"Nearer," he whispered, "I will tell thee a secret, that will make thee rich beyond thy wildest dreams. It will be some recompense for the pain I have caused thee, and thou canst let a small portion be used in Masses for my soul. No one knows where it is concealed, save myself and the dead Herrick." "Where is it hidden?" I asked listlessly, for in truth I cared little for the golden hoard, since one whom I loved could not share it with me. "Nearer," he whispered, so low that only bending far over his white face, could I hear his voice. "Those pale ones who bend beside thee shall not hear it; 'tis for thy ear alone. Look upon the Island Eldorado, it is concealed----" He stiffened himself; even as he did so, I knew that his race was run, for I could feel beside me the presence of that one who had beckoned him, and who with waiting boat was preparing to waft him over the dark stream, and into the dim unknown region from which no traveler returns. The dying man had lifted himself until he sat erect, his dull, glazed eyes fixed far beyond me. He spoke, and with awe I recognized that his voice had regained all the strength and imperiousness with which it rang when he had reigned supreme, the lord and ruler of the savage crew. "Some wine, José!" he cried. "The wine of the King of Spain. We will drink one more toast before we go; our time is short--long and weary the journey. Now, men, fill up to the brim, for I give you a toast to-night, such as you have never drunk e'er this, nor will again. "'Tis a lady, pure, beautiful, divine, such a one as never graced this rough earth before. Had Eve been such as she, 'tis no wonder that Adam lost all, and counted it naught beside the glory of her deep eyes. Had Helen been one-half so fair, I wonder not that Paris for her sake braved all Greece and laughed at their rage. I give thee a lady, my comrades, more lovely than the pale blushing dawn, purer than the driven snow, with eyes whose deep blue outshines the azure sky, one whom England admires and adores--The Lady Margaret Carroll!" He fell back upon the bank, the same calm smile upon his face. He made no sign or motion; bending forward, I saw that he had died without a struggle. With the help of Winona I dug a trench and buried the Count. So we left him to keep his last long watch; the snows of winter lie thick upon his grave, the sun and rain of summer beat upon it, but he heeds them not. He was a man with all his faults, and deep above his grave I carved upon a hemlock the simple words "Requiescat in pace."