for I learn that the harvest will be a heavy one, and your judgment
will be required in financial matters since you are so good as to
place it at our disposal."

To this I had returned a vague answer, thinking that before that time
Alphonse might have news to tell us which would alter many
arrangements and a few lives. For now that he had recovered a greater
part of his vast wealth there could, assuredly, be no reason for
further delay in pressing his suit _aupres de_ Lucille.

I had, by the way, propounded to John Turner the problem that would
arise in the case of our having to conclude that Miste's confederate
had perished in the ill-fated _Principe Amadeo_, taking out of this
world, if he could not carry it to the next, the remainder of Giraud's
fortune.

"Within five years," he answered me, "Giraud will be repaid the value
of the missing drafts, for we have now a sufficient excuse to stop
payment of them, assuming, as we may safely do, that the bills were
lost at sea."

In the same letter my old friend imparted some news affecting myself.

"I am," he wrote, "getting on in years, and fatter. In view of these
facts I have made a will leaving you, by the way, practically my heir.
A man who could refuse to marry such a pretty girl as Isabella
Gayerson, with such an exceedingly pretty fortune as she possesses,
deserves to have money troubles; so I bequeath 'em to you."

Towards the end of September Madame again wrote to me with the
information that they were installed at La Pauline for the winter, and
begged me to name the day when I could visit them. With due
deliberation I accepted this invitation, and wrote to Giraud in Paris
that I was about to pass through that city, and would much like to see
him as often as possible.

"You know, Dick," he said to me, when we had dined together at his
club, "it is better fun being ruined. All this money--Mon Dieu--what a
trouble it is!"

"Yes," answered I--and the words came from my heart--"it only brings
ill fortune to those that have it."

Nevertheless, Alphonse Giraud was quite happy in the recovery of his
wealth, and took much enjoyment in its expenditure on others. Never,
surely, beat a more generous heart than Giraud's, for whom to spend
his money on a friend was the greatest known happiness.

"You remember," he cried, "how we used to drink our Benedictine in
claret glasses only. Ah! what it is to be young, _n'est ce pas_! and
to think that we shall one day get a