"Yet I have heard strange tales of this castle being haunted, even in the retired recess to which my adverse fate had in all probability doomed me to spend my hapless days, and---" "You are too much inclined to believe them, (interrupted her friend;) but, my dear Madeline, be assured of this,--if we had nothing more to fear from the living than we have to apprehend from the dead, we should be perfectly secure, and our lives would pass away in a more serene and placid manner than the turbulent wills of our fellow-mortals will allow. Hark! I am sure I hear the soft and distant sound of a lute. I never yet knew a ghost that had a taste for Mortal harmony." "I certainly hear music, (sighed Madeline;) from what place can it proceed?--Surely it must be---" "The amusement, no doubt, of some one either on the ramparts or in the cells; for you have fluttered my spirits so much, I cannot determine from what part of the castle the sound can reach us: let us, however, rest satisfied, that no ghosts would trouble themselves to play a midnight serenade in order to terrify those who could never have injured them. Let us wait till you are quite recovered before we mention a word of the occurrences of this night; for, were my father to hear of our alarm, we should be instantly removed into other apartments, and should not then be able to accomplish our purpose of exploring the intricate recesses of this castle. Good night, Madeline; I hope the musician will not cease his harmony till he has lulled us to repose." She then jumped into her own bed; but her spirits were not altogether in that composed and courageous state she wished her friend to imagine. She had heard strange stories of lights being seen, of ghosts gliding along the ramparts, of noises being heard; but, as she had not been told of a ghostly musician, she was inclined to hope it would, by some means or other, be explained to her satisfaction. Till the rising sun, however, peeped over the hills which bounded the view from her windows, she could not rest; she then sunk into repose, and slept so soundly, that it was with difficulty her sister, Edeliza, could convince her that the family waited breakfast till she should be in the humour to join them. Madeline took her's in bed. Roseline hurried on her clothes, and Lady de Morney tenderly inquired if indisposition had prevented her rising at her usual hour. complaining of not having slept till late satisfied all parties, and, after a gentle reproof from Sir Philip, and a joke from Edwin for hugging her pillow so long, the subject was dropped.