intact.

"After my father's death, as you have probably heard, there was
practically nothing left, nothing for my mother and myself to live on. So
I decided to go into business. I am," with a little smile, "both a
designer and manufacturer of quaint jewelry, ornaments and things; but
there wasn't any money. But Mr. Carrothers, who had more or less, was
crazy about the Mariposa property. He had looked up the history of the
Willoughbys and found that everything that Mr. Willoughby claimed was
true, and he wanted an interest in the estate, so he offered to finance
my little venture if I would give him a third interest in the property.

"I was glad enough to do so, and he and I went into partnership. It has
been a success. We have made money, but it left little time for anything
else. Nevertheless, Mr. Carrothers has never lost his enthusiasm in
regard to The Veiled Mariposa, and that has kept up my flagging interest.
We have not been idle about it either; but have kept prospectors down
there almost all the time. Ydo went over the ground two or three years
ago. But this year, we had decided to make a special effort. We were to
send down some great expert and a seasoned old prospector or two who
could positively smell ore on the rocks.

"I sent out my little messages in the shape of the jeweled butterflies,
and Ydo, who had not been in this country for several years, decided to
tell fortunes under the name of The Veiled Mariposa, and to carry out the
idea in her disguise. It was a clever idea because she could advertise,
and any one who had anything to communicate about the mine would
naturally connect her with it and seek her out. And sure enough, this has
proved our lucky year, for you, you discovered it--The Veiled Mariposa."
She smiled happily at him.

"To lay it at your feet." He caught her hands and drew her up from her
chair. "Ah, Queen of Eldorado, will you take it with my poor heart?"

They were both laughing; but it was laughter that trembled on the verge
of tears. "Sweetheart," she murmured, her arms about his neck, her face
hidden on his shoulder, "my mine, my butterflies and my heart are yours
for ever."

"Ah!" He held her so closely that the violets, crushed upon her breast,
protested in wafts of fragrance.

"There are more things I want to tell you," she murmured.

"You will do nothing of the kind, O Scheherazade! Not, at least, until
you have had something to eat. Ah, we will go to the Gildersleeve, w