The two gentlemen left directly after breakfast, and Cora rejoiced in the respite of one whole day from the society of the unwelcome guest.

She saw the house set in order, gave directions for the dinner, and then retired to her own private sitting room to resume her labor of love, the life of her lost husband.

Earlier than usual that afternoon the Iron King returned home accompanied by their guest and by Mr. Clarence, who had come with them in honor of the duke. The evening was spent in a rubber of whist, in which Mr. Rockharrt and the duke, who were partners, were the winners over Cora and Mr. Clarence, their antagonists. The evening was finished at the usual hour with champagne and sago biscuits.

The next morning, when Mr. Rockharrt and Mr. Clarence were about to leave the house for the carriage to take them to North End, the Iron King turned abruptly and said to his granddaughter:

"By the way, Cora, Fabian and Violet are coming to dinner this evening to meet the duke. It will be a mere family affair upon a family occasion, eh, duke! A very quiet little dinner among ourselves. No other guests! Good morning."

And so saying the old man left the house, accompanied by his son.

Cora returned to the drawing room, where she had left the duke. He arose immediately and placed a chair for her; but she waved her hand in refusal of it, and standing, said very politely:

"You will find the magazines of the month and the newspapers of the day on the table of the library on the opposite side of the hall, if you feel disposed to look over them."

"The papers of to-day! How is it possible you are so fortunate as to get the papers of to-day at so early an hour, at so remote a point?"

inquired the duke, probably only to hold her in conversation.

"Mr. Clarence Rockharrt's servant takes them from the earliest mail and starts with them for Rockhold. Mr. Rockharrt usually reads the morning papers here before his breakfast."

"A wonderful conquest over time and s.p.a.ce are our modern locomotives,"

observed the duke.

Cora a.s.sented, and then said:

"Pray use the full freedom of the house and grounds; of the servants also, and the horses and carriages. Mr. Rockharrt places them all at your disposal. But please excuse me, for I have an engagement which will occupy me nearly all day."

The duke looked disappointed, but bowed gravely and answered:

"Of course; pray do not let me be a hindrance to your more important occupations, Mrs. Rothsay."

"Thank you!" she answered, a little vaguely, and with a smile she left the room,

"Rejoicing to be free!"

The duke anathematized his fate in finding so much difficulty in the way of his wooing, his ladylove evading him with a grace, a coolness, and a courtesy which he was constrained to respect.

He strolled into the library, and then loitered along on the path leading down to the ferry.

Here he found the boat at the little wharf and old Lebanon on duty.

"Sarvint, marster," said the old negro, touching his rimless old felt hat. "Going over?"

"Yes, my man," said the duke, stepping on board the boat.

"W'ich dey calls me Uncle Lebnum as mentions ob me in dese parts, marster," the old ferryman explained, touching his hat.

"Oh, they do? Very well. I will remember," said the pa.s.senger, as the boat was pushed off from the sh.o.r.e.

"How many trips do you make in a day?" inquired the fare.

"Pen's 'pon how many people is a-comin' an' goin'. Some days I don't make no trip at all. Oder days, w'en dere's a weddin' or a fun'al, I makes many as fifty."

The pa.s.sage was soon made, and the duke stepped out on the west bank.

"Is there any path leading to the top of this ridge, Uncle--Lemuel?"

inquired the duke.

"Lebnum, young marster, if you please! Lebnum!--w'ich dere is no paff an' no way o' gettin' to de top o' dis wes' range, jes' 'cause 'tis too orful steep; but ef you go 'bout fo' mile up de road, you'd come to a paff leadin' zigzag, wall o' Troy like, up to Siffier's Roos'."

"Zephyr's--what?"

"Roos', marster. Yes, sar. W'ich so 'tis call 'cause she usen to roos'

up dar, jes' like ole turkey buzzard. W'en you get up dar, you can see ober free States. Yes, sar, 'cause dat p'ints w'ere de p'ints o' boundy lines ob free States meets--yes, sah!"

"I think I will take a walk to that point. I suppose I can find the path?"

"You can't miss it, sah, if you keeps a sharp look-out. About fo' miles up, sah"

"Very well. Shall you be here when I come back?"

"No, sah. Dis ain't my stoppin' place; t'other side is. But I'll be on de watch dere, and ef you holler for me, I'll come. I'll come anyways, 'cause I'll be sure to see you."

"Quite so," said the duke, as he sauntered up that very road between the foot of the mountain and the bank of the river down which the festive crowd had come on Corona Haught's fatal wedding day.

An hour's leisurely walk brought him to the first cleft in the rock.

From the back of this the path ascended, with many a double, to the wooded shelf on which old Scythia's hut had once stood--hidden. When he reached the spot he found nothing but charred logs, blasted trees, and ashes, as if the spot had been wasted by fire.

A ray of dazzling light darted from the ashes at his feet. In some surprise he stooped to ascertain the cause, and picked up a ring; examined it curiously; found it to be set with a diamond of rare beauty and great value. Then in sudden amazement he turned to the reverse side of the golden cup that clasped the gem and saw a monogram.

"I thought so," he muttered to himself; "I thought that there was not another such a peculiar setting to any gem in the world but that; and now the monogram proves it beyond the shadow of a doubt to be the same.

But how in the name of wonder should the lost talisman be found here--in the ashes of some charcoal burner's hut?"

With these words he took out and opened his pocket-book and carefully placed the ring in its safest fold, closed and returned the book to his pocket, and arose and left the spot. The duke turned to descend the mountain.

At length, however, he reached the foot, and then, under the shadow of the ridge that threw the whole narrow valley into premature twilight, he hurried to the ferry.

The boat was not there. Indeed, he had not expected to find it after what old Lebanon had told him. It was too obscure in the valley to permit him to see across the river, so he shouted:

"Boat!"

"All wight, young marster, but needn't split your t'roat nor my brain pan, nider! I can hear you! I's coming!" came the voice from mid-stream, for the old ferryman was already half across the river with a chance pa.s.senger.

In a few minutes more the boat grated upon the sh.o.r.e and the pa.s.senger jumped out, tipped his hat to the duke, and hurried up the river road toward North End.

"Dat pusson were Mr. Thomas Rylan', fust foreman ober all de founderies.

Dere's a many foremen, but he be de fust. Come down long ob de ole mars dis arternoon arter some 'counts, I reckon, an' now gone back wid a big bundle ob papers an' doc'ments. Yes, sah. Get in. I's ready to start,"