in a dream, a rustling
and rising all over the church; but could not take his prodigy-stricken
eyes off that face, all life, and bloom, and beauty, and that wondrous
auburn hair glistening gloriously in the sun.

He gazed, thinking she must vanish.

She remained.

All in a moment she was looking at him, full.

Her own violet eyes!!

At this he was beside himself, and his lips parted to shriek out her
name, when she turned her head swiftly, and soon after vanished, but not
without one more glance, which, though rapid as lightning, encountered
his, and left her couching and quivering with her mind in a whirl, and
him panting and gripping the pulpit convulsively. For this glance of
hers, though not recognition, was the startled inquiring, nameless,
indescribable look that precedes recognition. He made a mighty effort,
and muttered something nobody could understand: then feebly resumed his
discourse; and stammered and babbled on a while, till by degrees forcing
himself, now she was out of sight, to look on it as a vision from the
other world, he rose into a state of unnatural excitement, and concluded
in a style of eloquence that electrified the simple; for it bordered on
rhapsody.

The sermon ended, he sat down on the pulpit stool, terribly shaken, But
presently an idea very characteristic of the time took possession of
him, He had sought her grave at Sevenbergen in vain. She had now been
permitted to appear to him, and show him that she was buried here;
probably hard by that very pillar, where her spirit had showed itself to
him.

This idea once adopted soon settled on his mind with all the Certainty
of a fact. And he felt he had only to speak to the sexton (whom to his
great disgust he had seen working during the sermon), to learn the spot
where she was laid.

The church was now quite empty. He came down from the pulpit and stepped
through an aperture in the south wall on to the grass, and went up to
the sexton. He knew him in a moment. But Jorian never suspected the
poor lad, whose life he had saved, in this holy friar. The loss of his
shapely beard had wonderfully altered the outline of his face. This had
changed him even more than his tonsure, his short hair sprinkled with
premature grey, and his cheeks thinned and paled by fasts and vigils.

"My son," said Friar Clement softly, "if you keep any memory of those
whom you lay in the earth, prithee tell me is any Christian buried
inside the church, near one