of the tomb, and
its icy touch was perceptible through every part of her frame.

The mystic chant was again audible, and more distinct than before--

"The charm is wound, and this stroke shall be
The last, when it falls, of his destiny;
Save he sell to another his birthright here,
Then the buyer shall buy both grave and bier."

Uttering this malediction, he scrambled out of the grave, and suddenly
stood before the astonished maiden, who shuddered as she beheld the
unshapely outline of a form which she instantly recognised.

He did not seem a whit surprised or startled, though he could not have
been aware previously that a listener was nigh.

"What ho, wench!" said he; "art watching for a husband?" His sharp
shrill voice grated on her ear like the cry of the screech-owl.

"I came to meet thee!" said she firmly. He broke forth into a loud
laugh at this reply, more terrible than the most violent expression of
hate or malignity. No wonder, in those ages, that it was supposed to
be the operation of some demon, animate in his form, controlling and
exercising the bodily functions to his own malignant designs.

"Where is he whom I seek?" inquired the maiden.

"Ask the clods of the valley, and the dust unto which man departs!" he
replied, pointing significantly to the gulf at his feet.

"Nay," said Marian, apparently to humour the fantastical turn of his
ideas; "thou knowest if he sell that grave to another, he shall
escape, and the doom shall be foregone."

"Ay, lassie; but there be no fools now-a-days, I wot, to buy a man's
grave over his head for the sake of a bargain!"

"I warrant thee now, Steenie, but thou hast hidden him hereabout." She
said this in as careless and indifferent a tone as she could well
assume.

"I am but a-keeping of him safe till his time comes. Neither priest
nor Presbyterian shall cheat me out of him. He's mine as sure as that
grave gives not back its prey."

"He is living, I trow?"

"Good wot, I reckon so; but living men may die; and this pick never,
for man or woman, opened a mouth that was left to gape long without
victuals."

"Thou wouldst not harm him?"

"I'd not hurt the hair on a midge-tail, though it stung me. But his
doom was shown me yesternight," said he, lowering his voice to a
whisper; "and I would have him laid here in consecration, that the
devil get not his bones to pick, for neither priest nor Puritan can
bless the ground now-a-days like unto th