"You shall not touch the dead," she cried; "kill me but do not commit sacrilege." Elizabeth struggled on to her knees, and wound her arms about him in a convulsive grasp: he shook her off with loathing, as if a poisonous reptile had brushed his garments. North stood with an evil light in his eyes, looking on Mellen, snatched the spade from his grasp, and while a despairing cry died on Elizabeth's lips, dashed it upon the cover; again and again, till the frail board split, revealing a gleam of white underneath. Elizabeth was lying on the ground--not insensible; no such blessed relief came to her--but incapable of a movement; watching her husband always with those insane eyes. His passion had exhausted itself in this sacrilegious violence, and he stood over the shattered box, struck with remorseful awe. But the wind swept over it, lifting some folds of transparent muslin from a little face that Elizabeth had seen night and day in her thoughts and her dreams, since the dreadful night when that grave was dug under the cypress tree. She saw the face; saw her husband looking down upon it; saw all the shuddering horror in his eyes. Still she could not move. "This has been a murder!" he hissed through his clenched teeth. "I swear that the guilty ones, even if my own name is dragged down to infamy with them, shall be brought to judgment." "No, no," she moaned; "not murder; not that." He caught her arm again and lifted her up. "Tell the truth," he cried; "I will hear it!" She could only stare at him with an affrighted gaze. "I will bring the whole neighborhood to look," he went on; "I will drag this secret guilt out in the face of day if you do not speak! I will give you no time; no chance of escape; speak, or I will rouse the whole house, and let them see you here with this vile man, at your guilty work." "Wait," she shivered; "wait!" "Do you know what this is?" he cried. "The murder of a child! Do you know that to-morrow may find you a criminal in the hands of justice--you, my wife! You, in whose care I entrusted not only my honor but the most innocent soul that ever lived. Speak then! Expect no mercy from me; not to save my own honor; not to keep my own soul would I lift one finger to help you! Think of it! Picture it to yourself!--The eager crowd gathering about this spot; the hootings and execrations that will follow you forth to prison! Think of the days and nights in your lonely cell; remember the trial! the sentence! the horrible death! you shall not escape! you shall not escape one of these things." "Grantley! Grantley!" "Not content with one crime, you have added murder; striving to hide your guilt with a deeper sin!" "This child died," she moaned; "it was God's own mercy, not my crime!"