"Never mind, Guy," said Sibyl, laughing at his rueful face, "I'll go. Aunt Moll and Lem are tired, doubtless, with their extraordinary exertions this evening, and it would be a pity to wake them."
She quitted the room as she spoke, in the direction of the kitchen, in search of lights.
And presently she reappeared, and announcing that Aunt Moll was stretched out on her pallet, before the kitchen fire, asleep, she took her light, and bidding them a smiling good-night, left them to seek her own room.
And Captain Campbell, taking a candle, preceded his guest in the direction of the "haunted chamber."
Willard Drummond entered, and looked round. It was a high, wide, spacious chamber, as were all in the house, with floors, doors, and casements of dark, polished oak, black now with time and use. In the wide fire-place at one end, a fire had been burning all the evening, but only the red, smouldering embers remained now. At the other end of the room, opposite the fire, was his bed, and between them, facing the door, was a deep dormer window. The room looked cheerful and pleasant, and throwing himself into an easy, old-fashioned arm-chair before the fire, he exclaimed:
"Well, in spite of all the ghosts and hobgoblins that ever walked at 'noon of night,' I shall sleep here as sound as a top until morning. Your ghost will have to give me a pretty vigorous shaking before I awake, when once I close my eyes."
"Perhaps the ghost, if in the least timorous, will not appear to so undaunted an individual as yourself. May your dreams be undisturbed! Good-night!" And placing the light on the table Captain Campbell left the room.
Willard's first care was to lock the door securely, and then carefully examine the room. There was no other means of ingress but the one by which he had entered, and the room did not seem to communicate with any other. The window was high above the ground, and firmly nailed down. Clearly, then, if the ghost entered at all it must assume its ghostly prerogative of coming through the keyhole—for there was no other means by which ghost or mortal could get in.
Satisfied with this, Willard Drummond went to bed, but in spite of all his efforts sleep would not come. Vain were all his attempts to woo the drowsy god; he could only toss restlessly from side to side, with that feeling of irritation which want of sleep produces.
The moonlight streaming in through the window filled the room with silvery radiance. The silence of death reigned around, unbroken even by the watch-dog's bark. The dull, heavy roar of the waves, breaking on the shore like far-off thunder, was the only sound to be heard. And at last, with this eerie, ghostly lullaby, Willard Drummond fell into a feverish sleep.