There be some, I know, who say that this is but a legend; who will
tell you that the shadowy shapes that you may see with your own
eyes on stormy nights, waving their gleaming arms behind the ruined
buttresses are but of phosphorescent foam, tossed by the raging
waves above the cliffs; and that the sweet, sad harmony cleaving
the trouble of the night is but the aeolian music of the wind.
But such are of the blind, who see only with their eyes. For
myself I see the white-robed monks, and hear the chanting of their
mass for the souls of the sinful men of the town of seven towers.
For it has been said that when an evil deed is done, a prayer is
born to follow it through time into eternity, and plead for it.
Thus is the whole world clasped around with folded hands both of
the dead and of the living, as with a shield, lest the shafts of
God's anger should consume it.
Therefore, I know that the good monks of this nameless Abbey are
still praying that the sin of those they love may be forgiven.
God grant good men may say a mass for us.
DRIFTWOOD
CHARACTERS
MR. TRAVERS.
MRS. TRAVERS.
MARION [their daughter].
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