Ally's trust in her grandmother was so perfect that she resigned herself in confidence to her decision.
The old negroes were possessed with the direst fore-bodings, but feeling that it would be vain to remonstrate, only shook their heads and muttered something to the effect that "old mist'ess'" confidence in herself would be sure to have a check some day.
Mrs. Hawkins was as good as her word. She began in her steady, energetic way to tie up parcels and pack boxes of such things as were not in daily use, in anticipation of moving. There was no competition for the possession of the deserted mansion. Mrs. Hawkins engaged it at a very moderate rate of rent.
And upon the 31st of October--the ghostly anniversary of Hallow E'en--a day ever to be remembered, we began our removal to the haunted house.
Mrs. Hawkins, who seldom stopped for weather, was anxious to get all her effects safely housed before the rain, or at least before night. So, very early in the morning, accompanied by Alice and attended by old Hector, she drove over to Willow Cottage to have fires lighted in the damp house, and to receive and dispose of the furniture as it should arrive.
Myself and Will Rackaway, who came to help me and old Cassy, remained in charge of the house to dispatch the furniture. It was a hard day's work, I assure you. And as the twilight hours passed the sky grew darker, and the air damper and colder. A gloomier and more depressing day could scarcely be imagined.
It was nearly night when at length we dispatched the last cartload of effects, locked up the house, and got into the old carryall that had returned for us. Old Cassy sat with me on the back seat, and old Hector, who drove for us, sat beside Will Rackaway, in front. The rain was now falling in a fine, slow drizzle. Perhaps it was the dark and heavy atmosphere, fatigue, and the approach of night, that so oppressed my spirits, but I well remember the feeling of gloom and terror with which I crossed the highway and entered upon the grass-grown and shadowy road, through the thicket that led to Willow Cottage. It was a very dark and silent scene--no sight but the trees, that, like lower and heavier clouds, met and hung over our heads; no sound but the stealthy, muffled turn of the wheels over the wet and fallen leaves.