She hurried through the trees and along the dimly gleaming path. Suddenly she perceived in the distance the sparkle of a lantern.
How vexatious! Was there no escape for her? She looked in some trouble at the climbing woods above, at the steep bank below.
Ah! well, her hat was large, and hid her face. And her dress was all covered by her cloak. She hastened on.
It was a man--an old man--carrying a bundle and a lantern. He seemed to waver and stop as she approached him, and at the actual moment of her passing him, to her amazement, he suddenly threw himself against one of the trees on the mountain side of the path, and his lantern showed her his face for an instant--a white face, stricken with--fear, was it? or what?
Fright gained upon herself. She ran on, and as she ran it seemed to her that she heard something fall with a clang, and, afterwards, a cry. She looked back. The old man was still there, erect, but his light was gone.
Well, no doubt he had dropped his lantern. Let him light it again. It was no concern, of hers.
Here was the door in the wall. It opened to her touch. She glided in--across the garden--found the chapel door ajar, and in a few more seconds was safe in her own room.
Laura was standing before her looking-glass straightening the curls that her rapid walk had disarranged, when her attention was caught by certain unusual sounds in the house. There was a hurrying of distant feet--calls, as though from the kitchen region--and lastly, the deep voice of Mr. Helbeck. Miss Fountain paused, brush in hand, wondering what had happened.
A noise of fluttering skirts, and a cry for "Laura!"--Miss Fountain opened her door, and saw Augustina, who never ran, hurrying as fast as her feebleness would let her, towards her stepdaughter.
"Laura!--where is my sal volatile? You gave me some yesterday, you remember, for my headache. There's somebody ill, downstairs."
"Here it is," said Laura, finding the bottle, and bringing it. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, my dear, such an adventure! There's an old man fainted in the kitchen. He came to the back door to ask for a light for his lantern. Mrs. Denton says he was shaking all over when she first saw him, and as white as her apron. He told her he'd seen the ghost! 'I've often heard tell o' the Bannisdale Lady,' he said, 'an now I've seen her!' She asked him to sit down a minute to rest himself, and he fainted straight away. He's that old Scarsbrook, you know, whose wife does our washing. They live in that cottage by the weir, the other end of the park. I must go! Mrs. Denton's giving him some brandy--and Alan's gone down. Isn't it an extraordinary thing?"