She begged her aunt to promise not to tell about this moonlight visitor, for she said it was the only comfort she had in her great disappointment, and the good old lady promised. How long she would have kept her promise is uncertain, for she dearly loved to talk about mysterious happenings.
She did keep it to herself for a whole week; and then, suddenly, she did not need to keep it longer. For word was brought to the breakfast table that the young lady was not to be found.
Her room was empty. Her bed had not been slept in. The window was open! The bird had flown!
Nearly every one was struck speechless, when the aunt who had slept with her, suddenly regained her speech, and wringing her hands, shrieked out, “The goblin! the goblin! She’s carried away by the goblin!”
In a few words, she told of the dreadful scene in the garden; and all concluded that the spectre must have carried off his bride. Two of the servants said they had heard the clatter of horse’s hoofs down the mountain-side about midnight, and had no doubt it was the black charger of the spectre.
The poor baron was inconsolable. What sorrow to have his only child, his daughter, carried off by a goblin! How terrible to have, perhaps, goblin grandchildren! As usual, he was completely bewildered, and all the castle was in an uproar.
The men were ordered to take horses, and hunt in every road and path and by-way. The baron himself had just drawn on his jack-boots and girded on his sword, when he glanced out the window, and paused because of what he saw.
A lady was approaching the castle on horseback. Beside her, mounted on a black charger, was a cavalier.
She galloped up to the gate, sprang from the horse, and running into the castle, fell at the baron’s feet.
It was his lost daughter, and her companion—the spectre bridegroom.