Free The Bell by Iris Murdoch

‘The guilty nun was so overwhelmed by this demonstration that she forthwith ran out of the Abbey gates and drowned herself in the lake.’
    â€˜Oh, poor thing!’ said Dora.
    â€˜You, of course, identify yourself with the faithless one,’ said Paul.
    â€˜She was probably forced into the order,’ said Dora. ‘People were in those days.’
    â€˜She broke her vows,’ said Paul.
    â€˜Is that a true story?’ said Dora.
    â€˜These legends usually have some truth behind them,’ said Paul. ‘There are records of a famous bell here, but no one knows what happened to it. It was cast by a great craftsman at Gloucester, Hugh Belleyetere, or Bellfounder, and it had a considerable reputation because of its fine tone and because it was very good at keeping away plagues and evil spirits. It had some carvings on it too, scenes of the life of Christ, which is a very unusual feature. It would be an object of great interest if it ever did turn up. It’s possible that it was in fact thrown into the lake at the time of the dissolution, either by people plundering the Abbey or else, more likely, by the nuns themselves, so as to keep it safe. Bell metal was very valuable. I believe someone once had the lake dragged looking for it, but nothing was found. The bell’s name was Gabriel.’
    â€˜It had a name!’ said Dora. ‘How beautiful! But I feel so sorry for the nun. Is her ghost ever seen?’
    â€˜That’s not recorded,’ said Paul, ‘but there is a story about the bell ringing sometimes in the bottom of the lake, and how if you hear it it portends a death.’
    Dora shivered. She was undressed now and had pulled Paul’s shirt over her head. ‘Have you told the others this story?’ she asked.
    â€˜No, I haven’t told them,’ said Paul. ‘Oh yes, I think I told it to Catherine.’ He got into bed.
    Dora felt a twinge of displeasure. She went over to the window and looked out. The moon had risen now and the lake was fully visible, silvering in ripples caused perhaps by the breeze, perhaps by some night creatures. An air heavy with perfume drifted into the room. Dora saw more clearly now the expanse before her, the gaunt facade of the Abbey wall, wrinkled with light and dark, the trees beyond with their rounded tops catching the pale illumination, and long strange shadows of trees and bushes cast upon the open space of grass underneath the window. Looking a little to her left she made out what seemed to be a low causeway raised upon a series of arches which ran across the nearer reach of the lake towards the wall. Then, with a shock of alarm, she saw that there was a dark figure standing quite near on the edge of the water, very still.
    Dora’s heart began to beat violently as she stared down and she checked an exclamation. Then the figure moved, and a moment later she recognized it. It was the boy Toby Gashe who was wandering along on the shore of the lake. He walked there by himself, kicking his feet through the long grass. Dora could just hear the swish of it as he moved. She drew back a little from the window, still keeping him in sight. So that Paul should not think she was watching anything she said, ‘They’re getting a new bell?’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Paul. ‘A tenor bell is being cast for them, to hang in the tower. It may arrive before we go. My work should take another fortnight.’
    Dora saw the boy turning to look back along the lake. Then suddenly he stretched out both his hands and raised them above his head. He looked to Dora at that moment the very image of freedom. She could not bear to look at him any longer and turned away from the window.
    Paul was staring at her. He was sitting up in bed with a book in his hand.
    Dora looked at him with hostility. ‘That was a horrible story,’ she said. ‘You like telling me unpleasant stories. Like that beastly one by De Maupassant about