There was little time to lose, for it was drawing toward night already, and by midnight we must be well on our way.
Every thing favored us. The night was dark, with a fitful wind from the east, which I well knew would make all sorts of eerie noises about the old hall. I made up two bundles of needful clothing, dressed myself in a thick gray woolen gown, and wrapping my plaid about me, I stole up through the woods to the Hall.
The east wing was brilliantly lighted, as was also the great hall, and the sound of musical instruments told me that the revel was in full progress. In the west wing burned only one dim light, and that I well knew was in Amabel's room.
I do not pretend to be above fears more than other people, and I shuddered with something besides cold when I found myself in the little deserted court where the phantom cavalier was said to walk, and when I applied the well-oiled key to the lock, I could almost have sworn that a light hand was laid on my shoulder.
Nothing was to be seen, however, and in the cause of my foster-sister, I would have faced the evil one himself.
I unlocked the door, and lighting the dark lantern I carried, I went softly down and then up the rugged stairs, and found myself in the ghostly room. I stayed not to look around me, but knocked gently at the door of communication. There was no answer, and for a moment my heart sunk at the thought that Amabel might have been forced to be present at the play. I blew my little ivory whistle very softly at the keyhole, and to my intense delight I heard Amabel's voice.
"Lucy, where are you?"
"In the ghost room!" was my answer. "Open the door quickly!"
"I cannot!" was the answer. "It is fastened on your side."
I found the bolt and pushed it back,—the cabinet was rolled aside, and in a moment, Amabel was in my arms. She was but the shadow of herself, but her lovely face was calm as ever.