ed against the further end of
the vault.

"Let us go hence," ejaculated the sexton, who had rushed to the door,
and thrown it wide open. "Mole! Mole!" cried he, and the dog sprang
after him.

"I could have sworn I felt something," said Luke; "whence issued that
groan?"

"Ask not whence," replied Peter. "Reach me my mattock, and spade, and
the lantern; they are behind you. And stay, it were better to bring away
the bottle."

"Take them, and leave me here."

"Alone in the vault?--no, no, Luke, I have not told you half I know
concerning that mystic statue. It is said to move--to walk--to raise its
axe--be warned, I pray."

"Leave me, or abide, if you will, my coming, in the church. If there is
aught that may be revealed to my ear alone, I will not shrink from it,
though the dead themselves should arise to proclaim the mystery. It may
be--but--go--there are your tools." And he shut the door, with a jar
that shook the sexton's frame.

Peter, after some muttered murmurings at the hardihood and madness, as
he termed it, of his grandson, disposed his lanky limbs to repose upon a
cushioned bench without the communion railing. As the pale moonlight
fell upon his gaunt and cadaverous visage, he looked like some unholy
thing suddenly annihilated by the presiding influence of that sacred
spot. Mole crouched himself in a ring at his master's feet. Peter had
not dozed many minutes, when he was aroused by Luke's return. The latter
was very pale, and the damp stood in big drops upon his brow.

"Have you made fast the door?" inquired the sexton.

"Here is the key."

"What have you seen?" he next demanded.

Luke made no answer. At that moment, the church clock struck two,
breaking the stillness with an iron clang. Luke raised his eyes. A ray
of moonlight, streaming obliquely through the painted window, fell upon
the gilt lettering of a black mural entablature. The lower part of the
inscription was in the shade, but the emblazonment, and the words--

Orate pro anima Reginaldi Rookwood equitis aurati,

were clear and distinct. Luke trembled, he knew not why, as the sexton
pointed to it.

"You have heard of the handwriting upon the wall," said Peter. "Look
there!--'His kingdom hath been taken from him.' Ha, ha! Listen to me. Of
all thy monster race--of all the race of Rookwood I should say--no demon
ever stalked the earth more terrible than him whose tablet you now
behold. By him a brother was betrayed; by him a brothe