Cruel As The Grave

"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.