ns, that lent a lustre to its
otherwise too stern appearance. Lighted by a range of stained windows
far from the ground, the tempered sunlight cast a mellow glance on every
object; and here, in the silence of the noon, when the workmen had gone
to dinner, Mary used to sit alone, some strange spell fascinating her
to a spot where echoes had once awoke to the tramp of her own kinsmen's
footsteps.

"Tell me, Mr. Linton," said she, as he entered suddenly, and found her
seated in her favorite place, "what part of the chapel adjoins the wall
we see yonder?"

"That," said Linton, musing for a second,--"that, if I mistake not, must
be what you styled the crypt; the--"

"Exactly!" cried she, with animation. "The crypt is somewhat lower than
this chamber, two steps or so?"

"About as much."

"How strange, how very strange!" she said, half to herself.

"What is strange!" said Linton, smiling at the intense preoccupation of
her features.

"You will laugh outright," said she, "if I tell you. It was a dream I
had last night about this chamber."

"Pray let me hear it," said Linton, seating himself, and affecting a
deep interest "I own to a most implicit confidence in dreams."

"Which is more than I do," said she, laughing. "This has, however, so
much of truth about it, as the locality is concerned, and thus far it
is curious. Are you certain that you never told me before that the crypt
lay outside of that wall?"

"Perfectly; since I only learned as much myself about an hour ago."

"How singular!"

"Come, do not torture my curiosity further. Let us have your dream."

"It was very short. I dreamed that I was sitting here musing and
thinking over the lives and fortunes of some of those who once dwelt
within these walls, and comparing their destiny with that of their
descendants, only admitted, as it were, on sufferance, when suddenly a
door opened slowly there,--there, in the very midst of that wall,--and
I could see down into the crypt, and the chapel beyond it. On the altar
there were candles lighted, and I thought the figure of a man crossed
and recrossed below the steps, as if settling and arranging the books
and cushions; and, at last, he turned round, and I perceived that he
carried in his hands a small and strongly clasped box, and, as he came
towards me, he seemed to hold this out for me to take; but, as I did not
move or stir, he laid it down within the doorway, and, as he did so,
the wall gradually closed up ag