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The inspection trips he had made outside of working hours now proved a great help, for he knew the quickest way to the place the Chief was supposed to be. Setting out on a run he was soon there. Mr. Whitney was engaged in conversation with the foreman but broke off as the boy rushed up.,

Johnny Blossom went storming through the rooms. My, oh, my! how little he seemed when he looked at himself in those enormous mirrors. Soon, however, he was walking on the railing of the veranda. What a veranda it was, with its massive stone pillars and broad steps of white marble leading to the grounds! Still, Johnny Blossom was not altogether sure that the veranda at home wasn’t just as pretty; at any rate, it was pleasanter, that was certain.,

He had remained here above an hour, when he suddenly heard a voice from below. It seemed to come from the passage leading to the tower, and perceptibly drew nearer. His agitation was now extreme, for he had no power of defending himself, and while he remained in this state of torturing expectation, a blaze of light burst upon the stair-case beneath him. In the succeeding moment he heard his own name sounded from below. His apprehensions instantly vanished, for he distinguished the voices of madame and his sisters.,

“You said you wanted to go there,” was the simple answer.

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“The writing might have been nicer, too,” said Johnny apologetically, “but I had such a scratchy, bad pen.”,

“I’m going to have a party at Kingthorpe,” said Johnny, “and I want you to come. There will be lots and lots of yellow plums.”,

“He’s a bad egg,” was the comment of Tim Flannigan, the engineer of the dinky that pulled the rock cars from the quarry to the crusher. “He’s all the time startin’ somethin’ down to the Townsite. He’s got a game cock that nobody kin lick, and the marshal has had him up several times for gambling. Tried to run him out of camp a bit back but such a gang of Greasers threatened to leave with him that Boss Adams, who was here before Boss Whitney came, told the marshal to keep a close eye on him and let it go at that.”,

It was about this period that Vincent was seized with a disorder which increased so rapidly, as in a short time to assume the most alarming appearance. Despairing of life, he desired that a messenger might be dispatched to inform the marquis of his situation, and to signify his earnest wish to see him before he died. The progress of his disorder defied every art of medicine, and his visible distress of mind seemed to accelerate his fate. Perceiving his last hour approaching, he requested to have a confessor. The confessor was shut up with him a considerable time, and he had already received extreme unction, when Madame de Menon was summoned to his bedside. The hand of death was now upon him, cold damps hung upon his brows, and he, with difficulty, raised his heavy eyes to madame as she entered the apartment. He beckoned her towards him, and desiring that no person might be permitted to enter the room, was for a few moments silent. His mind appeared to labour under oppressive remembrances; he made several attempts to speak, but either resolution or strength failed him. At length, giving madame a look of unutterable anguish, 'Alas, madam,' said he, 'Heaven grants not the prayer of such a wretch as I am. I must expire long before the marquis can arrive. Since I shall see him no more, I would impart to you a secret which lies heavy at my heart, and which makes my last moments dreadful, as they are without hope.' 'Be comforted,' said madame, who was affected by the energy of his manner, 'we are taught to believe that forgiveness is never denied to sincere repentance.' 'You, madam, are ignorant of the enormity of my crime, and of the secret—the horrid secret which labours at my breast. My guilt is beyond remedy in this world, and I fear will be without pardon in the next; I therefore hope little from confession even to a priest. Yet some good it is still in my power to do; let me disclose to you that secret which is so mysteriously connected with the southern apartments of this castle.'—'What of them!' exclaimed madame, with impatience. Vincent returned no answer; exhausted by the effort of speaking, he had fainted. Madame rung for assistance, and by proper applications, his senses were recalled. He was, however, entirely speechless, and in this state he remained till he expired, which was about an hour after he had conversed with madame.