That this fatal piece should appear in the hands of the people whom of all others he most esteemed and with whom his own fortunes were most intimately bound up, was a terrible shock.  This, then, was the clew to the catalogue of Holbrook’s misfortunes.  What surpassing crime could the old man have committed to be so signally marked out for vengeance?  But the question of most vital interest was what could be done to save the family so dear to him from their impending fate.

With the recovery of some calmness, he felt that his first duty was to remove the coin from their possession.  But how was it to be done?  He could not disclose his knowledge of its baleful properties.  It would be set down as the vagary of a disordered brain; nobody would entertain it for an instant.  His object must be accomplished, if at all, by artifice.

When he next rode to the farm, nearly a week had elapsed since the evening into which so many distracting emotions had been crowded.  He exerted himself to display unusual cheerfulness, with the double object of removing any disagreeable impression which might have been the result of his sudden departure on that occasion, and also of finding means to forward his purpose.  The subject uppermost in the thoughts of both was at first carefully avoided, and they talked much in their usual fashion.

“Those coins, Miss Nina, which were used the other evening in the tableau,” said he, with a careless air, “can I see them again?  I found them interesting, but owing to my sudden illness, as you know, had scarcely time to examine them.”

“My father was displeased at me for taking them,” said she, “and has forbidden me to do so again.  I think he would show them to you himself with pleasure, if he were here, but he went North yesterday on business which will detain him a week.  He took the key of his cabinet with him.”

Disappointed in this, there seemed to be for the present no resource.  He recurred again to his love.  If she would consent to be his, he thought, he might disclose the danger, and they could plan together to avert it.  He told her with what anxiety he had been awaiting her decision, and then once more made his appeal with all the ardor at his command.  As he finished, standing close beside her, he took her hand.

She did not withdraw it, but still went on to tell him with great calmness and dignity that what he desired could never be.  She hoped their friendship might always continue, but as for a closer relation, it would be unjust to him as well as herself to enter into it without the affection which she could not give.

He went away apparently very much broken down, saying that his life was a burden to him, and that he had no use for it.  The next day he came again and acted so strangely, mingling appeals to her with talk about her father’s coins, that she was a little frightened.