RELICS OF POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS. 



narrative only a continuation of her dream. She tells me that 

 her curiosity^ excited by this mysterious representation of her fate, 

 induced her to procure a dog, a coat, and a staff, not unlike old 

 Ozias's, and to keep, herself, the vigil of St. Mark. She obtained 

 the keys from his wife, seated herself near the porch, and saw three 

 men enter with a sack, which they carried towards the chancel, 

 and, raising the entrance-stone of De Romeville's vault, descended 

 with it. She had, or dreamed that she had, courage enough to 

 wait their departure, after which, one of the keys lent to her by 

 the sexton's wife admitted her into the cemetery. There, the lan- 

 tern which she had concealed under her cloak discovered traces of 

 men's feet about the stone coffin, inscribed with the name of our 

 unfortunate royalist. She saw through a crevice in the wall be- 

 hind, a kind of cavern crowded with beings of 7io human shape, 

 but of what description, I can by no means persuade her to con- 

 fess, and it seems as if she dared not devise a name for them. 

 The coffin lid was imperfectly placed, and she discerned beneath 

 it a sack whose shape indicated that it contained a human body. 

 She had courage enough to look farther, and saw a large crevice 

 in another receptacle of the dead which seemed to have been dis- 

 turbed. It was filled with plate, jewels, and old coin, from which 

 she only ventured to select one small gold ring, as a token of the 

 reality of her adventure. She has shewn it to me. It is a mar- 

 riage-ring, but certainly bears the initials of the Romeville family, 

 and a very ancient motto. It is possible, however, to have obtained 

 such a ring by an occurrence which I forbear to name, though I 

 think myself justified in suspecting it. Any thing, in short, is 

 more possible or probable than a scene so romantic ; and I recom- 

 mend the most profound secrecy respecting, what appears to me, 

 only the creation of a mind distracted by its own fervour." 



Whatever might be the wisdom of this advice, it was accepted, 

 and Margaret saw her communication unnoticed. She sunk into 

 more eccentric musings, often absented herself for an hour, an eve- 

 ning, or a whole day ; and though it was certain that she never 

 quitted her apartment, she told strange and circumstantial tales of 

 the rich scenes and beautiful beings she had visited. By degrees, 

 she accustomed herself to hoard food and tapers in a cabinet or 

 oratory, in which she lived secluded so often, that her absence 

 ceased to alarm. On the fourth anniversary of St. Mark's vigil, 

 Walter's anxiety determined him to break open the door of his 



