g over. Meanwhile, you might dress if you feel
well enough. Run to the shed and get the packet; we will read it
over together when I have finished my pipe. It is a remarkable
story," he repeated, as he slowly opened the door, "a most marvellous
story. I must have a pipe. A most--remarkable--tale."

With this he went downstairs and left me to dress.

I did so, and ran downstairs to the cow-shed. No one had been there.
With eager fingers I tore away the bricks from the crumbling mortar,
and drew out my prize. The buckle glittered in the light that stole
through the gaping door. All was safe, and as I left it.

Clutching my treasure, I ran back to the house and found Mrs.
Busvargus spreading the midday meal. Until that was over, I knew
that Uncle Loveday would not attack the mystery. He was sitting
outside in the front garden smoking solemnly, and the wreaths of his
pipe, curling in through the open door, filled the house with
fragrance.

I crept upstairs to my mother's door, and reverently entered the
dim-lit room. They had laid the two dead lovers side by side upon
the bed. Very peacefully they slept the sleep that was their
meeting--peacefully as though no wickedness had marred their lives or
wrought their death. I could look upon them calmly now. My father
had left his heritage--a heritage far different from that which he
went forth to win; but I accepted it nevertheless. Had they known,
in heaven, the full extent of that inheritance, would they not, as I
kissed their dead lips in token of my acceptance, have given some
sign to stay me? Had I known, as I bent over them, to what the oath
in my heart would bring me, would I even then have renounced it?
I cannot say. The dead lips were silent, and only the dead know what
will be.

Uncle Loveday was already at table when I descended. But small was
our pretence of eating. Mrs. Busvargus, it is true, had lost no
appetite through sorrow; but Mrs. Busvargus was accustomed to such
scenes, and in her calling treated Death with no more to-do than she
would a fresh customer at her husband's inn. Long attendance at
death-beds seemed to have given that good woman a perennial youth,
and certainly that day she seemed to have lost the years which I had
gained. Uncle Loveday made some faint display of heartiness; but it
was the most transparent feigning. He covered his defection by
pressing huge helpings upon me, so that my plate was bidding fair to
become a