But what was it that lay under his feet? What were all these bars? Were they all gold? Was this indeed all here--the plunder of the Spanish treasure-ships--the wealth which might purchase a kingdom--the treasure equal to an empire’s revenue--the gold and jewels in countless store? A few moments of respite were needed in order to overcome the tremendous conflict of feeling which raged within his breast. Then once more he stooped down. His outstretched hand felt over all this space which thus was piled up with treasure. It was about four feet square. The ingots lay in the centre. Around the sides were boxes. One of these he took out. It was made of thick oaken plank, and was about ten inches long and eight wide. The rusty nails gave but little resistance, and the iron bands which once bound them peeled off at a touch. He opened the box. Inside was a casket. He tore open the casket. _It was filled with jewels!_ His work was ended. No more search, no more fear. He bound the casket tightly to the end of the signal-line, added to it a bar of gold, and clambered to the deck. He cast off the weight that was at his waist, which he also fastened to the line, and let it go. Freed from the weight he rose buoyantly to the top of the water. The boat pulled rapidly toward him and took him in. As he removed his helmet he saw Frank’s eyes fixed on his in mute inquiry. His face was ashen, his lips bloodless. Louis smiled. “Heavens!” cried Frank, “can it be?” “Pull up the signal-line and see for yourself,” was the answer. And, as Frank pulled, Louis uttered a cry which made him look up. Louis pointed to the sun. “Good God! what a time I must have been down!” “Time!” said Frank. “Don’t say time--it was eternity!” CHAPTER XXIV. BEATRICE’S JOURNAL BRANDON HALL September 1, 1848.--Paolo Langhetti used to say that it was useful to keep a diary; not one from day to day, for each day’s events are generally trivial, and therefore not worthy of record; but rather a statement in full of more important events in one’s life, which may be turned to in later years. I wish I had begun this sixteen months ago, when I first came here. How full would have been my melancholy record by this time! Where shall I begin? Of course, with my arrival here, for that is the time when we separated. There is no need for me to put down in writing the events that took place when _he_ was with me. Not a word that he ever spoke, not a look that he ever gave, has escaped my memory. This much I may set down here. Alas! the shadow of the African forest fell deeply and darkly upon me. Am I stronger than other women, or weaker? I know not. Yet I can be calm while my heart is breaking. Yes, I am at once stronger and weaker; so weak that my heart breaks, so strong that I can hide it. I will begin from the time of my arrival here.