"But before cooking your hare, you must catch it," said Sybil. "We may
see this visitant a dozen times more, but we will never be able to stop
her. She appears and vanishes! Is seen and gone in an instant! But,
Captain Pendleton, I will tell you what I wish you to do for me."
"I will do anything in the world that you wish, except believe in
ghosts."
"Then you will bring me a crowbar, or whatever the tool or tools may be
with which strong doors may be forced. I want that grated iron door
forced open, that we may go down into that vault and see what it holds."
"Good Heavens Mrs. Berners!" he exclaimed, striking a theatrical
attitude.
"'Would'st bid me burst
The loathsome charnel-house, and
Spread a pestilence?'"
"I want to see what is in it; and I will," persisted Sybil.
"Bring the tools when you come again, Pendleton, and we will open the
door, and examine the vault," added Mr. Berners.
"Ugh! you will find it full of coffins and skeletons-"'And mair o' horrible and awfu'
Whilk e'en to name wad be unlawfu'.'"
"You are in a poetical mood, Pendleton."
"And you are in a sepulchral one. Both effects of the opium, I suppose."
While they talked the sun went down.
Captain Pendleton remained with his friends until the twilight deepened
into darkness; and then, promising to return the next night, and
wondering where he should find his horse, or how he should get home, he
took leave and departed.
The strange life of the refugees in the Haunted Chapel seriously
interfered with their hitherto regular and healthful habits. They had
slept nearly all day, when they should have been awake. And now they
intended to watch all night, partly because it was impossible for them
to sleep any more then, and partly because they wished to stop their
mysterious visitant, in the event of her reappearance.
But the girl in the red cloak came not that night, no, nor even the next
day; nor did any other mysterious visitor or unusual event disturb their
repose, or excite their curiosity.
Late that night their faithful friend returned, according to his
promise. He told them that he had found his poor horse still in the
thicket where he had left him, with water and grass in his reach. That
he had got home in safety, where his absence had not excited any
anxiety, because his sister had supposed him to be at Black Hall.
He then described the funeral of Rosa Blondelle, which had taken place
that day, and which had been attended not only by all the county gentry,
who had gathered to show their respect and sympathy for the dead, but
also by crowds of all sorts of people, who came in curiosity to the
scene.