hich it was made.

At length I stood by the Communion, and a great fear laid hold of me.
Tremblingly I looked around the church. All was silent save the night
winds as they moaned in the tower at the western end. Then an owl
hooted dismally, and soon after I heard three distinct raps at a
window, as though a large bird had tried to break the glass and thus
enter the church.

What did it mean? Deborah Teague had spoken of three raps as a sign of
death. To whom could it apply? To me? I was not anxious to live, and
yet I shuddered.

"Perhaps I shall die," I thought, "and see my darling again; but how
can I meet her? Have I not a murderer's hand and a murderer's heart?"

I turned the light of my lantern upon the altar table, and on it I saw
a cloth, on which was embroidered a cross, the symbol of the Saviour's
death, and this made me remember how He had spoken to a dying thief.
For a moment the thought gave me comfort, but in the next I recollected
that the thief was penitent, and that I had no proof he was, as I was,
a murderer. And I was not penitent; I still hated Wilfred. He had
robbed me of earthly happiness here and Heaven hereafter. I hated him;
and I was a murderer. After that the cross brought me no comfort.

Before going to the sexton's I had provided myself with a short pointed
piece of iron. It was the only instrument I could procure with which
to open the vault without attracting suspicion.

I quickly found the burial place of the Mortons. A tablet was on the
wall, on which were written these words:--

"Under this stone, and waiting for a joyful
resurrection, lie buried all the mortal
remains of

JOHN MORTON,

OF MORTON HALL,

Who lived and died in the fear of the Lord.
He was hated by none, and beloved by all."

Then followed a eulogy of his life and works, his gifts to the church,
his kindness to the poor, together with many other things.

I looked beneath the tablet on the floor of the Communion, and saw that
a large slab had been lately moved. No doubt, then, that Ruth had been
buried in the family vault.

With trembling hands I placed my piece of iron beneath the joints of
the floor, and with but little difficulty lifted it up; then I slipped
my hands beneath the stone and lifted it still higher.

Air, stifling, unwholesome, came from underneath, and again I felt like
leaving my purpose unfulfilled; but a stronger impulse urged me to
proceed, and I moved the