The stranger turned and walked leisurely to the coach in waiting. Old Adam would have fled from the spot in mortal terror, but that his limbs were trembling and refused to carry him. He leaned heavily on his spade, asking himself in growing fright--what terrible mystery was this that fate had drawn him into, and awaiting with quaking heart what would follow. He had not long to wait. The stranger who had stepped to the carriage evidently proposed to lose no time. In less time than it takes to recount it, he had lifted from the vehicle a slender figure, closely wrapped in a long dark garment, and as he did so a second person stepped from the coach--a man, closely muffled like his companion--and wearing his soft hat pulled low over his eyes. One glance at the flickering light of the carriage lamp fell upon them, bearing the slender figure between them, and old Adam's heart fairly stood still with horror. He recognized them at once as the parties who had stood before the altar in the old stone church scarcely an hour before. Great God! could it be? Ah, yes, it must be the body of the beautiful, hapless young bride they were bringing to this wild and lonely grave. How did she happen to die? She who had been so full of bounding life but one short hour before--only the all-seeing eye of the God above could tell--ay, could solve this horrible mystery. Another moment, and in utter silence, the slender figure was lowered into the frozen ground by the two strangers. This accomplished, the same man turned to old Adam again, saying, abruptly: "Now finish your work as speedily as possible, I repeat the caution--mind--not a trace must be visible when you have accomplished your task, to mark the spot." No word from the old grave digger answered him. He could not have uttered a single syllable if his very life had depended upon it. While the other had been speaking, a gust of wind had for a single instant tossed aside the heavy cloth that covered the face, and old Adam saw beyond all doubt that it was indeed the lovely young creature who had within that hour been made a bride, and with that terrible discovery came another--there was, as sure as fate, a flush upon the beautiful face of her whom they were consigning to the tomb. "Hold!" he cried out with all his strength, drawing back from his work, shaking with terror. "The--the--girl is not dead; there is color--" A fierce oath from the lips of both men simultaneously cut his words short. "The girl is dead," exclaimed the man who had so far done the talking. "That is blood you see on her face. She had a hemorrhage. Go on with your work, you fool--or, here! give me the spade. I will make a short shift of it." But as the stranger uttered these words, stepping quickly forward to put the thought into execution, a sudden thought, like an inspiration, occurred to the ancient grave digger.