old stone church scarcely an hour before.

Great God! could it be? Ah, yes, it must be the body of the beautiful,
hapless young bride they were bringing to this wild and lonely grave.

How did she happen to die? She who had been so full of bounding life but
one short hour before--only the all-seeing eye of the God above could
tell--ay, could solve this horrible mystery.

Another moment, and in utter silence, the slender figure was lowered
into the frozen ground by the two strangers.

This accomplished, the same man turned to old Adam again, saying,
abruptly:

"Now finish your work as speedily as possible, I repeat the
caution--mind--not a trace must be visible when you have accomplished
your task, to mark the spot."

No word from the old grave digger answered him. He could not have
uttered a single syllable if his very life had depended upon it.

While the other had been speaking, a gust of wind had for a single
instant tossed aside the heavy cloth that covered the face, and old Adam
saw beyond all doubt that it was indeed the lovely young creature who
had within that hour been made a bride, and with that terrible discovery
came another--there was, as sure as fate, a flush upon the beautiful
face of her whom they were consigning to the tomb.

"Hold!" he cried out with all his strength, drawing back from his work,
shaking with terror. "The--the--girl is not dead; there is color--"

A fierce oath from the lips of both men simultaneously cut his words
short.

"The girl is dead," exclaimed the man who had so far done the talking.
"That is blood you see on her face. She had a hemorrhage. Go on with
your work, you fool--or, here! give me the spade. I will make a short
shift of it."

But as the stranger uttered these words, stepping quickly forward to put
the thought into execution, a sudden thought, like an inspiration,
occurred to the ancient grave digger.

"No--no--I will finish my work," he muttered. "I--I--can do it best, as
I--I--understand it--and--and--you, would not."

"Make all haste, then; it is growing bitter cold. We shall all freeze to
death."

"Could you not get into the coach, sir, to keep warm?" suggested old
Adam; "you can be of no aid to me, you know. When I have
finished--you--you can step out and see if it is done to your
satisfaction."

For a moment the stranger hesitated, then said, sharply:

"I think I will take your advice, my man; my feet are about as numb as
they could well be, I