rking of Village Dogs, or the Owl who had established herself in a
nook of the deserted Eastern Turret. I heard her melancholy shriek,
and looked upwards. She sat upon the ride of a window, which I
recognized to be that of the haunted Room. This brought to my
remembrance the story of the Bleeding Nun, and I sighed while I
reflected on the influence of superstition and weakness of human
reason. Suddenly I heard a faint chorus steal upon the silence of the
night.

'What can occasion that noise, Theodore?'

'A Stranger of distinction,' replied He, 'passed through the Village
today in his way to the Castle: He is reported to be the Father of
Donna Agnes. Doubtless, the Baron has given an entertainment to
celebrate his arrival.'

The Castle Bell announced the hour of midnight: This was the usual
signal for the family to retire to Bed. Soon after I perceived lights
in the Castle moving backwards and forwards in different directions. I
conjectured the company to be separating. I could hear the heavy doors
grate as they opened with difficulty, and as they closed again the
rotten Casements rattled in their frames. The chamber of Agnes was on
the other side of the Castle. I trembled lest She should have failed
in obtaining the Key of the haunted Room: Through this it was
necessary for her to pass in order to reach the narrow Staircase by
which the Ghost was supposed to descend into the great Hall. Agitated
by this apprehension, I kept my eyes constantly fixed upon the window,
where I hoped to perceive the friendly glare of a Lamp borne by Agnes.
I now heard the massy Gates unbarred. By the candle in his hand I
distinguished old Conrad, the Porter. He set the Portal doors wide
open, and retired. The lights in the Castle gradually disappeared, and
at length the whole Building was wrapt in darkness.

While I sat upon a broken ridge of the Hill, the stillness of the scene
inspired me with melancholy ideas not altogether unpleasing. The
Castle which stood full in my sight, formed an object equally awful and
picturesque. Its ponderous Walls tinged by the moon with solemn
brightness, its old and partly-ruined Towers lifting themselves into
the clouds and seeming to frown on the plains around them, its lofty
battlements oergrown with ivy, and folding Gates expanding in honour of
the Visionary Inhabitant, made me sensible of a sad and reverential
horror. Yet did not these sensations occupy me so fully, as to prevent