one. They worked the whole night through, and by the tardy dawn
all was done, and even the soil of the forest so cleverly arranged
that none could guess at the existence of that deep grave. And who
would guess the secret of that tangled forest? Even were it thought
that the gold and silver had been hid, who would have such skill as
to guess the spot, and go and filch it thence? And yet it must have
been carried away full soon. For Nicholas Trevlyn, in his anxious
greed, visited the spot not many weeks later--visited it by
stealth, for he and his brother were alike in hiding, waiting for
the first burst of vengeful fury to be over--and he found it gone!
He thought on the first survey that all was well; but on more
closely examining the ground his heart misgave him, for it appeared
to him as if the soil had been moved. With anxious haste he began
to dig, and soon his spade struck the lid of one of the chests. For
a moment he breathed again; but he was impelled to carry his search
farther. He uncovered the chest and raised the lid--it was empty!
In a wild fear and fury he dug again and again, and with the same
result. Every chest or box was in its place, but every one was
empty! The treasure had been spirited away by some spoiler's hand;
the treasure of Trevlyn was lost from that night forward!"

Cuthbert was leaning forward drinking all in with eager curiosity.

"My father discovered the loss--my father?"

Kate nodded her head, and seemed to divine the thought in his mind,
for she answered as if he had spoken it aloud.

"We have all thought of that. I know it is sometimes in my father's
mind as he looks at his kinsman's grim face; but our grand sire
never suspected him for a moment--nay, he vowed he was certain he
had had no part nor lot in the matter. For there was nothing but
accord between the brothers; they shared good and evil hap alike.
It was with his son, my father, who abjured the old faith and
became a Protestant, that your father picked a quarrel. He hated
his brother's wife, it is true; but he never appeared to hate his
brother. And he suffered more than any in the years that followed.
He lost his all, and has been a ruined man since. If he had a
secret hoard, sure he would scarce live the life he does now."

"I know not. It seems scarce like; and yet I can never answer for
my father's moods, they are so wild and strange. But there is yet
one thing more I would ask. You spoke awhile ago of gipsies--of a