"It is there just in that line of moonlight," she said at last, pointing downward with her finger.
The man lifted the spade with all his fierce might, and struck it deep into the earth, which the cold nights had frozen, until it gave out a sharp ringing sound.
Elizabeth held her breath; what if that sound had reached the house!
Another firm downward thrust of the spade was scarcely heard. The crust was broken, the earth grew soft and yielding—the wretched woman remembered how carefully it had been packed down over the spot. For nights after, the hollow sound of the spade had rung in her ears, and nothing could dull its echo.
A horrible fear was coming over her, a supernatural, ghostly dread, that made her flesh creep and the hair rise on her temples.
Spadeful after spadeful of earth was thrown out, but still the bottom was not reached. She had not thought it deep—so deep. If it should be empty—if nothing was there!
What if the place had been searched before, if the least possibility of removing that terrible evidence was gone beyond her power!
The idea was too maddening, and she shook off the nightmare-like oppression which had been upon her, as the spade suddenly struck some substance harder than the earth, and rang out with a dull, heavy sound.
For one instant she started back. She was alone in the night, alone with that man, who uttered an exclamation of delight that his task was so near done. Elizabeth drew back. She dared not even peer into the cavity. It was choked up with shadows, and their blackness seemed to warn her off.
The mighty strength that had carried this woman forward till now, left her. The cold pierced her through and through; still she found strength to speak, and implored the man to complete his work. He took up the spade again, dropped it into the impalpable darkness of the hole and pressed it down, leaning his whole weight upon it.