failed. Perhaps I should not now, but--"

"But what?" said Carr furiously; "speak out!"

"But this. Look!" said Fairfax, producing from his pocket the packet of
letters Jessie had found; "perhaps you know the handwriting?"

"What do you mean?" gasped Carr.

"That woman--my mistress--is the woman who advanced you money, and who
claims this house."


The interview, and whatever came of it, remained a secret with the two
men. When Mr. Carr accepted the hospitality of the old cabin again, it
was understood that he had sacrificed the new house and its furniture
to some of the more pressing debts of the mine, and the act went far to
restore his waning popularity. But a more genuine feeling of relief was
experienced by Devil's Ford when it was rumored that Fairfax Munroe had
asked for the hand of Jessie Carr, and that some promise contingent upon
the equitable adjustment of the affairs of the mine had been given
by Mr. Carr. To the superstitious mind of Devil's Ford and its few
remaining locators, this new partnership seemed to promise that unity
of interest and stability of fortune that Devil's Ford had lacked. But
nothing could be done until the rainy season had fairly set in; until
the long-looked-for element that was to magically separate the gold from
the dross in those dull mounds of dust and gravel had come of its own
free will, and in its own appointed channels, independent of the feeble
auxiliaries that had hopelessly riven the rocks on the hillside, or hung
incomplete and unfinished in lofty scaffoldings above the settlement.