that was in
his power--he gave her shelter.

To the humble dwelling of Peter de Groodt, then, did Dolph turn his
steps. On his way thither, he recalled all the tenderness and kindness
of his simple-hearted parent, her indulgence of his errors, her
blindness to his faults; and then he bethought himself of his own
idle, harum-scarum life. "I've been a sad scape-grace," said Dolph,
shaking his head sorrowfully. "I've been a complete sink-pocket,
that's the truth of it!--But," added he, briskly, and clasping his
hands, "only let her live--only let her live--and I'll show myself
indeed a son!"

As Dolph approached the house, he met Peter de Groodt coming out of
it. The old man started back aghast, doubting whether it was not a
ghost that stood before him. It being bright daylight, however, Peter
soon plucked up heart, satisfied that no ghost dare show his face in
such clear sunshine. Dolph now learned from the worthy sexton the
consternation and rumour to which his mysterious disappearance had
given rise. It had been universally believed that he had been spirited
away by those hobgoblin gentry that infested the haunted house; and
old Abraham Vandozer, who lived by the great button-wood trees, at the
three-mile stone, affirmed, that he had heard a terrible noise in the
air, as he was going home late at night, which seemed just as if a
flight of wild geese were overhead, passing off towards the northward.
The haunted house was, in consequence, looked upon with ten times more
awe than ever; nobody would venture to pass a night in it for the
world, and even the doctor had ceased to make his expeditions to it in
the day-time.

It required some preparation before Dolph's return could be made known
to his mother, the poor soul having bewailed him as lost; and her
spirits having been sorely broken down by a number of comforters, who
daily cheered her with stories of ghosts, and of people carried away
by the devil. He found her confined to her bed, with the other member
of the Heyliger family, the good dame's cat, purring beside her, but
sadly singed, and utterly despoiled of those whiskers which were the
glory of her physiognomy. The poor woman threw her arms about Dolph's
neck: "My boy! my boy! art thou still alive?" For a time she seemed to
have forgotten all her losses and troubles, in her joy at his return.
Even the sage grimalkin showed indubitable signs of joy, at the return
of the youngster. She saw, perhaps, that they we