The room was in a distant corner of the castle, and overlooked a small garden. The niece lay gazing at the beams of the rising moon as they shone on the trembling leaves of an aspen tree before the latticed window.
The castle clock had just tolled midnight when a soft strain of music stole up from the garden.
She rose hastily from her bed and stepped lightly to the window.
A tall figure stood among the shadows of the trees. As it raised its head, a beam of moonlight fell on its face. In a moment she knew him—her promised bridegroom!
A loud shriek at that moment burst upon her ear, and her aunt, who had been awakened by the music and had followed her to the window, fell into her arms.
When she looked again, the spectre had disappeared.
Of the two, the aunt required the more soothing. She was beside herself with terror.
As for the young lady, she did not feel frightened. There was something, even in the spectre of her lover, very charming.
The aunt declared she would never sleep in that room again. The niece for once was determined to have her own way, and declared she would not sleep in any other room. The consequence was that she had to sleep there alone.