SOME years ago, whilst spending a night in an old inn, I was awakened
by the disagreeable impression that I was not alone. To my amazement,
at the foot of my bed (an old-fashioned four-poster), stood a girl,
with a baby in her outstretched arms. Her eyes were fixed imploringly
on mine, as though begging for help or protection. I noticed that she
had a mob cap on her head, and a quaint wrapper of some fashion
unknown to me.
I begged her to tell me what I could do for her, but she made no
reply, and, a moment later, she had disappeared.
I rose at once and searched the room. Door and windows were securely
fastened, and I could find no trace of my mysterious visitor.
Convinced at last that I had been dreaming, I returned to bed.
Presently, the woman with her baby reappeared, this time at the side
of the bed! She spoke no word, but, with the same expression of
anguish, gazed imploringly at me. Then she vanished. When for the
third time, I became aware of her presence beside my pillow, I was
seized with terror and called loudly for help. Then I must have
fainted for, when I came to myself, it was broad daylight. When
questioned, my hostess could give me no explanation. She admitted,
however, that she had heard my cries, but that neither she nor her
servants dared enter the chamber after nightfall. The room was
supposed to be haunted, and other visitors had seen the woman and her
baby as described by me. The inn has since been pulled down and a
hostel erected in its place.