There was a light in the hall, streaming from a single lamp at the farther end. It was faint and dim in the vast space; but Adelaide started, drew back, and uttered a low cry of surprise, as she saw how that hall was tenanted. Seated in the great chair of state, at the end, was a tall and lordly looking man, clothed in arms from head to heel, and down either side, ranged in long line, were other forms in armour, some with their swords bare, and some with banners in their hands, which seemed to her terrified eye the same as those which usually hung from the vaulted roof above. Every man had his visor down, and all was profoundly silent; but the stern array daunted the poor girl's heart, and she turned an eager glance to the countenance of her companion. "Fear not," said Father George, in a low voice; "fear not, only come on quickly," and supporting her shaking steps with his arm, he led her on through that dark avenue towards the door at the farther end. None spoke, none moved, as she passed along nearly to the close of the line; but then the seated figure rose, and bowed his head without a sound. Hurrying her on towards the door, the monk opened it, and led her into the stone passage through which she had before passed. There was a lamp burning on the floor; and quitting his hold of her arm, Father George whispered, "Stay for me one moment," and then returned into the hall. Turning a timid glance back, Adelaide saw him approach the chair of state and speak for a few moments, in a low voice, to its mailed occupant. He seemed to receive no answer; and then clasping his hands together, in the attitude of vehement entreaty, the old man said aloud, "I beseech, I adjure you! By all that is sacred! In the name of Christ, forbear." The figure bowed its armed head: and, exclaiming, "Well," Father George turned away, and hurried to her side again. CHAPTER XXVI. As soon as Father George had rejoined Adelaide of Ehrenstein, he hurried her rapidly on through the passage, and down the well staircase, towards the vaults; but in pushing back the door which opened into the serfs' burial-place, a sharp gust of wind blew out the lamp, and they were both left in utter darkness. "I cannot go back for a light," said the priest; "but hold by my gown; and fear not, daughter." The sights she had seen, however, in that place, and all the awful mementoes of mortality which it contained, recurred at once to the mind of Adelaide, and a chilly shuddering sensation crept over her as she followed Father George, holding his robe with her right hand, and feeling the way with her left. Scarcely had they taken a step, however, when a voice demanded aloud, "Who is it comes hither?"