Her lifeless body lay pale, yet strangely serene, as the heartbroken laird prepared her for burial. She was laid to rest in her bridal gown, her cherished diamond wedding ring still glinting upon her finger - a final symbol of their brief and tragic union.

But not all who stood by her grave were mourning.

Watching from a distance were Jock and James, two local rogues with sharper eyes than consciences. They had overheard whispers in the tavern about Mary's ring - a jewel said to sparkle as brightly as the North Sea under moonlight. And so, over a bottle of rum, they hatched a devious plan.

Late that night, beneath the cold gaze of a full moon, the pair crept into the cemetery and began to dig up the fresh grave. As they frantically moved the soft dirt aside, their shovels struck wood…

With trembling hands, they pried open the coffin lid. There she lay - pale as before, beautiful as ever - and there upon her finger, the diamond shimmered in the moonlight. Greed overcame fear.

They tugged and twisted, but the ring would not budge. Frustration turned to desperation. With a muttered curse, Jock drew a penknife from his pocket and began to cut away the finger. But as the blade pressed against cold flesh, something unimaginable happened - Mary's eyes flew open.

She bolted upright with a piercing scream that shattered the stillness of the night, a sound so chilling it seemed to freeze the very air. The two would-be thieves stumbled backward in terror before scrambling into the darkness.

For Mary had never been dead. She had fallen into a mysterious deathlike trance - only to be awakened by the touch of the grave robbers' knife.

And so ends the tale of Twice Buried Mary - who returned home and went on to live a long and happy life. Decades later, she was laid to rest once more… in the very same spot. Peacefully buried… Or was she?