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"You have remembered something that I said, for eleven days?" he says, quickly. "You are right: I see it now," says Geoffrey, whitening a little, "Warden wrote that paper, no doubt," glancing at the dirty bit of writing that has led to the discovery. "He evidently had his knowledge from old Elspeth, who must have known of this secret hiding-place from my great-grandfather. My father, I am convinced, knew nothing of it. Here, on the night of my grandfather's death, the old woman must have hidden the will, and here it has remained ever since until to-night. Yet, after all, this is mere supposition," says Geoffrey. "We are taking for granted what may prove a myth. The will may never been placed here, and he himself——" "Do you like it?" she asks, gently, bringing her gaze back from the glowing heavens, to the earth, which is even more beautiful..

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"But do you mean to tell me the girl he loves will give him up just because fortune is frowning on him?" asks Mona, slowly. "Sure she couldn't be so mean as that." "Yes, father," said Morning Star, "a young man has come to see you. He is a good young man, for he found some of my things in the trail and did not touch them." "He has," says the duke. "But he has his reward, you know: nobody likes him. By the by, what horrid bad times they are having in your land!—ricks of hay burning nightly, cattle killed, everybody boycotted, and small children speared!" Slowly he draws from his pocket a paper, folded neatly, that looks like some old parchment. Mona draws her breath quickly, and turns first crimson with emotion, then pale as death. Opening it at a certain page, he points out to her the signature of George Rodney, the old baronet..