“Yes,” joyously exclaimed Nadine, with a glowing face. “And he adores Major Hardwicke, whose father saved his life at Lucknow. There is one dawning hope. You are not to write one word till you hear from me. I know that Madame Louison will manage to send Jules to me in some safe disguise,” she proudly cried, “and remember--I shall not be always a poor prisoner with her hands tied. The day of my deliverance comes. When I am twenty-one, I 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 Hawke 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.