The mind of Ferdinand was highly superior to the general influence of
superstition; but, in the present instance, such strong correlative
circumstances appeared, as compelled even incredulity to yield. He had
himself heard strange and awful sounds in the forsaken southern
buildings; he received from his father a dreadful secret relative to
them--a secret in which his honor, nay even his life, was bound up.
His father had also confessed, that he had himself there seen
appearances which he could never after remember without horror, and
which had occasioned him to quit that part of the castle. All these
recollections presented to Ferdinand a chain of evidence too powerful
to be resisted; and he could not doubt that the spirit of the dead had
for once been permitted to revisit the earth, and to call down
vengeance on the descendants of the murderer.
This conviction occasioned him a degree of horror, such as no
apprehension of mortal powers could have excited; and he determined,
if possible, to prevail on Peter to pass the hours of midnight with
him in his dungeon. The strictness of Peter's fidelity yielded to the
persuasions of Ferdinand, though no bribe could tempt him to incur the
resentment of the marquis, by permitting an escape. Ferdinand passed
the day in lingering anxious expectation, and the return of night
brought Peter to the dungeon. His kindness exposed him to a danger
which he had not foreseen; for when seated in the dungeon alone with
his prisoner, how easily might that prisoner have conquered him and
left him to pay his life to the fury of the marquis. He was preserved
by the humanity of Ferdinand, who instantly perceived his advantage,
but disdained to involve an innocent man in destruction, and spurned
the suggestion from his mind.
Peter, whose friendship was stronger than his courage, trembled with
apprehension as the hour drew nigh in which the groans had been heard
on the preceding night. He recounted to Ferdinand a variety of
terrific circumstances, which existed only in the heated imaginations
of his fellow-servants, but which were still admitted by them as
facts.
Among the rest, he did not omit to mention the light and the
figure which had been seen to issue from the south tower on the night
of Julia's intended elopement; a circumstance which he embellished
with innumerable aggravations of fear and wonder. He concluded with
describing the general consternation it had caused, and the consequent
behaviour of the marquis, who laughed at the fears of his people, yet
condescended to quiet them by a formal review of the buildings whence
their terror had originated. He related the adventure of the door
which refused to yield, the sounds which arose from within, and the
discovery of the fallen roof; but declared that neither he, nor any of
his fellow servants, believed the noise or the obstruction proceeded
from that, 'because, my lord,' continued he, 'the door seemed to be
held only in one place; and as for the noise--O! Lord! I never shall
forget what a noise it was!--it was a thousand times louder than what
any stones could make.'