“In the Abbot’s lodging, within the ruined Abbey, at the third midnight from hence.”
All was still, the pool became quiet, the atmosphere cleared, and the hag seizing the hand of Sir John began to retrace her steps. To him the whole seemed like a dream.
But is it not possible that He, Who sent an evil spirit into the mouths of the false prophets of Ahab, to lure him to his doom at Ramoth Gilead, and permitted the witch of Endor, not by any power of her own, to raise up the spirit of Samuel, that he might foretell to the unhappy Saul his coming fate; that He allowed the instrumentality of this wretched victim of a terrible delusion, to accomplish his end—that end which the progress of our tale will reveal as the direct consequence of this episode.
With difficulty Sir John dragged his failing limbs back to the hut, and for a time he and the hag sat by the fire, all in a tremor. She seemed as shaken as he: perhaps she, too, had been taken aback by the phenomenon, when simply preparing some jugglery.
At length Sir John rose, like one from stupor.
“Mother, here is money for thee; keep the secret.”
“Or it would cost me my life; but, Sir John, beware of the Abbey at midnight, I fear he means thee harm.”
“Thou carest for me, then?”
“What would become of me wert thou gone?”