Fabiola : or, The church of the catacombs - Digital Repository Services

16 THE VISION OF OLD ANDREW THE WEA VER,
He turned round to leave the place, when the music ceased,
and at the same moment it appeared to him that a number of
persons thrust their arms past him, as if eager to grasp some
object outside the mist, and almost as instantaneously a form
flitted by him into the ohancel, -which he fancied could be no
other than Lady Esther. No sooner, therefore, could he again
see the nave, than he looked for her in the place where she had
knelt, and true enough, she was no longer there. Another had
taken her place, however, and Andrew felt a gush of joy through
his veins when he saw that it was the knight of the black mar-
ble tomb. /
" I thought," he said to lumself, "that the choir was singing
those last words with more earnestness than ever, and now I
see God could mo longer refuse their prayer."
But he did not stop to look if there were any other changes
in the nave, for he felt that the admonition of the angel applied
to this part of the church, equally with the chancel. He had
no business here, now that he had refused to change places
with any of those who had come in before him. 80 he hastened
as fast as he could towards the door, merely turning his
head for a moment to take one more look at the great crucifix
above the screen. It seemed to him more glorious and touching
than ever. The wounds were flashing with a soft and
soothing radiance, the countenance wore a benignant and encouraging
smile, and the eyes were fixed upon him with an ex-
to do. Did nt I tell you that you'd see here what would do you
good? Try to make good use of it then."
As he spoke these words, Andrew had just stepped over the
threshold, and he closed the door.
It was pitch dark, and the sudden transition from the intense
light of the church, had a bewildering effect upon the old man;
for he seemed to himself to stumble and to strike his head
against some hard substance, and then he completely lost his
recollection.
He was roused by a shake from no very gentle hand ;
and
rough voice at the same time called out, " What do you mean
by lying here all night, you drunken vagabond ?" He started
up in terror. It was broad daylight, and by his side the sexton
of the village was standing with his spade and mattock on
his shoulder.
" What Andrew, you I" he exclaimed, as the old man turned
his face towards him " I had a ;
better opinion of you than this,
but I've foun'd you out at last it seems. I saw you come totter-
ing up the hill last night, and pitied you. I little thought you'd
been to your old Popish priest for the sake of his ale. You
must have been precious drunk. And only to think how you
were thumping your head just now against the grave-stone
there. Why you look daft man I Ain't you sober yet ?"
Andrew felt nettled, and was going to reply sharply, when
the recollection of the lessons he had heard came back to his
mind, and he checked himself, and simply thanknd the sexton
for having waked him. His meekness was not without its re-
ward, for the surly fellow was immediately softened and walked
away, hoping that he had'nt taken cold by sleeping on the
grass.
Andrew now sat up and began to collect hi* scattered
thoughts ; but it took him some time, for his head was aching
violently, evidently from a bruise. He was sitting on the very
grave where he had rested himself after his walk the preceding
pression the same as that of the more moving and inspiriting.
saintly monk, but ten-fold
Andrew's impulse was to oast
himself on his knees and protest that that smile and that
glance should cheer him through all the trials that awaited
him, but he again recollected where he was, and turned to the
western door.
There he found the friendly verger with his hand on the
massive lock ready to let him out. He looked as resigned, and
old Andrew thought happier than before, for he smiled as he
said to him, " There's no need asking you what you determined
evening. The church-yard and everything about him looked
precisely the same as they had ever done the ; grave beneath
was undisturbed, except that the grass and moss were flattened,
as if he had lain there all the night.
Yet he could'nt bring himself to believe that all he had seen
was only a dream. He examined more closely to see if there
was any crack or crevice below the grass, but no, all was firm
as if it had not been moved for years. He read the lines on the
tomb-stone, but it bore rather a recent date, and there was no
mention of an Alderman upon it. So for awhile he was sadly
puzzled, till at length, he concluded that the lesson he had
learnt was a good one,come how it might, and he resolved more-
over to put it in immediate practice.
"So, here's to the Workhouse, since it is the will of God,"
he said, as with some difficulty he got up and hobbled away.
Yet he did not forget the parting admonition of the old verger,
for before he had reached the wicket gate leading down to the
village, he had offered up to heaven more than one fervent
prayer for the souls in purgatory.
ZJOJ,