Throughout this momentous night, which was to fix the future lot of the Isabel, or Dun, and the Sorrel, neither family nor domestics enjoyed much sleep: all lay in anxious expectation of the extraordinary things that were likely to come to pass. Mewing of cats, screeching of owls, barking of dogs, drove the dustman[14] away every time he came sneaking in. The stable-boys heard the horses pant, snort, and kick; to the bailiff it seemed as if sacks were being dragged about the granary; the dairy-maid declared it was precisely like the noise of churning; and the housekeeper heard, plainly enough, a sort of rummaging in the pantry. Nor did sleep find its way into the gilded chamber. The lord of the manor and the Junker lay silent, from time to time casting a look at the little silver bell that hung between them; but it was mute, and so continued to be. When the tower-clock struck one, the Junker began to regard his wager as half-lost; but comforted himself with the reflection, that a loss to one's wife is merely a transfer from one hand to the other. In short, the night passed, and--as far as the tower-chamber was concerned--as quietly as if there had never been ghost or goblin in the world. With the first discernible peep of day-light, both the half-undressed gentlemen rose, and hastened, with a morning greeting, to the bold layer of spirits. They tapped at the door,--no "Come in." "They must both still be asleep." Papa opened the door--they entered--the lady's bed was deserted and the bed-clothes cast aside. "Bravo," cried the Junker, "she has taken flight and the Dun is mine." The old man did not utter a syllable, but proceeded to the servant's bed, where no one was to be seen; but, on raising the clothes, she appeared to view, with a face like crimson, and in a state of profuse perspiration. To her master's first eager inquiry she returned no answer, but stared at them both with a bewildered half-frantic look. Having at length recovered the faculty of speech, she informed them, in broken and unconnected sentences, that, soon after midnight, she had seen a terrific spectre come through the wall. In her fright she had buried herself under the bed-clothes, and had not afterwards ventured to raise them; of what subsequently took place she knew nothing. This, however, did not long continue a mystery, for the window was open, and under it stood a ladder--Fröken Mette had been carried off, but by whom?