arm that pointed
across the pillow to the post.--What was that hanging from the bedpost
and meeting the arm? God in heaven! there was a staple in the post, and
from the staple came a chain!--and there at its other end a ring, lying
on the pillow!--and through it--yes through it, the dust-arm
passed!--This was no mere death-bed; it was a torture bed--most likely
a murder-bed; and on it yet lay the body that died on it--had lain for
hundreds of years, unlifted for kindly burial: the place of its decease
had been made its tomb--closed up and hidden away!

A bed in a chapel, and one dead thereon!--how could it be? Had the
woman--for Donal imagined the form yet showed it the body of a
woman--been carried thither of her own desire, to die in a holy place?
That could not be: there was the chain! Had she sought refuge there
from some persecutor? If so, he has found her! She was a captive--mad
perhaps, more likely hated and the victim of a terrible revenge; left,
probably enough, to die of hunger, or disease--neglected or tended, who
could tell? One thing, only was clear--that there she died, and there
she was buried!

Arctura was trembling. Donal drew her closer, and would have taken her
away. But she said in his ear, as if in dread of disturbing the dust,

"I am not frightened--not very. It is only the cold, I think."

They went softly to the other end of the chapel, almost clinging
together as they went. They saw three narrow lancet windows on their
right, but no glimmer came through them.

They came to what had seemed an altar, and such it still seemed. But on
its marble-top lay the dust plainly of an infant--sight sad as fearful,
and full of agonizing suggestion! They turned away, nor either looked
at the other. The awful silence of the place seemed settling on them
like a weight. Donal made haste, nor did Arctura seem less anxious to
leave it.

When they reached the stair, he made her go first: he must be between
her and the terror! As they passed the door on the other side of the
little gallery--down whose spiracle had come no second breath--Donal
said to himself he must question that door, but to Arctura he said
nothing: she had had enough of inquiry for the moment!

Slowly they ascended to Arctura's chamber. Donal replaced the slab, and
propped it in its position; gathered the plaster into the pail;
replaced the press, and put a screw through the bottom of it into the
floor. Arctura stood and watched him all the