It was more dark and lone, that vault, Than the worst dungeon cell, A hermit built it for his fault, In penitence to dwell: This den, which chilling every sense Of feeling, hearing, sight, Was called the Vault of Penitence, Excluding air and light. 'Twas by an ancient prelate made The place of burial for such dead As having died in mortal sin Might not be laid the church within. 'Twas next a place of punishment; Where if so loud a shriek were sent, As reached the upper air, The hearers blessed themselves and said The spirits of the sinful dead Bemoaned their torments there. --_Scott._ There was opening from Lord Vincent's dressing room a bay window, having a balcony on the outside, overhanging the sea. The viscount took a night telescope, opened the window, and stepped out upon the balcony. He adjusted the glass and swept the coast. Nothing was to be seen but the solitary vessel that lay at anchor almost under the castle walls. "The coast is clear," said the viscount to himself, as he re-entered the room and replaced the telescope. Then wrapping himself in a large maud and pulling a slouched hat over his eyes, he left the room, descended the stairs and went out. He took the way down to the sands at the extreme base of the promontory. The path that led down the side of the cliff was steep, slippery, and very dangerous even at noonday. And this was one of the darkest hours of the night that precedes the dawn. And the path was more perilous than ever. But the viscount was Highland-bred, and his step was as sure on the steep mountain edge as on the level plain. He reached the foot of the precipice in safety and stood upon the sands and drew from his pocket a small whistle, which he placed to his lips and blew a shrill call. It was answered from the vessel at anchor. And soon a boat was put off from her side, and rowed swiftly to the shore. "Is that you, Costo?" inquired the viscount of the man who jumped ashore. "No, senor; it is Paolo." "The mate?" "Yes, senor." "Where is Costo?" "On board the vessel, senor." "What have you brought this time?" "Cuban tobacco, Jamaica spirits, and some rich West Indian fabrics for ladies' dresses. A cask of spirits and a box of cigars have gone up to the castle. Old Mr. Cuthbert took them in." "All right; but I have some business now at hand that Cuthbert must know nothing about. For instance, he is in ignorance, and must remain in ignorance, of my visit to the beach to-night." "We can be silent as the grave, senor." "Have you had any trouble from the coastguard?" "No, senor; how could we? Is not your excellency the protector of the poor?" The viscount laughed. "It is true," he said, "that the guards at the nearest station are in my power, and know better than to pry too closely into the concerns of any vessels that run into my castle cove; but beyond their domain I cannot protect you; so be cautious."