replied the sheriff.

"Have you tried the vault?" inquired Purley.

"No; but we will try it now. She may be concealed within it, after all,"

said Mr. Benthwick. And seeing the crowbar, he took it up and went to work upon that immovable door; but finding it so fast, he threw down the tool, saying:

"It is of no use to work at that door in that way, and it is of no use either to look through the bars, for you can see nothing but black darkness. But, Purley, I will tell you what to do. Do you go and cut the most resinous knot that you can find on the nearest pine tree, and bring it to me."

Purley started off in a hurry, and soon returned with a pine knot fairly soaked with turpentine.

"Now, then," said Mr. Benthwick, as he took the torch from the hand of his messenger. "I think this will throw some light into the darkness below!"

And he applied it first to the fire in the aisle, and then he carried, it, flaming high, to the door of the vault, and putting it through the iron bars, let it drop into the vault.

It was lighted up in an instant, and the sheriff and Purley bent down to look through the grating to see what the interior illumination might show them.

And Lyon Berners, whose anxiety was of course more intense than that of any one present, elbowed his way through the crowd to get nearer the door of the vault.

But before he could effect his purpose, a sound of thunder burst upon the air; the solid floor upheaved; the walls of the old Haunted Chapel fell in a heap of smoking ruins; and all the valley and the mountain tops were lighted up with the flames of destruction.

CHAPTER IV.

AFTER THE EXPLOSION.

Horror wide extends Her desolate domain!--THOMPSON.

The thunder of the explosion, when the old Haunted Chapel was blown up, was heard for many miles around.

It burst upon the unsheltered wayfarers like the crack of doom!

It stunned the plantation negroes gathered around their cabin fires!

It startled the planters' families at their elegant tea-tables!

Travellers paused panic-stricken on the road!

Home-dwellers, high and low, rushed with one accord to doors and windows to see what the dreadful matter might be!

Was it an earthquake?

Had some unsuspected volcano suddenly burst forth in the mountain?

Indeed it seemed so!

Volumes of black smoke ascended from a certain point of rocks, filling all the evening air with the suffocating smell of sulphur.

There was a pause of astonishment among the people for about one minute only; and then commenced a general stampede of all the able-bodied men and boys from a circle of several miles in circ.u.mference to the centre of attraction; while the women and girls waited at home in dread suspense!

But the very first on the scene of the catastrophe was a lamed negro.

Poor Joe! Just as his master had surmised, he had met with an accident.

He had, indeed, reached Black Hall in safety, near the dawn of that day; but being quite exhausted with twenty-four hours of watching, working, and fasting, he succ.u.mbed to drowsiness, fatigue, and famine.

In short, he ate and drank and slept.

He did not mean, poor faithful creature, to do more than just recruit sufficient strength to take him back, with the tools, to his master.

But when one, under such circ.u.mstances, surrenders to sleep, he loses all control over himself for an indefinite period of time. Joe slept fast and long, and never waked until he was rudely kicked up by a fellow-servant, who demanded to know how he came to be sleeping on the hay in the barn, and if he meant to sleep forever.

Joe started up, at first confused and delirious, but afterwards, when he came to his senses and found that it was past noon, he was utterly wretched and inconsolable. He did not even resent the rudeness of his comrade, in kicking him up; but, on the contrary, meekly thanked him for his kindness in arousing him.

And then he went and gathered his tools together, and saddled his horse, and without waiting for bite or sup, he told his mate that he had work to do at a distance, and mounted and rode off towards the ferry, which he had to cross to reach the river road on the other side, because, with, the weight of iron tools he carried, he could not possibly get over the ford.

All this contributed so to delay Joe's journey, that the sun set while he was still upon the river road, and "the shades of night were falling fast" when he reached the entrance of the thicket path leading to the Haunted Chapel.

He had not ridden more than a hundred yards up this path, before the thunder of the explosion burst upon his appalled ears. And at the same instant his affrighted horse, with a violent bound, threw him to the earth, jumped forward and fled away.

Amazed, stunned, bewildered as he was, Joe did not entirely lose his senses. When recovered a little from the shock, he felt himself all over to see what bones were broken; and found to his great relief that all were sound.

Then he got upon his feet, and looked about him; but a dense, heavy, black vapor was settling down upon the thicket, hiding all things from his view, while the stifling fumes of brimstone took his breath away.

"I'm----!"--Joe in his consternation swore a very profane oath, which it is not necessary here to repeat--"ef I don't b'leibe as de Debbil has blowed de old Haunted Chapel! And oh! my Hebbenly Marster! _ef so_, what have become o' Miss Sybil and Ma.r.s.e Lyon, and Nelly?" he cried in a sudden pang of terror and sorrow, as he tried to hurry towards the scene of the tragedy. He set off in a run, but was brought up short by a sharp severe pain in his right ancle.

"It's sprained! Bress de Lord, ef it an't sprained!" he cried, drawing up and caressing his injured limb.

"It an't no use! I can't put it to the ground no more!" he groaned.

Then standing upon his left foot and holding the other in his hand, he looked around and saw the pick lying among the scattered tools, that had fallen from his hold when the horse threw him. He cautiously bent down and took up the pick, and reversed it, and using it as a crutch, he hobbled on through the thicket towards the ruins of the old chapel. But his progress was so slow and painful that it took him nearly an hour to reach the place.

When at length he emerged from the thicket and entered the old churchyard, a scene of devastation met his view that appalled his soul.

"Oh, my Lord!" he said, stopping and leaning upon his pick-crutch, as he gazed around, "what an awful sight! Joe, you are like--somebody among the ruins of something," he added, as a vague cla.s.sic similitude about Scipio and Carthage flitted through his half-dazed brain.

It was indeed a scene of horror deep enough to dismay the stoutest heart! Nor was that horror less overwhelming for the obscurity that enveloped it. The Haunted Chapel was gone; and in its place was a heap of blackened, burning, and smoking ruins, with here and there the arm or leg of some crushed and mutilated victim protruding from the ma.s.s. And in strange contrast to this appalling scene, was a poor little Skye terrier, preserved from destruction, Heaven only knows how, that ran snuffing and whining piteously around and around the wreck.

"Come, Nelly! pretty Nelly! good Nelly!" called Joe.

The Skye terrier left off circling around the smouldering ruins, and bounded towards her dusky friend, and leaped upon him with a yelp of welcome and a whine of sorrow.

"Oh, Nelly! Nelly! what has happened?" cried Joe.

The little dog howled dismally in answer.

"Yes, I know what you would say. I understand. The devil has blown up the Haunted Chapel," said Joe.

She lifted up her nose and her voice in a woe-begone howl of a.s.sent.