It was strangely silent even for an old church on a lonesome headland.

There reigned a dismal solemnity which seemed to chill me, accustomed as I have been to strange and weird places.

It seemed abandoned, though it had not that air of having been neglected which is so often to be noticed in old churches.

There was none of the everlasting accumulation of dust which prevails in places of higher cultivation and larger and more strenuous work.
In the church itself or its appending chambers I could find no clue or suggestion which could guide me in any way in my search for the Lady of the Shroud.

Monuments there were in profusion--statues, tablets, and all the customary memorials of the dead.