woman on earth for
whom I would so bend and creep to this man."

These words stung Mellen like vipers, but he would not allow those two
criminals to know how his heart writhed.

"It is well," he said; "there is more to be done. Go and finish your
work."

North took up the spade.

"Remember," he said. "It is for her sake."

Elizabeth made an effort to speak.

"Be still," said Mellen, "we need no more words."

North began throwing the earth back into the trench, Elizabeth sat still
and watched him.

It seemed to her that she did not suffer--there was nothing in her mind
save the blank feeling which one might experience sitting over the ruin
an earthquake had made, after burying home, love, everything the soul
clings to. North filled the chasm and smoothed the earth down over it
carefully. Then, without a pause, he straightened the lid of the
coffin--there was no haste, no recoiling--he drove back the nails that
had been loosened, into their place--then he raised the box in his arms,
saying, only:

"Come!"

Mellen walked forward, Elizabeth followed a little behind--she did not
ask a single question, but moved slowly down the avenue towards the
outer gates. They passed through, out into the high road, up the little
hill, Mellen walking sternly on, and the woman following, North marching
forward with long strides, bearing the coffin on his shoulder.

They reached the graveyard; the fence was broken in one place; Mellen
wrenched off the picket and forced a passage. He passed through, and
Elizabeth mechanically kept in his footsteps. At the lower end of the
yard was a single grave, with the earth still fresh around it; not a
tuft of grass had sprung on the torn soil, but dead leaves had drifted
over it, and the frost crusted it drearily, turning its moisture to ice.
Elizabeth might have recognised this grave as one that had been given to
a fair woman who had perished in the late shipwreck, had she found any
room for thought out of her great misery. But she only saw a
dreary-looking grave, at which North paused. He set down the coffin and
again raised his spade. Elizabeth stood by, silently turning to stone,
as it were. She watched him dig a deep cavity, saw him lower the box
down into it, then he began to fill up the gap.

"It is done, your sin is buried; we part, and forever," said Mellen.

"We part here!" echoed Elizabeth.

"I have no more to say," he went on; "if you can live, do so; but,
remember, death