"He said that his marriage was perfectly legal; that he took the young woman by night to a town called Cedarton, near by, and the ceremony was performed by a Protestant minister, before witnesses. The license, together with the marriage certificate, he says may be found in a small tin box under the stone at the front right-hand corner of the hearth in the cabin, if it still stands. Why he secreted these papers, instead of destroying them, as one would naturally think from his infamous action, he did not explain. "I trust that wife and child are both living, and that you will speedily bear to them this tardy restitution. Truly, this world is the abode of sin and sorrow. "Commending you to the care of God, and His holy Saints, believe me, "Sincerely yours in Christ, "ALPHONSUS EREMY, C.S.C." Ten minutes after I had finished reading this letter--ten minutes during which I sat silent with buzzing brain and elated soul, I raised my head and looked at Father John. His eyes were open now, and he was regarding me with an expression I could not translate. Gladness, humility, compassion, sorrow and love were all blended in his lineaments. Carefully, as though it were a fragile something easily broken, I laid the letter back upon the table. "Keep it," said Father John in a low voice, making a slight upward gesture. "In itself it is ze ev'dence, in case ze papers be not foun'." A swift alarm struck at my heart. "But--" I began. With his rare, sunshiny smile the priest interrupted. Then all at once a look of weary melancholy spread over his features, and I knew he was thinking again of the perfidy of his beloved niece. Every muscle in my body was pulling me toward the Lodge, and I now arose. "I can't thank you as I would for sending for me and confiding in me as you have," I said, my words shaky, because I had been strangely wrought upon by all that had passed. He made a deprecatory, characteristic gesture with both hands. "Zey came zis mornin', m'sieu," he replied, sadly, glancing at the table. "I sen' for you w'en I read zem." He sighed, shook his head, and reached for his tobacco jar. "I sink zey will be zere, but--sings hap'n, m'sieu, an' we can never tell. It has been ze twenty year'." "But a tin box, father--that will hold them safely!" I exclaimed, and he beamed tolerantly at my boyish eagerness. "Yes; zey should be zere." "You have not heard from Granny--and them?" I ventured, for the wish to see Celeste had grown within the last quarter of an hour into an irresistible force. I waited his reply with bated breath. "No," he answered, almost at once. "Zey lef' w'ile I was gone. I have heard nuzzin'." Once again I tried to speak my gratitude, but the gentle old man stopped me. This time he did not press me to stay, for he knew the magnet which was drawing me back to the hut on Bald Knob.