Get cosy, let the rain fall outside and drift towards sleep with a gentle ghost story from L. M. Montgomery, the beloved author of Anne of Green Gables. Davenport's Story is a short, atmospheric tale told around the fire on a rainy afternoon, more mysterious than frightening, read slowly and softly as a bedtime story for adults who want to wind down, ease insomnia and fall into deep, restful sleep. A perfect autumn sleep story for the Halloween season.
A group of friends have been passing a wet afternoon swapping ghost stories, with all the usual mysterious noises, death warnings and sheeted spectres. But Jack, the sceptic of the group, is unimpressed. Every tale is second-hand, he says. Nobody has ever met a man who actually saw a ghost himself.
Then quiet, practical Davenport wanders in, and after a little coaxing admits that something strange did once happen to him, something he has never been able to explain. It concerns his brother Charles, a reserved man with a deep and faithful heart, and Davenport's daughter Dolly, who was always Uncle Charlie's girl. One afternoon, alone in his library, Davenport turns round to find someone standing between him and the bookcase, with a warning about a ship called the Aragon. Whether it was a dream, a coincidence or something more, you'll have to listen and decide for yourself.
The story
Transcribed from the audio, so the odd word may be off. Tap any line while it plays to keep the words in step with Martin's voice.
Books at Bedtime by Calming Anxiety Davenport's Story by Lucy M. Montgomery It was a rainy afternoon and we'd been passing a time by telling ghost stories That is a very good sort of thing for a rainy afternoon and it is a much better time than after night If you tell ghost stories after dark they are apt to make you nervous Whether you own up to it or not And you sneak home and dodge upstairs in mortal terror An undress with your back to the wall so that you can't fancy there is anything behind you We had each told a story and had a had the usual assortment of mysterious noises And death warnings and sheeted spectres and so on Down through the whole catalog of horrors Enough to satisfy any reasonable ghost-taster But Jack, as usual, was dissatisfied He said our stories were all second-hand stuff There was an a man in the crowd who had ever seen or heard a ghost All our so-called authentic stories had been told us by persons who had heard the story from other persons who saw the ghosts One doesn't get any information from that said Jack I never expect to get so far along as to see a real ghost myself But I would like to see and talk to one who had Some persons appear to have been the knack of getting their wishes granted Jack is one of that hill Just as he made the remark, Davenport saunted in and finding out what was going on Volunteered to tell us a ghost story himself Something that had happened to his grandmother, or maybe it was his great aunt I forget which It was a very good ghost story as ghost stories go And Davenport told it well Even Jack admitted that But he said it's only second-hand too Did you ever have a ghostly experience yourself old man? Davenport put his fingertips critically together Would you believe me if I said I had? He asked No, said Jack, unblushingly Then there would be no use in me saying it But you don't mean that you ever really had of course I don't know Something queer happened once I've never been able to explain it from a practical point of view that is Do you want to hear about it? Of course we did This was exciting Nobody would ever have suspected Davenport of seeing ghosts It's conventional enough, you began Ghosts don't seem to have much of a ragnality But it's first-hand Jack if that's what you want I don't suppose any of you have ever heard of me speak of my brother, Charles He was my senior by two years and was quiet, reserved sort of fellow Not at all demonstrative but with very strong and deep affections When we left college, he became engaged to Dorothy Chester She was very beautiful and my brother idolized her She died a short time before the date set for their marriage And Charles never recovered from the blow I married Dorothy's sister Virginia Virginia did not in the least resemble her sister But our elders daughter was striking like her dead aunt We called her Dorothy and Charles was devoted to her Dolly as we called her was always Uncle Charlie's girl When Dolly was twelve years old, Charles went to New Orleans on business And while there took yellow fever and died He was buried there and Dolly half broke her childish heart over his death One day, five years later, when Dolly was seventeen, I was writing letters in my library That very morning my wife and Dolly had gone to New York on route for Europe Dolly was going to school in Paris for a year Business prevented my accompanying them even as far as New York But Gilbert Chester, my wife's brother, was going with them They were to sail on the arrogant the next morning I had written steadily for about an hour At last, growing tide, I threw down my pen and leaning back in my chair It was on the point of lighting a cigar when an unaccountable impulse made me turn around I dropped my cigar and spranged my feet in amazement There was only one door in the room and I had all along been facing it I could have sworn nobody had entered yet there Standing between me and the bookcase was a man And that man was my brother, Charles There was no mistaking him, I saw him as plainly as I see you It was a tall, rather stout man with curly hair and a fair, close, clipped beard He wore the same light grey suit which he had worn when bidding as goodbye On the morning of his departure for New Orleans He had no hat on but wore spectacles and was standing in his old, favour attitude with his hands behind him I want you to understand that at this precise moment, although I was surprised beyond measure I was not in the least bit frightened Because I did not know for a moment, suppose, that what I saw was, well, a ghost or apparition of any sort The thought that flashed across my bewildered brain was simply that there had been some absurd mistake somewhere And that my brother had never died at all But was here alive and well I took a hasty step towards him Good heavens, O fb, I explained Where on earth have you come from?
Why, we all thought you were dead I was quite close to him when I stopped abruptly Somehow, I couldn't move another step He made no motion, but his eyes looked straight into mine Do not let Dolly sail on the arrogant tomorrow He said in a slow, clear tone that I heard distinctly And then he was gone Yes, Jack, I know it's a very conventional way of ending up a ghost story But I have to tell you what just occurred Or at least what I thought occurred One moment he was there And the next moment he wasn't He did not pass me or go out the door Just for a few moments I felt tazed I was wide awake in my right and proper senses so far as I could judge And yet, the whole thing seemed incredible Scared? No, I wasn't conscious of being scared I was simply bewildered In my mental confusion one thought stood out sharply Dolly was in danger of some kind And if the warning was rarely from a supernatural source It must not be disregarded I rushed to the station And having first wired to my wife not to sail on the arrogant I found I could connect with the 515 train from New York I took it with the comfortable consciousness that my friends would certainly think I'd gone out of my mind I arrived in New York at 8 o'clock the next morning And at once drove to the hotel where my wife, daughter and brother-in-law were staying I found them greatly mystified by my telegram I suppose my explanation was a very lame one I know I felt decidedly like a fool Gilbert laughed at me and said I dreamed the whole thing The genuers perplexed But Dolly, she accepted the warning unhesitatingly Of course it was Uncle Charlie she said confidently We will not sail on the arrogant now Gilbert had to give in to this decision with very bad grace And the arrogant sailed that day minus three of her intended passengers Well, you've all heard of the historic collision between the arrogant and the astard In a fog and the fearful loss of life it involved Gilbert didn't laugh when the news came I assure you Virginia and Dolly sailed a month later on the Marseille And reached the other side in safety That's all the story boys The only experience of the kind I've ever had concluded Davenport We had many questions to ask and several theories to advance Jack said that Davenport had dreamed it And that the collision of the arrogant and the astard was simply a striking coincidence But Davenport He merely smiled at all our suggestions and as it cleared up just about three We told no more ghosts