The fifth of May arrived, a period by me never to be forgotten! Before the clock struck twelve, I betook myself to the scene of action. Theodore followed me on horseback. I concealed the carriage in a spacious cavern of the hill, on whose brow the castle was situated: this cavern was of considerable depth, and among the peasants was known by the name of Lindenberg Hole. The night was calm and beautiful: the moonbeams fell upon the ancient towers of the castle, and shed upon their summits a silver light. All was still around me: nothing was to be heard except the night breeze sighing among the leaves, the distant barking 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 overgrown 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 me from witnessing with impatience the slow progress of time. I approached the castle, and ventured to walk round it. A few rays of light still glimmered in the chamber of Agnes. I observed them with joy. I was still gazing upon them, when I perceived a figure draw near the window, and the curtain was carefully closed to conceal the lamp which burned there. Convinced by this observation that Agnes had not abandoned our plan, I returned with a light heart to my former station.
The half-hour struck! The three-quarters struck! My bosom beat high with hope and expectation. At length the wished-for sound was heard. The bell tolled one, and the mansion echoed with the noise loud and solemn. I looked up to the casement of the haunted chamber. Scarcely had five minutes elapsed, when the expected light appeared. I was now close to the tower. The window was not so far from the ground but that I fancied I perceived a female figure with a lamp in her hand moving slowly along the apartment. The light soon faded away, and all was again dark and gloomy.
Occasional gleams of brightness darted from the staircase windows as the lovely ghost passed by them. I traced the light through the hall: it reached the portal, and at length I beheld Agnes pass through the folding gates. She was habited exactly as she had described the spectre. A chaplet of beads hung upon her arm; her head was enveloped in a long white veil; her nun’s dress was stained with blood, and she had taken care to provide herself with a lamp and dagger. She advanced towards the spot where I stood. I flew to meet her, and clasped her in my arms.
“Agnes!” said I while I pressed her to my bosom,
“Agnes! Agnes! Thou art mine!
Agnes! Agnes! I am thine!
In my veins while blood shall roll,
Thou art mine!
I am thine!
Thine my body! Thine my soul!”
Terrified and breathless she was unable to speak: she dropped her lamp and dagger, and sank upon my bosom in silence. I raised her in my arms, and conveyed her to the carriage. Theodore remained behind in order to release dame Cunegonda. I also charged him with a letter to the Baroness explaining the whole affair, and entreating her good offices in reconciling Don Gaston to my union with his daughter. I discovered to her my real name: I proved to her that my birth and expectations justified my pretending to her niece, and assured her, though it was out of my power to return her love, that I would strive unceasingly to obtain her esteem and friendship.
I stepped into the carriage, where Agnes
