the folds of a piece of muslin. I handed it to the schoolmaster,
whom I had not told about it before. He examined the sparkling
stones and handed it on to Mr. Duke. I saw Mr. Duke eyeing it
curiously. As he looked at the inner circle of gold a light came to
his eyes.

"Ah, hello!" said he. "There are some letters engraved here. Can
you read them, dominie? The characters are foreign. It looks like
German or Russian."

Andrew took the ring nearer to the light.

"The characters are Danish!" said he excitedly. "It is the name
'Thora Quendale!'"

"Well, all this is unmistakable evidence," said Mr. Duke. "I think
you have proved, Andrew, that this passenger on the Pilgrim and the
owner of the Undine were one and the same person. The ring is a
lady's ring. Probably it belonged to Quendale's wife."

"I think it likely that he took it from his dead wife's finger,"
said the schoolmaster, handing the ring back to me.

"No, sir," I said. "The ring isna mine. It belongs now to Thora,
and Thora shall have it;" and making my way towards her I took her
fair hand in mine.

White and smooth it was, like the hand of a lady, with long
tapering fingers and shapely nails. A strange new sensation came
over me as I held it in my own rough palm. My heart beat quicker,
and I felt myself growing red in the face.

"Take the ring, Thora, and wear it for the sake of those who have
gone before;" and I slipped the glistening ring upon her finger.

"Thank you, Halcro!" she said, very softly. "Thank you! I will wear
it for my father and mother's sake, and also for yours."

"For my sake, Thora!" and I looked down into her eyes.

There was an expression in them that I had not seen there before. I
started back with a sudden recollection. Here before me I saw the
same blue eyes, the same fair hair, the same beautiful face and
rounded neck that I had seen pictured in the locket that fell from
the dead man's hand on board the Pilgrim! Here was proof added to
proof. There could no longer be any doubt in my mind that Thora was
indeed the daughter of the beautiful woman who was cast ashore at
Inganess, and whose body now lay in the old neglected graveyard
across the moor--the daughter of Thora and Ephraim Quendale.

Chapter XLI. The Last Of The Kinlays.

Thora Quendale--as I must now call my young girl friend--returned
that evening to her old home at Crua Breck. We walked together that
far over the hardened snow; and many were the questio