A BURLESQUE OF HORROR 375 to be thrilled. He "wants to make yer blood run cold," but he not infrequently raises a hearty laugh instead. It would be impossible to burlesque "Rookwood"; it burlesques itself, and shall be allowed to do so here, from the point where Alan HARRISON AINSWORTH. From the Fraser portrait. Rookwood visits the family vault, to his tragic end: "He then walked beneath the shadow of one of the yews, chanting an odd stanza or so of one of his wild staves, wrapped the while, it would seem, in affectionate contemplation of the subjectmatter of his song: THE CHURCHYARD YEW. -Metuendaque succo Taxus.' A NOXIOUS tree is the churchyard yew, Yet this baleful tree hath a core so sound, For our sturdy sires cut their stoutest staves From the branch that hung o'er their fathers' graves; And though it be dreary and dismal to view, Staunch at the heart is the churchyard yew. "His ditty concluded, Alan entered the church, taking care to leave the door slightly ajar, in order to facilitate his grandson's entrance. For an instant he lingered in the chancel. The yellow moonlight fell upon the monuments of his race; and, directed by the instinct of hate, Alan's eye rested upon the gilded entablature of his perfidious brother Reginald, and muttering curses, not loud, but deep,' he passed on. Having lighted his lantern in no tranquil mood, he descended into the vault, observing a similar caution with ALAN'S MEDITATION 377 respect to the portal of the cemetery, which he left partially unclosed, with the key in the lock. Here he resolved to abide Luke's coming. The reader knows what probability there was of his expectations being realised. "For a while he paced the tomb, wrapped in gloomy meditation, and pondering, it might be, upon the result of Luke's expedition, and the fulfilment of his own dark schemes, scowling from time to time beneath his bent eyebrows, counting the grim array of coffins, and noticing, with something like satisfaction, that the shell which contained the remains of his daughter had been restored to its former position. He then bethought him of Father Checkley's midnight intrusion upon his conference with Luke, and their apprehension of a supernatural visitation, and his curiosity was stimulated to ascertain by what means the priest had gained admission to the spot unperceived and unheard. He resolved to sound the floor, and see whether any secret entrance existed; and hollowly and dully did the hard flagging return the stroke of his heel as he pursued his scrutiny. At length the metallic ringing of an iron plate, immediately behind the marble effigy of Sir Ranulph, resolved the point. There it was that the priest had found access to the vault; but Alan's disappointment was excessive when he discovered that this plate was fastened on the underside, and all communication thence with the churchyard, or to wherever else it might conduct him, cut off; but the present was not the season for further investigation, and tolerably pleased with the discovery he had already made, he returned to his silent march around the sepulchre. "At length a sound, like the sudden shutting of the church door, broke upon the profound stillness of the holy edifice. In the hush that succeeded a footstep was distinctly heard threading the aisle. "He comes-he comes!' exclaimed Alan joyfully; adding, an instant after, in an altered voice, but he comes alone.' 66 The footstep drew near to the mouth of the vault it was upon the stairs. Alan stepped forward to greet, as he supposed, his grandson, but started back in astonishment and dismay as he encountered in his stead Lady Rookwood. Alan retreated, while the lady advanced, swinging the iron door after her, which closed with a tremendous clang. Approaching the statue of the first Sir Ranulph she passed, and Alan then remarked the singular and terrible expression of her eyes, which appeared to be fixed upon the statue, or upon some invisible object near it. There was something in her whole attitude and manner calculated to impress the deepest terror on the beholder, and Alan gazed upon her with an awe which momently increased. Lady Rookwood's bearing was as proud and erect as we have formerly described it to have been, her brow was as haughtily bent, her chiselled lip as disdainfully curled; but the staring, changeless eye, and the deep-heaved sob which occasionally escaped her, betrayed how much she was under the influence of mortal terror. Alan watched her in amazement. He knew not how the scene was likely to terminate, nor what could have induced her to visit this ghostly spot at such an hour and alone; but he resolved to abide the issue in silence-profound as her own. After a time, however, his impatience got the better of his fears and scruples, and he spoke. "What doth Lady Rookwood in the abode of the dead?' asked he at length. "She started at the sound of his voice, but still kept her eye fixed upon the vacancy. 66 6 Hast thou not beckoned me hither, and am I not come?' returned she, in a hollow tone. And now thou askest wherefore I am here. I am here because, as in thy life I feared thee not, neither in death do I fear thee. I am here because , "What seest thou?' interrupted Alan, with ill-suppressed terror. "What see I-ha-ha!' shouted Lady Rookwood, amidst discordant laughter; that which might appal a heart less stout than mine-a figure anguish-writhen, with veins that glow as with a subtle and consuming flame. A substance, yet a shadow, in thy living likeness. Ha-frown if thou wilt; I can return thy glances.' "Where dost thou see this vision?' demanded Alan. "Where?' echoed Lady Rook wood, becoming |