'Lauk!' cried she, 'that blood is there these fifty years. Sure your ladyship has often read in romances of blood on floors, and daggers, that looked as fresh as a daisy at the end of centuries. But, alas-o-day! modern blood won't keep like the good old blood. Ay, ay, ay; the times have degenerated in every thing;--even in harps. Look at that harp yonder: I warrant 'tis in excellent tune at this moment, albeit no human finger has touched it these ten years: and your ladyship must remember reading of other cobwebbed harps in old castles, that required no tuning-hammer, after lying by whole ages. But, indeed, they do say, that the ghost keeps this harp in order, by playing on it o' nights.' 'The ghost!' exclaimed I. 'Ay, by my fackins,' said she; 'sure this is the haunted chamber of the northern tower; and such sights and noises--Santa Catharina of Sienna, and St. Bridget, and San Pietro, and Santa Benedicta, and St. Radagunda, defend me!' Then, aspirating an ejaculation, she hastily hobbled out of the room, and locked the door after her, without giving me farther satisfaction. However, the visit from Baron Hildebrand occupied my mind more than the ghost; and I sat expecting it with great anxiety. At last, I heard a heavy tread along the corridor: the door was unbarred, and a huge, but majestic figure, strode into the chamber. The black plume towering on his cap, the armorial coat, Persian sash, and Spanish cloak, conspiring with the most muscular frown imaginable, made him look truly tremendous. As he flung himself into a chair, he cast a Schedoniac scowl at me; while I felt, that one glance from the corner of a villain's eye is worth twenty straight-forward looks from an honest man. My heart throbbed audible, my bosom heaved like billows: I threw into my features a conventual smile, and stood before him, in all the silence of despair, something between Niobe, patience, and a broken lily. 'Lady!' cried he, with a voice that vibrated through my brain; 'I am the Baron Hildebrand, that celebrated ruffian. My plans are terrible and unsearchable. Hear me. 'My daughter, the Lady Sympathina, though long betrothed to the Marquis De Furioso, has long been enamoured of the Lord Montmorenci. In vain have I tried entreaties and imprecations: nothing will induce her to relinquish him; even though he has himself confessed to her that you reign sole tormentress of his heart. 'While doubtful what course to take, I heard, from my vassals, of your having seized on a neighbouring castle, and of Montmorenci's being there with you. The moment was too precious to be lost. I planted armed spies about the castle, with orders to make you and him prisoners the first opportunity. These orders are executed, and his lordship is a captive in the western turret.