"Then, as sure as we are alive,(said one of the grooms,) Thomas has seen the ghost of the lady who died for love of the young officer that was put to death in the dungeons. I have heard my grandfather say a thousand times he must have died innocent, for he was a bold as a lion till his last gasp."
"Well, (said one of the women-servants,) I shall be afraid to stir out after dark, if these confounded ghosts are again found taking their nightly rambles, and prying into every thing that is going forwards."
"I always knew (said another) this castle was disturbed ever since the great clock struck twelve twice in one night; for what on earth could touch it at that time, if it had not been a spirit?"
"Ah! (said a third,) no doubt there have been sad doings in the castle."
"Not since we came to it, (replied an old grey-headed footman.) My master has practised no deeds of darkness that would bring the dead from their graves. As to what was done before our time, that can be no business of ours, and I don't see how any ghost can have a right to frighten and interrupt, either by day or night, those who were never acquainted with it."
"Christ Jesus preserve us! (cried on of the maids,) I verily thinks I saw something glide past that door! Surely father Anselm should be sent for to give them absolution:—There! did you not hear that rustling?"
"I see and hear nothing, (said the before mentioned old servant,) but what I wish neither to see not hear. You are all a parcel of superstitious ignorant fools, and, if my master should once find out what cowards you all are, he would soon compel you to give place to a bolder set. Come, come, let us go to bed, and leave the ghosts to do the same."
The old man led the way with a candle in his hand; the rest followed, clinging to each other like a flight of bees, not one of them daring to be left behind; and the groom, who had really seen a light from the tower inhabited by the prisoner, was to convinced he had seen a ghost, that neither father Anselm, nor all the fathers in Christendom, could have persuaded him to think the contrary; and so much had it alarmed him, that his terrified imagination had mistake his own shadow for the ghost following close at his heels, and it was with some difficulty he could be prevailed upon by his fellow-servants to go to bed, lest he should see it again.
The next morning, when Audrey went to call her young lady, Roseline requested she would forgive her for having spoken so angrily the preceding evening, and with the most winning softness begged to be informed what she meant by coupling her name with that of the Baron.
Audrey, who had never before seen Roseline so much out of humour, and had neither forgotten nor forgiven the affront of being prevented from disclosing a secret which she had for several days found very troublesome to keep, replied, "I couples no one; matches are made in heaven, or in the church, or at wakes; but I think, for my part, some are made in a much worser place, and so she will think too who is tacked in hollybands with the old Baron." "But who do you think, my good Audrey, will ever be so unfortunate?" "Why will you ax me miss? I must not speak my senterments: we poor servants never knows nothing; but this I do know for certain, if ever I marries, it shall be to a young man, a pretty-looking man,—good humoured ones I loves,—something like Mr. Camelfor;—not to an old crab, sowrer than vinegar, who would not suffer me to see with my own dear eyes, nor believe with my own natural senses,—a crotched paced toad, who would shut me up for life; mayhap, if I liked a better or a younger man than himself,—an accident I think that might happen."