his day having feasted my eyes on what lies
within there. With me went Lacombe, Madame's 'runner' in the old days--a
stolid Berrichon, who had lived upon her bounty to the end. The rogue!
the ingrate! We were wrecked upon this coast; we plunged and came ashore.
I know not who were lost or saved; but Lacombe and I clung together and
were thrown upon the land, the box still in my grasp. We climbed the
cliffs where a stair had been cut; we broke eastwards from the upper
slopes and staggered on through the blown darkness. Suddenly Lacombe
stopped. The day was faint then on the watery horizon; and in the
ghostly light I saw his face and read the murder in it. We were standing
on the verge of the cleft under Black Venn. 'No further!' he whispered.
'You must go down there!' He snatched the box from my hand. In the
instant of his doing so, stricken by the death terror, the affection to
which I was then much subject seized me. I screamed, 'My God! the
guillotine!' Taken by surprise, he started back, staggered, and went down
crashing to the fate he had designed for me. I seemed to lie prostrate
for hours, while his moans came up fainter and fainter till they ceased.
Then I rose and faced life, lonely, friendless, and a beggar."

The restless wandering of his eyes travelled over his daughter's head to
the rusty casket by the window.

"It was very well," he whispered. "I thank my God that He has permitted
me at the perfect moment to realize my investment in that dead rascal's
dishonesty. Have I ever desired wealth save for my little _pouponne_
here? And I have sorely tried thee, my George. But the old naturalist
had such faith in his prediction. Now--"

His vision was glazing; the muscles of his face were quietly settling to
the repose that death only can command.

"Now, I would see the fruit of my prophecy; would see it all hung on the
neck, in the hair of my child, that I may die rejoicing. Canst thou force
the casket, George?"

The young man turned with a stifled groan. Some tools lay on a shelf hard
by. He grasped a chisel and went to his task with shaking hands.

The box was all eaten and corroded. It was a matter of but a few seconds
to prise it open. The lid fell back on the table with a rusty clang.

"Ah!" cried the dying man. "What now? Dost thou see them? Quick! quick!
to glorify this little head! Are they not exquisite?"

George was gazing down with a dull, vacant feeling at his heart.

"Are they not?" repeated