"Well, a wife like Prudence will keep him straight. Then Osip, as you know, is dead--" "No! no!"--Clarice clung to her husband--"don't talk of such things in this place, Anthony. I never wish to hear the man's name again." "I won't mention it," said Anthony, gravely. "But for your peace of mind, dear, I may tell you that he held his tongue to the last. Everyone thinks that Osip killed Horran, as he killed Barras, and Jerce is looked upon as a martyr. Would you like me to read his obituary notices? I kept them." "No! I don't wish to hear. But there are two things I should like to know," added Clarice, thoughtfully. "Firstly, how you fancied that you saw Uncle Henry at the Shah's Rooms?" "Oh! Ferdy informed me that Barras masqueraded as his client, so as to deceive people into thinking that Mr. Horran was spending the money, and that his illness was a blind for profligacy." "What a wretch Mr. Barras was!" "Well, he is dead, so we'll forgive him." "Now," said Clarice, "secondly? How did Zara know that the stamp was hidden in Ferdy's bedroom?" "She made him tell her where he had put it," replied Anthony; "you know how weak Ferdy was." Clarice sighed: "It is weak people who usually get into trouble," she said, "and know no escape. Has Zara held her tongue? "Yes, and they say--the Press says, I mean--that she is going to marry a wealthy American. For her own sake she will be silent. I don't think we need worry any more about that past." "I am glad of that, Anthony. It is more pleasant to look forward to a bright and quiet future. But I still worry about Ferdy. After all, he is my twin brother, you know." "Don't trouble about him, sweetest. He is not worth it, and you may be sure that he never gives you a thought." "Well," said Mrs. Ackworth, gravely, "I don't know that I mind. I have you, and you are my world. But there's only one thing, Anthony--I'll never wear purple, however fashionable it may become." Ackworth laughed at this truly feminine speech. "And you will never look at this again?" he said, teasingly, picking a fern. "Ugh!" said Clarice, and, catching it from his hand, she flung it down on the sunny grass. "There--the past is gone with that." "The Purple Fern has gone with the green fern," said Anthony. "Well, let it go, darling heart. You and I are together----" "For ever and ever and ever," said Clarice, nestling in his arms. "Amen," breathed the husband, piously, and truly meant it. FINIS. ----------------------------------------------------- CLARKE, ALEXANDER & Co., LIMITED, LONDON AND NORWICH. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Purple Fern, by Fergus Hume