Friar John

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The bell rang loudly. "Haste thee, haste thee, holy Palmer," said the porteress; "the spectre of Sister Hylda bade the Lady Abbess expect thee. Haste thee to join the choral swell. Why quakes thy stately form? Haste thee, the bell bath ceased its solemn invocation."

Just as the Palmer had entered the chapel, the seven hallowed tapers, which burned perpetually before the altar, expired in blue hissing flashes, the swelling choir sinking to awful silence. A gloomy light circled round the vaulted roof and Sister Hylda, with her veil thrown back, revealed her well-known form; but pale, grim, and ghastly as she stood by the Palmer, who was recognised as Friar John.

The Archbishop raised his expressive eyes in prayer; the cold dew of horror dropped from his cheeks; but in aspirations of prayer, his courage returned and in adjuration to God, he demanded of the spectre why she broke the peace of the faithful.

With fearful agitation she replied: "In me behold Sister Hylda, dishonoured, ruined, murdered by Friar John, in the deep penance vault. He stands by my side, and bends his head lower and lower in confession of his guilt. I died unconfessed, and for seven years has my troubled, my suffering spirit walked the earth, when all were hushed in peaceful sleep but such as the lost Hylda. Your masses have earned grace for me. Seek the middle pavement-stone of the vault for the mortal relics of a soul purified and pardoned by the blood of the Redeemer. Laud and blessing to his gracious name for ever!"

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