keep this secret from the Indians, it does not follow that he
intends to reveal it to me. I will shut the box again, and guard his
secret as I would one of my own."

This was no sooner _thought_ than it was _done_. A pressure
of the lid closed it, and Maud heard the snap of the spring with a
start. Scarcely was the act performed ere she repented it. "Bob would
not have sent the box without some particular object," she went on to
imagine; "and had he intended it not to be opened, he would have told
as much to O'Hearn. How easy would it have been for him to say, and for
Mike to repeat, 'tell her to keep the box till I ask for it--it
contains a secret, and I wish my captors not to learn it.' No, he has
sent the box with the design that I should examine its contents. His
very life may depend on my doing so; yes, and on my doing so this
minute!"

This last notion no sooner glanced athwart our heroine's mind, than she
began diligently to search for the hidden spring. Perhaps curiosity had
its influence on the eagerness to arrive at the secret, which she now
manifested; possibly a tenderer and still more natural feeling lay
concealed behind it all. At any rate, her pretty little fingers never
were employed more nimbly, and not a part of the exterior of the box
escaped its pressure. Still, the secret spring eluded her search. The
box had two or three bands of richly chased work on each side of the
place of opening, and amid these ornaments Maud felt certain that the
little projection she sought must lie concealed. To examine these,
then, she commenced in a regular and connected manner, resolved that
not a single raised point should be neglected. Accident, however, as
before, stood her friend; and, at a moment when she least expected it,
the lid flew back, once more exposing the paper to view.

Maud had been too seriously alarmed about re-opening the box, to
hesitate a moment now, as to examining its contents. The paper was
removed, and she began to unfold it slowly, a slight tremor passing
through her frame as she did so. For a single instant she paused to
scent the delightful and delicate perfume that seemed to render the
interior sacred; then her fingers resumed their office. At each
instant, her eyes expected to meet Robert Willoughby's well known
handwriting. But the folds of the paper opened on a blank. To Maud's
surprise, and, for a single exquisitely painful moment, she saw that a
lock of hair was all the box contain