matter no further thought, and resuming the castles in
the air which he had been building when the vehicle came to a stop. "I
shall see that you carry out to the fullest detail the little plot I am
laying this night for you," he muttered, looking steadily at his
companion, who had dozed off into a heavy stupefied sleep upon the
opposite seat, "and when you come into possession of the money which
your marriage to the little heiress to-night will bring you, I shall
come in for the lion's share of it. You dare not refuse my demands, no
matter how exorbitant they may be, under penalty of exposure. That will
be the sword in my hands that will always hang over your head.

"It would have been more difficult to accomplish my scheme if the girl
had lived. It is best as it is. Dead people tell no tales. Of course
they will search for the girl when they discover that she has eloped,
but will believe she is cleverly eluding them or traveling about the
country. I have always had golden dreams of a fortune that would be in
my grasp some day, and now, lo! my dream is about to be realized."

While he was thus soliloquizing, old Adam, the grave digger, was
standing silently in the road where they had set him down, then
suddenly he turned abruptly--not toward his home--but as quickly as his
aged limbs could carry him back over the ground the coach had just
traversed, praying to Heaven to guide him to the spot where he had dug
the lonely grave of the beautiful, hapless young bride of an hour.

CHAPTER X.

SNATCHED FROM THE GRAVE.

Back over that terrible road of drifting snow the old grave digger made
his way as swiftly as his trembling limbs could carry him.

He had endeavored to mark carefully the spot where he had made that
lonely grave, but the snow was drifting so hard with each furious gust
of wind as to make it almost impossible to find it upon retracing his
steps.

Quaking with terror, and with a prayer on his lips to Heaven to guide
him, old Adam sat down his lantern, and by its dim, flickering light
peered breathlessly around.

There was the blasted pine tree and toward the right of it the stump.
The grave must be less than a rod below it.

With a heart beating with great strangling throbs, he paced off the
distance, and then stood quite still, holding his lantern down close to
the frozen earth.

For an instant his heart almost ceased beating--there was no sign of the
little mound, with the leafless branch of