“Do not deceive me!” I cried, imploringly. “Are you sure? For I will tear up all these till I find her.” “I am sure, for I was the one who buried her. I and a man--” I seized the spade and turned up the soil. I labored incessantly for what seemed an endless period. I had thrown out much earth but had not yet reached her. I felt my fitful strength failing me. My mind, too, seemed entering into a state of delirium. At last my knees gave way, and I sank down just as my spade touched something which gave back a hollow sound. My knees gave way, and I sank down. But I would not give up. I tore up handfuls of earth and threw them into the air. “Oh, Edith!” I cried, “I am here! I am coming! I am coming!” “Come, Sir,” said the woman, suddenly, in her strong voice, yet pityingly. “You can do nothing. I will dig her out in a minute.” [Illustration: “I TOOK HER IN MY ARMS AND BROUGHT HER FORTH FROM THE GRAVE,” ETC.] “God forever bless you!” I cried, leaping out and giving place to her. I watched her as she threw out the earth. Hungrily I gazed, devouring that dark aperture with my eyes till at last the rough boards appeared. Then I leaped down. I put my fingers at the edge and tore at it till it gave way. The lid was only fastened with a few nails. My bleeding fingers clutched it. It yielded to my frantic exertions. O my God! was there ever a sight on earth like that which now met my eyes as I raised the lid and looked below? The moon, which was high in the sky, streamed down directly into the narrow cell. It showed me the one whom I sought. Its bright beams threw a lustre round that face which was upturned toward me. Ah me! how white was that face; like the face of some sleeping maiden carved in alabaster. Bathed in the moonbeams it lay before me, all softened and refined and made pure; a face of unearthly beauty. The dark hair caught the moon’s rays, and encircled the head like a crown of immortality. Still the eyes were closed as though in slumber; still the lips were fixed into a smile. She lay as one who had fallen into a deep, sweet sleep--as one who in that sleep has dreams, in which are visions of more than earthly beauty, and scenes of more than mortal happiness. Now it was with me as though at that unequaled vision I had drawn into my inmost being some sudden stimulus--a certain rapture of newborn strength; strength no longer fitful and spasmodic, but firm, well fortified and well sustained. I took her in my arms and brought her forth from the grave into the life of earth. Ah me! how light a thing was that frail and slender figure which had been worn down by the unparalleled suffering through which she had passed. This thought transfixed me with a pang of anguish--even awed the rapture that I felt at clasping her in my arms. But now that I had her, where was I to seek for a place of shelter? I turned to the woman and asked: “Is there any secluded place where she may sleep undisturbed till she wakes--”