'These are all for her--all--all,' exclaimed the old man. 'They are
worth a prince's ransom. Those rouleaux are all gold; those gems are
priceless. They were the dowry of a princess. But they are hers
now--yes, my dear, they are yours--because you spoke sweetly, and smiled
prettily, and were very good to a lonely old man--and because you have
my mother's face, dear, a smile that recalls the days of my youth. Lift
out the box and take it away with you, if you are strong enough,--you,
you,' he said, touching Lord Hartfield. 'Hide it somewhere--keep it from
_her_. Let no one know--no one except your wife and you must be in the
secret.'
'My dear sir, it is out of the question--impossible that my wife or I
should accept one of those coins--or the smallest of those jewels.'
'Why not, in the devil's name?'
'First and foremost, we do not know how you came in possession of them;
secondly, we do not know who you are.'
'They came to me fairly enough--bequeathed to me by one who had the
right to leave them. Would you have had all that gold left for an
adventurer to wallow in?'
'You must keep your treasure, sir, however it may have come to you,'
answered Lord Hartfield firmly.
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