ffered. He has loved as never man loved! He has hated as well.

"Suffering, love and hatred have all passed away--all is forgotten,
all is dead within him except the memory of the child he adored and
lost.

"This man possessed wealth greater than any sovereign. And this man
dies in poverty. He so willed it that he might punish himself. He
chose the wrong. He wished to bend all wills to his. He elected
himself judge and meted out punishment. The wrongs he avenged were not
social evils, they were private and his own. He bows low in penitence,
that he did not employ his great fortune in doing good. He dies in
poverty, though possessed of untold millions. He designates no heir,
for he cannot feel that the most upright man may not become guilty
when he knows himself to be all-powerful. He has, however, no right to
destroy this wealth. It exists, though concealed. He bequeaths it to
that power which men call Providence. It will bear this paper, and
place in the hands of man these mysterious signs.

"Will the treasure be discovered?

"Whoever reads this paper will, if he be wise, destroy it. And yet it
may be that this colossal fortune will fall into the hands of a man
who will finish the work that I have begun better than I could have
done.

"May whoever finds this paper heed the last words of a dying man.

"THE ABBE DANTES.

"_February 25th, 1865._"

Below this signature was a singular design. Monte-Cristo studied it.

"Yes, it is right," he said. "Ah! Faria, may your treasure fall into
worthier hands than mine!"

He felt strangely faint. He laid his hand on his heart. "Yes,
Esperance," he said, softly, "I come!"

He took up a crystal cube, which was solid enough to resist a shock of
any kind. He folded the paper, and placed it in the cube, sealing it
carefully. Then once more he ascended the stairs, and stood under the
starlit sky.

Monte-Cristo went down to the shore. He raised the crystal cube above
his head, and threw it with all his strength. He heard it drop into the
water. Monte-Cristo's secret was given to the waves. Then he turned, and
slowly retraced his steps.

As he went down the stairs his strength seemed to leave him. He lay down
next to Esperance. He crossed his arms on his breast. Upon his lips was
a smile of ineffable peace. His eyes closed. He was at rest.

* * * * *

Those who loved him often utter his name, a