tapers
burning in the side chapel? What was within it? He looked again, and
beheld two uncovered biers. On one lay the body of a woman. He started.
In the beautiful, but fierce features of the dead, he beheld the witch,
Bess Demdike. She was gone to her account before him. The malediction he
had pronounced upon her child had killed her.

Appalled, he turned to the other bier, and recognised Cuthbert Ashbead.
He shuddered, but comforted himself that he was at least guiltless of
his death; though he had a strange feeling that the poor forester had in
some way perished for him.

But his attention was diverted towards a tall monk in the Cistertian
habit, standing between the bodies, with the cowl drawn over his face.
As Paslew gazed at him, the monk slowly raised his hood, and partially
disclosed features that smote the abbot as if he had beheld a spectre.
Could it be? Could fancy cheat him thus? He looked again. The monk was
still standing there, but the cowl had dropped over his face. Striving
to shake off the horror that possessed him, the abbot staggered forward,
and reaching the presbytery, sank upon his knees.

The ceremonial then commenced. The solemn requiem was sung by the choir;
and three yet living heard the hymn for the repose of their souls.
Always deeply impressive, the service was unusually so on this sad
occasion, and the melodious voices of the singers never sounded so
mournfully sweet as then--the demeanour of the prior never seemed so
dignified, nor his accents so touching and solemn. The sternest hearts
were softened.

But the abbot found it impossible to fix his attention on the service.
The lights at the altar burnt dimly in his eyes--the loud antiphon and
the supplicatory prayer fell upon a listless ear. His whole life was
passing in review before him. He saw himself as he was when he first
professed his faith, and felt the zeal and holy aspirations that filled
him then. Years flew by at a glance, and he found himself sub-deacon;
the sub-deacon became deacon; and the deacon, sub-prior, and the end of
his ambition seemed plain before him. But he had a rival; his fears told
him a superior in zeal and learning: one who, though many years younger
than he, had risen so rapidly in favour with the ecclesiastical
authorities, that he threatened to outstrip him, even now, when the goal
was full in view. The darkest passage of his life approached: a crime
which should cast a deep shadow over the whole of hi