“I presume the Sheriff meant kindly when he sent me this as my property, which having testified to suit the prosecution, was returned to the burglar in whose possession it was found.  The sight of it was as humiliating as a blow on the cheek.  Some gifts are fatal; nevertheless, you must ascribe no sinister motive to me, when I fulfil that injunction of Gen’l Darrington’s last Will and Testament, which set apart these sapphires for his son’s bride.  They are just as I received them from his hands.  My mother, for whom they were intended, never saw them; I thank God that she wears the eternal jewels that He provides for the faithful and the pure in heart.  I wish you to deliver this case, and the gold pieces, one hundred dollars, to Mr. Darrington; and it will be a mercy to rid me of torturing reminders.”

She looked at the azure flame leaping from the superb stones, and pushed the box away with a gesture of loathing.

“Beautifully blue as those weird nebulae in the far, far South; that brood over the ocean wastes where cyclones are born; but to me and to mine, the baleful medium of an inherited curse.  Having accomplished my doom, may they bring only benison to your sister.”

“I would see adders fastened in her ears and twined around her neck sooner than those—­”

“At least take them out of my sight; give them to Mr. Darrington.  They are maddening reminders of a perished past.  Now, to the last iota, I have made all possible restitution, and the account is squared; for in exchange for that life, which I am condemned as having taken, my own is the forfeit.  The expiation is complete.”

She seemed to have forgotten his presence, as her gaze rested on the ring she wore, and a happy smile momentarily glorified the pale face.

“Beryl!—­”

She started, winced, shivered; and threw up her hand with the haughty denial he so well remembered.

“Hush!  Only my precious dead ever called me so.  You must not dare!”

Something she read in the face that leaned toward her, filled her with vague dread, and despite her efforts, she trembled visibly.

“Mr. Dunbar, I am very weary; tired—­oh! how tired, body and soul.”

“You dismiss me?  Recollect I was warned that this would be the last interview accorded me, and I beg your indulgence.  If you knew all, if you could imagine one-half the sorrow you have caused me, you would consider our accounts as satisfactorily balanced as your settlement with the Darringtons.  Whether you have ruined my life, or are destined to purify and exalt it, remains to be determined.  To see you as you are, is almost beyond my powers of endurance, and for my own sake—­mark you—­to ease my own heart, I shall redouble my efforts to have you liberated.  There is one speedy process, the discovery of the man whom, thus far, you have shielded so effectually; and next week I begin the hunt in earnest by going West.”