but two hundred years ago
long intervals of silence in a country-party were not extraordinary.
During these pauses Mrs. Mellicent's eyes were fixed on a large blue
Campanula that she had trimmed to cover the open chimney; and Lady
Bellingham, disdaining to admire any thing extrinsic, directed her's to
the diamond solitaire suspended on her bosom. She had given strict
orders to conceal her name; and if she had ever heard that her injured
brother sought shelter in Ribblesdale, and married the sister of a Dr.
Beaumont, the events that consoled his afflictions were much too
insignificant to be treasured in her memory. The party therefore met as
strangers in opposite interests. The hour of retiring was anticipated.
Constantia attended Lady Bellingham to the apartment formerly occupied
by her worthy son; and after the common inquiries of courtesy withdrew,
much to the discomfort of the waiting gentlewoman, on whom the double
fatigue of chambermaid and mistress of the robes now devolved. Lady
Bellingham being inclined to silence, the dignified Abigail was
restrained from speaking; and having no invitation to share her Lady's
bed, with secret indignation at these strange people, not having the
forethought to provide her with another, she was compelled to rest
herself in the window-seat, and convert the night into a vigil.

A belief in apparitions was at that time universal, and by no means
confined to the humble ranks of life. Imagination could not conceive a
more suitable scene for the gambols of supernatural beings than the
ruins adjoining the humble tenement which the Beaumonts inhabited. The
unfortunate, waiting-gentlewoman was kept all night in continual tremor
by horrible visions and dreadful sounds: yet to wake her Lady, who went
to bed extremely out of humour, was a still more daring exercise of
courage than to be a sole witness of the alarming noises produced by the
wind rushing through vaults and crevices, or the fearful reflection of a
thistle by moonlight, waving on the top of a crumbling arch. After a
night spent in the exercise of such comparative heroism, Mrs. Abigail
hailed with pleasure the return of dawn; and as ghosts and goblins
always post off to Erebus when Aurora's flag gilds the mountains,
imagined she might now go to sleep in safety. But she was soon roused by
the sound of voices, and beheld an indisputable apparition. An aged
grey-headed man, bent double, clad in a loose gown, and leaning on a
staff, c