Part 90 (1/2)

Alizon neither screamed nor swooned, but remained in a state of stupefaction, gazing at the body. As the moon fell upon the placid features, they looked as if locked in slumber.

There he lay-the young, the brave, the beautiful, the loving, the beloved. Fate had triumphed. Death had done his work; but he had only performed half his task.

”One grave-one grave-it was his last wish-it shall be so!” she cried, in frenzied tones, ”I shall thus escape my enemies, and avoid the horrible and shameful death to which they would doom me.”

And she s.n.a.t.c.hed the dagger from the ill-fated youth's side.

”Now, fate, I defy thee!” she cried, with a fearful laugh.

One last look at that calm beautiful face-one kiss of the cold lips, which can no more return the endearment-and the dagger is pointed at her breast.

But she is withheld by an arm of iron, and the weapon falls from her grasp. She looks up. A tall figure, clothed in the mouldering habiliments of a Cistertian monk, stands beside her. She knows the vestments at once, for she has seen them before, hanging up in the closet adjoining her mother's chamber at Whalley Abbey-and the features of the ghostly monk seem familiar to her.

”Raise not thy hand against thyself,” said the phantom, in a tone of awful reproof. ”It is the Fiend prompts thee to do it. He would take advantage of thy misery to destroy thee.”

”I took thee for the Fiend,” replied Alizon, gazing at him with wonder rather than with terror. ”Who art thou?”

”The enemy of thy enemies, and therefore thy friend,” replied the monk. ”I would have saved thy lover if I could, but his destiny was not to be averted. But, rest content, I will avenge him.”

”I do not want vengeance-I want to be with him,” she replied, frantically embracing the body.

”Thou wilt soon be with him,” said the phantom, in tones of deep significance. ”Arise, and come with me. Thy mother needs thy a.s.sistance.”

”My mother!” exclaimed Alizon, clearing the blinding tresses from her brow. ”Where is she?”

”Follow me, and I will bring thee to her,” said the monk.

”And leave him? I cannot!” cried Alizon, gazing wildly at the body.

”You must. A soul is at stake, and will perish if you come not,” said the monk. ”He is at rest, and you will speedily rejoin him.”

”With that a.s.surance I will go,” replied Alizon, with a last look at the object of her love. ”One grave-lay us in one grave!”

”It shall be done according to your wish,” said the monk.

And he glided on with noiseless footsteps.

Alizon followed him along the terrace.

Presently they came to a dark yew-tree walk, leading to a labyrinth, and tracking it swiftly, as well as the overarched and intricate path to which it conducted, they entered a grotto, whence a flight of steps descended to a subterranean pa.s.sage, hewn out of the rock. Along this pa.s.sage, which was of some extent, the monk proceeded, and Alizon followed him.

At last they came to another flight of steps, and here the monk stopped.

”We are now beneath the pavilion, where you will find your mother,” he said. ”Mount! the way is clear before you. I have other work to do.”

Alizon obeyed; and, as she advanced, was surprised to find the monk gone. He had neither pa.s.sed her nor ascended the steps, and must, therefore, have sunk into the earth.

CHAPTER XII.-THE LAST HOUR.