a handful of soil over it, turned back, and rejoined Thirlby, who had halted at some distance from the excavation.  While the latter was searching for his purse to reward the watchman, they heard wild shrieks in the adjoining field, and the next moment perceived the wretched mother running towards them.  Guessing her purpose from his former experience, Leonard called to the others to stop her, and stretching out his arms, placed himself in her path.  But all their efforts were in vain.  She darted past them, and though Leonard caught hold of her, she broke from him, and leaving a fragment of her dress in his grasp, flung herself into the chasm.

Well knowing that all help was vain, Thirlby placed a few pieces of money in the watchman’s hand, and hurried away.  He was followed by Leonard, who was equally eager to quit the spot.  It so chanced that the path they had taken led them near the site of the old plague-pit, and Leonard pointed it out to his companion.  The latter stopped for a moment, and then, without saying a word, ran quickly towards it.  On reaching the spot, they found that the pit was completely filled up.  The vast cake of clay with which it was covered had swollen and cracked in an extraordinary manner, and emitted such a horrible effluvium that they both instantly retreated.

“And that is the grave of my poor child,” cried Thirlby, halting, and bursting into a passionate flood of tears.  “It would have been a fitting resting-place for a guilty wretch like me; but for her it is horrible.”

Allowing time for the violence of his grief to subside, Leonard addressed a few words of consolation to him, and then tried to turn the current of his thoughts by introducing a different subject.  With this view, he proceeded to detail the piper’s mysterious conduct as to the packet, and concluded by mentioning the piece of gold which Nizza wore as an amulet, and which she fancied must have some connection with her early history.

“I have heard of the packet and amulet from Doctor Hodges,” said Thirlby, “and should have visited the piper on my recovery from the plague, but I was all impatience to behold Nizza, and could not brook an instant’s delay.  But you know his cottage.  We cannot be far from it.”

“Yonder it is,” replied Leonard, pointing to the little habitation, which lay at a field’s distance from them—­“and we are certain to meet with him, for I hear the notes of his pipe.”

Nor was he deceived, for as they crossed the field, and approached the cottage, the sounds of a melancholy air played on the pipe became each instant more distinct.  Before entering the gate, they paused for a moment to listen to the music, and Leonard could not help contrasting the present neglected appearance of the garden with the neatness it exhibited when he last saw it.  It was overgrown with weeds, while the drooping flowers seemed to bemoan the loss of their mistress.  Leonard’s gaze involuntarily wandered in search of the old apple-tree, and he presently discovered it.  It was loaded with fruit, and the rounded sod beneath it proclaimed the grave of the ill-fated Dame Lucas.