wife, drawing her chair beside him, leant over and laid her head on his
shoulder.

'Now do not stir, dear,' she said; 'let us sit still and watch. We shall
find the secret of the growing gold!' He passed his arm round her and
sat silent; and as the moonlight stole along the floor she sank to
sleep.

He feared to wake her; and so sat silent and miserable as the hours
stole away.

Before his horror-struck eyes the golden-hair from the broken stone grew
and grew; and as it increased, so his heart got colder and colder, till
at last he had not power to stir, and sat with eyes full of terror
watching his doom.

* * * * *

In the morning when the London doctor came, neither Geoffrey nor his
wife could be found. Search was made in all the rooms, but without
avail. As a last resource the great door of the old hall was broken
open, and those who entered saw a grim and sorry sight.

There by the deserted hearth Geoffrey Brent and his young wife sat cold
and white and dead. Her face was peaceful, and her eyes were closed in
sleep; but his face was a sight that made all who saw it shudder, for
there was on it a look of unutterable horror. The eyes were open and
stared glassily at his feet, which were twined with tresses of golden
hair, streaked with grey, which came through the broken hearth-stone.