Dakota farmers' leader. (Canton, S.D.) 1890-19??, 1908-09-25
v&~N~~~~

says he, as he secs Sir lurlen slowly r.
vive, and show the kcenest interest again
in the missing stones, in spite OF that
sharp tussle with death n moment since.
There is no occasion for this extreme OK
element" His tone is studiously courtc-
Gus, yet it is impossible to altogether CON
troll the disgust that is coursing through
every vein. IL have the stones. They
are quite safe, and they are yours.
have riskcd my life TO get them. and tn"
life of one far dearer than myself. |
can lay them on the table before you now,
this momentum | think | am entitled
to some reward
Say it. Name it. Anything" cries
Sir Lucicn in a low, faint tone. at is
granted
Your consent to my marriage with
Amber-with your niece W
Sir Lucicn breaks into Il low Chucklc.
"Only that, who cares about that
Still | want your word,' says tn"
young man slowly. Il know if YOU one"
! give it, you will never break it, And,
indeed, in this, to do Sir Luci"n only
bare Justice. he understands him rightly.
"The other night, you may remember, YOU
threatened, if | married her, to disinherit
me. | should care little about that for
myself, but | owe her a great deal-a
great deal more than | can ever pay.
He pauscs, a sigh bursts from his throAt.
He is demanding permission to marry her,
to bestow all his worldly wealth upon her,
but-will she ever listen to him again:
Will she accept his gifts? For her sake.
| ask YOUR open consent to our marriage.
Marry her. Marry her. inpatient
ly.
You have no objecfion:'
None. Nonc,'' fevcrishly. IF it
comes to that, | like the girl. she has
courage, pride, and she has noutcd that
damned Deane. She has a look of the
Adares, too. Is that all:"
AL" says Hilary. lie moves closer to
the library table. and deliberately pro-
ceeds to empty his pockets on it.
At first, as if bound by some sense of
dcccncy, Sir Lucien remains silent, if
trembling, as each exquisite ornament is
laid down. But when the glittering mass
of priceless stones reaches its end. he
gives way to a shout of triumph and al
most filings himself upon them.
AT last. At last :" he cries. And like
one possessed, begins fcvcrishly to count
them.
No need to go to the old inventory in
the drawer over there. he knows by
heart how many there ought to be of ali
the necklcts, and bracelets, rings and
quaint old ornaments-many of them, in
these more modern days, out of use, and
in want of a fresh setting.
Suddenly he turns round with a fierce
exclamation to Hilary.
The tiara ~
Hilary remembering. and. indeed. feel
;,r , Iittlo cboplnI ot his fOrpotfu moss
thrusts his hand into a side pocket and
draws out the forgotten thing that Amber
had given to him at the hall door, and
hands it to Sir Lucien, who falls upon it
rapturously.
With the shining tiara, Hilary has
pulled out too a bit of soiled and ragged
paper that he had found in the old jewel
case.
Leaning towards the lamp, he runs his
eyes over the now rather illegible page.
He notices tina. on the left and corner
a tiny arrow is marked.
'Thursday! Such a Thursday!
This is from me, Thomas O'Connell,
to you, my beloved, in heaven! Tonight,
that sees you there, I write it. to tell yon
that your last request to me has been
carried out. May Heaven forgive me if
l err. But all things l risk for you.
The jewels are safe. you brother Will
never find them. May Heaven forgive
him, too. though you and l did not. Are
you listening, my only DEAR?
Such an absurd little document. yet
with what terrible. wretched sincerity in
it. Something that might be called mois-
ture has clouded Hilary's eyes. Poor.
unhappy Thomas O'Connell. He pauses.
Perhaps, after all-happy Thomas O'Con-
nell. He had suffered for her, he HAD
committed what most men would call a
crime for her; but he had loved her. And
to much love, much is forgiven.
Here Hilary's thoughts take a side
curve. The man had sinned, beyond
doubt, in giving that promise to his wife
in her dying hour-in hiding the jewels,
but he had not sold them, even when
money seemed very desirable. And strange,
far stranger than his sense of honesty
was hers-Amber's mother. the sister OF
Sir Lucien. the wife of Thomas O'Cor-
nell. In all her wild wanderings, from
Dublin to London, from London to Paris.
and back again, she, who had been ac-
customed to money and its uses all her
life, who must have suffered intensely
from the want of it. had still held intact
the family jewels that her father, in a fit
of wanton folly. had entrusted to her
care. OF such beings was Amber born.
and in truth honor must be her heritage.
CHAPTER NNIV.