lady ought to have it out with the major with
pistols or knives for disturbing her, and that they, who were in all the
sadness of disappointment at failure of a well-planned independent
execution, ought to see the end of the whole affair. But a beseeching
look from the lady herself finally cleared the cave, and the major
exclaimed:

"Louise, what does this mean?"

"It means," said the lady, with most perfect composure, "that, thanks to
a worthless father and a bad bringing-up by an incapable mother, Ernest
has found his way into this country. I came to find him, and I found him
in this hole, to which his affectionate father brought him to-day. It is
about as well, I imagine, that I helped him to escape, seeing to what
further kind attentions you had reserved him."

"Please don't be so icy, Louise," begged the major. "He attempted to rob
and kill me, the young rascal; besides, I had not the faintest idea of
who he was."

"Perhaps," said the lady, still very calm, "you will tell me from whom
he inherited the virtues which prompted his peculiar actions towards
you? His _mother_ has always earned her livelihood honorably."

"Louise," said the major, with a humility which would have astonished
his acquaintance, "won't you have the kindness to reserve your sarcasm
until I am better able to bear it? You probably think I have no heart--I
acknowledge I have thought as much myself--but _something_ is making me
feel very weak and tender just now."

The lady looked critically at him for a moment, and then burst into
tears.

"Oh, God!" she sobbed, "what else is there in store for this poor,
miserable, injured life of mine?"

"Restitution," whispered the major softly--"if you will let me make it,
or try to make it."

The weeping woman looked up inquiringly, and said only the words:

"And she?"

"My first wife?" answered the major. "Dead--_really_ dead, Louise, as I
hope to be saved. She died several years ago, and I longed to do you
justice then, but the memory of our parting was too much for my cowardly
soul. If you will take me as I am, Louise, I will, as long as I live,
remember the past, and try to atone for it."

She put her hand in his, and they left the gopher-hole together. As they
disappeared in the outer darkness, there emerged from one of the
compartments of the cave an individual whose features were
indistinguishable in the darkness, but who was heard to emphatically
exclaim:

"If I had the dust, I'd sta