entreat you, tell me all. How--when did this happen?'

'I gave her a detailed account of Arthur's death, to which she listened
with rapt attention.

''This opal-mine, like the Golden Fleece, brings misfortune to all who
seek it,' she said, when I had finished, 'Poor Arthur! I loved him
fondly, devotedly; and his image will live forever in my heart. But at
such a crisis it is worse than folly--it is madness to waste time by
giving way to grief. Reason teaches us to bow before the inevitable. It
is idle to repine at the decrees of Fate. I am alone, now--alone,
without a friend or a protector. No matter; I have a stout heart, and
the mercy of Providence is above all. But to business: After the death
of Mr. Livermore, what became of the papers?'

''I burned them before his death, in obedience to his injunctions.'

''You burned them! I will not believe it!' she exclaimed, in a loud
voice, and with a penetrating glance.

'I felt the blood rush to my face; she noticed my anger, and at once
added, in milder tone:

''Pardon me! pardon me! I knew not what I said; I am well-nigh crazy; I
do believe you, I do indeed; forgive me, and think of the despair to
which the loss of those papers reduces me. I have no copy, and with them
my secret perishes. I am ruined--ruined irretrievably. The mine is
known now only to Pepito!'

''Then, madame, on him you must hereafter rely.'