her, and which was very different from that
of Pierre. But what strange kind of hole
was that they were digging?

"Holy Mother of mercy, it is a grave!"

As this idea occurred to her, her blood ran
cold; but the sudden thought underwent as
sudden a change, when, the second man
turning his face towards her, she recognised,
to her amazement, the countenance of her
admirer, the old bailiff.

The sight of his familiar face dissipated her
gloomy suspicions, and she speedily persuaded
herself that instead of a grave to hide some
dreadful deed, they were digging for some of
the concealed treasures which everybody
knew were buried in the forest. Monsieur
Reboul had often told her that he had heard
of them from his grandmother, so it was natural
enough he should be ready to seek them.
How she would torment him with the secret
thus strangely acquired!

From her merry speculations she was
roused at length by the re-appearance of
the tall man, carrying in his arms something
wrapped in a horseman's cloak, and
followed by another and younger figure,
bearing, like himself, all the outward signs
belonging to the highest class of the nobility,
though on his features was stamped an
expression of cruelty and harshness.

"Going to bury a treasure, rather than
seek one," thought Alix. "Very well,
Monsieur Reboul, I have you still!"

The tall man, meanwhile, had placed his
burden on the ground. Removing the cloak
that covered it, he now displayed to Alix's
astonished eyes a young and very lovely lady.
For a moment, the fair creature stood motionless
where she was placed, as if dazzled by
the sudden light; but it was for a moment
only, and then she flung herself on the ground
at the feet of the elder man, beseeching him
to have mercy upon her, to remember that
she was young, and that life, any life, was
dear to her!

The man moved not a muscle, uttered not
a word save these, "I have sworn it."

The girl—for she looked little more than
sixteen—pressed her hands on her bosom, as
if to still the suffocating beating of her heart,
and was silent. Such silence! Such anguish!
Alix trembled as if she herself were under the
sentence of that cold cruel man. But, now the
grave was finished; for grave it seemed to be,
and one too, destined to enclose that living,
panting, beautiful creature. The old man laid
his hand upon her arm and drew her forcibly
to the edge of the gaping hole.

With sudden strength she wrenched herself
from his grasp; and, with a wild and thrilling
shriek, rushed to the young man, clung to him,
kissed his hands, his feet, raised her wild
tearless eyes to his, and implored for mercy,
with such an agony of terror in her hoarse
broken voice, that the young man's powerful
frame shook as if struck by ague. Involuntarily,
unconsciously he clasped her in his arms.
What he might have said or done,
God knows, had the old man allowed him
time; but already he was upon them, and
snatched the girl from his embrace. The
young man turned away with a look so
terrible that Alix never recalled it, never spoke
of it afterwards, without an invocation to
Heaven.

"Kill me first," shrieked the poor girl, as
her executioner dragged her a second time to
that living grave." Not alive, not alive! Oh
my father, not alive!"

"I have no child, you no father!" was the
stern reply. The young man hid his face in
his hands, and Alix saw them thrust their
victim into the grave; but she saw no more,
for, with a cry almost as startling as that
which the murdered lady had uttered, she
fled from her concealment back to the village.
Panting, she rushed on without pause, without
hesitation, through unknown paths; her
short quick cries for "Help! help! help!"
showing the one idea that possessed her; but
she met no one until she stopped exhausted
and breathless at the first house in the village,
that of the curé.

"Come, come at once; they will have killed
her!" she exclaimed.

"What is the matter, my poor girl?" he
asked in amazement, as, pushing back his
spectacles, he raised his head from his
breviary.

"Oh, come, sir! I will tell you as we go.
Where is François! He would help me!
Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do? Come,
do come!"

There was no mistaking the look of agitation
in her face; the curé yielded to her
entreaties and followed her. As they quitted
the house, they met some labourers with
spades in their hands, going to their daily
work.

"Make these men come with us," Alix
said, "and bring their spades!"

The curé did so, and in an incredibly short
space of time the little party reached the
green ring. The spot was vacant now, as
formerly carriage, horses, servants,
executioners, and victim, all had disappeared as if
by magic; and, in the quiet sylvan solitude,
not a trace save the newly-turned soil was
perceptible of the tragedy enacted there so
lately. But Alix staid not to glance around
her; going directly up to the fatal spot, she
gasped out, "Dig, dig!"

No one knew why the order was given, nor
what they were expected to find; but her
eagerness had extended itself to the whole
party, and they at once set to work, while
she herself, prostrate on the ground, tried to
aid them by tearing up the sods with her
hands. At length the turf was removed,
and a universal cry of horror was heard,
when the body of the unhappy girl was
discovered.

"Take her out; she is not dead! Monsieur
le Curé, save her; tell us how to save her!"