can reward both you and Euphrosyne. She shall have a
home to live in ease. And you,--you shall go out into the world with me,
and aid me to find my mother. Even in the tomb I shall find her. I
shall know of her love. For I shall see her loving face, even only in a
picture. The face that has blessed me in my dreams."

Justine Delande saw a future reward awaiting the two faithful guardians
of the childhood of Miss Million. With a sudden impulse, she cried:
"There is one to aid even nearer to us now than Major Hardwicke. For I
have a telegram from Euphrosyne, that Major Haivke is at Geneva."

Nadine Johnstone rose and seized both of Justine's hands: "Promise
me now, by my dead mother's grave, that you will never tell that man
anything of our secret compact of to-day! I fear him! I disliked him
from the first! He had strange dealings with the dead." The girl's face
was stern. "If I am approached by him in any way, I will cease every
communication with you forever! I will have no aid of Alan Hawke."

And when the parting hour came, Justine Delande was amazed at the cold
dignity with which Nadine Johnstone faced the grim old uncle. It was
only at the gate of the "Banker's Folly," that the heiress for the last
time kissed her friend in adieu. "Fear not for me. I have learned the
lesson of Life. Remember!" she whispered. "Keep the faith! Guard my
trusts!" and then, Justine sobbed: "Loyal a la, mort!"

The evening shades were darkening the sculptured shores of Rozel Bay,
where clumsy luggers lay far below, high and dry on the beach, behind
the great masonry pier. Skiffs and fishing-boats lined the shores, and
the soft breeze moved the foliage of the luxuriant garden. The white
stars were peeping out and twinkling in the gray and lonely sea, as
Nadine shivered and walked firmly back to the portico, where the old
recluse awaited her.

With a stiff motion of perfunctory courtesy, he motioned the heiress
into the frosty-looking drawing-room, now lit up with spectral gleams of
wax candles. For he would treat his ward with a frozen dignity.

Andrew Fraser coughed in a hollow warning and wasted no words in his
first bulletin of "General Orders." "I have here a certified copy of
your late father's will," he said, "for your perusal. You will see all
the conditions of life which he has wisely laid down for you. I have
telegraphed on to London for his solicitor to send a representative
here, and the original testament will be duly fi