In the evening the lady came down into the kitchen, much refreshed, and expressed her thanks to the good woman for her kindness. 'Heavens bless your sweet face,' cries Bertha. 'I am glad to my heart you be so well. Ah! as I live, here's my Joseph and the ass.' She ran out into the court to acquaint her good man with what had befallen her in his absence. 'As sure as you be alive, Joseph, she is some great lady under trouble, poor soul, for she does sigh so piteously but she has given me plenty of money to get things for her, so you know it's nothing to us, if she likes to stay here, so much the better.' 'I hope,' said the old man, 'she is no bad body.' No that she an't, I'll swear,' cries Bertha; 'she looks as mild as the flowers in May.' They had now unloaded their faithful ass, and entered the kitchen with their provender. Joseph was confounded at the appearance of the lady; he made his humble bow, but was very silent. Bertha prepared some eggs and fruit for her supper; she ate but little, and that little was to oblige the old couple; she then asked for a candle, and said she would retire to her room. Joseph and Bertha looked at each other with terror, both were silent; at length Joseph, with much hesitation of voice and manner, said, 'I fear, madam, you will not be quiet there, it will be better, to my thinking, if a fire was made in one of the parlours and the bedding brought down' . 'There is no occasion for fire,' answered the lady, but merely to air the room; however I am not in any apprehension of sleeping in the room above, at least I will try it this night.' It was with great reluctance the honest couple permitted her to retire; Bertha had not even the courage to accompany her, but Albert and Joseph offering to go, she ventured up to make the bed, and her work finished, flew down like one escaped from great danger.
The men having withdrawn, the lady seated herself at the dressing table, and having opened her portmantua to take out some linen for the ensuing day, she burst into tears on viewing the small quantity of necessaries she possessed; she cast a retrospection on her past calamities, they made her shudder; she looked forward to the future, all was dark and gloomy; she wrung her hands, 'What will become of me, unhappy as I am, where can I fly? who will receive a poor unfortunate, without family or friends? The little money I have will be soon exhausted, and what is to be the fate of poor Albert, who has left all to follow me!' Overcome with sorrow, she wept aloud. When, turning her eyes to the window, she saw a light glide by from the opposite wing, which her room fronted, and which Bertha had informed her was particularly haunted. At first she thought it was imagination; 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