In his unutterable grief Adam Forrester had no purpose more at heart than to convert this temple of many delightful hopes into a tomb and bury his dead mistress there . And , lo ! a wonder ! Digging a grave beneath the temple 's marble floor , the sexton found no virgin earth such as was meet to receive the maiden 's dust , but an ancient sepulchre in which were treasured up the bones of generations that had died long ago . Among those forgotten ancestors was the Lily to be laid ; and when the funeral procession brought Lilias thither in her coffin , they beheld old Walter Gascoigne standing beneath the dome of the temple with his cloak of pall and face of darkest gloom , and wherever that figure might take its stand the spot would seem a sepulchre . He watched the mourners as they lowered the coffin down . `` And so , '' said he to Adam Forrester , with the strange smile in which his insanity was wont to gleam forth , `` you have found no better foundation for your happiness than on a grave ? '' But as the shadow of Affliction spoke a vision of hope and joy had its birth in Adam 's mind even from the old man 's taunting words , for then he knew what was betokened by the parable in which the Lily and himself had acted , and the mystery of life and death was opened to him . `` Joy ! joy ! '' he cried , throwing his arms toward heaven . `` On a grave be the site of our temple , and now our happiness is for eternity . '' With those words a ray of sunshine broke through the dismal sky and glimmered down into the sepulchre , while at the same moment the shape of old Walter Gascoigne stalked drearily away , because his gloom , symbolic of all earthly sorrow , might no longer abide there now that the darkest riddle of humanity was read . FOOTPRINTS ON THE SEASHORE . It must be a spirit much unlike my own which can keep itself in health and vigor without sometimes stealing from the sultry sunshine of the world to plunge into the cool bath of solitude . At intervals , and not infrequent ones , the forest and the ocean summon me -- one with the roar of its waves , the other with the murmur of its boughs -- forth from the haunts of men . But I must wander many a mile ere I could stand beneath the shadow of even one primeval tree , much less be lost among the multitude of hoary trunks and hidden from the earth and sky by the mystery of darksome foliage . Nothing is within my daily reach more like a forest than the acre or two of woodland near some suburban farmhouse . When , therefore , the yearning for seclusion becomes a necessity within me , I am drawn to the seashore which extends its line of rude rocks and seldom-trodden sands for leagues around our bay . Setting forth at my last ramble on a September morning , I bound myself with a hermit 's vow to interchange no thoughts with man or woman , to share no social pleasure , but to derive all that day 's enjoyment from shore and sea and sky , from my soul 's communion with these , and from fantasies and recollections or anticipated realities .
Surely here is enough to feed a human spirit for a single XXXXX .
Adam FOOTPRINTS Forrester Gascoigne Lilias daily day morning sepulchre stealing