nd bring the proper
tools."

"But the day is most gone, Marster, and it will take me most all night
to go to Black Hall and get the tools and come back here. And is my poor
mistress to stay down there into that dismal place all that time?"
sobbed the negro.

"Joe! if she is there, as the little dog insists that she is, you know
that she must be dead. And it is her body that we are seeking," groaned
Lyon Berners, in despair.

"I knows it, Marster--I knows it too well; but I can't feel as it is
true, all de same. And oh! even to leave her dear body there so long!"
said Joe, bursting into a storm of tears and sobs.

"That cannot be helped, my poor fellow. Besides, I shall sit at this
door and watch till your return, and we can work down into the vault.
She shall not be quite alone, Joe."

So persuaded, Joe, unmindful of fatigue, once more set out for Black
Hall. But on this occasion he took another horse, which was fresher. The
sun had now set, and the short winter twilight was darkening into
night.

CHAPTER III.

THE EXPLOSION.

There came a burst of thunder sound!--HEMANS.

Lyon Berners, chilled to the heart with the coldness of the night, half
famished for want of food, and wearied with his late violent exertions,
and wishing to recruit his strength for the next day's hard work,
kindled a fire, and made some coffee, and forced himself to eat and
drink a little, before he drew his mattress to the door of the vault,
and stretched himself down as near as he could possibly get to the place
where he believed the dead body of his beloved wife lay.

Poor little Nelly, abandoning her efforts either from exhaustion or in
despair, crept up and tried to squeeze herself between her master and
the door of the vault that she too thought held her mistress. Lyon made
room for her to curl herself up by his side, and he caressed her soft
fur, while he waked and watched.

It was now utterly dark in the chapel but for the dull red glow of the
fire, which was dying out. An hour passed by, and the last spark
expired, and the chapel was left in total darkness.

The agonies of that night who shall tell? They were extreme--they seemed
interminable.

At length the slow morning dawned. Lyon arose with the sun, and walked
about the chapel in the restlessness of mental anguish. The little dog
followed at his heels, whining. Presently Lyon took up the crowbar and
tried again to force the iron door. He might as well have