“It is an owl,” I said to myself, ashamed of my fears; “a poor innocent bird—­a companion and watcher of the dead, and therefore its voice is full of sorrowful lamentation—­but it is harmless,” and I crept on with increased caution.  Suddenly out of the dense darkness there stared two large yellow eyes, glittering with fiendish hunger and cruelty.  For a moment I was startled, and stepped back; the creature flew at me with the ferocity of a tiger-cat!  I fought with the horrible thing in all directions; it wheeled round my head, it pounced toward my face, it beat me with its large wings—­wings that I could feel but not see; the yellow eyes alone shone in the thick gloom like the eyes of some vindictive demon!  I struck at it right and left—­the revolting combat lasted some moments—­I grew sick and dizzy, yet I battled on recklessly.  At last, thank Heaven! the huge owl was vanquished; it fluttered backward and downward, apparently exhausted, giving one wild screech of baffled fury, as its lamp-like eyes disappeared in the darkness.  Breathless, but not subdued—­every nerve in my body quivering with excitement—­I pursued my way, as I thought, toward the stone staircase. feeling the air with my outstretched hands as I groped along.  In a little while I met with an obstruction—­it was hard and cold—­a stone wall, surely?  I felt it up and down and found a hollow in it—­was this the first step of the stair?  I wondered; it seemed very high.  I touched it cautiously—­suddenly I came in contact with something soft and clammy to the touch like moss or wet velvet.  Fingering this with a kind of repulsion, I soon traced out the oblong shape of a coffin Curiously enough, I was not affected much by the discovery.  I found myself monotonously counting the bits of raised metal which served, as I judged, for its ornamentation.  Eight bits lengthwise—­and the soft wet stuff between—­four bits across; then a pang shot through me, and I drew my hand away quickly, as I considered—­whose coffin was this?  My father’s?  Or was I thus plucking, like a man in delirium, at the fragments of velvet on that cumbrous oaken casket wherein lay the sacred ashes of my mother’s perished beauty?  I roused myself from the apathy into which I had fallen.  All the pains I had taken to find my way through the vault were wasted; I was lost in the profound gloom, and knew not where to turn.  The horror of my situation presented itself to me with redoubled force.  I began to be tormented with thirst.  I fell on my knees and groaned aloud.

“God of infinite mercy!” I cried.  “Saviour of the world!  By the souls of the sacred dead whom Thou hast in Thy holy keeping, have pity upon me!  Oh, my mother! if indeed thine earthly remains are near me—­think of me, sweet angel in that heaven where thy spirit dwells at rest—­plead for me and save me, or let me die now and be tortured no more!”