Sir John Dering by Jeffery Farnol

Sir John, watching the retreat of their discomfited assailants, and lost in admiration of Sir Hector's might and prowess, was roused by a touch, and beheld old Penelope, who, finger on lip, led him to a dark corner whence a narrow, precipitous stair mounted, up which she climbed, beckoning him to follow. Thus Sir John presently found himself in a small chamber bright with sun, the shattered panes of its wide lattice very neatly mended with oiled paper; and, glancing about, he marvelled within himself, for the place wore an air of refinement wholly unexpected, from the narrow carved bedstead to the few heavily framed pictures on the walls. And she herself seemed to have undergone some subtle change, for, when she spoke, her voice was less harsh and her dialect less pronounced:

"Here, young master, is where old Pen, the witch, sleeps a-nights, but very often lays awake an' has her truthful dreams and sees visions of what was, and is, and will be. For when all the world sleeps an' only she is waking because she so wills, then the thoughts of the sleepin' multitudes gather about her an' she sees an' knows an' has her dreams. So, sit ye down, young master-so! Now mark what I says! The Downs hereabouts be full o' souls, spirits o' folk as died long an' long ago; their bodies be dust, ages old, but their spirits do live-I can feel 'em arl about me when I tramp so far, the souls o' the Strange Folk as nobody remembers or knows aught about. there be pits where they lived an' graves where their dust lies buried. 'tis the dust o' the unnumbered dead as goes to make the sweet grass, an' herbs, an' flowers. folk as lived an' loved an' died, ages agone, folk as did good and evil in their day, but the silent hills do keep arl their secrets fast hid-'specially Windover!"