ing
her soft, curly brown hair.

But Nelly grew fidgety; something was wanting--the best thing of all was
wanting--her mistress! So she jumped from her master's lap, not
forgetting to kiss him good-by, by a direct lick upon his lips, and then
she ran snuffing and whining about the floor of the chapel until she
came to the mattress and blankets, where she began wildly to root and
paw about, whining piteously all the while.

"Nelly, good dog," said Mr. Berners, taking the blanket and holding it
to her nose. "Sybil, Sybil! seek her, seek her!"

The little Skye terrier looked up with a world of intelligence and
devotion in her brown eyes, and re-commenced her rooting and pawing and
snuffing around the bedding, and for some little time was at fault; but
at length, with a quick bark of delight, she struck a line of scent, and
with her nose close to the floor, cautiously followed it to the door of
the vault, at which she stopped and began to scratch and bark wildly,
hysterically--running back to her master and whining, and then running
forward to the door, and barking and scratching with all her might and
main.

"There she is, Marster. Mistess is down in that vault, so sure's I'm a
livin' nigger," exclaimed Joe, who now came up to the door.

"Good Heaven! she could not live there an hour; the very air is death!
But if there, with a breath of life remaining, she must hear and answer
us," exclaimed Lyon Berners, in breathless haste, as he went to the door
of the vault; and putting his lips close to the bars, called loudly:

"Sybil, Sybil! my darling, are you there?"

But though he bent his ear and listened in the dead silence and dread
suspense, no breath of answer came. And little Nelly, who had ceased her
noise, began to whine again.

Lyon Berners soothed her into quietness, and began to call again and
again; but still no breath of response from the dark and silent depths
below.

"If she is there, she is dead!" groaned Lyon Berners, in a voice of
agony, as he thought of all Sybil had told him of the open vault and the
mysterious figures that had passed to and from it in the night, and
which he had set down as so many dreams and nightmares, reverted to his
memory. Oh, if this chapel were indeed the den of thieves; if they had
some secret means of opening that vault; if they had come upon his
sleeping wife while she was left alone in the chapel, and robbed her of
the money and jewels she had about her person, and then