me that I could see freckles on their faces. I too could feel the combined essence of their coldness.
“We have no bells to ring,” the ghost children uttered a third time.
I shut my eyes and clenching my jaw, I placed my hands tightly over each ear. I heard them still as they continued to shuffle toward me.
“We have no bells to ring,” they said for the final time.
I opened my eyes and they were gone. It was to me an enigma more than just two bizarre occurrences that I was visited by the spirits of Mister Blankenship and six children. It was then that I seriously contemplated sending for a coach the next morning to take me back to Richmond, in lieu of the full payment to stay until spring. I was faced with a true conundrum. If I left, I would have faced a probable marred reputation and ridicule if I dared to reveal the true reason for my wish to leave. Even had I left and kept the spiritual visitations to myself I would have possibly ruined my career.
I thought of it all night, for I could not sleep. I dared not. By the next morning, I was weary from the lack of proper rest and had changed my mind about leaving. In the days to come, I found that I could no longer blame on drink the seeing of Blankenship’s ghost. I had not touched the bottle of whiskey since that cold winter’s night when I too saw the ghost children. Hesitantly, I resumed my duties. I thought to myself that I was on the verge of madness or that I had already been engulfed by it and was far too mad to realize it.
