But to what perished identity these significant words applied remained an impenetrable mystery. Every old record was carefully searched,--every scrap of ancient history wherein the neighbourhood of St. Rest had ever been concerned was turned over and over by the patient and indefatigable John Walden, who followed up many suggestive tracks eagerly and lost them again when apparently just on the point of finding some sure clue,--till at last he gave up the problem in despair and contented himself and his parishioners by accepting the evident fact that in the old church at one time or another some saint or holy abbot had been buried,--hence the name of St. Rest or 'The Saint's Rest,' which had become attached to the village. But at what exact period such saint or abbot had lived and died, was undiscoverable.
When the restoration of the sacred shrine was completed, and an expectant congregation filled it to overflowing to assist at the solemn service of its re-dedication to the worship of God, not one among them all but was deeply impressed by the appearance of the restored chancel, with its beautiful columns and delicate capitals, arching like a bower of protection over the altar, and over that wonderful white sarcophagus lying turn it round and round. As they proceeded laboriously in this task, while the screw creaked and groaned under the process with a noise as of splitting timber, all at once the oblong slab of alabaster moved, and rose upward about an inch.
"To it, boys!" cried Walden, his eyes sparkling; "To it again, and harder! We shall have it with us in an hour!"
And truly, in somewhat less than an hour the strange old-world lever had lifted what it must often have lifted in a similar way in bygone years,--a magnificent and perfectly preserved sarcophagus, measuring some six or seven feet long by three feet wide, covered with exquisite carving at the sides, representing roses among thorns, the flowers having evidently at one time been centred with gems and which even now bore traces of gold. Round the lid there was some dim lettering which was scarcely discernible,--the lid itself was firmly closed and strongly cemented.
Exclamations of wonder, admiration, and excitement broke from all who had been engaged in the work of excavation, and presently the whole village ran out to see the wonderful relic of a forgotten past, all chattering, all speculating, all staring, Walden alone stood silent; his head bared,--his hands clasped. He knew that only some great saint or holy recluse could have ever been so royally enshrined in ancient days, and the elaborate system of leverage used seemed to prove that the body laid within that wrought alabaster and gold must have been considered to be of that peculiar nature termed 'miraculous,' and worthy to be lifted from its resting-place into the chancel on certain particular occasions for the homage and reverence of the people. The sun poured down upon the beautiful object lying there,--on the groups of workmen who, instinctively imitating Walden's example, had bared their heads,--on the wrinkled worn faces of old village men and women,--on the bright waving locks of young girls, and the clear enquiring eyes of children, all gazing at the strange treasure-trove their ruined church had given up to the light of a modern day. Presently the chief workman, asked Walden in a hushed voice: "Shall we break it open, sir?"