"True; but it's very certain a ghost could not have carried you in his arms to your room—it makes me laugh, the very idea! You are not very heavy, but rather too substantial for a ghost, I should think! And he must have been a very smart hobgoblin to know so well which was your room—that seems to me as if he must be an acquaintance of our very earthly-looking castellan. And just as if a ghost could make such a mark upon your wrist! Bah! what a clumsy contrivance! I've read of these amiable spirits burning their marks into your flesh, but the blue spots! they are made by good strong muscles. Was your spook polite enough to bring your lamp, as well as yourself, into your room?"
"I never thought of that! I am sure not, for I always put it on the dressing-table; come and see!"
They looked, and no lamp was there; they examined the staircase, and there was a large grease spot, but no lamp.
"See, sister! here is a corroboration of my tale!"
"Oh, I don't doubt a word of it; and I don't doubt the ghost put the lamp into the pantry this morning, nicely trimmed. There is villany here, Magdalena; I believe that rascal of a Baptista—I must call him so, he has such a hang-dog look—wants to drive us away, for reasons of his own: I can never forgive him for frightening my poor darling so. We'll see if the ghost assail you, or pay you any polite attentions, while you are with me! I've never been so lucky as to see any of the creatures, and should like to try a few experiments upon them: I never even meet snakes in the woods, or any of those things that frighten others. So, Señor Hobgoblin, come and welcome!"
By this time Clara had completely chased away her sister's lowness of spirits, and they descended to the breakfast-room, pleasantly talking together. The castellan was in the hall, and Clara did not fail to notice that he fixed his eye searchingly upon Magdalena as they passed, and did not take it off while he asked, with an obsequious air, if the señoritas had passed a comfortable night in the cheerless old castle?
"An uncommonly refreshing one, owing to the hospitable cares of yourself and Francisca," said Clara, answering for both; "my sister had something like the nightmare, but otherwise we were very comfortable."
When they were alone, they told their father the events of the night, and it was his first impulse at once to charge the castellan with villany, and to dismiss him from his post; but Clara persuaded him to wait yet some days, until the whole matter was well cleared up, before he took any action.
"But, Magdalena! I cannot have my little girl's cheek blanched, and her mind filled with ghostly terrors!" "Don't be afraid for me, dear father," said his daughter, smiling; "Clara's bravery has quite reanimated mine, and she has laughed me out of the belief of its being a spirit at all; I now wonder I could ever have thought so." "All very well, my beloved; but there is a great difference between breakfast time, when the sun is shining brightly into the room, and midnight, with dark corridors and a feebly burning lamp—especially when it goes out." "True, father," said Clara, laughing; "but I intend to provide for quite an illumination to-night, and do not expect to let poor Magdalena stir from my sight all day."
That day passed off without any incidents, and was very agreeably spent in an examination of the ancient castle, with its many relics of by-gone times, its collection of portraits, its spacious rooms, winding galleries, and magazine of armory and weapons. From the battlements they enjoyed a view of the country beneath them, unsurpassed in extent and grandeur: it spread out before their eyes a beautiful panorama, comprising hill and dale, forest and cultivated land; the little whitewashed cottage, with its ascending smoke, and the flocks of sheep scattered about, gave a lively interest to the scene, and endeared it to their hearts: man ever loves to see tokens of the nearness of brother man. Magdalena clasped her father's hand: "O, may we not always live here?" "But what about that ghost?" "O, I forgot; but if Clara lays the uneasy spirit of Don Pedro, then will you not remove here?" "I think I will, my daughters, if you both desire it. I dreaded to come here, but find that time has so mellowed and softened my grief, that I can now feel pleasure in revisiting the spots made sacred to me by your dear mother's presence. And I also feel as if I had neglected my duty, through too great an abandonment to grief; here, in my ancestral possessions, it certainly lies. The peasants, I fear, have greatly suffered from my absence, and now they scarcely know me; and I am almost a stranger to the neighboring gentry. If we remove here, will you, my daughters, aid me in making this castle the scene of hospitality and kindness, and will you extend your care to the neglected poor and ignorant, who are scattered through these valleys?" The girls answered with joy in the affirmative, and already began laying plans for visiting the sick, reading to the old, and teaching the young.