From the chancel we passed through key-holes to the upper
end of a cell which stood apart, full of burning candles at mid-day,
where we perceived a priest with his crown shaven, walking about as if he
were in expectation of visitors; presently there came a rotund figure of
a woman, and a very pretty girl behind her, and they went upon their
knees before him to confess their sins. "My spiritual father," said the
good woman, "I labour under a burden too heavy to be borne, unless you in
your mercy will lighten it; I married a member of the church of England,
and"--"What," said the shaven crown, "married a heretic! married an
enemy! there is no pardon for you, now or ever." At this word she
fainted, and he vociferated curses at her. "Oh, and what is worse," said
she when she revived. "I have killed him!" "O, ho! you have killed him,
well that is something towards obtaining reconciliation with the church;
but I assure you, that unless you had killed him, you would never have
got absolution, nor purgatory, but would have gone plump to the devil.
But where is your offering to the cloister?" said he, snarling. "Here,"
she replied, and handed him a pretty big purse of money. "Well," said
he, "I will now make your peace, and your penance is to remain a widow as
long as you live, lest you should make another bad bargain." As soon as
she had departed, the damsel came forward to make her confession. "Your
pardon, my father confessor," said she, "I have borne a child and
murdered it." "Very fair, in troth," said the confessor, "and who was
the father?" "Verily," said she, "it was one of your monastery"--"Hush,
hush," said he, "no scandal against the men of the church: but where is
your atonement to the church?" "There," said she, handing him a gold
coin. "You must repent, and your penance is to watch to night by my
bedside," said he, smiling archly upon her.

At this moment appeared four other bald-pates, hauling in a lad to the
confessor, the poor fellow looking as pleased as if he were going to the
gallows. "We have brought you a cub," said one of the four, "that you
may award him a proper punishment for revealing the secrets of the
catholic church." "What secrets?" said the confessor, looking towards a
murky cell which was nigh at hand. "But confess villain, what did you
say?" "In truth," said the wretch, "one of my acquaintances asked me, if
I had seen the _souls_ shrieking beneath the altar, _on the day of the