"You see I have had so little experience!" said she to me, as she came out into the antechamber. "I never had but one of my own, and my Lady always had her mother with her before. I would give my right hand if Mrs. Corbet were here—but how to bring her!" "Surely she would come if she were sent for!" said I. "Aye, but how to send. You see, my dear, this is All-Hallow's even, and I don't believe you could get one of the servants to go down to Corby-End for love nor money!" "What, not for my Lady?" I exclaimed. Mrs. Judith shook her head. "Fear makes people selfish, my dear. And indeed, considering what hath been seen between here and there on All-Hallow's eve, I should not like it myself. Not but that I would go if I could." "I will go down to the kitchen and see what can be done," said I, and I went. I found the maids, with old Thomas and David, who were the only men left at home, gathered closely round the fire, listening to some dreadful tale of ghosts and what not, which Anne was doling out to them: and one or two of them shrieked as I opened the door, as if I had been the White Dame herself. I told my errand, but was answered only by blank looks and a torrent of expostulation and assurance that no one would dare to go through the park this night, no not to have the whole of it, for fear of meeting the Halting Knight and a certain evil spirit which is supposed, at this time, to be mousing about the Abbey for any unlucky soul that ventures out after dark. "And so you will let your good Lady die for lack of help!" said I, as soon as I could get a hearing. "As to that, our lives are worth as much to us as my Lady's to her!" answered Anne, pertly enough. "And who knows what Madam Corbet might do, if she did come? I'll be bound she hath heard the news before this time. She doth not need earthly messengers, as honest folks do. Everybody knows that!" "Everybody knows that you are an ungrateful fool, Anne Hollins," said old Thomas; "and if you do not lose your place for that same speech, it will not be my fault, I promise you. I would go in a minute, Mrs. Merton, but you know I can scarce put one foot before the other." "And you, David!" said I. David only shrank together and muttered something, but it was clear he would not go. "Get me the lanthorn ready—I will go myself!" said I, at last. "I fear no evil when on a good errand, and hold myself safer out in this storm and under God's protection, than you are here round the fire. Remember stone walls cannot keep out spirits, and the Evil One himself is like enough to be busy among you—selfish cowards that you are!" With that I left them, and running to mine own room, I put on my thick woolen gown, which mother would have had me leave at home, and in less time than I can write it, I was back in my Lady's room, telling Mrs. Judith of my purpose. "God bless you, dear maid!" she exclaimed, kissing me and bursting into tears. "Go then, and good angels guard you!"