, turned to the
inner door, and led the way. I went close behind her, and the sexton
followed.

CHAPTER VII. THE CEMETERY

The air as of an ice-house met me crossing the threshold. The door
fell-to behind us. The sexton said something to his wife that made her
turn toward us.--What a change had passed upon her! It was as if the
splendour of her eyes had grown too much for them to hold, and, sinking
into her countenance, made it flash with a loveliness like that of
Beatrice in the white rose of the redeemed. Life itself, life eternal,
immortal, streamed from it, an unbroken lightning. Even her hands
shone with a white radiance, every "pearl-shell helmet" gleaming like
a moonstone. Her beauty was overpowering; I was glad when she turned it
from me.

But the light of the candle reached such a little way, that at first I
could see nothing of the place. Presently, however, it fell on something
that glimmered, a little raised from the floor. Was it a bed? Could
live thing sleep in such a mortal cold? Then surely it was no wonder
it should not wake of itself! Beyond that appeared a fainter shine; and
then I thought I descried uncertain gleams on every side.

A few paces brought us to the first; it was a human form under a sheet,
straight and still--whether of man or woman I could not tell, for the
light seemed to avoid the face as we passed.

I soon perceived that we were walking along an aisle of couches, on
almost every one of which, with its head to the passage, lay something
asleep or dead, covered with a sheet white as snow. My soul grew
silent with dread. Through aisle after aisle we went, among couches
innumerable. I could see only a few of them at once, but they were on
all sides, vanishing, as it seemed, in the infinite.--Was it here lay my
choice of a bed? Must I go to sleep among the unwaking, with no one to
rouse me? Was this the sexton's library? were these his books? Truly it
was no half-way house, this chamber of the dead!

"One of the cellars I am placed to watch!" remarked Mr. Raven--in a low
voice, as if fearing to disturb his silent guests. "Much wine is set
here to ripen!--But it is dark for a stranger!" he added.

"The moon is rising; she will soon be here," said his wife, and her
clear voice, low and sweet, sounded of ancient sorrow long bidden adieu.

Even as she spoke the moon looked in at an opening in the wall, and a
thousand gleams of white responded to her shine. But not yet could I