The conversation ran on Lady Emma’s death-coach. Even Parson Yates had been awakened from his abstracted existence by the reports of this singular apparition, for many had seen it of late and not a few fearfully approached their pastor upon the subject. That evening, indeed, the folk awaited news of some definite decision from Daleham’s spiritual leader, because, as Jenifer Pearn told the Exciseman, though certain ancient celebrities had objected to interference with a vision so historical, others held it a scandal that any patrician maiden’s spirit should thus continue to revisit the scenes of her life and taking off. Greater matters occupied Robert Bluett’s mind, but, sailor-like, he loved a ghost, and his life had not changed the superstitious nature of him. He listened with the rest, therefore, while Johnny related what had passed between himself and the clergyman. “’Twas hard to shake sense into the old gen’leman. He doan’t want to believe it, though theer’s his open Bible staring him in the face every day of his life. But a man’s reason be nought against the pull of conscience; so he’m gwaine up-along to see for hisself. Then, if the things do appear to his sight, he’ll go forth in the name of the Lord to quench ’em.” “He’ll never do it—such a timorous man as him,” said Mrs. Pearn; but Cramphorn assured her that the deed was done. “He’ve gone to-night. I started along with un. ‘Shall I come with ’e, your reverence?’ I axed him. An’ he said ‘No,’ though he’d have liked to say ‘Ess.’ ‘Who wants man’s aid if his hand be in his Master’s?’ he sez to me. ‘Not your reverence, that’s sartain,’ I sez to him. Then he went up-along and I comed in here.” Conversation continued and then, some half an hour later, a little man in clerical costume, with tiny legs that shook beneath him, suddenly entered the inn. He was very pale and blinked at the blazing oil lamp above the bar. “’Tis his reverence’s self!” cried Mrs. Pearn. “No less, my good woman, no less. A glass of your best brandy, please. I—I—” “You’m gallied—you’m likewise skeered. I see it in your worshipful manner of shaking below the knee. I wish to God you had let me go along with ’e. But, my stars! you must have comed down Red Hill properly quick, if so be you went to the top of un.” “I did descend quickly, John Cramphorn. I have no hesitation in declaring that never have I come down that hill so fast before. The Lord looked to it that I dashed not my foot against a stone. And, furthermore, this apparition is no mere conceit of ignorance or bucolic fancy; I myself, my friends, have seen it; and I heartily wish that I had not done so.” “Pass the glass to his reverence, Jenifer, will ’e; an’ get you out of the armchair, Toby, an’ let minister come by the fire. I’ve put in hot water an’ sugar an’ the brandy be—” She stopped. All men knew the brandy of the “Golden Anchor,” but it was not considered good manners to criticise it.