the evening, and the way
proved longer than she expected--several circumstances also occurred to
detain her at the hut of her patient. It was a broad autumn moonlight,
when she prepared to return homeward through the broken glades and
upland which divided her from the Castle. This she considered as a
matter of very little importance, in so quiet and sequestered a country,
where the road lay chiefly through her own domains, especially as she
had a lad about fifteen years old, the son of her patient, to escort
her on the way. The distance was better than two miles, but might be
considerably abridged by passing through an avenue belonging to the
estate of Moultrassie Hall, which she had avoided as she came, not from
the ridiculous rumours which pronounced it to be haunted, but because
her husband was much displeased when any attempt was made to render the
walks of the Castle and Hall common to the inhabitants of both. The good
lady, in consideration, perhaps, of extensive latitude allowed to her
in the more important concerns of the family, made a point of never
interfering with her husband's whims or prejudices; and it is a
compromise which we would heartily recommend to all managing matrons
of our acquaintance; for it is surprising how much real power will be
cheerfully resigned to the fair sex, for the pleasure of being allowed
to ride one's hobby in peace and quiet.

Upon the present occasion, however, although the Dobby's Walk[*] was
within the inhabited domains of the Hall, the Lady Peveril determined
to avail herself of it, for the purpose of shortening her road home,
and she directed her steps accordingly. But when the peasant-boy, her
companion, who had hitherto followed her, whistling cheerily, with a
hedge-bill in his hand, and his hat on one side, perceived that she
turned to the stile which entered to the Dobby's Walk, he showed
symptoms of great fear, and at length coming to the lady's side,
petitioned her, in a whimpering tone,--"Don't ye now--don't ye now, my
lady, don't ye go yonder."

[*] Dobby, an old English name for goblin.

Lady Peveril, observing that his teeth chattered in his head, and that
his whole person exhibited great signs of terror, began to recollect
the report, that the first Squire of Moultrassie, the brewer of
Chesterfield, who had brought the estate, and then died of melancholy
for lack of something to do (and, as was said, not without suspicions of
suicide), was supposed to walk in