He knew that when he had given the heirs to understand that there was no property, he had prevaricated. But had he not heard their pleas with patience, just as the old man had directed? And if Robert Palmer's estate were settled right then, at the end of four years, would the heirs complain of circumstances which had doubled their inheritance? No doubt conscience inquired if Francis was thinking of postponing settlement indefinitely. And no doubt prudence suggested a settlement now when all was going well. But once let the estate slip from his control, and he would become a comparatively poor man; while the twenty-nine heirs might squander their money foolishly. While he was debating the question, it was only proper to keep the money well invested. And if at the end of the fifth year his securities had shrunken seriously in value, it was natural to wait another year for values to become normal. When the crash came, the injury to his vanity hurt him more than his wounded conscience; that he had learned to soothe, but his pride had never before been humbled. And so it was said that Henry Francis died of a broken heart. His sister Mary, who nine years before had brought back to Pennsylvania the corpse of the murdered Cummins, was now summoned to carry another dead man home. True, he lived a year to contemplate the ruin of fortune and honor, but he was mortally wounded. Most pathetic of all, he was resolved to suffer in silence. Brothers and sisters should not share in his disgrace. He had gambled and lost. But he would not tell them that he had gambled with his honor. There is still balm in Gilead, even for a sinner! It was good to feel the touch of his sister's hand, to taste the delicacies that only she could prepare. The last long journey over the plains, at the end of which he would find rest on the hillside where Will Cummins slept, was almost as peaceful as his. He had renounced the world of thieves and gamblers, and was going home. Arrived in his native valley, he marvelled at its beauty. Why had he ever left it, to risk life and honor in the pursuit of riches? Man's needs are so simple! How easily he might have thriven among such kindly neighbors! None of them could be called rich, but they had an abundance of this world's goods, with something to spare for him, the returned prodigal. What does it profit a man to gain the wealth of California and lose his own soul? Had he lost his soul, then? He had proved unfaithful to his friend. Or had he been simply unfortunate? Ah, well! he hardly knew. He was eager to see Robert Palmer again in the world to which he was hastening. Then he would confess all, and be forgiven. For Robert Palmer had loved him like a son. Yes, that was what made the cup so bitter! CHAPTER XX The Bridal Veil "Where ancient forests widely spread, Where bends the cataract's ocean fall, On the lone mountain's silent head, There are Thy temples, Lord of All!" Andrews Norton.