The Solitude is Invaded

Oh, might we here
In solitude live savage, in some glade
Obscured, where highest woods impenetrable
To star, or sunlight, spread their umbrage broad
And brown as evening; cover us, ye pines
Ye cedars with innumerable boughs
Hide us where we may ne'er be seen again.--BYRON.

Nothing could be more lonely and desolate than this place. It was
abandoned to Nature and Nature's wild children. Of the birds that
perched so near his hand; of the squirrels that peeped at him from their
holes under the gravestones, he might have said with Alexander Selkirk
on Juan Fernandez, "Their tameness is shocking to me."

There was a great consolation to be derived from these circumstances,
however; for they proved how completely deserted by human beings, and
how perfectly safe for the refugees, was this old "Haunted Chapel."

Too deeply troubled in mind to take any repose of body; Lyon Berners
continued to ramble about among the gravestones, which were now so worn
with age that no vestige of their original inscriptions remained to
gratify the curiosity of a chance inspector.

Above him was the glorious autumn sky, now hazy with the golden mist of
Indian summer. Around him lay a vast wilderness of hill and dell covered
with luxuriant forests, now gorgeous with the glowing autumn colors of
their foliage.

But his thoughts were not with this magnificent landscape. They
wandered to the past days of peace and joy before the coming of the
coquette had "made confusion" with the wedded pair. They wandered to the
future, trying to penetrate the gloom and horror of its shadows. They
flew to Black Hall, picturing the people, prevising the possibilities
there.