"No matter, I also have my suspicions."
"He murdered them himself, sir—the wicked man! 'Twasn't their mother, my poor niece, God rest her soul! She died as easy as a lamb. Indeed, indeed, it wasn't her."
"Bring your tools," said Frantz, "and come with me."
He led the sexton to his chamber—desired him to raise the mysterious hearthstone, and dig up the ground beneath it. This was accordingly done, and in a few minutes, with sentiments of unspeakable pity and horror, Frantz beheld the fleshless remains of two children, who apparently from the size of the bones must have been about the age and figure, when deposited there, of the little phantoms. He found also upon turning to the register, that it laid open at the very page named by the sexton; and on the very spot which the apparition of the wretched Von Weetzer had indicated by his finger, was duly entered the baptism of the murdered children; and the sexton readily turned to the entries of their birth in other parts of the volume. Frantz interred the remains of these unfortunate beings in consecrated ground—immediately quitted Steingart— resigned a preferment which had (from the singularly terrible incident thus connected with his possession of it) equally alarmed and disgusted him—married Adelinda upon his return to Leipzig—and gradually became an exemplary member of Society.
M.L.B.
Censure is the tax a man pays to the public for being eminent.—Swift.