"So you are here!" said she, with an ominously solemn face. "You are not wanting in courage, that must needs be said of you. I have not slighted my dead Lady's commands, nor done despite to her memory, nor broken my convent vows, and yet I would not pass a night here for all my Lady's jewels. I hope all may be well with you in the morning, that's all."
"And so do I!" I answered. "Why not?"
"And suppose you are waked in the night by the touch of a cold hand, and should see your mother's ghost, surrounded by the flames of purgatory or worse, and should hear her voice reproaching you for your breach of your vows! Or suppose you should see the demon which haunts yon woods—which carried off the Lady Elgitha from her lover, and—"
"Or suppose you should shut the door and mind your own business!" said I, all the more vexed because I was a little scared. "In the first place, I have broken no vows, because I have made none. If my dear mother should come to visit me, it would be to bless, or at worst to reprove, and not to curse; and she would come surrounded, not by flames of purgatory, but by airs from Paradise, and I should rejoice to see her. And as for the demon out yonder, he has no power save over those who venture into his domains after nightfall, nor then, unless they go on a bad errand. Methinks you were best to depart before my Lady comes to see me in bed," (as she has always done since my illness.)
Prue took the hint, and was departing, when she nearly ran over my Lady.
"What are you doing here?" says my Lady, not without some sharpness.
"If it please you, Madam, I meant no offence!" said Prudence, demurely. "I came but to see that Mistress Rosamond had a night light, in case anything should happen before morning;" and casting a parting glance full of anger at us both, she courtesied and departed.
"Was that really her errand?" asked my Lady.
"Hardly, I think," said I. "I believe she only came to scare me, if she could;" and then I recounted what she had said. My Lady seemed much moved.
"Aye, that is always the way—flames, and devils, and all kinds of things, to scare the little ones whom He bade come to himself," she murmured, as if to herself; then to me, "Dear child, be not you scared by these fables. Think not of your mother as tormented in flames of purgatory, or worse, because she married a worthy man and lived and died a faithful Christian wife and mother. Believe as I do, that they who put their trust in the Lord shall never taste the bitterness of death, but that being absent from the body they are at home with the Lord. 'They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more, neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb shall lead them to fountains of living water, and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.'"