her faintness, and then she fell to kissing the
ring, in an agony of love, and wept over it, and still held it, and
gazed at it through her blinding tears.

Falcon eyed her uneasily.

But he soon found he had nothing to fear. For a long time she seemed
scarcely aware of his presence; and when she noticed him, it was to
thank him, almost passionately.

"It was my Christie you were so good to: may Heaven bless you for it:
and you will bring me his letter, will you not?"

"Of course I will."

"Oh, do not go yet. It is all so strange: so sad. I seem to have lost
my poor Christie again, since he did not die at sea. But no, I am
ungrateful to God, and ungrateful to the kind friend that nursed him to
the last. Ah, I envy you that. Tell me all. Never mind my crying. I
have seen the time I could not cry. It was worse then than now. I shall
always cry when I speak of him, ay, to my dying day. Tell me, tell me
all."

Her passion frightened the egotist, but did not turn him. He had gone
too far. He told her that, after raising all their hopes, Dr. Staines
had suddenly changed for the worse, and sunk rapidly; that his last
words had been about her, and he had said, "My poor Rosa, who will
protect her?" That, to comfort him, he had said he would protect her.
Then the dying man had managed to write a line or two, and to address
it. Almost his last words had been, "Be a father to my child."

"That is strange."

"You have no child? Then it must have been you he meant. He spoke of you
as a child more than once."

"Mr. Falcon, I have a child; but born since I lost my poor child's
father."

"Then I think he knew it. They say that dying men can see all over
the world: and I remember, when he said it, his eyes seemed fixed very
strangely, as if on something distant. Oh, how wonderful all this is.
May I see his child, to whom I promised"--

The artist in lies left his sentence half completed.

Rosa rang, and sent for her little boy.

Mr. Falcon admired his beauty, and said quietly, "I shall keep my vow."

He then left her, with a promise to come back early next morning with
the letter.

She let him go only on those conditions.

As soon as her father came in, she ran to him with this strange story.

"I don't believe it," said he. "It is impossible."

She showed him the proof, the ruby ring.

Then he became very uneasy, and begged her not to tell a soul. He did
not tell her the reason, but he feared the insurance offic