The procession was then formed, headed by the monks of the place, and by the whole body of the fraternity of St. Peter's. Then came the bier, on each side of which walked six burgesses, Lord De Freston following as chief mourner. Then Latimer, and the various friends, townsmen, and acquaintances, who, as much out of respect for the living Lord De Freston as for the dead St. Ivan, attended the costly funeral. There was Robert Wulsey, as it was then written. He was an old man, and certainly would have been much better at rest in his own house in St. Nicholas, than braving the midnight air to gratify his friend, De Freston. So grateful did he feel to him for the interest he had taken in his son Thomas, that as soon as Daundy mentioned the subject to him, and told him that it would be a compliment which De Freston would feel, he actually resolved, let the cost be what it might, to attend the funeral of St. Ivan. The cost, as the sequel will prove, was as much an any man could pay. The corpse was borne to the chapel, which then stood beyond the walls of the Priory, in a small secluded glen, near the bright stream which flowed into the moat, and thence down to the waves of the Orwell. The torches illumined the glen, and when they all entered the little chapel, a person outside might have supposed that the building was on fire, so glaring was the accumulated light of so many torches. In front of the altar was the family vault of De Freston. Amidst the chaunts of the assembled priests, the body was lowered into the vault, the ceremony was concluded, and De Freston alone, with only the candles burning upon the altar, was left to watch, according to his vow, till the morning matin-bell should permit him to open the chapel door. It may seem singular that a person like Lord De Freston should submit to such unnecessary devotion, but he had made a vow to do it himself, and he was not a man to turn aside from any purpose he had once resolved to put in practice. It was in vain that the elder brother of the monastery offered himself to exonerate him from his vow, and to supply his place. He was determined: consequently the whole body of attendants had to leave him in the chapel. He charged Latimer to return to the castle, and not to think of coming over the waters again until the morning-bell should be heard from the Tower of Alneshborne Priory. The mourners, therefore, retraced their way, the burgesses and townsmen up the waves of the Orwell, and the last to leave his friend was William Latimer, who promised to return at the time appointed. Taking leave of the friendly Augustines, he ordered his rowers to unmuffle their oars and make the best of their way across the tide. A light was to burn all night in the fifth story of Freston Tower. The mourners separated, and their torches were seen quickly ascending the waves of the Orwell, and Lord De Freston was alone in the chapel of Alneshborne. CHAPTER XX. A MEMORABLE NIGHT.