Angelina: Or, The Mystery of St. Mark's Abbey — page 31: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

18 ANGELINA ; OR, the eye of mortal must not penetrate, still have I courage to inquire why thoa wanderest from the silent tomb!” But the dismal echoes of Angelina's own voice were all that answered her; and rushing towards the altar, she looked in vain for some aperture through which any human being could so suddenly havo disappeared. ‘6 Good Heavens! what awful mystery is this?” exclaimed Angelina, looking timidly around. Unable to resist the superstitious feelings which were gradu- ally stealing over her, and apprehensive of some new horror, she upbraided herself for the imprudence of which she had been guilty, and determined to quit the ruins with the least possible delay. She was making her way towards the Iron gates for that purpose, when she was terrified by hearing a door close heavily in that direction; and presently afterwards the noise of approaching footsteps burst upon the stillness of the gloomy place. What-could she now do }—They were evidently descending the broken steps which led to the gates, and therefore the maiden could not pass that way without encountering those who had excited her fears; and she could not find any place of outlet on the other side of the chapel. There was no time for deliberation—she heard the rusty gates creaking on their hinges, and almost sinking with consternation, hastily secreted herself behind a broken column, and awaited with a palpitating heart, the termination of the singular and alarming adventure. She had not been in this situation a minute, when the gates were thrown open, and two men entered, wrapped up in large dark mantles, who, looking around the chapel with caatious glances, stepped towards a column opposite the one behind which Angelina was concealed ; and the light from a small window streaming full upon their persons and faces, Angelina’s astonishment was nota little aug- mented, when she recognised in one of them the Baron de Morton, who lived near the spot, and in the other, his repulsive domestic, Rufus ! Scarcely venturing to breathe, lest they should discover her, although she knew not why she should fear such a circumstance, she crouched down behind the column, and watched their actions. * Well,” exclaimed Rufus, ‘I suppose this spot will do for the communion ; you have no fear of listeners here.” “ Right, good Rufus,’’ replied the baron, ‘* we need not indeed fear that the prying eye of curiosity will watch our actions in this old abbey, and for that purpose, did I resolve that our future secret consultations should be held here. We might have listeners in the castle, and already have I fancied that the baroness begins to——hark !—was not that a voice ?” “* Nonsense, ’twas only the wind,” returned his servant, “ come, to business.” ‘¢ This is a gloomy place,” said the baron looking around him with something of fear in the expression of his countenance ; ** report has filled it with frightful forms, and——’’ “* Psha !” interrupted Rufus, “* report is a common liar. {s it possible, my lord, that you can begin to feel qualmish and timid after all the daring deeds you have performed ?’’ “¢ Be silent, Rufus,’ retarned the baron, in a tremulous voice, “‘ would that those daring deeds of which you speak could be recalled—would that they had never been performed.”’ ‘‘ And,” rejoined Rufus in a contemptuous voice, “that you might be the . ea oT] - on, cCoMmmicaooks Go