They parted.  But the fate of the betrothed lovers was a melancholy one.  James returned to his ship for foreign service, and was killed by the first broadside of a French privateer, with which the captain had injudiciously ventured to engage.  As for Matilda, she regularly went to the abbey to visit the spot where she had knelt with her lover; and there, it is said, “she would stand for hours, with clasped hands, gazing on that heaven which alone had been witness to their mutual vows.”

Another momentous vow, but one of a terribly tragic nature, relates to Samlesbury Hall, which stands about midway between Preston and Blackburn, and has long been famous for its apparition of “The Lady in White.”  The story generally told is that one of the daughters of Sir John Southworth, a former owner, formed an attachment with the heir of a neighbouring house, and nothing was wanting to complete their happiness except the consent of the lady’s father.  Sir John was accordingly consulted by the youthful couple, but the tale of their love for each other only increased his rage, and he dismissed them with the most bitter denunciations.

“No daughter of his should ever be united to the son of a family which had deserted its ancestral faith,” he solemnly vowed, and to intensify his disapproval of the whole affair, he forbade the young man his presence for ever.  Difficulty, however, only served to increase the ardour of the lovers, and, after many secret interviews among the wooded slopes of the Ribble, an elopement was arranged, in the hope that time would eventually bring her father’s forgiveness.  But the day and place were unfortunately overheard by the lady’s brother, who had hidden himself in a thicket close by, determined, if possible, to prevent what he considered to be his sister’s disgrace.  On the evening agreed upon both parties met at the appointed hour, and, as the young knight moved away with his betrothed, her brother rushed from his hiding-place, and, in pursuance of a vow he had made, slew him.  After this tragic occurrence, Lady Dorothy was sent abroad to a convent, where she was kept under strict surveillance; but her mind at last gave way—­the name of her murdered sweetheart was ever on her lips—­and she died a raving maniac.  It is said that on certain clear, still evenings, a lady in white can be seen passing along the gallery and the corridors, and then from the hall into the grounds, where she meets a handsome knight, who receives her on his bended knees, and he then accompanies her along the walks.  On arriving at a certain spot, in all probability the lover’s grave, both the phantoms stand still, and as they seem to utter soft wailings of despair, they embrace each other, and then their forms rise slowly from the earth and melt away into the clear blue of the surrounding sky.[14]