Tried for Her Life. Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth

that she must be dead. And it is her body that we are seeking," groaned Lyon Berners, in despair.

      "I knows it, Marster—I knows it too well; but I can't feel as it is true, all de same. And oh! even to leave her dear body there so long!" said Joe, bursting into a storm of tears and sobs.

      "That cannot be helped, my poor fellow. Besides, I shall sit at this door and watch till your return, and we can work down into the vault. She shall not be quite alone, Joe."

      So persuaded, Joe, unmindful of fatigue, once more set out for Black Hall. But on this occasion he took another horse, which was fresher. The sun had now set, and the short winter twilight was darkening into night.

CHAPTER III.

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THE EXPLOSION.

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There came a burst of thunder sound!—Hemans.

      Lyon Berners, chilled to the heart with the coldness of the night, half famished for want of food, and wearied with his late violent exertions, and wishing to recruit his strength for the next day's hard work, kindled a fire, and made some coffee, and forced himself to eat and drink a little, before he drew his mattress to the door of the vault, and stretched himself down as near as he could possibly get to the place where he believed the dead body of his beloved wife lay.

      Poor little Nelly, abandoning her efforts either from exhaustion or in despair, crept up and tried to squeeze herself between her master and the door of the vault that she too thought held her mistress. Lyon made room for her to curl herself up by his side, and he caressed her soft fur, while he waked and watched.

      It was now utterly dark in the chapel but for the dull red glow of the fire, which was dying out. An hour passed by, and the last spark expired, and the chapel was left in total darkness.

      The agonies of that night who shall tell? They were extreme—they seemed interminable.

      At length the slow morning dawned. Lyon arose with the sun, and walked about the chapel in the restlessness of mental anguish. The little dog followed at his heels, whining. Presently Lyon took up the crowbar and tried again to force the iron door. He might as well have tried to move a mountain. He threw away the crowbar in desperation, and then he stooped and peered through the iron bars: all dark! all still in those dismal depths! He turned away and rekindled the fire, and prepared a little breakfast for himself and his dumb companion. He must cherish his strength for the work that was before him.

      After having eaten a morsel, and given his dog food, he signalled to her to lie down at the door of the vault and watch, while he went out towards the thicket to look for Joe, who might now soon be expected.

      He went through the church-yard, and on to the entrance of the thicket path; he even pursued that path until it led him out upon the river road. He looked down the road for miles, but saw no sign of Joe!

      Then, not wishing longer to leave the spot where the body of his murdered wife was supposed to lie unburied, he went back through thicket and graveyard to the chapel, where at the door of the vault the faithful little Skye terrier still watched.

      He entered and threw himself down beside her, there to wait for the return of his messenger.

      But ah! this was destined to be a day of weary, weary waiting! The morning advanced towards noon, and still Joe did not appear. Lyon arose and walked restlessly about the chapel, stopping sometimes to peer down into the vault, where nothing could be seen, or to call down where nothing could be heard, or he took up the crowbar again, and renewed his frantic efforts to force the iron door that nothing could move.

      Noon passed; afternoon advanced.

      "Something has happened to Joe," said the desperate man to himself, as once more he started out in the forlorn hope of meeting his messenger.

      Again the weary way was traversed; again he went through the church-yard and thicket, and came out upon the long river road, and strained his gaze far along its length, but without seeing signs of the negro's approach.

      "Yes; some accident has befallen Joe. All goes wrong, all is fatal, all is doomed!" He groaned in despair as he turned and retraced his steps towards the old "Haunted Chapel." As he drew near the building, he was startled by the furious barking of his little deg.

      "Poor little Nelly has worked herself up into hysterics again at the door of that vault," he said to himself, as he quickened his pace and entered the building.

      He found it in the possession of the constables, with the sheriff at their head. Mr. Benthwick, with an expression on his face oddly made up of triumph and compassion, advanced to meet him, saying:

      "We are not at fault now, Mr. Berners. We returned to-day to resume our search through these mountains, and late this afternoon, as we were returning from our unsuccessful pursuit of the burglars, we were met here in the churchyard by these men."

      And here the sheriff pointed to Purley and Munson, who were standing at a short distance.

      "They told us," proceeded Mr. Benthwick, "that Mrs. Berners, with your assistance, had escaped from their custody."

      "Right over my dead body, which I should say, my sleeping body," put in Purley.

      "And that she was certainly concealed in this chapel, as they had received unquestionable information to that effect," added Mr. Benthwick.

      "Well, sir, if you find her here, you will succeed in the search far better than I have done," replied Lyon Berners, grimly. "We have found you here, and under very suspicious circumstances; so we will take leave to make a more thorough search than we did yesterday," replied the sheriff.

      "Have you tried the vault?" inquired Purley.

      "No; but we will try it now. She may be concealed within it, after all," said Mr. Benthwick. And seeing the crowbar, he took it up and went to work upon that immovable door; but finding it so fast, he threw down the tool, saying:

      "It is of no use to work at that door in that way, and it is of no use either to look through the bars, for you can see nothing but black darkness. But, Purley, I will tell you what to do. Do you go and cut the most resinous knot that you can find on the nearest pine tree, and bring it to me."

      Purley started off in a hurry, and soon returned with a pine knot fairly soaked with turpentine.

      "Now, then," said Mr. Benthwick, as he took the torch from the hand of his messenger. "I think this will throw some light into the darkness below!"

      And he applied it first to the fire in the aisle, and then he carried, it, flaming high, to the door of the vault, and putting it through the iron bars, let it drop into the vault.

      It was lighted up in an instant, and the sheriff and Purley bent down to look through the grating to see what the interior illumination might show them.

      And Lyon Berners, whose anxiety was of course more intense than that of any one present, elbowed his way through the crowd to get nearer the door of the vault.

      But before he could effect his purpose, a sound of thunder burst upon the air; the solid floor upheaved; the walls of the old Haunted Chapel fell in a heap of smoking ruins; and all the valley and the mountain tops were lighted up with the flames of destruction.

CHAPTER IV.

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AFTER THE EXPLOSION.