“What is there to be afraid of?” asked Anne. “There are the sentinels at the foot of the stairs, and what should reach us here?”
“I would not be alone here,” said more than one voice. “Nor I!”—“Nor I!”
“And on this night of all others!” said Hester.
“But why?”
“They say he walks!” whispered Jane in a voice of awe.
“Who walks?”
“The old King?” asked Hester.
“No; the last King,” said Jane.
“No, no: it was Oliver Cromwell—old Noll himself!” put in another voice.
“I tell you, no such thing,” said Jane. “It was the last King. I heard it from them that saw it, at least the lady’s cousin. ’Twas in the long gallery, in a suit of plain black velvet, with white muslin ruffles and cravat quilled very neat. Why do you laugh, Miss Woodford?”