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Updated: May 2, 2025
The place was well lighted with candles stuck in slips of wood that were fastened to the wall. On making the descent of another step the living inhabitants of the vault were recognizable. They were his father the master-mason, an under-mason, Martin Cannister, and two or three young and old labouring-men. Crowbars and workmen's hammers were scattered about.
'Ay, poor soul, this morning, resumed the under-mason, a marvellously old man, whose skin seemed so much too large for his body that it would not stay in position. 'She must know by this time whether she's to go up or down, poor woman. 'What was her age? 'Not more than seven or eight and twenty by candlelight. But, Lord! by day 'a was forty if 'a were an hour.
'The same to you, Martin; and you, William, said Stephen, nodding around to the rest, who, having their mouths full of bread and cheese, were of necessity compelled to reply merely by compressing their eyes to friendly lines and wrinkles. 'And who is dead? Stephen repeated. 'Lady Luxellian, poor gentlewoman, as we all shall, said the under-mason.
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