(199)
music, which, as it stole through the vaults below, inspired the monk with mingled delight and terror. It had not long been hushed, when he heard Matilda's steps upon the stair-case. She ascended from the cavern; the most lively joy animated her beautiful features.
"Did you see any thing?" she asked.
"Twice I saw a column of light flash up the stair-case."
"Nothing else?"
"Nothing.
"The morning is on the point of breaking, let us retire to the abbey, lest day-light should betray us."
With a light step she hastened from the burying-ground. She regained her cell, and the curious abbot still accompanied her. She closed the door, and disembarrassed herself of her lamp and basket.
"I have succeeded!" she cried, throwing herself upon his bosom; "succeeded beyond my fondest hopes! I shall live, Ambrosio, shall live for you! the step, whichI shud-
