ating the light so as to reveal the contents of each cell. One
circumstance filled him with surprise and dismay--he could nowhere
perceive the coffin of his daughter. In vain he peered into every
catacomb--they were apparently undisturbed; and, with much internal
marvelling and misgiving, Peter gave up the search. "That vision is now
explained," muttered he; "the body is removed, but by whom? Death! can I
doubt? It must be Lady Rookwood--who else can have any interest in its
removal. She has acted boldly. But she shall yet have reason to repent
her temerity." As he continued his search, his companions silently
followed. Suddenly he stopped, and, signifying that all was finished,
they not unwillingly quitted this abode of horror, leaving him behind
them.

"It is a dreadful place," whispered Eleanor to her mother; "nor would I
have visited it, had I conceived anything of its horrors. And that
strange man! who or what is he?"

"Ay, who is he?" repeated Major Mowbray.

"I recollect him now," replied Mrs. Mowbray; "he is one who has ever
been connected with the family. He had a daughter, whose beauty was her
ruin: it is a sad tale; I cannot tell it now: you have heard enough of
misery and guilt: but that may account for his bitterness of speech. He
was a dependent upon my poor brother."

"Poor man!" replied Eleanor; "if he has been unfortunate, I pity him. I
am sorry we have been into that dreadful place. I am very faint: and I
tremble more than ever at the thought of meeting Ranulph Rookwood again.
I can scarcely support myself--I am sure I shall not venture to look
upon him."

"Had I dreamed of the likelihood of his attending the ceremony, rest
assured, dear Eleanor, we should not have been here: but I was informed
there was no possibility of his return. Compose yourself, my child. It
will be a trying time to both of us; but it is now inevitable."

At this moment the bell began to toll. "The procession has started,"
said Peter, as he passed the Mowbrays. "That bell announces the setting
out."

"See yonder persons hurrying to the door," exclaimed Eleanor, with
eagerness, and trembling violently. "They are coming. Oh! I shall never
be able to go through with it, dear mother."

Peter hastened to the church door, where he stationed himself, in
company with a host of others, equally curious. Flickering lights in the
distance, shining like stars through the trees, showed them that the
procession was collecting in front