"I'll protect that child. She shall never want a friend, if you do one thing," Joe falters. Natalie raises a white face to his. "What is it?" she huskily whispers. "Will you swear, in open court, which of these two girls is your own child, if I ask you to?" He is eager and pleading. She reads his very soul. She hesitates. "And you will protect the innocent girl, against his wrath?" There is all a mother's love in her appeal. "Both of you. I swear it. You shall not want for money or protection," Joe solemnly says. "Then, I will!" Natalie firmly answers. He springs to her side. "Does Hardin know which girl is his daughter?" "He does not!" Natalie says slowly. There is a silence; Joe can hear his own heart beat. Victory at last. "I have nothing to ask you, except to see no one but myself, Padre Francisco, or my lawyer. If Hardin wants to see you, I'll be present. Now I am going to see him to-night. You will be watched over night and day. I am going to have every precaution taken. I shall be near you always. Rest in safety. I think I can save you any opening up of the old days. "I will see you early." Her hands clasp his warmly! She says: "Colonel, send PŠre Fran‡ois to me. I will tell him all you need to know. He will know what to keep back." "That's right," cries Joseph, warmly. "I know how to handle Hardin now. You can bank on the padre. He's dead game." "And your reward?" Natalie whispers, with bowed head. A wild thought makes the blood surge to Joe's brain. He slowly stammers, "My reward?" His eyes tell him he must make no mistake. A flash of genius. "You will square my account, madame, if you make no objection to the immediate marriage of your daughter to Dauvray. He's a fine fellow for a Frenchman, and she shall never know this story. She'll have money enough. I'll see to that." Joe's voice is earnest. Natalie's arms are stretched to him in thanks. "In God's name, be it, my noble friend." Joe dares not trust himself longer. He retires, leaving Natalie standing, a splendid statue, with shining, hopeful eyes. Her blessing follows him; sin-shadowed though she be, it reaches the Court of Heaven. Natalie, in silent sorrow, sees her labor of years brushed away. Her child can never be the heiress of Lagunitas. Fate has brought the gentle Louise Moreau to the very threshold of her old home. It is Providence. Destiny. The all-knowing PŠre Fran‡ois reveals to her how strangely the life-path of the heiress has been guarded. "My daughter," the priest solemnly says, "be comforted. Right shall prevail. Trust me, trust Colonel Woods. Your child may fall heir yet to a name and to her own inheritance. The ways of Him who pardons are mysterious." He leaves her comforted and yet not daring to break the seal of silence to the lovely claimants. While PŠre Fran‡ois confers with Natalie, as the moon sails high in heaven over the fragrant pines, Woods and Peyton exchange a few quiet words over their cigars.