husband she proved beyond all
doubt that she had been in complete ignorance of the truth concerning
the affair in the Pontarme Forest until long afterwards. She had at
first believed Gabrielle guilty of the deed, but when she learned the
truth and saw how deeply she had been implicated it was impossible for
her then to withdraw.

With a whole-hearted generosity seldom found in men, Sir Henry, after
long reflection and a desperate struggle with himself, forgave her, and
now has the satisfaction of knowing that she prefers quiet, healthful
Glencardine to the social gaieties of Park Street, Paris, or San Remo,
while she and Gabrielle have lately become devoted to each other.

The secret syndicate, with Sir Henry Heyburn at its head, still
operates, for no word of its existence has leaked out to either
financial circles or to the public, while the Whispers of Glencardine
are still believed in and dreaded by the whole countryside across the
Ochils.

Edgar Hamilton, though compelled to return to the Baron, whose right
hand he is, often travels to Glencardine with confidential messages, and
documents for signature, and is, of course, an ever-welcome guest.

The unpretentious house of Lenard et Morellet of Paris now and then
effects deals so enormous that financial circles are staggered, and the
world stands amazed. The true facts of who is actually behind that
apparently unimportant firm are, however, still rigorously and
ingeniously concealed.

Who would ever dream that that quiet, grey-faced man with the sightless
eyes, living far away up in Scotland, passing his hours of darkness with
his old bronze seals or his knitting, was the brain which directed their
marvellously successful operations!

The Laird of Connachan died quite suddenly about seven months ago, and
Walter Murie succeeded to the noble estate. Gabrielle--sweet, almost
child-like in her simple tastes and delightful charm, and more devoted
to Walter than ever--is now little Lady Murie, having been married in
Edinburgh a month ago.

At the moment that I pen these final lines the pair are spending a
blissful honeymoon at the great old chateau of Hetzendorf, high up above
the broad-flowing Danube, the Baron having kindly vacated the place and
put it at their disposal for the summer. Happy in each other's love and
mutual trust, they spend the long blissful days in company, wandering
often hand in hand, for when Walter looks into those wonderful eyes of
hers