with me, but I can't. You are more to me than you dream,
but it would not be right for me thus deliberately to sacrifice your
whole future to my pleasure. I possess nothing to offer you,--no home,
no friends, no reputation. Practically I am an outlaw, existing by my
wits, disreputable in the eyes of those who are worthy to live in the
world. She, who was your mother, would never wish you to remain with
me. She would say I did right in giving you up into the care of a good
woman. Naida, look on that face in the locket, your mother's face. It
is sweet, pure, beautiful, the face of a good, true woman. Living or
dead, it must be the prayer of those lips that you become a good woman
also. She should lead you, not I, for I am unworthy. For her sake,
and in her name, I ask you to go back to Mrs. Herndon."

He could perceive the gathering tears in her eyes, and his hand closed
tightly about her own. It was not one soul alone that struggled.

"You will go?"

"O Bob, I wish you wasn't a gambler!"

A moment he remained silent. "But unfortunately I am," he admitted,
soberly, "and it is best for you to go back. Won't you?"

Her gaze was fastened upon the open locket, the fair face pictured
there smiling up at her as though in pleading also.

"You truly think she would wish it?"

"I know she would."

The girl gave utterance to a quick, startled breath, as if the vision
frightened her. "Then I will go," she said, her voice a mere whisper,
"I will go."

He led her down the steps, out into the jostling crowd below, as if she
had been some fairy princess. Men occasionally spoke to him, but
seemingly he heard nothing, pressing his way through the mass of moving
figures in utter unconsciousness of their presence. Her locket hung
dangling, and he slipped it back into its place and drew her slender
form yet closer against his own, as they stepped forth into the black,
deserted road. Once, in the last faint ray of light which gleamed from
the windows of the Miners' Retreat, she glanced up shyly into his face.
It was white and hard set, and she did not venture to break the
silence. Half-way up the gloomy ravine they met a man and woman coming
along the narrow path. Hampton drew her aside out of their way, then
spoke coldly.

"Mrs. Herndon, were you seeking your lost charge? I have her here."

The two passing figures halted, peering through the darkness.

"Who are you?" It was the gruff voice of the man.

Ha