Explore "Mr. Marx's Secret" by E. Phillips Oppenheim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The paroxysm of my grief passed slowly away, and I rose to my feet and looked around with streaming eyes. Mr. Ravenor was still by my side, and together we carried my mother back to the monastery. The news of our approach had preceded us, and long before we reached our journey's end the solemn minute-bell was tolling out to the silent night, awakening strange echoes in the hills and finding a reverberation of its mournfulness in my heart.
Austere and impressive as the great bare front of the monastery had always appeared to me, it had never seemed so cold and desolate as when our melancholy little procession wound round the Hill of Calvary and slowly approached the entrance. The gloom of a winter's evening was hanging around the building, which, with never a ray of light from any part, looked like a habitation of the dead -- a gigantic vault.