"But, Jack,"-he bent toward me kindly,-"Jack, you

mustn't be led away by any mere quixotism into laying

the foundation of your own fortune. What I have is

yours, boy. What is in the box in the chimney is yours

now-to-day."

"I wish you wouldn't! You were always too kind,

and I deserve nothing, absolutely nothing."

"I'm not trying to pay you, Jack. I want to ease my

own conscience, that's all."

"But money can do nothing for mine," I replied, trying

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to smile. "I've been dependent all my days, and

now I'm going to work. If you were infirm and needed

me, I should not hesitate, but the world will have its

eyes on me now."

"Jack, that will of mine did you a great wrong; it

put a mark upon you, and that's what hurts me, that's

what I want to make amends for! Don't you see? Now

don't punish me, boy. Come! Let us be friends!"

He rose and put out his hands.

"I didn't mean that! I don't care about that! It

was nothing more than I deserved. These months here

have changed me. Haven't you heard me say I was going

to work?"

And I tried to laugh away further discussion of my

future.

"It will be more cheerful here in the spring," he said,

as though seeking an inducement for me to remain.

"When the resort colony down here comes to life the

lake is really gay."

I shook my head. The lake, that pretty cupful of

water, the dip and glide of a certain canoe, the remembrance

of a red tam-o'-shanter merging afar off in an

October sunset-my purpose to leave the place strengthened

as I thought of these things. My nerves were

keyed to a breaking pitch and I turned upon him stormily.

"So Miss Devereux was the other person who shared

your confidence! Do you understand,-do you appreciate

the fact that she was Pickering's ally?"

"I certainly do not," he replied coldly. "I'm surprised

to hear you speak so of a woman whom you can

scarcely know-"

"Yes, I know her; my God, I have reason to know her!

But even when I found her out I did not dream that

the plot was as deep as it is. She knew that it was a

scheme to test me, and she played me into Pickering's

hands. I saw her only a few nights ago down there in

the tunnel acting as his spy, looking for the lost notes

that she might gain grace in his eyes by turning them

over to him. You know I always hated Pickering,-he

was too smooth, too smug, and you and everybody else

were for ever praising him to me. He was always held

up to me as a model; and the first time I saw Marian

Devereux she was with him-it was at Sherry's the night

before I came here. I suppose she reached St. Agatha's

only a few hours ahead of me."




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