As she was mounting the stile that divided the park from the high-road, at the foot of Lantwell-hill, she remembered that the “Angel” alehouse, where her mission was to end, was not situate within the village, but on its extreme limit, where the road fell into Lantwell-wood. Unless, therefore, she made a considerable detour, she would have to pass through the churchyard, over the path we have had occasion to mention before, in order to arrive at her destination; and, remembering this, she paused to consider which of the two routes she should pursue.
Though endued with uncommon good sense, she had some spice of the superstitious qualms and fears that mark her religion, and, to speak the truth, were rather allowed and encouraged by the age; and it was not without hesitation that she ultimately resolved on taking the route by the churchyard. Having thus made up her mind, she once more set forward, and proceeded at a quick pace up Lantwell-hill.
She paused a while on gaining the churchyard-gate. She almost felt inclined, indeed, at one moment, to turn into the road again, and pursue the route through the village. But her irresolution quickly subsided, and though her fears, with the terrible excitement they gave rise to, remained, she devoutly crossed herself, and passed into the churchyard.
She scarcely dared to breathe during her progress onward. Nevertheless, she reached the further angle of the old church, where the path took another direction, without seeing anything to alarm her. She was just turning the angle, when, looking on one side, towards an abutting portion of the church, she descried a tall figure, arrayed in white, rising slowly from behind a grave-post; and she was instantly rooted to the spot.
There are sources of terror which, though they may impend no peril to the person, will affect the spirit of the most resolute, and involve the liveliest faculties in fright and consternation. Yet, whether it is that we are sustained by despair, or that those superior and invisible intelligences, which some believe to attend upon us, like ministering angels, from the cradle to the grave, lend the soul a new influence, this extreme of dread generally finds the mind self-possessed, and the senses more than ever active.
Evaline, on observing the object described, lost all power over her limbs and person, but her senses were perfectly collected. She felt her hair rising on end, and a cold perspiration, which seemed to chill and freeze up every source of motion, spread itself over her whole frame; but, for all this, her mind was painfully alert. She distinguished every individual outline of the fearful and ghostly figure. It rose gradually upright, and then, standing quite still, looked her straight in the face.
“The cross of Christ surround us!” exclaimed Evaline, in a hollow, solemn voice.
“Ho, there! have no fear!” cried the cause of her horror. “’Tis I—Bernard Gray!”
The weight of death was lifted off the heart of Evaline. With the velocity of thought, her hands clasped themselves together, and her eyes were raised gratefully to heaven.
Nevertheless, it was not without some fear that she found herself in the presence of the singular man whom she had come to seek, and who, ignorant of her mission, was now advancing towards her. Her fear increased as he drew nearer; and when she was able to survey him closely, which a lighted lanthorn that he carried well enabled her to do, it almost deprived her of speech.