she arose and placed her candle in the chimney; curiosity suspended sorrow - she returned and seated herself at the window, and very soon after she saw a faint glimmering light pass a second time; exceedingly surprised, but not terrified, she continued in her situation: she saw nothing further. She at length determined to go to rest, but with an intention to visit every part of the house the following day. She got into bed, but could not sleep. About twelve o'clock she heard plainly a clanking of chains, which was followed by two or three heavy groans; she started up and listened, it was presently repeated, and seemed to die away by gentle degrees; soon after she heard a violent noise, like two or three doors clapping to with great force. Though unaccustomed to fear she could not help trembling. She felt some inclination to call Joseph, she then recollected Albert was in the next room; she knocked at the wainscot and called Albert! No answer was made. She got out of bed, and throwing on a loose gown, took her candle, and, opening the door of the next apartment, went up to the bed; she saw he was buried under the clothes. 'Albert,' said she, 'do not be afraid, 'tis your mistress with a light;' he then ventured to raise himself and though but little inclined to mirth, she could not refrain from smiling at the fright he was in; the drops of perspiration run down his face, his eyes were starting, and he was incapable of speaking for some time. 'Pray, Albert,' said his lady, 'have you heard any particular noise?' 'Noise,' repeated he. 'O Lord! all the ghosts have been here together to frighten me.' 'Here - where,' asked she, 'in this room' 'I believe so,' he replied; 'in this or the next I am sure they were; there was a score or two in chains, then there was groans and cries: but pray, madam, leave the candle a minute at the door, I will throw on my clothes and get down into kitchen and never come up stairs again.' 'Well, but, Albert,' she, 'I must stay in my room, have you more cause for fear than I have?' 'No, madam, thank God, I never did harm to man, woman, child.' 'Then take courage, Albert, I will light your candle, and, I shall be in the next apartment, and will leave my door open, you may either call to me or go down stairs, if you are a second time alarmed.' It was with reluctance he obeyed, and repeatedly desired doors might remain open.
The lady retired to her room, for some time hesitating whether should dress herself or go into bed, she at length threw herself down in her night gown, but could not sleep. Strange and various were her conjectures respecting the lights she had seen, and the accountable noises she had heard; she was not surprised that the weak minds of the old people should be terrified, or that Albert, who was likewise far advanced in years, above sixty, should shrink from alarms which had given her a momentary terror; but as she did not suffer her mind to dwell on the causes being supernatural, she conceived there must be some mystery which, on the following day, if her health permitted, she resolved, if possible, to explore. Towards morning she fell into a profound sleep, undisturbed by groans or noises of any sort.
Albert, who, by his terror and apprehensions of seeing those ghosts that had so greatly frightened him, was prevented from sleeping, got up the moment day appeared and crept down stairs, here he was soon after joined by Joseph. 'How have you slept, my good friend?' asked he. 'Slept!' replied the other; 'why, who could sleep d'ye think, when chains were rattling, ghosts roaring and groaning doors banging with violence enough to shake the foundation of the walls? Lord help me, I would not live in such a place no, not to be master of the whole estate.' 'Aye, I knew how it would be,' said Joseph; 'it's always the same business when any body comes here to sleep; we never hear any noise else.' 'Why, then your ghosts are very rude unsociable folks,' answered Albert, 'for strangers can do them no hurt, and there's room enough, me thinks, in this great house for them to have their merriments, without coming to frighten honest travellers, that never desire to interrupt them.' 'I don't know how it is,' replied Joseph, 'but as to merriment, sure there can be none in groans and cries, and they do say that cruel wicked deeds have been done in this castle, and I suppose the poor souls can't lay quiet.' 'Dear me,' cries Albert, 'I wish my mistress may be well enough to go farther, though poor soul, she doesn't know where to go to, that's true.' 'Poor lady, that's bad indeed; has she no parents, nor husband, nor uncles, nor aunts, nor - ' 'Yes, yes,' said Albert, interrupting him, 'she has some relations, but what of that, better she had none, I believe for her - O, here comes Bertha.' On her entrance the good morrows and enquiries were repeated; Bertha expressed her sorrow for the lady and immediately ascended the stairs to see if she was not frightened out of her wits by such a cruel disturbance.
She soon returned with the lady, and breakfast being quickly set before her, she endeavoured to eat, but her appetite was so indifferent as to cause great pain to the friendly Bertha.
Joseph mounted his favorite beast and repaired to the town that he might procure necessaries for his family, superior to what he had bought the day before. After his departure, and that Albert was gone to look after his horse, the fair stranger demanded of Bertha if she could give her any account of the owners of the castle. 'Why, madam,' answered she, 'the present lord of this estate is - aye, his name is Count Wolfenbach; he married a very handsome lady at Vienna, and brought her here; it was then a beautiful place very unlike such as it be now; but howsomever they say he was very jealous, and behaved very ill to the poor lady, and locked her up, and there she was brought to bed, and the child was taken from her, and so she died, and 'twas said the child died, and so every body believes 'tis their ghosts that make such dismal noises in the castle, for soon after my Lord the Count went away, Joseph who worked under the gardener, was ordered to take care of the house; and I lived then under the cook, so we married: all the other servants were discharged, and so we have lived here ever since. My Lord came here once or twice, but the ghosts made such a noise he could not stay. Several gentry have slept here at times, but no body would stay a second night, and so we have all to ourselves by day, and the ghosts, or what they be, have got all the rooms by night and then they be quiet enough.' 'Pray,' interrogated the lady, 'can I walk through the rooms and examine the opposite wing?' 'To be sure, madam, you can, if you be so bold, but neither I nor Joseph ever goes there, because that's the part where the poor Countess died.' 'How many years ago was it?' 'Near eighteen, my Lady for next Christmas we have been married so many years, and I was fifty-three and Joseph fifty-two when we came together; not very young to be sure, what of that, we live very comfortable, only a little lonely or so.' 'Well,' said her guest, 'I shall be glad to walk through all the apartments.' 'I will attend you, madam, except to the other side, there I never goes.'
After breakfast was over, the lady and Bertha walked up stairs; they went through several fine apartments, the furniture rich though old fashioned; one hung with family portraits she was particularly pleased with; two attracted her attention greatly, which Bertha told her, she had heard say, were the present Count and his late lady.
After going through the body of the house they came to the doors that led to the other wing: 'Now, for goodness sake, dear Madam, don't go no farther, for as sure as you are alive, here the ghosts live, for Joseph says he often sees lights and hears strange things.' 'My good friend,' replied the lady, 'you may return, but I certainly will look into those rooms.' 'O, pray good, your ladyship, don't go now.' She persisted however in her determination, and on Bertha's leaving her she opened the door which led to a gallery, and a handsome stair-case, on the right hand she saw a suite of four rooms, all well furnished, two as bed-rooms, one handsome sitting room, the other a library, well filled with books, in handsome cases; these two last rooms, she observed, exactly fronted the one on the opposite side, where she had slept. Having examined those apartments, she saw, on the other side of the gallery, two other doors; these, on trial, she found locked. She then returned and went down the stair-case; after the first landing place the windows were shut, and when she came to the bottom she entered a hall, in which were three doors; one she attempted to open, immediately a murmuring noise was heard, and the instant she opened the door, another at the end of the room was shut to with great violence. The lady for a moment stood suspended; she trembled, and deliberated whether he should return or not; but recovering resolution, she entered; a candle was burning on a table, the windows were closed up, there were books and implements for drawing on the table; this convinced her the inhabitants were alive, however, and going to the door, she said aloud, 'Whoever resides in this apartment need not be under any apprehensions from the intrusion of an unfortunate woman, whom distress has driven to this castle, and only a melancholy kind of curiosity has induced her to explore a part of it proscribed by every one.'
She
