Was he in a terrible dream? No, no! he had but made a
mistake--had trusted too much to his knowledge of the house, and was
not where he thought he was! He struck a light. Alas! alas! he was
where he had intended! It was her room! There was the wardrobe, but
nearer the door! Where it had stood was no recess!--nothing but a
great patch of fresh plaster! It was no dream, but a true horror!
Instinctively clutching his skene dhu, he darted to the great stair.
It must have been the voice of Arctura he had heard! She was walled
up in the chapel!
Down the stair, with swift noiseless foot he sped, and stopped at
the door of the half-way room. It was locked!
There was but one way left! To the foot of the stair he shot. Good
heavens! if that way also should have been known to the earl! He
crept through the little door underneath the stair, feeling with his
hands ere his body was through: the arch was open! In an instant he
was in the crypt.
But now to get up through the opening into the passage
above--stopped with a heavy slab! He sprang at the steep slope of
the window-sill, but there was no hold, and as often as he sprang he
slipped down again. He tried and tried until he was worn out and
almost in despair. She might be dying! he was close to her! he could
not reach her! He stood still for a moment to think. To his mind
came the word, "He that believeth shall not make haste.
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