Seventeen years of silence , seventeen years of secret dread and remorse for me , '' she said , pacing the room with tightly locked hands and eyes full of unspeakable anguish . `` Oh , Richard , Richard ! I forgave you long ago , and surely I have expiated my innocent offense by these years of suffering ! For her sake I did it , and for her sake I still keep dumb . God knows I ask nothing for myself but rest and oblivion by your side . '' Half an hour later , Paul stood at the hall door . It was ajar , for the family had returned unexpectedly , as was evident from the open doors and empty halls . Entering unseen , he ascended to the room my lady usually occupied . The fire burned low , Lillian 's chair was empty , and my lady lay asleep , as if lulled by the sighing winds without and the deep silence that reigned within . Paul stood regarding her with a great pity softening his face as he marked the sunken eyes , pallid cheeks , locks too early gray , and restless lips muttering in dreams . `` I wish I could spare her this , '' he sighed , stooping to wake her with a word . But he did not speak , for , suddenly clutching the chain about her neck , she seemed to struggle with some invisible foe and beat it off , muttering audibly as she clenched her thin hands on the golden case . Paul leaned and listened as if the first word had turned him to stone , till the paroxysm had passed , and with a heavy sigh my lady sank into a calmer sleep . Then , with a quick glance over his shoulder , Paul skillfully opened the locket , drew out the silver key , replaced it with one from the piano close by , and stole from the house noiselessly as he had entered it . That night , in the darkest hour before the dawn , a figure went gliding through the shadowy Park to its most solitary corner . Here stood the tomb of the Trevlyns , and here the figure paused . A dull spark of light woke in its hand , there was a clank of bars , the creak of rusty hinges , then light and figure both seemed swallowed up . Standing in the tomb where the air was close and heavy , the pale glimmer of the lantern showed piles of moldering coffins in the niches , and everywhere lay tokens of decay and death . The man drew his hat lower over his eyes , pulled the muffler closer about his mouth , and surveyed the spot with an undaunted aspect , though the beating of his heart was heard in the deep silence . Nearest the door stood a long casket covered with black velvet and richly decorated with silver ornaments , tarnished now .
The XXXXX had been a stalwart race , and the last sleeper brought there had evidently been of goodly stature , for the modern coffin was as ponderous as the great oaken beds where lay the bones of generations .
Richard Trevlyns casket coffins fire first locket night paroxysm years