“I know it—­I know it!’ cried my father in agony.

“I thought my father would never recover from the effects of this second tragedy:  he mourned bitterly over the body of his sweet child, and for several days would not consign it to its grave, although frequently requested by my mother-in-law to do so.  At last he yielded, and dug a grave for her close by that of my poor brother, and took every precaution that the wolves should not violate her remains.

“I was now really miserable, as I lay alone in the bed which I had formerly shared with my brother and sister.  I could not help thinking that my mother-in-law was implicated in both their deaths, although I could not account for the manner; but I no longer felt afraid of her:  my little heart was full of hatred and revenge.

“The night after my sister had been buried, as I lay awake, I perceived my mother-in-law get up and go out of the cottage.  I waited some time, then dressed myself, and looked out through the door, which I half opened.  The moon shone bright, and I could see the spot where my brother and my sister had been buried; and what was my horror, when I perceived my mother-in-law busily removing the stones from Marcella’s grave.

“She was in her white night-dress, and the moon shone full upon her.  She was digging with her hands, and throwing away the stones behind her with all the ferocity of a wild beast.  It was some time before I could collect my senses and decide what I should do.  At last, I perceived that she had arrived at the body, and raised it up to the side of the grave.  I could bear it no longer; I ran to my father and awoke him.

“‘Father! father!’ cried I, ‘dress yourself, and get your gun.’

“‘What!’ cried my father, ‘the wolves are there, are they?’

“He jumped out of bed, threw on his clothes, and in his anxiety did not appear to perceive the absence of his wife.  As soon as he was ready, I opened the door, he went out, and I followed him.

“Imagine his horror, when (unprepared as he was for such a sight) he beheld, as he advanced towards the grave, not a wolf, but his wife, in her night-dress, on her hands and knees, crouching by the body of my sister, and tearing off large pieces of the flesh, and devouring them with all the avidity of a wolf.  She was too busy to be aware of our approach.  My father dropped his gun, his hair stood on end; so did mine; he breathed heavily, and then his breath for a time stopped.  I picked up the gun and put it into his hand.  Suddenly he appeared as if concentrated rage had restored him to double vigour; he levelled his piece, fired, and with a loud shriek, down fell the wretch whom he had fostered in his bosom.

“‘God of Heaven!’ cried my father, sinking down upon the earth in a swoon, as soon as he had discharged his gun.

“I remained some time by his side before he recovered.  ‘Where am I?’ said he, ’what has happened?—­Oh!—­yes, yes!  I recollect now.  Heaven forgive me!’