Remember!" she whispered.

"Keep the faith! Guard my trusts!" and then, Justine sobbed: "Loyal a la, mort!" The evening shades were darkening the sculptured shores of Rozel Bay, where clumsy luggers lay far below, high and dry on the beach, behind the great masonry pier.

Skiffs and fishing-boats lined the shores, and the soft breeze moved the foliage of the luxuriant garden.

The white stars were peeping out and twinkling in the gray and lonely sea, as Nadine shivered and walked firmly back to the portico, where the old recluse awaited her.
With a stiff motion of perfunctory courtesy, he motioned the heiress into the frosty-looking drawing-room, now lit up with spectral gleams of wax candles.

For he would treat his ward with a frozen dignity.
Andrew Fraser coughed in a hollow warning and wasted no words in his first bulletin of "General Orders." "I have here a certified copy of your late father's will," he said, "for your perusal.