by W.S. Symonds ~
I lay long awake thinking over the stirring events of the last few months, which had so changed my hitherto quiet and unruffled life, and when I fell into an uneasy sleep I was wandering with Rosamond Berew in the ancient Abbey of Theocsbury among the monuments of the dead, while the miracle plays were going on in the nave, and the "Ho, ho," of Satan resounded through the aisles. Then a thousand fantastic shapes flitted up and down, and we heard whisperings and murmurings and suppressed voices close to us, and we saw rise from the surface of the tomb the figure of the Skeleton Monk. Rosamond clung in terror to my side when all the effigies on the different monuments began to move.