senses for a brief moment, I found that the White Lady, bearing a taper, was bending kindly over me. She had a lovely face, but as pale as white marble. She laid an icy cold hand on my hot brow, and then all was darkness again.
"Now listen! Next time I came to myself and opened my eyes I was out of the accursed passage. I saw the sky and the stars, and I felt a fresh breeze blowing. Oh! joy, I was back on the earth again, that I knew. I staggered feebly to my feet, and where on earth do you think I found I had been lying?"
"I cannot guess," I said.
"Just inside the archway of the old Pends gateway at St Andrews," said Ashton.
"How on earth did you get there?"
"Heaven knows," said Ashton, "I expect the White Lady helped me somehow. It all seemed like a fearful nightmare, but I had the gold cup in my pocket and my broken wrist to bear testimony to what I had gone through. To make a long story short, I went home to my people, where I lay for six long weeks suffering from brain fever and shock. I always carry the cup with me. I am not superstitious; but it brings me good luck always."
Ashton showed me the monk's gold cup. It was a beautiful little relic.
"Did you ever examine the place where you entered the passage?" I asked.
"Oh, yes," he replied, "I went there some years afterwards and found the cave, but it has all fallen in now."
"By Jove! It's very late, thanks for the dinner, I must be off. Good night."
I lit a pipe and pondered over that curious story. The entrance to the passage in the cave has fallen in; the exit from it in St Andrews is unknown to Ashton—only the White Lady knows.
On the whole, the story is wrapped in mystery, and does not help one much to unravel the wonders that lie in underground St Andrews. We may know some day or never.
