"What are they?" inquired Sir Norman. "I should particularly like to know."

"Well, sir, for one thing, some folks say it is haunted, on account of the queer lights and noises about it, sometimes; but, again, there be other folks, sir, that say the ghosts are alive, and that he"—nodding toward the door—"is a sort of ringleader among them."

"And who are they that cut up such cantrips in the old place, pray?"

"Lord only knows, sir. I'm sure I don't. I never go near it myself; but there are others who have, and some of them tell of the most beautiful lady, all in white, with long, black hair, who walks on the battlements moonlight nights."

"A beautiful lady, all in white, with long, black hair! Why, that description applies to Leoline exactly."

And Sir Norman gave a violent start, and arose to proceed to the place directly.

"Don't you go near it, sir!" said the host, warningly. "Others have gone, as he told you, and never come back; for these be dreadful times, and men do as they please. Between the plague and their wickedness, the Lord only knows what will become of us!"

"If I should return here for my horse in an hour or two, I suppose I can get him?" sad Sir Norman, as he turned toward the door.

"It's likely you can, sir, if I'm not dead by that time," said the landlord, as he sank down again, groaning dismally, with his chin between his hands.

The nigh