The sky was as black as ink; not a star was to be seen through the dark veil of clouds; no moon had yet risen to shed even a faint glimmer through the heavy vapours that over spread the heaven. Woods and hills were around, and all was darkness over the scene, except where from a tall and extensive building, with six long pointed windows on either side, streamed forth a red and somewhat sombre blaze, lighting some of the larger objects in the immediate neighbourhood: the large masses of an oak, a tall projecting rock, and a crucifix of stone mounted on six steps. It was the chapel between Hardenberg and Mosbach, and the hour of midnight was nearly come. On either side of the door of the chapel stood a man-at-arms of the house of Leiningen, with a broad battle-axe on his shoulder; and the large door itself was thrown back, emitting the light, as well as the windows. Within, the scene was somewhat striking. For many years the old building had not beheld such a light, for the abbey to which it had been formerly attached, had been suppressed about thirty years before, on account of gross irregularities, and the revenues attributed, part to the Bishop of Spires, and part to the Abbey of Limburg. Doubtless it was the intention of the authorities who performed this act of severity, that the chapel, which had been a great convenience to the neighbouring peasantry, should be kept up, and service performed therein; but, as in the act of suppression, it was not distinctly specified who was to bear the expenses of its maintenance, neither of the parties who benefited by the confiscation had thought fit to undertake the task: the service ceased; the building was neglected; and ruin and dilapidation was fast taking hold of it.