[Picture: “So it’s to be him after all!”] “So it’s to be him after all!” gasped Martha, with an odd little choked spasm of laughter. “Dear, to be sure! I wonder if he d’ know as his sperret have a-come here to-night. He must be dreamin’ o’ me—I reckon he’ll have to believe now when I d’ tell him. . . . Well, I’d liefer ’twas him nor Bob, anyhow. He’ll own he be wrong arter this, an’ then all ’ull be pleasant again between us.” She leaned her head against the spice-scented cypress bark, and smiled to herself, though she still trembled, partly with awe, partly with pleasurable anticipation. When the church clock chimed midnight, then might she confidently expect the wraith of her future husband to come gliding forth from the church into which it had so silently passed, and might gaze with certainty on the likeness of the man decreed to be the partner of her lot. It was a solemn thought, but a joyful one; any contact with the supernatural must be awe-inspiring, but Martha was a bold girl, and eminently practical, and she passed the moments which must intervene before the reappearance of the vision in choosing the colour of her wedding gown. Clang! boomed out the clock in the church tower presently, and as the reverberating strokes fell upon the air, Martha, philosophical though she was, was conscious of a recurrence of the choking sensation of a little while before. The last vibrating echo died away, and she craned forward her head, fearful and yet eager. All was silent as the graves in the midst of which she stood; she strained her eyes towards the porch, but no white impalpable shape came forth from its blackness. All at once Martha’s heart ceased its violent beating, and appeared to stand still: a new and awful thought had come to her. Had not her grandmother told her the dread fate which awaited the originals of those whose semblance passed into the church without again reappearing? Her own words to Sam recurred to her: “Them as is to die within the year do seem to go into the church and _don’t never come out again_.” Could it be possible that the apparition which had filled her with so much satisfaction a few moments before was the portent of poor Sam’s early death? Unnerved by this terrible idea she rent the stillness with a series of muffled shrieks and sobs:— “Oh, Sam, Sam! Oh, dear Sam! Oh, Sam, come out, come out! Whatever shall I do? Sam, come out!” Her tears were flowing so fast that she was obliged to have recourse to her apron, and, enveloped in its folds and overcome by increasing grief, failed to hear the series of heavy thuds which denoted the rapid approach of the figure which had suddenly emerged from the church-porch.