tstretched in death on the bed they led her to, she beheld the
lifeless figure of her aunt. The reserve she maintained on this point
has always been respected by me. Let it continue to be so.

When, therefore, she said, "You know the rest," I took her in my arms
and gave her my first kiss. Then I softly released her, and by tacit
consent we each went our way for that day.

Mine took me into the hall below, which was all alive with the hum of
departing guests. Beaton was among them, and as he stepped out on the
porch I gave him a parting hand-clasp, and quietly whispered:

"When all dark things are made light, you will find that there was both
more and less to your dream than you were inclined to make out."

He bowed, and that was the last word which ever passed between us on
this topic.

But what chiefly impressed me in connection with this afternoon's events
was the short talk I had with Sinclair. I fear I forced this talk, but I
could not let the dreary day settle into still drearier night without
making clear to him a point which, in the new position he held toward
Gilbertine, if not toward myself, might seem to be involved in some
doubt. When, therefore, the opportunity came, I accosted him with these
words:

"It is not a very propitious time for me to intrude my personal affairs
upon you, but I feel as if I should like you to know that the clouds
have been cleared away between Dorothy and myself, and that some day we
expect to marry."

He gave me the earnest look of a man who has recovered his one friend.
Then he grasped my hand warmly, saying, with something like his old
fervour:

"You deserve all the happiness that awaits you. Mine is gone; but if I
can regain it I will. Trust me for that, Worthington."

The coroner, who had seen much of life and human nature, managed with
much discretion the inquest he felt bound to hold. Mrs. Lansing was
found to have come to her death by a meddlesome interference with one of
her niece's wedding trinkets; and, as every one acquainted with Mrs.
Lansing knew her to be quite capable of such an act of malicious folly,
the verdict was duly accepted, and the real heart of this tragedy closed
for ever from every human eye.

As we were leaving Newport Sinclair stepped up to me.

"I have reason to know," said he, "that Mrs. Lansing's bequests will be
a surprise, not only to her nieces, but to the world at large. Let me
advise you to announce your engagement before reaching