Not Under the Law

by Grace Livingston Hill

It was not that she had any feeling that the spirit she loved was lingering there near its worn out earthly habitation, it was only that the earth seemed so alien and she so alone that it did her good to creep away to the quiet mound that some kind neighbor had already made velvety with close shaved turf.

She felt her way to the place, close beside the mound where her mother had been laid. They had always kept it neat and carefully tended when her aunt was alive, and now she sank down between the two graves with her hands spread broodingly, anguishingly over the tender grass, and her face dropped down on its coolness. How long she lay there she did not know. The hot tears flowed relievingly down her cheeks and fell into the cool grass, and overhead the quiet sky, with the single star in a clearing among the floating clouds, and now and then the serene, busy moon above it all, quite as if the world was going as it should even though hearts were being broken.

A sense of peace stole gradually upon her, and the ache drifted out of her weary limbs, and out of her lonely heart. It was almost as if some comfort had stolen upon her from the quiet grass, and the busy, serene heaven above. She did not feel afraid. She had no sense of the presence of her aunt, only a deep, sweet understanding that this little spot was sacred and here she might think entirely unmolested.

It might be that she slept for a space, for she was very weary and the day had been so hard, but she was not sure. Rather it was as if she were just resting, as she used to rest in her mother’s arms and be rocked, long ago, the first thing she could remember. The sense of her troubles, and her terrible situation had slipped away from her. She was just resting, not thinking. When suddenly the sound of voices—voices quite near, broke upon her, as if they had suddenly rounded the hill and were close at hand, coming on. Cautious voices, albeit, with a carrying sibilant, and something familiar about one of them. She could not tell why they struck terror to her soul, nor at what instant she realized that they were not just foot travellers going on by, but were coming toward her. She found herself trembling from head to foot.

“Look out there, Kid,” said the familiar voice, “Don’t skid over that poor stiff. Those headstones aren’t easy to play with and we can’t afford to lose any of this catch. Its worth it’s weight in gold you know, rare antique! We ought to make about four hundred bucks apiece out of this lot if we place it wisely.”

The footsteps came on, and suddenly as the moon swept out from the clouds for an instant she saw four dark figures silhouetted against the lighter darkness of the road, stealing slowly into the cemetery among the graves carrying burdens between them, heavy, bulky, shrouded burdens. The hurrying clouds obliterated everything again, but she could hear the soft thud of their feet, as they slowly felt their way. An occasional dart of light from a pocket flash flickered fitfully on a headstone here and there as she watched with bated breath. They seemed to be coming straight toward her, and for an instant she thought of trying to flee, but a great weakness overcame her, so that she could hardly breathe, and it seemed impossible to rise. Then the flashlight jabbed into her very eyes, and she crouched against the sod and wished there were some way to get down beneath it out of sight.

“What was that, Kid?” the voice whispered. The tiny flash fluttered here and there on the grass all about her as she crouched. In a moment they would be upon her. It seemed the culmination of all the terrible day. Her heart throbbed painfully, while she waited a long minute, hearing distinctly the oncoming feet swishing softly in the grass, the labored breathing of those who carried the heavy burden, the cautious whispers, and then, could it be? They were only two graves away. They were passing by. They were going toward the back part of the cemetery.

She lay absolutely motionless listening for what seemed hours. The soft thud of burdens laid down was followed by the sound of a spade plunged deep in the earth, and the ring of metal as it was drawn forth and hit against a stone.

By and by she gained courage to open her eyes and then to lift her head cautiously and glance about. Her frightened heart almost stifled her with its wild beating. The sky was luminous off to the east and against it the five dark figures were darkly visible, three with shovels, and one with a pick, the fifth watching, directing, occasionally flashing a spot of light on a particular place. On the ground a long line of something dark like a box or boxes. Had they murdered some one and come to bury him in the night, or were they grave robbers? She found herself shuddering in the darkness, and when she put a trembling hand to her brow it was cold and wet with perspiration.

She began to wonder if she dared to try and get away, and measured the distance with her eye. The men seemed so close when she considered making a move, especially the one with the flashlight! Its merciless eye would be sure to search her out if she attempted flight. Perhaps it would be safer to lie still till they went away and trust that they would go out by the same path they had entered and not discover her. Yet when she tried to relax and wait she was trembling so that it seemed as if the very cords that held her being together were loosed and she was slowly becoming useless like Dorothea’s big bisque doll that lay on a trunk in the attic with its head and arms lolling at the end of emaciated rubber cords. She had a frightened feeling that if she lay still very long she would become unable ever to move again, the sensation that comes in nightmare.