and single iron door could defy alike the earthquake's shock, the
tireless assaults of Time, and Cupidity's unholy hand.

To this thesaurus of the soul, redolent of sentiment and tenderness, and
rich in suggestions of crime, I now repaired for hints upon
assassination. To my unspeakable astonishment and grief I found it
empty! Every shelf, every chest, every coffer had been rifled. Of that
unique and incomparable collection not a vestige remained! Yet I proved
that until I had myself unlocked the massive metal door, not a bolt nor
bar had been disturbed; the seals upon the lock had been intact.

I passed the night in alternate lamentation and research, equally
fruitless, the mystery was impenetrable to conjecture, the pain
invincible to balm. But never once throughout that dreadful night did my
firm spirit relinquish its high design against Elizabeth Mary, and
daybreak found me more resolute than before to harvest the fruits of my
marriage. My great loss seemed but to bring me into nearer spiritual
relations with my dead ancestors, and to lay upon me a new and more
inevitable obedience to the suasion that spoke in every globule of my
blood.

My plan of action was soon formed, and procuring a stout cord I entered
my wife's bedroom finding her, as I expected, in a sound sleep. Before
she was awake, I had her bound fast, hand and foot. She was greatly
surprised and pained, but heedless of her remonstrances, delivered in a
high key, I carried her into the now rifled strong-room, which I had
never suffered her to enter, and of whose treasures I had not apprised
her. Seating her, still bound, in an angle of the wall, I passed the
next two days and nights in conveying bricks and mortar to the spot, and
on the morning of the third day had her securely walled in, from floor