what if Lady Rookwood should have
given orders for the removal of Susan's body? No, no; that cannot be.
Besides, I have the keys of the vault; and there are hundreds now in the
church who would permit no such desecration. I am perplexed to think
what it can mean. But I will to the vault." Saying which, he hastened to
the church porch, and after wringing the wet from his clothes, as a
water-dog might shake the moisture from his curly hide, and doffing his
broad felt hat, he entered the holy edifice. The interior seemed one
blaze of light to the sexton, in his sudden transition from outer
darkness. Some few persons were assembled, probably such as were engaged
in the preparations; but there was one group which immediately caught
his attention.

Near the communion-table stood three persons, habited in deep mourning,
apparently occupied in examining the various monumental carvings that
enriched the walls. Peter's office led him to that part of the church.
About to descend into the vaults, to make the last preparations for the
reception of the dead, with lantern in hand, keys, and a crowbar, he
approached the party. Little attention was paid to the sexton's
proceedings, till the harsh grating of the lock attracted their notice.

Peter started as he beheld the face of one of the three, and relaxing
his hold upon the key, the strong bolt shot back in the lock. There was
a whisper amongst the party. A light step was heard advancing towards
him; and ere the sexton could sufficiently recover his surprise, or
force open the door, a female figure stood by his side.

The keen, inquiring stare which Peter bestowed upon the countenance of
the young lady so much abashed her, that she hesitated in her purpose of
addressing him, and hastily retired.

"She here!" muttered Peter; "nay, then, I must no longer withhold the
dreaded secret from Luke, or Ranulph may, indeed, wrest his possessions
from him."

Reinforced by her companions, an elderly lady and a tall, handsome man,
whose bearing and deportment bespoke him to be a soldier, the fair
stranger again ventured towards Peter.

"You are the sexton," said she, addressing him in a voice sweet and
musical.

"I am," returned Peter. It was harmony succeeded by dissonance.

"You, perhaps, can tell us, then," said the elderly lady, "whether the
funeral is likely to take place to-night? We thought it possible that
the storm might altogether prevent it."

"The storm is over, as nearly a