on under which George,
doubtless, labours."

"I feel now more than my former strength," he replied. "I am awakened from
a death-stupor of the soul; and I feel that within me which will enable me
to go through this trial. I will look into my Isabella's grave; will meet
with those eyes again--that countenance through which I have read the
workings of love in a spirit that is now far from the precincts of the
clay. Deny me not; I will be satisfied of this, if I should come back from
her grave to complete that which is begun, and is already visible in these
shrunken members, that now obey a supernatural power."

There seemed to be no gainsaying him; his manner was inspired and resolute;
and I proceeded to accompany him to C---- churchyard. George, who, in the
meantime, had been tossing himself in the chair, rose to make one of the
party. The agitation under which he still laboured was in direct contrast
to the cold stillness of his father; yet the one was a more living
expression than the other; and, while my eye shrunk not from the ordinary
indications of suffering, I--maugre all the experience of misery I had
had--could scarcely look on the animated corpse thus preparing to visit the
grave where the object of all his hopes and affections in this world had
been buried, and might now be found to have been desecrated by the knife of
the anatomist. We went forth together. George's horse still stood at the
door, reeking and bloody. I requested Mr B---- to mount, as we had a full
mile to go to the burying-ground, and I deemed it utterly impossible that
he could accomplish the distance. He did not answer me, but proceeded
onwards with a firm step, in the face of a cold, bleak, east wind, that
moaned mournfully among a clump of trees that skirted the road. Some flakes
of snow were winging through the air--driven now by the breeze, or
lingering over our heads as if afraid to be soiled by the earth, which we
were bent to open where the dead then lay--or some time before lay--a mass
of putrefaction; yet dear to the feelings of the bereaved, and sought now
with greater avidity than when the body was arrayed in the smiles of
beauty, and filled with living, breathing love. The husband spoke nothing;
and George was silent, save for the deep sobs that burst from him as he
looked upon the woe-worn form of his father, who stalked away before us
like a creature hurrying to the grave to seek the home there from which a
troubled spirit had re