, stealing
on the pilgrims' steps, had trodden out their track, and left but
crumbling stones. Here were the rotten beam, the sinking arch, the
sapped and mouldering wall, the lowly trench of earth, the stately tomb
on which no epitaph remained--all--marble, stone, iron, wood, and
dust--one common monument of ruin. The best work and the worst, the
plainest and the richest, the stateliest and the least imposing--both
of Heaven's work and Man's--all found one common level here, and told
one common tale.

Some part of the edifice had been a baronial chapel, and here were
effigies of warriors stretched upon their beds of stone with folded
hands--cross-legged, those who had fought in the Holy Wars--girded
with their swords, and cased in armour as they had lived. Some of
these knights had their own weapons, helmets, coats of mail, hanging
upon the walls hard by, and dangling from rusty hooks. Broken and
dilapidated as they were, they yet retained their ancient form, and
something of their ancient aspect. Thus violent deeds live after men
upon the earth, and traces of war and bloodshed will survive in
mournful shapes long after those who worked the desolation are but
atoms of earth themselves.

The child sat down, in this old, silent place, among the stark figures
on the tombs--they made it more quiet there, than elsewhere, to her
fancy--and gazing round with a feeling of awe, tempered with a calm
delight, felt that now she was happy, and at rest. She took a Bible
from the shelf, and read; then, laying it down, thought of the summer
days and the bright springtime that would come--of the rays of sun that
would fall in aslant, upon the sleeping forms--of the leaves that would
flutter at the window, and play in glistening shadows on the
pavement--of the songs of birds, and growth of buds and blossoms out of
doors--of the sweet air, that would steal in, and gently wave the
tattered banners overhead. What if the spot awakened thoughts of
death! Die who would, it would still remain the same; these sights and
sounds would still go on, as happily as ever. It would be no pain to
sleep amidst them.

She left the chapel--very slowly and often turning back to gaze
again--and coming to a low door, which plainly led into the tower,
opened it, and climbed the winding stair in darkness; save where she
looked down, through narrow loopholes, on the place she had left, or
caught a glimmering vision of the dusty bells. At length she