ed, "and attends the poor for nothing. He is
now with Matthew Malmayns, the sexton, who was taken ill of the plague
yesterday, and will get nothing but thanks--if he gets those--for his
fee. But, follow me, young man, follow me."

So saying, he shut the wicket, and led the way along the transept. The
path was uneven, many of the flags having been removed, and the verger
often paused to throw a light upon the ground, and warn his companion of
a hole.

On arriving at the head of the nave, Leonard cast his eyes down it, and
was surprised at the magical effect of the moonlight upon its
magnificent avenue of pillars; the massive shafts on the left being
completely illuminated by the silvery beams, while those on the right
lay in deep shadow.

"Ay, it is a noble structure," replied the old verger, noticing his look
of wonder and admiration, "and, like many a proud human being, has known
better days. It has seen sad changes in my time, for I recollect it when
good Queen Bess ruled the land. But come along, young man,--you have
something else to think of now."

Bestowing a momentary glance upon the matchless choir, with its groined
roof, its clerestory windows, its arched openings, its carved stalls,
and its gorgeous rose-window, Leonard followed his conductor through a
small doorway on the left of the southern transept, and descending a
flight of stone steps, entered a dark and extensive vault, for such it
seemed. The feeble light of the lantern fell upon ranks of short heavy
pillars, supporting a ponderous arched roof.

"You are now in Saint Faith's," observed the verger, "and above you is
the choir of Saint Paul's."

Leonard took no notice of the remark, but silently crossing the nave of
this beautiful subterranean church (part of which still exists),
traversed its northern aisle. At length the verger stopped before the
entrance of a small chapel, once dedicated to Saint John the Baptist,
but now devoted to a less sacred purpose. As they advanced, Leonard
observed a pile of dried skulls and bones in one corner, a stone coffin,
strips of woollen shrouds, fragments of coffins, mattocks, and spades.
It was evidently half a charnel, half a receptacle for the sexton's
tools.

"If you choose to open that door," said the verger, pointing to one at
the lower end of the chamber, "you will find him you seek. I shall go no
further."

Summoning up all his resolution, Leonard pushed open the door. A
frightful scene met his gaz