Pretty little Charlotte Westerfield is stolen from her bridegroom immediately after her wedding in 1891, as her sister Barbara--never seen thereafter--was some 15 years before. Charlotte comes to, finding herself held captive in some dreadful woodland place by a halfwitted giant who croons ""Barbara"" at intervals, when he remembers she's there, and dresses her in dated clothes removed from a rotting carcass that reminds her of herself: ""with a hissing sprawl, the figure rolled over on its back and a skull's face leered up, sightless yet sighted somehow into Charlotte's own. She saw in paralysis of shock that shriveled grapes were lodged in each eye-pit, giving the thing an intent stare."" Much more of the same ensues--and the poor gel quite understandably succumbs to terror, madness, and possibly spirit possession, not to mention seduction, as the police and her bridegroom scour England to no avail. For the weak of mind perhaps--but not the weak of stomach.