ch 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.

"`Ay, 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 door, out
darted a large white wolf, which fled with the utmost celerity. My
father had no weapon; he rushed into the cottage, and there saw poor
little Marcella expiring. Her body was dreadfully mangled, and t