Lyon Berners took it up, while Sybil loaded herself with crockery ware
and cutlery.
They had turned to go back to the church, when Sybil uttered a
half-suppressed cry, and nearly dropped her burden.
"What's the matter?" cried Mr. Berners.
"Look!" exclaimed Sybil.
"Where?"
"At the east window."
Mr. Berners raised his eyes just in time to see a weird young face, with
wild black hair, and a bright red mantle, flash downward from the
window, as if it had dropped to the floor.
There was no dream now; not even an optical illusion. The reality of the
vision was unquestionable.
"This is most strange," exclaimed Mr. Berners.
"It is the same face that bent over me, and woke me up," answered Sybil,
with a shudder.
"It is some one who is concealed in the church, and whom we shall be
sure to discover, for there is but one exit, by the front door; and if
she comes out of that, we shall see her; or if she remains in the
building, we shall be sure to find her there. Since I saw the face drop
from the window, I have carefully watched the door. Do you also watch
it, my dear Sybil; so that the creature, whatever it is, may not pass
us," said Mr. Berners, as he strode on rapidly towards the church,
followed by his wife.
They entered together, and looked eagerly around.
Though the sun had set some ten minutes before, yet the "after glow"
shone in through the six tall gothic window spaces, and revealed clearly
every nook and corner of the interior. Their strange inmate or visitor,
whichever she might be, was nowhere to be seen.
With an impatient gesture, Mr. Berners set down the coffee-pot, and
hurried towards the door of the vault, and looked through the iron
grating. But he could see nothing but the top of those stairs, the
bottom of which disappeared in the darkness.
He then shook the door; but it firmly resisted all his strength. The
bars appeared to be built into the solid masonry.
"This is really confounding to all one's intelligence," exclaimed Lyon
Berners, gazing around in perplexity.
"It is, indeed. But it is well that you have seen this mystery with your
own eyes, for if you had not done so, you never would have believed in
it," said Sybil, gravely shaking her head.
"Nor do I believe in it, now that I have seen it."
"Then you will not trust the united evidence of your own eyes and mine."
"No, Sybil; not for a prodigy so out of nature as that would be,"
replied Lyon Berners, firmly.
"Well, then, tell me the legend of the Haunted Chapel, for you hinted
that that legend must have some connection with this apparition."