e of mourning on his part, my mother-in-law's
nocturnal wanderings continued with the same regularity as before.

"At last, my father took down his gun, to repair to the forest; but he
soon returned, and appeared much annoyed.

"'Would you believe it, Christina, that the wolves--perdition to the
whole race--have actually contrived to dig up the body of my poor boy,
and now there is nothing left of him but his bones?'

"'Indeed!' replied my mother-in-law. Marcella looked at me, and I saw
in her intelligent eye all she would have uttered.

"'A wolf growls under our window every night, father,' said I.

"'Aye, indeed?--why did you not tell me, boy?--wake me the next time
you hear it.'

"I saw my mother-in-law turn away; her eyes flashed fire, and she
gnashed her teeth.

"My father went out again, and covered up with a larger pile of stones
the little remnants of my poor brother which the wolves had spared.
Such was the first act of the tragedy.

"The spring now came on: the snow disappeared, and we were permitted
to leave the cottage; but never would I quit, for one moment, my dear
little sister, to whom, since the death of my brother, I was more
ardently attached than ever; indeed I was afraid to leave her alone
with my mother-in-law, who appeared to have a particular pleasure in
ill-treating the child. My father was now employed upon his little
farm, and I was able to render him some assistance.

"Marcella used to sit by us while we were at work, leaving my
mother-in-law alone in the cottage. I ought to observe that, as the
spring advanced, so did my mother-in-law decrease her nocturnal
rambles, and that we never heard the growl of the wolf under the
window after I had spoken of it to my father.

"One day, when my father and I were in the field, Marcella being with
us, my mother-in-law came out, saying that she was going into the
forest, to collect some herbs my father wanted, and that Marcella
must go to the cottage and watch the dinner. Marcella went, and my
mother-in-law soon disappeared in the forest, taking a direction quite
contrary to that in which the cottage stood, and leaving my father and
I, as it were, between her and Marcella.

"About an hour afterwards we were startled by shrieks from the
cottage, evidently the shrieks of little Marcella. 'Marcella has burnt
herself, father,' said I, throwing down my spade. My father threw down
his, and we both hastened to the cottage. Before we could gain the