Jane had resolved that she ought not to be moved by such arguments, and yet she could not help liking to hear them. It was in the end agreed between them--by Harding's earnest entreaties--that she should think the matter over, and that her final decision should be withheld until the return of the troupe to perform its second engagement. Jane had talked with Miss De Montague, who, in spite of some foibles, was a kind-hearted and right-minded woman, and Miss De Montague had strongly urged that Jane's sensitiveness was overstrained. If Mr. Harding had been told all the truth without reserve and he still wished to make Jane his wife, and Jane wished to marry him, that was enough. To stand about and moon over it, and wonder or care what people would say, was all fiddle-faddle, and all sensible people would call it so. Besides, California was different from other places. It was the custom there to give everybody a chance, and value them for what they did and what they were _now_--and not for what other people, or even they themselves, had done before. It is right to admit that the amiable lady's passion for Mr. Bellario--whose similar feeling for Miss Tinsel was more than suspected--had something to do with inspiring all these sage suggestions; but the suggestions were not deprived of good sense by that. During the fortnight that passed between Jane's departure and her return the cottage that Harding designed for her future home fast approached completion. Meanwhile its owner's claim was doing better, and his coffers were consequently fuller than ever before. He resolved that, come what might, Jane should become his wife; and it was in this frame of mind that Harding walked out by the riverside on the night the troupe returned. As before, he resolved not to hurry in his suit, and therefore determined to omit calling until the following day. The night was clear, the stars shining brightly, and the stream ran gurgling forward with a pleasant sound. Suddenly, as Harding strolled musing along the bank, some one touched him on the shoulder from behind; and turning, he beheld the "Blood-Red Demon," Mr. Bellario. That gentleman wore a long cloak, tossed across his breast and left shoulder, and a slouched sombrero; and his white, pasty face wore a look of inscrutable mystery. "Hist!" he enjoined in a stage whisper; "all is discovered!" Then he drew back, with finger on lip, as if to watch the effect of his revelation. "What's the matter?" said Harding. "What do you mean?" "Mean! Ha! ha!" and the "Demon" laughed witheringly. "He asks me what I mean! Mark me," proceeded he, with a sudden transition, "I know your secret!" "Oh, you do, do you? Which one do you mean?" questioned Harding scornfully. "I have neither time nor heart to trifle," said the "Demon," waving his arm with an air of ineffable majesty. "I shall be brief and to the point." "You'll very much oblige me."