e such by prosperity and ease, spent their lives in
trying to even things off by raising the condition of their
fellow-creatures to their own. Well, he had the same object to be
attained, by different means. He would even things off by grading to his
own level. Was not that a perfectly logical aim, given the circumstances
which induced it?

He lifted his hand and moved it to and fro, that he might catch the
gleam of the stones in the faint starlight. In the mere joy of seeing
the ring there upon his finger he almost forgot for the moment what its
significance was. It scarcely reminded him just then of the girl with
the tearful eyes, usually so present with him. Her face seemed to be
receding from his memory; the whole story of his life seemed to grow
dim and ill-defined. His mind was curiously elate with a sense of
achievement, a certainty that he was near the goal, that fulfilment was
at hand.

He was still pursuing his way up the hill, walking slowly, with bent
head, like a philosopher in revery, when he became aware that the day
was dawning. The stars were growing dim and vanishing one by one, in the
pale light which came like a veil across their radiance. A dull,
creeping regret invaded his mind. He had loved the stars, he could have
studied them with joy; under a happier fate he might have been high in
their counsels. As he watched their obliteration in the dawn of a day
deliberately dedicated to evil, a profound yearning for their pure
tranquil eternal light came upon him, and as Jupiter himself withdrew
into the impenetrable spaces, Dirke turned his eyes downward with a
long, shuddering sigh. His downcast gaze fell upon the poor earthly
brilliance of the diamonds.

[Illustration: "ON THE EDGE OF A DEAD FOREST."]

It was not until he heard from the count, a few hours later, that Dirke
found himself restored to the state of mind which he was pleased to
consider natural. The call for action dissipated his misgivings, carried
him beyond the reach of doubts and regrets, gave him an assurance that
Fate had at last ranged itself on his side. For even if duelling were
not a peculiarly un-American institution, it is a mode of warfare of
such refinement and elaborateness, as to be utterly foreign to the
atmosphere of a mining-camp, and Dirke could only regard the challenge
which came to him in due form and order that morning, as a special
interposition of those darker powers which he had so long, and hitherto
so vainl