On condition of Natalie de Santos ceasing all marital claims and disappearing at once, she is to receive five hundred thousand dollars, in bankers' drafts to her order in Paris, six months after the legal separation. Hardin's tread re-echoes on the porch. His mind is busied. Is he to have a closing career of unsullied honor in the Senate? He is yet in a firm, if frosty age. A dignified halo will surround his second marriage. It is better thus. Peace and silence at any cost. And Lagunitas' millions to come. The mine--his dear-bought treasure. It is coming, Philip Hardin. Peace and rest? it will be peace and silence. He starts! The black-robed priest is at the door. Father Fran‡ois has now resumed his soutane. "Will you kindly enter?" he says. Hardin, with unmoved face, seats himself opposite Natalie. PŠre Fran‡ois remains. "I will accept your terms, Judge Hardin," she steadily says, "with the addition that the advice of Judge Davis be at my service regarding the papers, and that I leave to-morrow for San Francisco. "You are to send an agent, also. The money to be transferred by telegraph, payable absolutely to me at Paris, by my bankers, at the appointed time. Your agent may accompany me to the frontier of the State. I will leave as soon as the bankers acknowledge the transfer. "In case of any failure on your part, the obligation to keep silent ceases. I retain the marriage papers." Hardin bows his head. The priest is silent. In a few moments, the senator-elect says: "I agree to all." His senatorial debut pictures itself in his mind. Madame de Santos rises, "I authorize PŠre Fran‡ois to remain with you, on my behalf. Let the papers be at once prepared. I am ready to leave to-morrow morning. I only insist the two papers which would affect my child, be duplicated, and both witnessed by our lawyers." Hardin bows assent. Natalie de Santos walks toward the door of her rooms. Her last words fall on his ear: "PŠre Fran‡ois will represent me in all." She is going. Hardin springs to the door: "And I shall see you again?" His voice quivers slightly. Old days throng back to his memory. "Is it for ever?" His iron heart softens a moment. "I pray God, never! Philip Hardin, you are dead to me. The past is dead. I can only think of you with your cruel grasp on my throat!" She is gone. As the door closes, Hardin buries his face in his hands. Thoughts of other days are rending his heart-strings. Before three hours, the papers are all executed. The morning stage takes Natalie de Santos, with the priest, and guarded by Armand Valois, away from the scene of the coming legal battle. In the early gray of the dawn, Philip Hardin only catches a glimpse of a muffled form in a coach. He will see the mother of his child no more. With a wild dash, the stage sweeps away. It is all over.