or."

"Go on," said the monk.

"It began to be whispered about within the abbey," pursued Paslew, "that
on the death of William Rede, then abbot, Borlace Alvetham would succeed
him, and then it was that bitter feelings of animosity were awakened in
my breast against the sub-prior, and, after many struggles, I resolved
upon his destruction."

"A wicked resolution," cried the monk; "but proceed."

"I pondered over the means of accomplishing my purpose," resumed Paslew,
"and at last decided upon accusing Alvetham of sorcery and magical
practices. The accusation was easy, for the occult studies in which he
indulged laid him open to the charge. He occupied a chamber overlooking
the Calder, and used to break the monastic rules by wandering forth at
night upon the hills. When he was absent thus one night, accompanied by
others of the brethren, I visited his chamber, and examined his papers,
some of which were covered with mystical figures and cabalistic
characters. These papers I seized, and a watch was set to make prisoner
of Alvetham on his return. Before dawn he appeared, and was instantly
secured, and placed in close confinement. On the next day he was brought
before the assembled conclave in the chapter-house, and examined. His
defence was unavailing. I charged him with the terrible crime of
witchcraft, and he was found guilty."

A hollow groan broke from the monk, but he offered no other
interruption.

"He was condemned to die a fearful and lingering death," pursued the
abbot; "and it devolved upon me to see the sentence carried out."

"And no pity for the innocent moved you?" cried the monk. "You had no
compunction?"

"None," replied the abbot; "I rather rejoiced in the successful
accomplishment of my scheme. The prey was fairly in my toils, and I
would give him no chance of escape. Not to bring scandal upon the
abbey, it was decided that Alvetham's punishment should be secret."

"A wise resolve," observed the monk.

"Within the thickness of the dormitory walls is contrived a small
singularly-formed dungeon," continued the abbot. "It consists of an
arched cell, just large enough to hold the body of a captive, and permit
him to stretch himself upon a straw pallet. A narrow staircase mounts
upwards to a grated aperture in one of the buttresses to admit air and
light. Other opening is there none. '_Teter et fortis carcer_' is this
dungeon styled in our monastic rolls, and it is well described, for it
is black