Their necromantic forms in vain Haunt us on the tented plain; We bid these spectre shapes avaunt, Ashtaroth and Termagaunt.

WARTON.
The most profound silence, the deepest darkness, continued to brood for more than an hour over the chapel in which we left the Knight of the Leopard still kneeling, alternately expressing thanks to Heaven and gratitude to his lady for the boon which had been vouchsafed to him.
His own safety, his own destiny, for which he was at all times little anxious, had not now the weight of a grain of dust in his reflections.
He was in the neighbourhood of Lady Edith; he had received tokens of her grace; he was in a place hallowed by relics of the most awful sanctity.
A Christian soldier, a devoted lover, could fear nothing, think of nothing, but his duty to Heaven and his devoir to his lady.
At the lapse of the space of time which we have noticed, a shrill whistle, like that with which a falconer calls his hawk, was heard to ring sharply through the vaulted chapel.

It was a sound ill suited to the place, and reminded Sir Kenneth how necessary it was he should be upon his guard.

He started from his knee, and laid his hand upon his poniard.

A creaking sound, as of a screw or pulleys, succeeded, and a light streaming upwards, as from an opening in the floor, showed that a trap-door had been raised or depressed.