70 TIM'S STORY. 



shalt do me greater service. He took a pride in preserving 

 yonder empty mockery of a tomb ; but thou shalt have inter- 

 red my unburied bones. Never yet have they rested in holy 

 ground, or had Christian burial, and therefore do I haunt this 

 scene of my mockery and murder. Yes, most foully was I 

 murdered, and by her.'' He pointed as he spoke to the image 

 of his lady, which was then laying alone upon the moniment. 

 'But come, Tim, come! the night is fast waning, and I must 

 show you before cock-crowing where my bones are laid.' As 

 he said that, he rose, and gripped my arm so tight with both 

 his hands, all covered with stone armour, that I felt as if he 

 had almost turned me into stone too ; but yet I tried to shake 

 him off, and that, as I suppose, awoke me. I hardly know, 

 indeed, whether I had slept or not all I had jseen appeared 

 so real ; but at that moment I seemed to be aware that I was 

 not sitting up, but laying just as I had thrown myself down 

 on grandfather's grave. Then I did get up, and looked round 

 me. I could see the old moniment before me then, just as 

 usual, with both Sir Timothy and his lady laying at top, side 

 by side ; but as the moon had only just got up on the other 

 side of the church, the part where I stood was all in darkness, 

 and the moniment and the images, coming agen the sky, 

 looked as if they were cut out of black marble instead of 

 white. While I was looking, all of a sudden, a rising from 

 the ground appeared a bright moving light. It was just like 

 the corpse-candles I had seen often enough before, a flitting 



