In an earlier time she would have plunged a knife into the first hand that had touched those sepulchres, but now she was mute and motionless. The greater loss that she had endured made this loss almost light to her. Only she knew not where to lay her head if she was driven out, and every stone was dear to her—'dear as remembered kisses after death.'
When the first blow of the hatchets fell on the shrubs around, the sound roused her; she leaped into their midst with her old force and fire.
'You shall not touch them!' she cried passionately, as she wrenched the first axe away. 'They are not yours, nor mine, nor any one's. You shall not touch them. They belong to God.'
The men laughed. They were, together, stronger than she was. They seized her and tied her wrists with a cord, and then bound her ankles with one, and cast her aside upon the soft sand under the heath as they would have cast a troublesome dog or goat.
They were not cruel, but they thought her a strange wild creature, and they were desirous to get their work over, and lie in the
