I do not pretend to be above fears more than other people, and I shuddered with something besides cold when I found myself in the little deserted court where the phantom cavalier was said to walk, and when I applied the well-oiled key to the lock, I could almost have sworn that a light hand was laid on my shoulder. Nothing was to be seen, however, and in the cause of my foster-sister, I would have faced the evil one himself. I unlocked the door, and lighting the dark lantern I carried, I went softly down and then up the rugged stairs, and found myself in the ghostly room. I stayed not to look around me, but knocked gently at the door of communication. There was no answer, and for a moment my heart sunk at the thought that Amabel might have been forced to be present at the play. I blew my little ivory whistle very softly at the keyhole, and to my intense delight I heard Amabel's voice. "Lucy, where are you?" "In the ghost room!" was my answer. "Open the door quickly!" "I cannot!" was the answer. "It is fastened on your side." I found the bolt and pushed it back,—the cabinet was rolled aside, and in a moment, Amabel was in my arms. She was but the shadow of herself, but her lovely face was calm as ever. "Is it really you!" said she, holding me off and looking at me. "I almost lost hope when they took poor Mary from me. Oh, Lucy, I have been cruelly used." "I have come to save you, but there is not a moment to lose!" said I. "Don't take anything from the room. I have wraps in abundance. Come!" I pulled the cabinet back to its place, drew down the tapestry and bolted the doors. We hastened down the stairs and out into the court. A few drops of rain were falling, and it was pitch dark. Amabel held the lantern, while I locked the door, and barred the entrance to the court on the outside. We then made the best of our way to the old pavilion, where Alick was to await us with the horses. He was not in sight. "Can he have played us false?" was my first thought. I whistled softly and had the satisfaction to see him emerge from a thicket of evergreens. "It is all well so far, Leddies!" said he. "Hasten to mount, and let us be on our way. I believe it is going to snow, but so much the better for us. Early snow saves muckle woe, the auld by-word has it." I had taken the precaution to bring from home a thick gown and riding skirt. These I hastily put on Amabel, over the silk gown she wore. Alick put her on horseback and we set out on our dark, long ride. "Are we not going first to Aunt Deborah's?" asked Amabel as we turned our horses' heads away from the village. "No!" I answered. "We must lose no time, and if you should be missed, they would go to the little house at once to seek you. We must run no risks that we can help." Amabel murmured an assent and said no more.