er and perused it twice, by which time she knew it
as well as she did the Lord's Prayer, nor did she ever forget a single
word of it. Then she handed it back to the lawyer, saying nothing.

"I understand," said Mr. Turner, breaking in on a silence which he felt
to be painful, "that you will be able to produce the necessary proofs of
identity within the next few days, and then we can get the will proved
in the usual form. Meanwhile, you must want money, which I will take the
risk of advancing you," and he wrote a cheque for a hundred pounds and
gave it to Leonard.

Half an hour later Leonard and Juanna were alone in a room at their
hotel, but as yet scarcely a word had passed between them since they
left the lawyer's office.

"Don't you see, Leonard," his wife said almost fiercely, "it is most
amusing, you made a mistake. Your brother's dying prophecy was like a
Delphic oracle--it could be taken two ways, and, of course, you adopted
the wrong interpretation. You left Grave Mountain a day too soon. It was
by _Jane Beach's_ help that you were to recover Outram, not by mine,"
and she laughed sadly.

"Don't talk like that, dear," said Leonard in a sad voice; "it pains
me."

"How else am I to talk after reading that letter?" she answered, "for
what woman can hold her own against a dead rival? Now also I must be
indebted to her bounty all my days. Oh! if I had not lost the jewels--if
only I had not lost the jewels!"

History does not relate how Leonard dealt with this unexpected and yet
natural situation.

A week had passed and Leonard, with Juanna at his side, found himself
once more in the great hall at Outram, where, on a bygone night, many
years ago, he and his dead brother had sworn their oath. All was the
same, for in this hall nothing had been changed--Jane had seen to that.
There chained to its stand was the Bible, upon which they had registered
their vow; there were the pictures of his ancestors gazing down calmly
upon him, as though they cared little for the story of his struggles and
of his strange triumph over fortune "by the help of a woman." There
was the painted window, with its blazoned coats of arms and its proud
mottoes--"_For Heart, Home, and Honour_," and "_Per ardua ad astra_." He
had won the heart and home, and he had kept his honour and his oath. He
had endured the toils and dangers and the crown of stars was his.

And yet, was Leonard altogether happy as he stood looking on these
familiar thin