10/08/2026
129 years ago today, on Friday, October 8, 1897 Medford Mercury published a spectur-lular tale: Isfodel Castle.
The coolest part to me was when looking through the newspaper, I found traces of the Spiritualism movement. Turn a few columns over on that same page and you'll find the Mercury's Theosophical Notes, a weekly column that ran through all of 1897. Ghost stories and philosophy of the soul in the same newspaper.
Read the newspaper on our local history site (page four) to see the story in its original format https://localhistory.medfordlibrary.org/Documents/Detail/medford-mercury/419398
Otherwise, read on…
Many years have vanished from the face of the earth since the castle of Isfodel was first erected. The ravages of war have filled many a land with sorrow, and the angel of peace has often visited the world, bringing balm to the weary. Empires have arisen and, like the paling of a star, have disappeared from the firmament of time since that remote period.
At the time of our narrative Isfodel had undergone many changes since the days of its former possessors. It still, however, presented the same granitic appearance. The wild, wrathful ocean beat against the base of the cliff on which the castle stood, and dark and lonely appeared the great forest a few rods away. Lord Hilderbrand and many of his followers had passed away to the land of the soul.
Finally Isfodel fell into the possession of Lord Hurdron, an exceedingly unpopular man, of crabbed disposition and darkened reputation. He was domineering in his conduct toward those beneath him in social standing, and, added to this, he bore such a selfish spirit that he won the respect of only a few persons.
Very different in her nature was Lady Ella, the only daughter of Lord Hurdron. She possessed all those qualities and accomplishments that tend toward the development of true womanhood. She was greatly liked by all who knew her, and well did she merit the love that her friends bore her.
If there was one thing to which Lord Hurdron was violently opposed, it was that Lady Ella should marry a man who possessed not wealth and bore not the title of nobleman. She well knew her father's antipathy to her forming an intimacy with any of the lower class. Still this did not deter her from seeking the company of Roland Hilfer, with whom she had fallen deeply in love. He possessed nothing in his nature that even Lord Hurdron could find aught against had not the latter such an austere and jealous disposition.
The knowledge of love meetings is sometimes difficult to keep from suspicious parents, and so it was in the case of Lady Ella and her lover. It was not long before Lord Hurdron became cognizant of the interviews between his daughter and Roland Hilter, and he immediately proposed to break the intimacy.
Early one morning, as he was passing through the dark forest of Athol, Lord Hurdron's attention was arrested by the sound of voices falling on his ear. Presently Lady Ella, accompanied by Roland Hilter, appeared in view. Not wishing to be observed by them, Lord Hurdron stepped behind a large tree to wait until they passed by.
"Dear Roland, let us sit down for a few moments," said Lady Ella in a sweet voice.
Lord Hurdron managed to restrain his temper and wait for further developments. He saw the young couple sit down under the umbrageous foliage of a large oak tree. He beheld the young man pass his arm tenderly around the waist of the fair girl, and he noticed that she did not attempt to resist this act of familiarity.
"Dear Ella," said Roland, "let us leave this country and fly to some foreign land, where our marriage can take place unhindered by your people, for you know that were your father to learn of our betrothal he would spurn me from these premises as he would a reptile."
"Dear Roland," replied Lady Ella, "wheresoever you go there will I bear you company. What is the love I entertain for my people compared with the deep affection that has chained our hearts together?"
"Then this evening at the red room await my coming." And as Roland uttered these words he arose from his seat and together they walked away.
As Lord Hurdron heard these words he inwardly cursed the soul of Roland Hilter. He waited until the young lovers had gone some distance, when he emerged from his place of concealment and quietly wended his way toward the castle. On his way he met one of his servants, to whom he spoke a few words. The man's face slightly changed color as his master's voice fell on his ears.
"A thousand pounds, Rupert, if you perform the deed," said Lord Hurdron, as he departed.
"I understand, my lord." And the man walked away.
Roland Hilter lived a mile from the castle of Isfodel, and it was his favorite pastime to wander along the high bank that bordered the ocean and listen to the beating of the waters below. Rarely a day passed but that he spent a portion of his time there.
On the afternoon following the events just narrated Roland was walking leisurely along the bank, gazing on the blue waters, when a voice fell on his ear.
"A bad place for a man to fall from."
"Ah, is it you, Rupert?" said Roland, as he turned around. "Yes, it is, as you say, a bad place. The best swimmer, I warrant, could not live in such a sea."
"Yet his cries would probably reach the castle."
"I fear not. The sound of the waves would drown them."
The eyes of Rupert glittered with a dangerous light as he heard these words. "Do you think the edge of the bank is firm?" he asked. "Would there not be danger of its crumbling if one should stand close to the brink?”
“None in the least. I have stood many times within an inch of the edge and felt no danger whatever. See.”
As Roland spoke he stepped forward, and presently only a small space intervened between him and the side of the precipice. Ere he had time to return he felt himself being pushed over the cliff. Impulsively he stretched forth his hand and grasped Rupert, his assailant, by the arm. The latter struggled to free himself, but in vain, and a moment afterward the pitiless ocean received them in its depths.
That evening Lady Ella waited long for the appearance of Roland but he did not come. She knew not that tossed here and there by the angry waves, his lifeless form was in the ocean.
The next day, as she was walking along the end of the cliff, her mind full of strange forebodings, the upturned face of her dead lover met her vision. Her head swam, and she toppled over the cliff. As she fell the ocean clasped her in its embrace, and the gates of death where thrown open to receive another soul.
That night Lord Hurdron retired to the red room. The nonappearance of Lady Ella did not seem to affect him. As he sat down his thoughts reverted to the past.
“Ha!” he muttered. “That young scamp, Hilter, will no longer trouble these regions. It” –
“Think so, father?” interrupted a sepulchral voice at his side.
Lord Hurdron turned his eyes to whence came the voice. As he did so he beheld the dripping apparition of Lady Ella leaning on her lover’s arm.
“By my troth!” cried the astonished lord. “So you have returned, you base scoundrel? Death be upon you!”
As he spoke he drew a pistol and fired at the spectral form. When the smoke cleared away, no one save Lord Hurdron remained in the room.
For a moment, he hardly stirred. Then his head dropped on his breast, and his eyes put on a glazed appearance. When the servants entered, only the dead body of Lord Hurdron remained in the room.
The physicians pronounced his death as the result of heart disease, but they knew not what was the rightful cause.
The bodies of Rupert, Roland Hilter and Lady Ella were never recovered.
The sea refused them to mortal man.
For years the red room of Isfodel castle was haunted. It is said that the pale form of Lady Ella often appeared at the window, as if in waiting for some one. The castle has long since been destroyed, but the strange story connected with it is still fresh in the minds of many persons in England. —Exchange.
