"No."

"What did it do to terrify you so much?"

"It stood at the farthest door, and pointed to the outward door, as if to have us leave the room; we did not wait for a second notice, but came away as fast as we could."

"Did it follow you?"

"No."

"Then you need not have raised such a disturbance."

Wenlock lifted up his head, and spoke--

"I believe, father, if you had been with us, you would not have stood upon ceremonies any more than we did. I wish my lord would send you to parley with the ghost; for, without doubt, you are better qualified than we."

"My Lord," said Oswald, "I will go thither, with your permission; I will see that every thing is safe, and bring the key back to you; Perhaps this may help to dispel the fears that have been raised--at least, I will try to do it."

"I thank you, father, for your good offices--do as you please."

Oswald went into the outward room. "I am going," said he, "to shut up the apartment. The young gentlemen have been more frightened than they had occasion for; I will try to account for it. Which of you will go with me?"

They all drew back, except Joseph, who offered to bear him company. They went into the bedroom in the haunted apartment, and found every thing quiet there. They put out the fire, extinguished the lights, locked the door, and brought away the key. As they returned, "I thought how it would be," said Joseph.

"Hush! not a word," said Oswald; "you find we are suspected of something, though they know not what. Wait till you are called upon, and then we will both speak to purpose." They carried the key to the Baron.

"All is quiet in the apartment," said Oswald, "as we can testify."

"Did you ask Joseph to go with you," said the Baron, "or did he offer himself?"

"My Lord, I asked if any body would go with me, and they all declined it but he; I thought proper to have a witness beside myself, for whatever might be seen or heard."

"Joseph, you were servant to the late Lord Lovel; what kind of man was he?"

"A very comely man, please your lordship."

"Should you know him if you were to see him?"

"I cannot say, my lord."

"Would you have any objection to sleep a night in that apartment?"

"I beg,"--"I hope,"--"I beseech your lordship not to command me to do it!"

"You are then afraid; why did you offer yourself to go thither?"

"Because I was not so much frightened as the rest."

"I wish you would lie a night there; but I do not insist upon it."

"My lord, I am a poor ignorant old man, not fit for such an undertaking; beside, if I should see the ghost, and if it should be the person of my master, and if it should tell me any thing, and bid me keep it secret, I should not dare to disclose it; and then, what service should I do your lordship?"

"That is true, indeed," said the Baron.

"This speech," said Sir Robert, "is both a simple and an artful one. You see, however, that Joseph is not a man for us to depend upon; he regards the Lord Lovel, though dead, more than Lord Fitz-Owen, living; he calls him his master, and promises to keep his secrets. What say you, father, Is the ghost your master, or your friend? Are you under any obligation to keep his secrets?"

"Sir," said Oswald, "I answer as Joseph does; I would sooner die than discover a secret revealed in that manner."

"I thought as much," said Sir Robert; "there is a mystery in Father Oswald's behaviour, that I cannot comprehend."

"Do not reflect upon the father," said the Baron; "I have no cause to complain of him; perhaps the mystery may be too soon explained; but let us not antic.i.p.ate evils. Oswald and Joseph have spoken like good men; I am satisfied with their answers; let us, who are innocent, rest in peace; and let us endeavour to restore peace in the family; and do you, father, a.s.sist us."

"With my best services," said Oswald. He called the servants in. "Let nothing be mentioned out of doors," said he, "of what has lately pa.s.sed within, especially in the east apartment; the young gentlemen had not so much reason to be frightened as they apprehended; a piece of furniture fell down in the rooms underneath, which made the noise that alarmed them so much; but I can certify that all things in the rooms are in quiet, and there is nothing to fear. All of you attend me in the chapel in an hour; do your duties, put your trust in G.o.d, and obey your Lord, and you will find every thing go right as it used to do."

They dispersed; the sun rose, the day came on, and every thing went on in the usual course; but the servants were not so easily satisfied; they whispered that something was wrong, and expected the time that should set all right. The mind of the Baron was employed in meditating upon these circ.u.mstances, that seemed to him the forerunners of some great events; he sometimes thought of Edmund; he sighed for his expulsion, and lamented the uncertainty of his fate; but, to his family, he appeared easy and satisfied.

From the time of Edmund's departure, the fair Emma had many uneasy hours; she wished to enquire after him, but feared to shew any solicitude concerning him. The next day, when her brother William came into her apartment, she took courage to ask a question.

"Pray, brother, can you give any guess what is become of Edmund?"

"No," said he, with a sigh; "why do you ask me?"

"Because, my dear William, I should think if any body knew, it must be you; and I thought he loved you too well to leave you in ignorance. But don't you think he left the castle in a very strange manner?"

"I do, my dear; there is a mystery in every circ.u.mstance of his departure; Nevertheless (I will trust you with a secret), he did not leave the castle without making a distinction in my favour."

"I thought so," said she; "but you might tell me what you know about him."

"Alas, my dear Emma! I know nothing. When I saw him last, he seemed a good deal affected, as if he were taking leave of me; and I had a foreboding that we parted for a longer time than usual."

"Ah! so had I," said she, "when he parted from me in the garden."

"What leave did he take of you, Emma?"

She blushed, and hesitated to tell him all that pa.s.sed between them; but he begged, persuaded, insisted; and, at length, under the strongest injunctions of secrecy, she told him all.

He said, "That Edmund's behaviour on that occasion was as mysterious as the rest of his conduct; but, now you have revealed your secret, you have a right to know mine."

He then gave her the letter he found upon his pillow; she read it with great emotion.

"Saint Winifred a.s.sist me!" said she; "what can I think? 'The peasant Edmund is no more, but there lives one,'--that is to my thinking, Edmund lives, but is no peasant."

"Go on, my dear," said William; "I like your explanation."

"Nay, brother, I only guess; but what think you?"

"I believe we think alike in more than one respect, that he meant to recommend no other person than himself to your favour; and, if he were indeed of n.o.ble birth, I would prefer him to a prince for a husband to my Emma!"

"Bless me!" said she, "do you think it possible that he should be of either birth or fortune?"