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from its delightful harbour. Ambrosio could bear no more. His desires were worked up to phrensy.
"I yield!" he cried, dashing the mirror upon the ground: "Matilda, I follow you! Do with me what you will!"
She waited not to bear his consent repeated. It was already midnight. She flew to her cell, and soon returned with her little basket and the key of the cemetery, which had remained in her possession since her first visit to the vaults. She gave the monk no time for reflection.
"Come!" she said, and took his hand; "follow me, and witness the effects of your resolve."
This said, she drew him hastily along. They passed into the burying-ground unobserved, opened the door of the sepulchre, and found themselves at the head of the subterraneous stair-case. As yet the beams of the full moon had guided their steps, but that resource now failed them. Matilda had neglected to provide herself with alamp,
