rror and pity, as once and
again the affrighted witness, in the same words, described the horrid
spectacle, and then rushed out into the open air, followed by hundreds,
who for some minutes had been palsy-stricken; and now the kirkyard was
all in a tumult round the body of her who lay in a swoon. In the midst
of that dreadful ferment, there were voices crying aloud that the poor
woman was mad, and that such horror could not be beneath the sun; for
such a perpetration on the Sabbath-day, and first heard of just as the
prayers of His people were about to ascend to the Father of all mercies,
shocked belief, and doubt struggled with despair as in the helpless
shudderings of some dream of blood. The crowd were at last prevailed on
by their pastor to disperse, and sit down on the tombstones, and water
being sprinkled over the face of her who still lay in that mortal swoon,
and the air suffered to circulate freely round her, she again opened her
glassy eyes, and raising herself on her elbow, stared on the multitude,
all gathered there so wan and silent, and shrieked out, "The Day of
Judgment!--the Day of Judgment!"

The aged minister raised her on her feet, and led her to a grave, on
which she sat down, and hid her face on his knees. "O that I should have
lived to see the day--but dreadful are the decrees of the Most High--and
she whom we all loved has been cruelly murdered! Carry me with you,
people, and I will show you where lies her corpse."

"Where--where is Ludovic Adamson?" cried a hoarse voice which none there
had ever heard before; and all eyes were turned in one direction; but
none knew who had spoken, and all again was hush. Then all at once a
hundred voices repeated the same words, "Where--where is Ludovic
Adamson?" and there was no reply. Then, indeed, was the kirkyard in an
angry and a wrathful ferment, and men looked far into each other's eyes
for confirmation of their suspicions. And there was whispering about
things, that, though in themselves light as air, seemed now charged with
hideous import; and then arose sacred appeals to Heaven's eternal
justice, horridly mingled with oaths and curses; and all the crowd,
springing to their feet, pronounced, "that no other but he could be the
murderer."

It was remembered now, that for months past Margaret Burnside had often
looked melancholy--that her visits had been less frequent to Moorside;
and one person in the crowd said, that a few weeks ago she had come upon
t