The saint within the opening tomb Like marble statue stood: All fell to earth in deep dismay: And through their ranks she passed away, In calm unchanging mood. No answering sound her footsteps raised Along the stony floor: Silent as death, severe as fate, She glided through the chapel gate, And none beheld her more. The alabaster couch was gone: The tomb was void and bare: For the last time, with hasty rite, Even 'mid the terror of the night, They laid the abbess there. 'Tis said the abbess rests not well In that sepulchral pile: But yearly, when the night comes round As dies of 'One' the bell's deep sound She flits along the aisle. But whither passed the virgin saint, To slumber far away, Destined by Mary to endure, Unaltered in her semblance pure, Until the judgment-day? None knew, and none may ever know: Angels the secret keep: Impenetrable ramparts bound, Eternal silence dwells around The chamber of her sleep. CHAPTER XXXV REJECTED SUITORS--CONCLUSION (Greek passage) May the Gods grant what your best hopes pursue, A husband, and a home, with concord true; No greater boon from Jove's ethereal dome Descends, than concord in the nuptial home --Ulysses to Nausicaa, in the sixth book of the Odyssey. What passed between Algernon and Morgana, when the twenty-eighth morning brought his probation to a close, it is unnecessary to relate. The gentleman being predetermined to propose, and the lady to accept, there was little to be said, but that little was conclusive. Mr. Gryll was delighted. His niece could not have made a choice more thoroughly to his mind. [Illustration: All's well that ends well 326-284] 'My dear Morgana,' he said, 'all's well that ends well. Your fastidiousness in choice has arrived at a happy termination. And now you will perhaps tell me why you rejected so many suitors, to whom you had in turn accorded a hearing. In the first place, what was your objection to the Honourable Escor A'Cass?{1} He was a fine, handsome, dashing fellow. He was the first in the field, and you seemed to like him.' 1 To-the-Crows: the Athenian equivalent for our o'-the- Devil: a gambler's journey: not often a long one. _Miss Gryll._ He was too dashing, uncle: he gambled. I did like him, till I discovered his evil propensity. _Mr. Gryll._ To Sir Alley Capel? 'My dear Marcotta, all's well that mix well. _Miss Gryll._ He speculated; which is only another name for gambling. He never knew from day to day whether he was a rich man or a beggar. He lived in a perpetual fever, and I wish to live in tranquillity. _Mr. Gryll._ To Mr. Ballot? _Miss Gryll._ He thought of nothing but politics: he had no feeling of poetry. There was never a more complete negation of sympathy, than between him and me. _Mr. Gryll._ To Sir John Pachyderm?