“I was born and bred in Nottingham,” answered Jack.
“And never been out here at the Hagg before?”
“No,” said Jack, “I never heard of the place before.”
“Well, to be sure it’s a good long distance from the town, and away from all high-roads. You would have a hard job to find it, even if you were looking for it, I suspect.”
“You have a bold heart, I hope,” said the old woman, “for those who spend a night in this house require one.”
“I am not much given to be afraid,” answered Jack, laughing; “but what makes you say that?”
“Why, for a good reason: because the old tower is haunted. We didn’t like it when we first came here, but we’ve got accustomed to it. There was an old family lived here in the time of Charles, the king whose head was cut off, when all the men of the family lost their lives in the Civil Wars, and the ladies died of broken hearts, or something of that sort. At all events, the old tower was left deserted, and for many years no one came to live in it. At length, one family came to try and see how it would suit them, but they very soon gave up; and then another and another rented the farm, and tried to stop in the tower, but they could not stand the sights they saw, or the sounds they heard, and threw it up, one after the other. At last my good man and I came here. We were told before what we were to expect, and so we made up our minds for the worst. Well, the very first night we came, as we were sitting here at supper, just as we may be now, we heard the ghosts of the family to whom the tower had belonged all talking away below us. Sometimes it was an old man’s voice, then a young girl’s, and then the voice of a strong man of middle age, and then a youth, maybe, like yourself, and young children. It was curious to hear them go on in that way. We could not make out what they said exactly, but there was a change in the tone of their voices, just as clearly as if they had been in the room with us. As to sights, I cannot say that we saw any thing; and I’m not ashamed to confess it, neither my good man nor I felt inclined to go into the chamber below, to have a look at the ghosts. They went on talking for some hours, till we heard them scuffling off to bed, so it seemed, and we therefore followed their example. This went on, as I say, night after night. I need not tell you what we saw when we did see any thing, but I will just advise you to be prepared, should you hear any strange noises; and provided you don’t go and interfere with the ghosts, depend upon it they will let you alone.”
“Thank you,” answered Jack, “for the advice. I never yet have met a ghost, though maybe I shall some day, and if I do I intend to treat it with all due respect.”
“You had better treat the ghosts here in that way,” observed Burdale, with a peculiar glance at Jack; “I have heard of them before, and I am sure they would not like any one to interfere with them.”
“Oh, yes,” said the old woman, “we have ghosts inside the house and out of it too. Did you mark that big old oak, as you rode up to the door? They say there’s a ghost lives inside it, of some man who was murdered under its branches years gone by. How he do groan at night sometimes! It has been the same ever since we came here. At first I could not sleep for listening to him, and thinking what a pain he was in: just like the pains of souls in purgatory.” This remark made Jack suspect that his hosts were Romanists.