Within the casket, upon the whitest silk, lay the form of a woman of wondrous beauty--a form of the most exquisite shape, a face of the rarest mold; hair of the fairest golden blonde, and hands and feet as delicate and small as a girl's. Naked from her feet to her loins, and exposing a bust of wondrous form, she lay among the folds of the white silk lining. A swathing of bandages covered the abdomen, and the mouth was wrapped in cloth. By her side lay a golden saucer, and another, filled with a black substance, lay at her head. Silently they stood and gazed upon the motionless form. Within her casket she lay in death before them, but such a death as none had ever seen before. The eyelids closed, the face as white as the driven snow, the hands folded upon her bosom, it seemed to all that sacrilege had been committed by intruding within the sacred precincts of her tomb. The awe-inspiring silence was at last broken by the voice of the doctor, who had recovered himself, and whose thoughts had come back again to the duty of the present. "This is a most remarkable discovery, ladies," he slowly said; "but we should look for a further solution of the mystery. We can do nothing by standing here and gazing at this wondrous vision." Laying his hand on the pall near the head of the casket, the velvet fell in dust and rags to the floor, and the sprig of immortelles, striking the marble slab, became mashed and battered. Picking up the flowers, he examined them carefully. "Why, they are made of gold and silver and precious stones," he exclaimed, in astonishment. Then they examined the three remaining sprigs, and the wreath of orange blossoms at the head of the casket; all were of the finest gold and silver, and diamonds were the petal-points of the flowers. Wondering much, the doctor then took those from the top of the casket, and found them, likewise, of the same precious materials. But in removing the last bunch of flowers, a discovery had been made. Where the wreath of golden flowers had lain, was now seen a silver plate, covered with engraved letters. "Perhaps we have a clue to the identity of the beautiful woman who lies in this casket," exclaimed the doctor, as he threw the rays of the light upon the plate on the top of the casket. Crowding close to him, all three read the words cut in the silver plate: "MY DAUGHTER: To God I trust thee; into His keeping I give thee. O Junius! If thou hast, in years past and numbered in the great cycle of time, loved, and loved with steadfast heart, then arise and rescue that love from oblivion; but--and search thy heart to its utmost depths--if such love has never been, or is past and gone, turn back again, and leave to eternal rest the being who lies entombed before you--my daughter, Marie Colchis.