I felt a shock which it would not be very easy for me to analyze or explain when I heard that he had been buried, at his own desire, in the fatal Abbey vault.
The priest took me down to see the place--a grim, cold, subterranean building, with a low roof, supported on heavy Saxon arches.

Narrow niches, with the ends only of coffins visible within them, ran down each side of the vault.

The nails and silver ornaments flashed here and there as my companion moved past them with a lamp in his hand.

At the lower end of the place he stopped, pointed to a niche, and said, "He lies there, between his father and mother." I looked a little further on, and saw what appeared at first like a long dark tunnel.

"That is only an empty niche," said the priest, following me.