A lofty
flanking wall ran along the brink of the rock, enclosing the keep and
adjoining buildings, likewise the chapel of St Michael, coeval with the
foundation of the castle, and forming part of it, being amply endowed by
the founder, and license procured from the Dean of Whalley for the
purpose of having divine service performed and the sacraments
administered therein, to the household servants, foresters, and
shepherds, who occupied these extensive and thinly-inhabited domains.
In this little sanctuary now lay the remains of its lord. The cold
February sleet pattered fitfully against the narrow panes; and the
shivering mourners muffled themselves in their dark hoods, while they
knelt devoutly on the hard bare pavement of the chapel. Oliver de
Worsthorn, the old seneschal, knelt at the foot of the bier; his white
locks covered his thin features like a veil, hiding their intense and
heart-withering expression. He felt without a stay or helper in his last
hours--a sapless, worthless stem in this wilderness of sorrow.
Robert, the Dean of Whalley, attended as chief mourner. Being descended
from a distant branch of the Lacies, he had long thrown a covetous
glance towards the inheritance.
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