g the
strange story, which not one of them doubted in the least.

In her haste to reach Maude, Jerrie had dropped the bag and the two
papers, which Judge St. Claire picked up and held for a moment in his
hand; then passing the papers to Marian, he said:

'It can be no secret now, and Jerrie will not care. What do the papers
contain?'

Running her eyes rapidly over them, Marian said:

'The first is a certificate of marriage between Arthur Tracy and
Marguerite Heinrich, who were married October 20th, 18--, in the English
church at Wiesbaden, by the Rev. Mr. Eaton, then the officiating
clergyman. The second is a certificate of the birth and baptism of
Jerrine, daughter of Arthur and Marguerite Tracy, who was born at
Wiesbaden, January 1st, 18--, and christened January 8th, 18--, by the
Rev. Mr. Eaton.'

Then a deep silence fell upon the group, while Tom stood like one
paralyzed. He understood the situation perfectly, and knew that if
Jerrie was mistress there, he could never hope to be master.

'May as well evacuate at once,' he said at last, with an attempt to
smile as he walked slowly out of the house, which he felt was his
inheritance no longer.

Just then Frank came down, saying that Maude insisted upon knowing what
was in the papers which Marian was to read, while the others were to
come up and listen. He did not seem at all like a man who had lost
anything, but bustled about cheerily; and when the judge said to him
apologetically, 'We know the contents of two of the papers. They are
certificates of the marriage of Arthur with Gretchen, and of Jerrie's
birth. I hope you don't mind if we read them,' he answered, briskly.

'Not at all--not in the least. Arthur and Gretchen! I thought so. Where
is Tom? He must hear the papers.'

He found his son under the true where he had been sitting the morning
when Jerrie came near fainting there, and in his hand was a curious bit
of pine finished like a grave-stone--the same he had whittled under the
pines, and on which he was now carving, 'Euchred, August --, 18--.'

'This is the monument to our downfall,' he said, as his father came up
to him with something so pitiful in his face and voice that Frank gave
way suddenly, and, sitting down beside him, laid his hand upon his tall
son's head and cried for a moment like a child, while Tom's chin
quivered, and he was mortally afraid there was something like tears in
his own eyes, and he meant to be so brave and not show that